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On a recent poll with my readers, the results were not surprising:
The poll was not anonymous, and I know many of my readers. Several of the "way too much" respondents are married, have children, have jobs, are surrounded by people all the time, and YET... they feel alone. I can relate. Loneliness is harmful to your health. But how do we fix it? We've never been more "connected" in our lives? Or have we? I have found 10 ways to feel more connected in a digital world. These are not from some article or YouTube video. These are just what has worked for ME. I hope they work for you too:
I love interacting with my readers. For more of an inside look into my days, you can follow me on TikTok, Instagram, or Facebook. Please support my other hope*writers by reading their works based on the prompt word LONELY: Is God Lonely for You? By Sharla Hallett https://sharlahallett.com/is-god-lonely-for-you/ Loved vs. Lonely by Lisa Crowder https://lisacrowder.substack.com/p/5c456855-76dc-499f-90cd-6ffef071a3d3 Simple Is Better Lent - When Lonely is OK by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2023/03/01/simple-is-better-lent-when-lonely-is-ok/ Open Letter to the Lonely Mom by Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/lonely-mom/ Breaking the Stigma: Understanding and Talking About Loneliness by MelAnn https://lifesouvenirs.net/p/breaking-the-stigma
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Hijacked. Triggered. On Alert. On Edge. Uneasy. Icky. These are all words that describe how I feel when I am leaving my body as a result to some stimulus. And while I hate that my body has a physical response to certain triggers, my therapist has helped me realize that my body is doing its job. It is trying to keep me safe. It is sounding an alarm, and that is a good thing in the end. Whether you have been to therapy or not, you may recognize similar feelings and wonder how you can get back into your body and out of that fight, flight, or freeze response. Below I have listed some concrete ways to do so: 5 ways to get back into your body:
I hope these techniques have given you some concrete tools you can readily adapt the next time you are feeling a fight, flight, or freeze response. They have certainly helped me get back into my body. May you find more peace and belonging through my words. Please know that you are not alone. Godspeed.
I'm listening to Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Finney Boylan's "Mad Honey" and I have already had to pause the audio to record some quotes in the notes section of my phone. I do this with my favorite novels, and this one will stick with me for a while I am sure. Lily states, "It's inconceivable if you think about it. The complex ways people have come up with for being horrible to one another." And she is right. I'm reminded almost weekly as I parent tween children just how mean human beings can be and how easy it is for unkindness to spread. It can be quite contagious, and fighting it can be quite tricky. One of the famous quotes I try to implement into my daily life comes from United States radio host Bernard Meltzer. Bernard's words are: “Before you speak ask yourself if what you are going to say is true, is kind, is necessary, is helpful. If the answer is no, maybe what you are about to say should be left unsaid.”
I also remind myself that Hurt People Hurt People. Dear Therapist has helped me envision an angry or venomous adult's wounded inner child, but that still doesn't make their words or behavior any easier to swallow. So I go back to what I can control: my thoughts, my environment (somewhat), the people I choose to spend time with, how I treat others, my behavior, my attitude, my choices, and my boundaries. Today's post was just a quick reminder to Be Kind and that Kindness Matters. We never know the difference one smile can make in another person's life. Godspeed. Every year, we have a Cookie Decorating competition and an Ornament Decorating competition. The kids get super competitive and the husband and I simply enjoy all the time together as a family. We post pictures on Facebook and tally votes for the winners. In today's age of go-go-go and scroll-scroll-scroll, we cherish every minute of time together, unplugged, as a family. ❤️ Kids are out of school (or will be soon). "Mom, I'm bored." "Mom, I wanna do something fun." "Mom, let's do something for Christmas." If you've ever had a weekend or a school's-out-day full of hungry kids following you around the house telling you they're bored over and over again, I feel you!!! I have one out of the house and 2 still following me around on those days. This is a family tradition we created, in part, to fill some time and make some memories. Now it has become something we all love and look forward to every year. I keep acrylic paints on hand and I stock up on wooden ornaments at the after-Christmas sales for the next years' contest. Paint pens also come in handy and skinny Sharpies for those finer details. We usually post our ornaments on social media and allow friends and family to vote. I think we've had different prizes over the years, but mostly it's for bragging rights. Can you believe my then-9-year-old did the Frog all by himself? Rise and SHINE. Come rain or come SHINE. He took a SHINE to her. It's her GLOW UP. Bright, light, shimmery, polished. I don't know about you, but I am over all the SHINE. I want real. I want real conversations with real friends in real houses with real food. I want a real marriage with real connection and real love. I'm done with transactional. I want relational. I want physical touch and heart to heart dialogue. I don't want to talk about the weather or local gossip. I want to know what lights you up inside. What keeps you awake at night. I have been backwards and forwards, inside and outside the past few years. I think we all have with what the pandemic did to us. I don't want lip service. I want the truth. I will take that hard conversation over that placation any day. Is this shift in my mindset from midlife or from trauma or from growth? Am I bitter or intentional? Jaded or focused? I want to laugh too! I want to have fun! I want books and game nights and couch cuddles by the fire. I want to stay connected on social media and enrich my world with the vast resources available without feeling like dirt. Is it possible? Can I get on the Gram and laugh at the TikToks while still honoring my self-worth? I'm working on it. And what makes me so special to want all this? Or is this the way it was at one time before the SHINE? Does anyone even know? Even my elderly patients fall victim to hours on Facebook and subsequent feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. SHINE can be reserved for sports medals and awards shows, fancy nights out, and holiday decor. It has its place. It should be special and not everyday. Present over perfect. Real over fabulous. True over attractive. That's where you'll find me. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work based on the prompt word SHINE.
It’s your time to shine! By Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/its-your-time-to-shine/ How To Overcome Adversity & Shine by Ashley Olivine https://ashleyolivine.com/overcome-adversity/ Shining Brightly in a Dark World by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/wp-admin/shining-brightly-in-a-dark-world/ Make this Advent Shine by Jessica Weaver http://rootedunrooted.com/blog/make-this-advent-shine Note the leaves clinging to the window. Thank God for slower days that allow me to notice and pay attention. Those leaves inspired this post. When I think about all the concepts and ideas I have clung to for my 46 years, I feel muddled inside. Everything happens for a reason. I don’t know about that. Some days I see God and the universe working and others I don’t. I’m just being honest here. Hurt people hurt people. I do believe this one. ☝️ But how do I maintain my self-worth and boundaries while being in the presence of those who don’t know how to get out of their own misery? This one is tough and affects most of us on a regular basis. True love. Soulmates. The jury is still out for me. People treat you how you teach them to treat you. I’m 50/50 on this one. I can hold my boundaries and even lower my expectations when needed and some folks will still be jerks. See #2 above. It will all work out. I’m 80/20 on this one. Yes the sun WILL rise tomorrow. Yes the world WILL keep spinning. I have (mostly) grown from all my life experiences, but I’m not sure if it always works out. I see injustice. I see inequality. I am not sure that always works out. Take the high road. I don’t know. Sometimes change needs a low road as a catalyst. Maybe relationships need real moments with raw conversations to truly grow. If we all took the high road at all times, would it even be a high road anymore? The truth will set you free. Usually. Almost always. But as a holder of many secrets (job hazard), I have seen situations where the truth might hold one hostage and cause immeasurable suffering for years to come. Say what you mean and mean what you say. I love this one. In theory. But with my silver tongue and deep emotions have come words I did not really mean in times of hurt or anger. I think this is a great ideal, a lofty goal. But when we mess up, apologize- and sooner rather than later. A quick imperfect apology generally means more than a well-stated overdue one. What about you? What have you clung to? What feels true and what feels forced when you consider the building blocks for your social or moral compass? Better yet, what feels fake? What makes you squirm when you say it out loud to another human? If you squirm, stop saying it. Stop believing it. Our truths can evolve. Our truths don’t have to match those of our parents or our spouse. Our truths are our own. Here’s to both of us building our own houses of morality and ideology. And leaving room for repairs. Godspeed. The whir of the wall heater lulls me to sleep. I’m in seventh grade again, at my friend’s house, dreaming of my life as an adult. We just watched Dirty Dancing and inhaled a bag of Doritos with a 2L of Dr Pepper and no one considered the carbohydrates involved. In reality, I am an adult. With children. And two husbands by now. And a whole lot of disappointments and triumphs along the way. I still feel like that awkward seventh grader when, I’m actually the mother of a seventh grader. How did this happen? I’m typing this in a cottage in the woods. A writer’s weekend, that’s what I claimed it to be. And in late 2022, I am stuck trying to decide how much of my life to share on social media and how many posts are “enough” to promote my writing. The internet connection is poor here and it’s a blessing and a curse. When did we become so tied to people we’ve never met and numbers oft generated by bots? Do I measure the importance of my work by likes, shares, and follows or by actual lives impacted? And let’s be honest, we rarely know when we impact a life because the Enneagram and Myers-Briggs tells us that a certain % of folks are introverts and would never tell us if we helped them, to no fault of our own. And the trauma we have all endured. I am not joking. The real actual trauma and pain I have seen my fellow GenXers and patients and friends endure. We all go to therapy and spend countless hours trying to right some of the wrongs between scrolling and TikToking, working our regular jobs, raising tiny to full-sized humans, and trying to eat whole foods. In this world of 2-4 second attention spans, I feel lost. I feel lonely. I feel drained. Am I the only one? And so I sit. In Midlife. In the Southeast. In middle school bleachers and while planning a wedding for the oldest. I sit at baseball tournaments and in my car traveling to see my patients. I sit at kitchen tables discussing hospice the same morning I sit with my fifth grader studying vocabulary. I know I’m not alone. The Middle is weird. It’s not the beginning, like I am reminded of with my oldest and his fiancé. The furniture shopping and the bedspread and dishes selections. It’s not the end either. The disbursement of family heirlooms and quiet days sparsely populated by visiting friends or family. It’s not the days of toddler-parent-survival where bath time and nap time ruled the schedule. But it’s not the days where everyone can drive yet either. And oh yeah a pandemic happened. School shootings. A nation so divided I can’t even recognize it. But just keep on going folks. Keep on posting and hashtagging and hustling. Meh. I will take this Middle. I will take the Menopause and the investment planning and the figuring out how to parent adult children. I will take it and try to learn from it and admit that it’s uncomfortable. See, we are too old to fake stuff in this Middle. We have seen too much. I think my writing will continue to be what it is. Real. Raw. With a flimsy filter and a side of sarcasm. It will grow as I do. I hope you join me. If anything in this little diary entry stirred your insides, then know that we are in this together. Let’s go. Awkward but not alone. Have you ever been picked last for a team or a project? Have you ever been sitting at the END of a table and no one really acknowledged your presence during the lively, laugh-out-loud dinner that everyone else seemed to be having? Have you ever been cut off during a conversation when someone "cooler or prettier or funnier or more magnetic" stepped into the mix? What if you vote a certain way but you're surrounded by others who vote differently? You want them to love you for you, but are you having to hide part of yourself in order to belong? What if you have a different opinion but keep it to yourself in fear of others' reactions? What if you don't even feel like you belong in your own home? Isn't home supposed to be your safe space?
So, again, I think we have all experienced this feeling. Disconnected. Cast out. Overlooked. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Unimportant. Small. Invisible. Rejected. Source: Brene Brown's Atlas of the Heart Since we all know we can't control the thoughts or actions of others, let's focus on what WE can do the next time we feel this way. Here are 10 ways you can (and I do these myself) try to reach the feeling of BELONGING again:
Now let us review. Somebody somewhere made you feel left out, unwanted, or overlooked. You start to list all the reasons you are just that: unwanted and overlooked. Then you REMEMBER these tips to get back to belonging and you pull at least one of them out. Consider it a secret weapon. Use it. Allow yourself to feel both ways - both the ickiness of unbelonging and the comfort of true connection once you have found your way back. Teach someone else you love how to do this the next time they call you searching for validation. And hey. Just so you know, I would pick you. Godspeed. If you are a mother, you know the feeling. You're at work instead of field day. You're at one child's band performance while the other child has an academic bowl meet. You missed that baseball practice out of sheer exhaustion and that's the one where he hit it over the fence. "Mom, can you pick me up car rider? Can you check me out early like all my friends? When are you going to be off work again? Mom, why are you on your laptop so much? Mom, are you listening?" Some of those innocent but real questions can cut me like a knife, leaving me gutted and riddled with GUILT. Mom Guilt. It's a thing. And I think we should talk about it. AND we certainly do not help ourselves as a gender or a community. Not only do our KIDS make us feel guilty, our fellow moms can inadvertently or purposefully trigger shame and guilt at any given moment. Pam made homemade Christmas cookies for the entire class while we can barely pack lunches each day. Trisha made Halloween goodie bags with a punny handmade tag using her Cricut. Allison sewed personalized pencil pouches for the entire third grade while we are struggling to sign each kid's agenda every night. Then there's social media. Be sure to only buy non-GMO Organic foods. Is your car seat in the top 3 for safety? How often is your child brushing their teeth? Gluten is the devil. ADHD is real - oh wait, no it's not - you're just a lazy parent. Discipline your kids. Don't discipline them, let them find their own way. All babies should cry it out. Babies who cry it out have attachment issues and end up in therapy before age 30. Limit that screen time. Make sure they play outside, but you must watch them outside AND still get all your paid-work done and maintain a spotless house with home-cooked meals. Cloth diapers. Breastfeeding. Well, if you work then store-bought baby food might be okay- but only if you work now. And don't forget to recycle. Make it stop. When my boys were 2, 4, and 12, I walked into my CEO's office and said "I quit. Other women are raising my children and I quit." I didn't have another job lined up. Fortunately, I had some savings, but that was mainly because I was working SO HARD and barely had my head above water that I never had time to shop or vacation (ie spend money). I was justifying myself to a man (my CEO) whose wife did not work and I "knew" he was coming home to beautifully home-cooked meals, a clean house, freshly washed and ironed clothes, and a wife who probably still had energy for sex instead of one who was collapsing into bed every night. OR SO I THOUGHT. He kindly and calmly asked me to take a deep breath, sit down, and reconsider. What about part time or PRN (the medical term for as needed)? Did I want to lose my 6-7 years of tenure with the company? Did I always want to stay home or did I just need a break? Did I still enjoy being a nurse practitioner? The truth was, I did not know the answers to his questions. I had ZERO plans, which goes against my basic core (search "plan" on this blog and you'll quickly see I plan everything). I had not asked myself if I enjoyed my work because I barely knew what day it was. I felt pulled in every direction by every person in my life and I was dreaming of ways to "get off the treadmill." My husband's lawn business was booming, and I was quickly running out of bandwidth to help him with that as well as my other demands at home and work. I felt like I was choking, but I wasn't sure WHAT was choking me the most. I just knew in my SOUL that I had to make a change. I prayed about it. I took a few days to write it all out - not my feelings - I had not found a therapist yet. 👀 Who had time for therapy? BUT, I did somehow remember some of my high school and college skills for decision making and scribbled down ALL the reasons that quitting my job would make me happier overnight. In the end, I heeded my younger-than-me CEO's advice and worked PRN the first year and part-time the second year before returning full-time when my youngest started pre-K. Since I am not independently wealthy, I did eventually have to bring home some more bacon. So, then what happened? Was my life immediately better once I was home more? Did the MOM GUILT end over night? Was I making beautifully home-cooked meals, providing freshly washed and ironed clothes, maintaining a perfectly clean house, and bursting with energy for sex every night since I no longer "worked" every day? Turns out, the joke was on me. Not really a joke though my friends. It's the truth. My 4 year old was in Pre-K, but my 2 year old was suddenly out of daycare. My 12 year old was in honors classes in middle school and I found myself juggling potty training, phonics, and puberty. 3 P's that should never go together. 😜 I was waking almost as early as I had been when I commuted to my demanding NP job. I was feeding kids, washing clothes, and picking up toys all day it seemed. I was helping with homework instead of paying my babysitter to do that. I was making brownies for the PTO instead of money for retirement. I was just as tired, but it was more of a physical tired than a mental exhaustion. I was able to go to the gym regularly, and THAT was amazing. Our gym had childcare, so I would tell the boys if they wanted a "nice mommy and not a mean mommy" then we would be going to the gym, thank you very much. I DID have more downtime. I laughed regularly. For the first time in YEARS. I WAS able to take and pickup my kids from school. I had never before and never since had that luxury. The pure joy of seeing my boys' faces when I picked them up each day was worth the frequent melt-downs when I had to wake the 2 year old to go pick up the 4 year old. (How do we do these things and no one discusses it?) I learned lyrics to Disney movies instead of new treatment guidelines for diabetes. I never took the kids to school in my pajamas, but I suddenly realized why so many women did. I dropped ALL judgment of other mothers, because I was IN THE TRENCHES. I missed adult conversation. I missed feeling important- there - I said it. I lost my temper, and I raised my voice on occasion. Sadly... and this really does make me sad... I simply had not been around my babies enough HOURS of the day to really, really lose my patience with them. Not until I was home. Cutting coupons. Cutting Play-doh with tiny plastic scissors. And realizing that THIS was the real work. THIS was the important work. And so I sit here tonight with tears in my eyes.
One launched and doing well. One in middle school with puberty and insecurity competing for his time. One who still lets me hug him in front of his friends. And I don't know much more than I did 8 years ago when I walked in my boss's office overwhelmed and undone. I'm still in awe of and in love with those 3 beautiful minds and faces that call me Mom. But guilt? Will I wallow in guilt when I reflect over my presence in their lives? Maybe on a bad day. Maybe for a minute or two when I have a "mom fail." BUT I BEG OF YOU. OF ALL OF US. TO MAKE IT STOP. WE ARE WARRIORS IN OUR OWN RIGHT. WE KISS THE BOO-BOOS AND SCARE AWAY THE MONSTERS. WE QUIZ THE SIGHT WORDS AND TIE THE LACES. WE FEED THEM SOMETHING SEVERAL TIMES A DAY, AND WE ENSURE THEY ARE CLOTHED. WE ARE DOING THE BEST WE CAN. WE ARE FLAWED BUT PHENOMENAL. WE ARE IMPERFECT BUT IRREPLACEABLE. WE ARE MOTHERS. LET US UNITE AND HOLD SPACE FOR ONE ANOTHER. Godspeed.
Does any of this sound familiar? It can be so VERY painful! How do we handle it? How do we move forward? I am currently working on being more vulnerable with my SAFE trusted people. I do not encourage jumping into vulnerability with strangers or acquaintances - you will almost always get burned. Instead, I encourage you to try it - tiptoe into it- with a very few people that you trust. Share your true feelings. Your fears. Your struggles. Your feelings of inadequacy. Your shame. But beware- even your SAFE people may not know what to do when you share these things. You may be the one who is always strong. You may be the one who always helps others but never needs help. This may be due to your Enneagram or personality type, or it may be a learned skill from your family of origin. And by skill, I also mean defense or coping mechanism, but I digress... So... what if you finally open up with said trusted people and they don't know how to respond? What next? My suggestion is to allow THEM time to process it. After all, they aren't used to you coming to them for advice or support. After adequate time has passed, ask them if you two can talk about it. Remind them that you shared this with them because you trust them and you value their feedback. If they are unable to support you for whatever reason, you will know that they might not be someone you can turn to in a time of need or that right now they just do not have the bandwidth to support you. And that's okay. If you receive pushback from your person or one of the rejections I listed above, then perhaps this says more about them and their own feelings of self-worth or lack thereof. Perhaps empathy is not their strong suit. Perhaps not being the center of attention does not fit within their needs. Perhaps supporting you takes too much of their energy that they would rather spend elsewhere. And if so, then you have your answer. Take that however you choose. So that covers the topic of vulnerability with SAFE loved ones. What about rejection? Rejection can occur in friendships, romantic relationships, at work, at your child's activities (mom hate, anybody? or mom cliques?). Rejection can be aggressive and in-your-face or it can be silent and manipulative. Rejection can be someone you love simply not supporting you or asking about your newfound passion or project (or marriage or kids or job or anything for that matter). That feels like rejection, right? Rejection can be passive-aggressive or outright pointed and forceful. Anything that makes us feel like our efforts are either unnoticed or unappreciated or unsupported FEELS LIKE rejection. Perhaps your corporation just doesn't know what to do with you. So they just kinda ignore you and your talents and even though EVERYONE ELSE you encounter praises you, they just watch you from afar. Perhaps your love interest is jealous of your success, so instead of celebrating and bragging to others about you, they just sit quietly while complete strangers are the ones to congratulate you. Maybe your family members have always wanted to do what it is that you are actually brave enough to do now and so they can't find the words to talk with you about it. Their feelings of inadequacy outweigh their actual love for you and desire to support you. All this stuff is DEEP, ya'll - and it's real. I have witnessed it on both ends - both the recipient of rejection and the one crippled with (insert emotion here) so much that I couldn't tell my loved one I was proud of them. How many social media posts have you AVOIDED (scrolled right by) because you weren't sure what to comment or if you were truly happy for that person OR it made you feel some type of way? STOP RIGHT THERE. I know for 100% FACTS that I just told the truth. Every single person reading this right now has done that. DM me if I'm wrong. It's okay that you have done it (I've done it too!!!!), but I would encourage you to stop. Take some deep breaths. Walk outside if that's what grounds you. And ask yourself what emotion you are feeling and maybe why you are feeling it. That person who posted whatever it is that triggered you was NOT thinking about you when they posted it. (Everyone is always only thinking about themselves, 99% of the time, or so Dear Therapist reminds me regularly). Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. I REPEAT. Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. Again, I am not a licensed therapist, but I have worked with patients for over 20 years. I'm in my second marriage. I am a regular mom and a full-time step-mom. I have been in and lived in functional families and dysfunctional families. I have been betrayed. I have been lied to and belittled. I am a trauma survivor and I am honestly only trying to help anybody, not everybody. If I can help one person know and feel that they are not alone, then me sitting here typing on my back patio on my glorious day off is worth every second of my time and ounce of my energy. The birds are chirping, ya'll. The sun is shining. And I want to live. I want to both be alive and enjoy my life. It's almost spring and I feel a shift on the horizon. I'm tired of all the surface conversations and BS. I'm ready to speak my truth. Vulnerability is hard and rejection stinks. Bottom line. But we can do better. We just have to pause, think, consider who it is we may be hurting (because of our own garbage we are also working on), and then do better. Godspeed. I have a beefy cardiology post that was supposed to drop today, but I don't wanna. I've started it, and it's important, but it's way too serious after coming off a glorious restful vacation. Instead, I thought I would share all the random thoughts that have been filling up and overflowing from my overworked brain. Maybe you can relate. Maybe not. Either way, you might find these entertaining.
Anywho, it's Saturday- the sun in shining - and if you're exhausted parenting toddlers right now, just enjoy the Duplos and Play-Doh. Starbucks and Xbox await! Entitlement and minimal communication are just chillin' - they'll come soon enough! Godspeed moms and dads. How did our parents survive us? 🥰 He sat down, head in hands, downward glance She looked up, tears in eyes, uneven stance I walked in, low on sleep, high on caffeine They walked by, on the street, young love, just teens He stood up, paper in hand, PowerPoint prepared She fell down, learning to walk, not nervous, not scared I walked in again, ready to listen, ready to care Do I absorb it, do I deflect it... do I share? The first one has a heavy load, family stuff, he's overwhelmed The second one feels trapped, but she's 83, where would she go? The third one is me, with my own load and I'm trying to figure it out Do I carry their burdens or give them back? I was never told... The fourth one is the big boss and the fifth one was once us While the overwhelmed man and the trapped senior unfurl It's good to remember that someone somewhere is in charge and someone somewhere is just a happy little girl The teens are just teens and I remember how that used to feel The butterflies, the headrush, the lovesongs, the thrill While I dance between empathy and boundary and pharmacy Someone somewhere is getting married or at a funeral or in the hospital nursery And so I sit here replaying today's events and my children's faces and my own dreams Do I let the man's troubles and the woman's sorrow fall off of me? Am I a sponge? A shield? Sand through a sieve? Where do I put it? How do I move it? What do I need? Dear Therapist once asked me "how do you feel? what are you feeling?" and I just stared. I ask that question, Madame. How do you dare! She brought out the preschool book and reminded me the names: anger, sadness, anxious, scared, and my favorite- SHAME! So I ask you, my brothers, my sisters, my friends Where do we put it? How do we move it? Where does it end? We are connected. Are we a puzzle? Passing ships on the same sea? I am you and you are me and we are thee. What is the answer? I need the code. I need the key. I will take today. You take tomorrow. Let's give her next week. He can do the dark nights. They can do the long fights. Let's share the joy and spread out the misery. Next time you see him. Next time you see her. Next time you see me. Remember the pleasantries are just a mask atop the real things. The real beauty of the patient-provider relationship is the back and forth. Never stop sharing with us. It's why we got into medicine. But if you love us or if you live with us and we are quiet or distant... We are simply trying to figure out where to put it. Godspeed. 🎼 Cherish: My Love Letter to Music 🎼 I cherish the depth of a bass guitar It tickles my rib cage; it teases my heart My toes start tapping; my hips, they sway Whether I am sad or mad or lonely, it’s okay While the melody speaks to me, The harmony sees through me The drums set up space in my body and soul, Add brass and winds and keys, Now I am whole But the lyrics, the WORDS are what I cherish the most They pierce me, tattoo me, renew me, and expose Those tiny little pieces that we all try to hide The lyrics, the WORDS... they seep gently inside I cherish the music that built this life The staccato of pleasure, the minor chords of strife In my darkest hour or my coldest night I cherish my medicine of music; it shines the light The lights are on and the volume is up I cherish the music that yields me unstuck I am rhythm, I am blues, I am a crescendo of hues Oh music, sweet music, our wayward spirits be fused When I received the "CHERISH" writing prompt from my writer's group, I had a small chuckle. My small bloggers' writing group consists primarily of Christian writers, all of whom are women, and whose work I enjoy and admire. That said, I considered all the ways we can cherish God and our faith that these women would probably cover in their posts. My mind, however, went STRAIGHT to Kool & the Gang's song Cherish which was released in 1985 when I was 9 years old and full of hope. What can I say? Music is in my BONES. I wake up with it. I end my day with it. It is a constant soundtrack for any emotion I have ever had, and it seems to pour out of me without effort. I cannot imagine my life without music, and well... I just love it. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work:
Okay, this post might get a little confusing so bear with me. I would call it a fable, but fables involve animals or forces of nature according to Wikipedia. I would call it a parable, but I am not Jesus. So it's just a story. A True Story. As I was cooking tonight, I was actually following a recipe - which is something I very rarely do. Wouldn’t you know it? I totally screwed the recipe up. I had scrolled the internet late last night before the midnight cutoff for my click list and somehow combined two different chicken casserole recipes into one in my tired mom brain. Since I do cook on a regular basis, I tried to assemble the casserole from memory. That was where things went wrong. Long story short, the casserole was delicious and my family asked me to write it down so we can have it again. Then my writer brain kicked in, and I started to think of my friends who loathe cooking and would rather swallow nails than be stuck in a kitchen near a stove. I have always wondered if these friends (male or female) grew up in a house where meals were cooked on a regular basis. I have an inside scoop on meals in a wide variety of households because I am the primary care provider for around 2000 patients. I have families who eat out three meals per day seven days per week. How they afford a roof over their head, gas in their car, or clothes on their body is beyond me LOL. The folks in my house like to eat. Since I analyze everything, after this chicken casserole disaster-turned-deliciousness, I started to think about the non-cooks that I know.
Anyway, aside from all that, I started to think about the actual skills I have acquired from cooking on a regular basis. I rarely have to measure things unless it’s a new recipe. I really don’t even look at recipes. I’ve always been able to just make something up and it works. But I do give credit to my parents who always cooked and included me in the cooking. As a latchkey kid in the 1980s and 1990s, mom would leave directions for supper on an index card by the stove.
This helped me learn what side dishes pair with which main courses and how to time meals so that everything was ready at one time. If you hate to cook you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but bear with me- I do have a point. If you like to cook, I’m sure you’re reminiscing about your early cooking endeavors as a teen or early 20s and remembering the disasters and burned meals. We have all had them. Now back to my point. I think cooking is a lot like parenting. Some people have cooks in their homes and learn how to cook because they are included in the cooking and it comes naturally to them. Likewise, some children have really good parents in their homes and learn how to parent because they see good parenting every day. When they become parents, they are able to mirror a lot of what they saw as children. What about all the little girls and little boys that don’t see good parenting? Do they grow up to hate being a parent? Is parenting more difficult for them? Some of my non-cooking friends have told me that cooking is difficult for them. Are there any parallels? I am not saying good parents cook. Being a good parent has absolutely nothing to do with cooking. I am just wondering if my patients that seem to be checked out on parenting had poor examples of parents from which to learn. I know, I know. Deep, random thoughts on a rainy Sunday night. But I think of the little girls and the little boys who are now big girls and big boys. I see them struggling because they come to me. They open up about their struggles. And I feel them. I see their efforts and witness their frustrations. Most of them are really trying, but they feel defeated from the jump. I am not going to get overly cheesy here about a cookbook or a parenting book. Life is much harder than anything you could ever read in either of those books. I just want you to know that some of us got a “recipe” given to us while others did not. Some of us received love, attention, and praise while others did not. Let us be kind to one another and forgo the judgment. “Food” comes from many places. Let us feed each other well. ☀️ Godspeed.
So 2021 came. It didn't conquer. Or did it? It was a blur for me both personally and professionally. I am looking forward to 2022, and what better way to kick off the new year than with FAVORITES!?!? Favorites are alway fun and they are never right or wrong. They are subject to opinion and they require zero effort to consume. So sit back, relax, and scroll along ?
Here are my January 2022 Favorites:
The Organize 365 Podcast:
Lisa Woodruff is the owner and founder of Organize 365, a company that helps women get their homes and papers organized for good. She created a Sunday Basket, 100 Day Home Organization Program, and binders for finance, medical, a child with special needs, your home, you name it. I plan to dedicate an entire blog post to her programs, but if any of this interests you at all, I have linked her website below. I am a Certified Paper Organizer and Sunday Basket Organizer with Organize 365, and I can 100% vouch for her systems! Her podcast can be found anywhere you listen to podcasts. ? The Morning Show on Apple TV: First of all, the actors: Reese Witherspoon, Jennifer Anniston, Steve Carell, Billy Crudup, Marcia Gay Harden- just to name a few. The topics are timely (pandemic, Me Too movement) and show all sides of the issues. The show is definitely inappropriate for children, so you'll have to watch this once the kids are in bed, but I have not been able to stop mid-episode. I often had to force myself to stop and get in the bed! I love the realistic view of "power" and how we really are all the same regardless of the money, fame, and title. We all crave love and connection. HappilyAHousewife on YouTube: This year marks 10 years that Samantha (Sam) has been vlogging on YouTube. She has 3 kids similar in age to mine. She started as a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) and is now back in the workforce. She is a baseball mama, likes to cook, likes to plan, and is VERY down-to-earth. When I "quit" work in 2014 and slowed down to just 2 days a week, I had no idea how to be a "housewife." Since I like to research, I typed "how to be a housewife" into Google and Sam popped up! I don't always have time to watch every video, but if I ever want a recipe or planning idea or I just need to know I'm not alone in this mom life, she always cheers me up. She is very REAL, and that's what I love the most! I have linked her channel below. Side note: I "went back to work" full-time in 2016 when my youngest started pre-K. I loved that 2 years when I worked part-time when they were 2-4. Let me know if you'd like an entire post about working versus staying home. ❤️ My leggings from Amazon: Soft, not too loose or too tight, phone pocket, high waist / don't fold over or slide down, wash well. 3 pair under $40! Several color choices. Need I say more?
The Marco Polo App:
I may do an entire post on the free version of Marco Polo versus the paid one, but get the free one TODAY! It's like text in the fact that you watch the video when you have time and respond when you have time. What I love is that your facial expressions, tone of voice, and appearance (weird but true) all come through. So if you're having a rough day emotionally, your friends and family can SEE that compared to a text that looks the same whether you are high on life or down in the trenches. You can also rewatch or pause a "marco" if you need clarity or get interrupted. I LOVE this app and I cannot say enough good things about it! It has revolutionized communication for me since I can safely marco on my commute (phone on dash) and between patients. With a spouse working opposite shifts, it has been HUGE for our marriage. It has even helped with my brother and sister-in-law living in China on a 13-hour time difference! My quiet time in the morning: Coffee, blanket, my chair, my heating pad, and QUIET. I journal, I pray, I follow my friend's scripture writing plan (linked below), I type these blog posts to you, I plan, I think, I listen to a book or podcast or YouTube video, I research, and I am uninterrupted. Am I an 80-year-old living in a 45-year-old's body? Maybe. With my autoimmune disease, some days I feel that way ?, but I cherish this time alone. It is mine, and there is something to be said for that. My new straightener: This was a Christmas 2021 gift, and I love it! I have just enough curl to be annoying, so I straighten my hair 90% of the time. If you follow me on Instagram, you probably saw my story showing that it lasted through errands on a rainy day and a full day of housework! I also have a post on IG about my "curly" hair that is worth a read... you know - how we all try to change what God gave us. ☀️ The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah: I hate having a movie or book ending spoiled by a friend, so I will just say this book is GREAT. I love historical dramas (this one is set during the Dust Bowl extreme draught in the 1930s) and the characters are lovely, raw, and transparent. I don't want to say too much, but read the summary if this peaks your interest at all. The narrator is Julia Whelan and she is amazing. I'm sure the paper copy is just as good or better. Homemade Chex Mix courtesy of my husband: No explanation needed! Salty & delicious. Thank God he only makes it at the holidays. Honing the new skill of asking for what I need: My therapist told me a secret. My husband, my friends, my coworkers, and my family cannot read my mind. I had never really though about that. Sometimes as adults, we assume all other adults know "what to do" or "what we need." They do not. If we calmly and safely ask for what we need and our people cannot or choose not to meet those needs, then that is another issue. It is not fair, however, to stay hurt or angry at a loved one if we never made our needs known. This blew my mind. So simple. So true. SUCH a game-changer. Sit on it and see if it speaks to you. *** If I have linked any products from Amazon, I am an Amazon affiliate. If you choose to purchase via my link, I will receive a small commission but your cost will be the same. I can use that commission to buy more reading glasses so I can see my laptop to keep blogging. ✍️*** I recently had a situation in my life as a mother which brought connection and shared experience to the forefront of my mind. One of my children has not felt connected to one of his teachers and has expressed concern that this teacher may not like him. As a mom, I knew I needed to explore this since this child in particular craves connection. Words of affirmation are definitely his love language. We are working through this issue, and I have hope that only good things will come from our conversations with the teacher, the principal, and other teachers who are on his team. These conversations were definitely a lightbulb moment for me. All of us, young and old, rich or poor, of any faith or no faith at all, no matter where we live… We all want to feel connected to other people. Loneliness is an epidemic and I am on a crusade to at least put a small dent in its wrath. During our brainstorming sessions, we realized that students in general are receiving positive and negative feedback mostly in a digital format. When I learned that my child received praise through an app that was cast on a screen in his classroom for all to see (and negative feedback in the same way), I was speechless. Do you not verbally praise or reinforce my child? What about in writing on his assignments? I was met with a blank stare. I cringed. And then I thought about my own life and the life of all adults in 2022. All the likes, the comments, the shares, the tags, the texts instead of a phone call, the email instead of a conversation, the gift card instead of a thoughtful handmade or store-bought item, and I cringed again. How do I give my boys positive and negative feedback? Will they only remember the text I sent? Will they remember evenings of me responding to lab values and MRI results on an inanimate object instead of cuddling with them on the couch? Will they think that when I am texting a friend in crisis that my friend is more important? I only have one child with a cell phone- thank you Jesus, but that will change. Will my communication with these precious boys change? Will I sit idly by and watch it happen? I was not going to watch my child’s love for learning unravel due to one disconnected teacher. I was on that like white on rice. Even the school administration agreed that children need verbal feedback today more than ever since most instruction includes a screen unfortunately. That said, am I walking the walk and talking the talk that I am demanding for my own child? How do I let the people I love know that I love them? Is it a text, an email? When is the last time we spoke on the phone - or better yet - saw each other in person? Yes a pandemic shut a lot of things down, but there are safe ways to connect. FaceTime is actually a beautiful thing. The Marco Polo app has improved my marriage tremendously since my husband and I work opposite shifts. And my family members that live under my roof? I have no excuse if I do not connect with them daily. About a year ago, I placed time limits on my social media apps. I allow myself 30 minutes total between Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok per day. Gasp. When my timer is up, those apps go dark. Some days I override the limit if there are particular things I am interested in or if I am looking for something to make me feel better (did I just type that? Yes. Sadly, I did). But on those days that I stick to that limit, I am a better parent, a better wife, a better daughter, a better nurse practitioner, and a better friend. This may not be true for you, but it is for me. So, if I’m not on my phone, what in the world am I doing? Have you ever considered how much time you would have if you plugged your phone in another room the minute you arrived home in the evening? What would you do? How would your spouse feel if you gave them an hour of your undivided attention each day? How would your child feel? And if you live alone, are not in a relationship, or do not have children, this still applies. I’m sure you have friends, other family members, and hobbies. What about your faith or your mental health? What if you dedicated 10 minutes per day to either one of those? In 2022, nobody knows what to do with themselves. It is a real problem I see every day in my practice. Rarely do I enter an exam room when a patient is not on their phone. I cannot remember the last time I went into a restaurant and didn’t see a couple who were both on their phone during the meal. Children do not know how to sit in a waiting room or in a car or at a dining table without a screen, and that literally breaks my heart. And what breaks my heart even more, is most of the faces on those screens are of strangers. They are not the child’s parent, grandparent, cousin, mentor, coach. They are someone being paid by a marketing group to make our children feel good. And adults are just as guilty. When did mothers and fathers stop making their children feel good? When did teachers stop making their students feel loved? When did friends stop talking with actual words that come out of their mouths? When did spouses start sending each other videos and memes instead of talking about hopes and dreams and struggles? I do not have all the answers. I only have my house, my family, my thoughts and behaviors that I can somewhat control. And I am ready to take back the reigns, ditch the digital input, and turn on the lights in my own life. I will no longer be an avatar of a human. I will be live and in person. My boys and my husband will hear my voice and feel my touch if I have any say so at all. We need a revolution my friends. Our children will never survive a marriage if they cannot talk to each other. They need us, and quite frankly we need them too. We are the solution. We just have to put our devices down and show up. Godspeed. Please support my fellow hope*writers by checking out their posts about LIFE: A Radiant Life By MelAnn of Grace and Rapture https://graceandrapture.com/publish/post/44999942 Pursuing Life By Jessica Weaver www.rootedunrooted.com/blog/pursuing-life Parenting Advice for a Better Life By Ashley Olivine https://louvaria.com/parenting-advice/ Embrace Eternal Life in Jesus Christ By Lisa Granger https://lisamarcelina.net/embrace-eternal-life-in-jesus-christ Living a Life Well Worth Living By Lori Shoaf https://www.lorishoaf.com/stories-to-encourage/living-a-life-well-worth-living. 1% Living Every Single Day By Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=10546&action=edit After I complete my yearly review, I try to set goals for the next year. I also look at my list of what added and what subtracted to my life and I keep all of those in mind as I set goals and plan events. To do this, I have several supplies at my fingertips AND several hours (sometimes spread over a few days) to complete this process. I recommend the following supplies:
Goal Setting 101:
I have 8 areas in which I set goals each year:
Here's an example of a SMART goal: Read 10 books in one year. It is Specific. Measurable. Achievable (I allow 2 months without a book at all). Relevant and realistic (education or entertainment is always good!). Time bound. I have a start and an end date. I can also easily track the goal throughout the year (I keep a "books read" in the back of my planner). Selecting your word of the year. This is optional, but I enjoy the process each year and it does help me try to maintain a central theme or focus each year. Some of my previous years' words have been:
Now the hard part. Actually planning out your year and setting goals for the year. These two steps are intertwined and can truly be life-changing if you take the time to do BOTH. If perhaps you are reading this in March or August or on a random Tuesday in November, that's OKAY. Your "year" can start at any time. You may be home with a new baby or off work for a health flare-up or surgery and you're just now having time to even remember your name. Sometimes these unexpected pockets in time are goldmines. Use this downtime to evaluate and future-plan. As I've hit this midlife bubble of feeling young and old all at the same time, my goals have changed. My expectations are lower for myself and others (thank you, therapy). My drive is more internally-based but is now redeemed by others just as much as it is myself. In short, my years of people-pleasing are behind me, BUT following my true self has led to a more community-focused and family-focused mindset. The cool part is that me, myself, and I benefit from that mindset shift as much or more than my loved ones and my community. Kinda hard to explain, but the moral of the story is to follow your heart. Everyone wins when we do that. Godspeed. Part of the reason I keep a planner is because my memory is terrible. Just ask my best friend since third grade. I blame it on nursing and NP school and having to memorize so many drugs and diseases. I also blame it on having lived in four states and meeting several "sets of people" in my lifetime. Anyway, when I sit down to start my year end review, I grab my planner. I repress memories which I am working on in therapy, but I really can’t remember what happened the past year without flipping through each month and glancing at big moments. I am not exactly sure why my brain is like that, but it is and yours may be too? Sometimes my mind is blown when I look at everything that happened in my personal or professional or emotional life in one calendar year. How do we survive with the pace and the demands of the world today? When is enough enough? Everyone I know feels like they’re drowning with all the work deadlines, projects, meetings, kids' activities, sports, and that's not even accounting for the emotional toll the past 2 years have taken on every single one of us. When I look back over 2021 in my own life, the following events come to light:
As I look back over the events of 2021, it often sparks me to plan and reserve trips or experiences for 2022. My manager also loves that I give her my days off for the entire year in December or January. I realize you might not be able to do this, but it actually reduces my anxiety knowing in January when I will be off throughout the year. If I am having an extremely stressful season / week / month, I already know the upcoming days of rest that are scheduled. My patients appreciate it too... less moving and rearranging (sorry for those reading this- 2021 was rough on my schedule!). 🤪 Sitting down and performing a yearly review also gives me reassurance or reminders of certain events I do NOT want to attend or participate in again. It helps me to identify what was life-giving and what was life-draining. That clarity is HUGE. You'll notice I did not list the following (but they all also happened): hurt feelings, miscommunication, personal growth, continued grief, strained conversations, burnout, apathy, frustration, disdain, regret, fear, hopelessness, anger, and anxiety. While I am not listing those publicly, they are named on my heart and mind. Thanks to counseling, I am trying not to wear them inside my body (The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD). I am intentionally working to process and let go as I go instead of swallowing or shoving it down, or worse- spewing it out. This is hard work. This is a big deal. So I encourage you as we wrap up 2021 and enter 2022, to sit down and block off a good 30 minutes to yourself. Scroll through your planner or your Google Calendar or your Facebook pictures and think about the past 12 months. What felt good? What felt icky? Who gave you energy when you were around them? Who made you feel bad about yourself? What habits added to your life? What subtracted? Look at your screen time averages on your phone. Maybe set a goal to lower those. A fellow blogger in my writer's group wrote a piece about our children remembering us looking at our phones instead of looking at their faces. LET THAT SINK IN FOR A MINUTE. I may write a piece about goal-setting and planning for the year ahead, but I would be a sham if I told you I set any goals for 2021. I didn't even know I would start writing this year. This nudge just got so big in July that I just started (oh yeah, I forgot our trip to Birmingham this summer). I was in a hotel room in Birmingham with keyed-up pre-teens, a snoring husband (love you babe), and a laptop staring at me. I had to process all this STUFF and it just started. So just start. Even if you only take the next 2-5 minutes to reflect on 2021. I beg of you to do it. So many of us are just sleepwalking through life. Work. Supper. Kids. TV. Bed. Repeat. Weekend. And repeat again. Let us all try some self-evaluation, life-evaluation, emotional-evaluation. What is life-giving and what is life-draining? What brings you joy? The only person keeping me from writing was ME. What will YOU allow yourself to do in 2022? Godspeed. I have been waking up before 5 AM consistently for 11 years. It started with necessity, nursing my child before work, but it continued for several reasons. When my firstborn was an infant, my stepson was eight. This meant I had to be stealthfully quiet as I woke the baby, fed him, spent some time with him, and then passed him to his daddy while I showered and dressed for work. It was a time before AirPods, and before I had discovered podcasts or Audible. Facebook was barely a thing. And phones in general were just not attached to everyone’s hands like they are today. It was in these near silent moments without technology, with only a cuddly warm baby in my lap, that I discovered the true meaning of quiet contentment. Just me, rocking my baby boy guided only by the white noise sound machine and gentle soft lighting. I wasn’t scrolling. I wasn’t comparing. I wasn’t wishing, nor was I regretting. There was no self-loathing. My job had not even adopted an electronic medical record yet, so working from home was not possible. I wasn’t paying bills from a little icon on my phone. I didn’t have 400 emails in my inbox, or at least I didn’t know that I had them. Just quiet. Just peaceful. Just two humans bound by DNA and love and touch and time. Fast forward to 2021 and that baby is in sixth grade. My stepson has left the nest and is thriving, and my youngest son is in fourth grade. My alarm still goes off at 4:30 AM, but I am alone. Yes, the house is still quiet like it was back then. The lights are still low. But things have changed. There is a technological miracle that fits in the palm of my hand now. It is full of red dots that quicken my pulse. There is a slick, silver, almost paper-thin computer that is full of lab results and refill requests and exam notes to finish. Now I know that I have 400 emails in my inbox. There are all these little icons in my hand that tell me I’m not good enough when I open them. There are ads everywhere that seem to call my digital wallet’s name. What happened to those early morning quiet moments? My eyes fill with tears as I type this. Yes, most mornings I participate in healthy self care such as prayer, Journaling, or mindfulness... but let’s be honest. If I choose to pick up this Fair-weather friend that follows me everywhere, I disappear. Those quiet peaceful moments disappear. I am not touching anyone. I am not gazing at someone I love and enjoying that feeling of togetherness and connection. This quiet house? Well it’s telling me it needs to be dusted and decorated. Those sleeping children? They need agendas signed and class party treats sent in and uniforms washed and clarinet reeds ordered. My husband may or may not be at work, but if he is did I reach out to him? And if he’s home, did I reach out to him? Oh wait- there goes my timer. Time to hop in the shower, put the bacon in the oven, get those boys up and moving. There goes my heart rate rising with each deadline and inbox item that crosses my mind. Oh, yes, I’m productive. I’m organized. Just ask all my friends and family. But is that the legacy I want to leave? ‘ She is so efficient. She can get it all done. Tears in my eyes again, geez. I would rather be known as Amy that helped me. Amy that loved me. Amy that made me feel important. Amy that I could count on. But most of all, Amy that I knew inside and out- between the lines and in the trenches. You see, getting it all done can be quite lonely. Have I been so busy getting it all done that I forgot to connect? Constantly looking at this lit up master that fits in my hand honestly makes me feel like crap. Yes- there are laughs and good reads hopefully like this one. There’s my longtime friend’s child or grandchild. The books and music and podcasts usually add instead of subtract. But all those red dots? I hate them. They steal little tiny pieces of me and I can’t really explain it. My children won’t know a world without the red dots, and that makes me sad. So here I am, on a rainy Wednesday morning, now voice-texting into this devilish device to create this message. I think it is a message for myself more than anything. Gosh these stupid tears. What is going on? I need to rewind. I need to go back. Back to the quiet simple peaceful mornings. I need to let go. I need to reach out even more than I need to let go. Who is with me? A fantastic human I call my friend gifted me with this poem this week. She didn't write it, but she knew I needed it. And now, I gift it to you. ☀️ safire-rose.com/books-and-media/poetry/she-let-go I see it every year. It starts around the first week of November and it lasts through the middle of January. The holiday blues. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve actually slowed down enough to think about trends in my practice. Sure there is an actual diagnosis of seasonal affective disorder, but this is different. This is deeper. This is hard. And here’s how I see it every day for two months straight in my exam rooms: Me: Hey Mrs. Jones - it is so good to see you. I know we had to zoom for our last visit. What’s new in your life? Are you ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Are y’all going anywhere? Mrs Jones: oh you know, I will be cooking for the family for Thanksgiving. And the children and the grandchildren may stop by for Christmas. No... I don’t go anywhere. I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Anyway how are your boys? Are they ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Me: oh yes I will be making my Mammaw’s dressing, sweet potato casserole from an old Birmingham recipe from one of my mother’s friend’s mothers, my layered salad that a nurse I used to work with taught me how to make. Gosh that was over 25 years ago now. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Daddy will fry the turkey and my husband will fix the ham and a peanut butter pie. Mama will make the deviled eggs and the Waldorf salad. I will make my mother-in-law‘s corn bean casserole and some homemade mashed potatoes. Of course we will have rolls and cranberry sauce. Another blank stare. I haven’t seen my mother-in-law in over five years. The boys? Oh yes, they are more than ready for Christmas. We got them a matchbox Advent calendar they can’t wait to get started on. They’re growing up so fast. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. The oldest will be home from the Air Force. He and his girlfriend will be together the whole time I’m sure. I smile. But I’m nearly in tears. What is going on? And we sit for a moment. Two women born of different decades and sometimes different skin colors who have lived two very different lives at the outsider’s glance, but are so alike on the inside that it’s haunting. Her daughter is sitting beside her. They look and act so much alike it makes me smile from the inside out. I’m sure that’s what people say when they see me with my mother. I don’t have a daughter. Will my boys take care of me? Alright, get it together Amy. We finish out our actual medical visit and say our go-to goodbyes: Happy Holidays. Y’all be safe. Call me if you need me. And now, after ALL these years, I often hear “you know I love you.” And I believe it’s true. It’s not forced. It’s been earned. Is it against the rules? No, not my rules it’s not. Truth be told, I love her too. Maybe because I see myself in her and I’m cheering for myself in my old age. I’m giving myself a head start and saving myself a seat. I’ve practiced in Kentucky and in Georgia. I worked in a nursing home for six years and then made rounds as a nurse practitioner in that very same nursing home. I’m an old soul myself so I think I draw my elderly patients in and they stick. I stick to them too, and I think they know it. I’ve had so many Mrs. Jones over my 17 years. I’ve had Mr. Jones and Little Johnny Jones or Little Sally Jones as well, but I am so connected to Mrs. Jones that I can almost finish her sentence. Now I’m driving home and this 2 Lane Highway surrounded by trees and cows and horses makes me feel like I could be in any of the four states I’ve lived. It’s familiar and so are these thoughts. I’m a little girl in my childhood home with my brother and my parents and we just came home from candlelight Christmas Eve service and mama made lasagna. I haven’t really been hurt yet. I don’t know what it feels like to love somebody besides my family. I feel safe and secure and like I can do anything in this world. How did Mrs. Jones feel at this age? How did you feel at 10 years old? Now I’m driving home from Tuscaloosa with Delta Zeta on my back windshield. My finals are over. I get to see my boyfriend. I’m taking pre-med classes as well as a full nursing load, but I’ve been hurt by now. I’ve been disappointed and lied to by some people I trusted. But it’s the holidays you see, and I still feel like I’ve got a handle on things. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing at 20 years old? Had you been hurt by then? Oh wow. I didn’t really see this coming. Or did I? I’m sitting alone in my first marital home. Half my furniture is gone. Someone I love deeply told me I don't really need a Christmas tree this year because "it's just you." Am I not enough for a tree? Who am I by myself anyway? I’m driving to Georgia for Christmas. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sad in my life. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing when she was 30 years old? Was her heart broken like mine? Was yours? Gather around now. It’s time to eat. My baby boy is four years old and can’t seem to stop smiling. God gave him to me for sure. The first one I carried is six and almost as smart as I am. The one I didn’t carry but I’ve fed and loved now for seven years is sitting right next to me. Is he thinking about his mama? Will he ever see her again? Tiny pieces of my heart crumble for him. I just started taking prednisone for an incurable autoimmune disease I had to look up on the Internet. Lord have mercy and I really do mean "please Lord have some mercy." I’m only about 3 1/2 weeks into a lifelong diagnosis and I don’t know what the future holds. I’m scared. I’m sad. Merry Christmas y’all. It’s the holidays, right? I wonder how old Mrs. Jones was when she first questioned her mortality? How old were you? Were you 40 years old like me with a child in pre-K, one in first grade, and one silently falling apart right in front of you? You see that’s what the holiday blues are. They are every heartbreak and broken promise. They are all the fears and all the lost relationships. They are that empty seat at the table. The phone that barely rings. They are the one that got away and the one that stayed too long. They are your mother, your father, and your children. They are every husband you’ve ever had. How can they not be? We can’t erase our memories. I don’t have a cure for the holiday blues. I think they’re part of life. Mrs. Jones might tell me they get better with each decade or she might tell me they grow and take up more space than we should allow. I’m scared to ask her. None of us even talk about it really. We just say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, y’all be safe. So this is my letter to you at age 45. Some heartaches of mine have healed and some are still there. I don’t think we should only remember the good times because that’s not what made us. It’s certainly not what made me today sitting right here baring my soul and giving you the permission to bare yours. Acknowledge the things that built you. Godspeed. This goes out to every Mrs. Jones that has ever allowed me to know her. She is me and I am her. And I thank God for that. We all have basic human needs as individuals. Most of us would agree that we need food, sleep, and water and some agree we need love and friendship. I would venture to guess that beyond those basic needs, many people are sleep-walking through life without ever giving pause to what THEY or WE actually need from each other. Lots of therapy has helped me realize that other people in my life don't automatically KNOW what I need or expect from them. I must let them know what I need. I have also come to realize that no ONE person in my life could possibly fill or meet all of my needs. It is humanly impossible to meet all the needs of another human by oneself. It truly does take a village. Once we have identified our needs, we can start to look at the players on our team and realize who is filling which need in our life. Some fill multiple needs. Others fill one need or don't fill a need at all, but instead may be causing stress or toxicity. Perhaps "trimming the fat" is in order when it comes to our circle of loved ones. I have also learned that not all of us are CAPABLE or WILLING to meet certain needs of others, and that too can be a painful process of acceptance and growth. So, let's roll up our sleeves and look closely at the basic human needs of each person roaming around this earth. Let us make a list of the members of our circle and try to identify who fills which need(s). There are several reasons this is important:
This is real adulting. Grown up stuff. Hard stuff. Deep stuff. So get ready. photo credit: childhoodtraumarecovery.com Let us look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs from a current-day real-life perspective and add the context of relationships and connection to those needs:
I don't have many patients that walk into my office and tell me they have needs. Instead, they tell me they are sad. They are withdrawing from friends or family. They can't sleep. They don't feel good. The have mood swings or anger outbursts. They are no longer excited about life. Medication cannot "fix" some of these painful circumstances we are all facing in our lives. An SSRI (most commonly used class of anti-depressants) cannot make your spouse SEE you or try to meet your needs. It cannot heal decade-old wounds from your narcissistic mother. It cannot jump into your best friend's mind and tell her that she is hurting you with her words or actions. Nor can it walk into your adult child's house and announce that YOU are a person, too, and that you need love and respect. So many of these issues have been around so long in your life that you don't know where to begin to address them. I encourage you to seek counseling if and when you can. A good therapist really can change your life. In the meantime, write down YOUR needs. List what needs are being met and which are not being met. Jot down WHO is helping to meet those needs and make a mental note of who you really can count on in which needs department. Use your resources - your people - when you are in crisis. Learn to NOT go to the ones who have not or cannot meet certain needs so that you avoid further hurt and disappointment. And consider having a conversation with your loved one if the opportunity ever arises and the setting and timing are conducive to growth. We cannot read minds, and we are all flawed. This relationship and self-evaluation work isn't easy, but it is worth it. Godspeed. A popular book in the field of marriage and relationships is Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages. In his book, Dr. Chapman discusses the five core languages used to give and receive love. Knowing your love language and that of your partner is quite beneficial as you navigate various scenarios and frustrations throughout your relationship. I will link the quiz below. The 5 Love Languages according to Dr. Chapman are:
Originally written in 2004, the book has now sold over 6 million copies. I read it when it was originally released, and I read it again when I remarried. I knew the importance of speaking the same love language (or at least being aware of my partner's love language) . I think it is helpful to know your close friends' love language and the language of your children or other close family members. If you are not familiar with the concept, I will use this brief example: Amy (acts of service, physical touch): " I am so tired. Ugghh I have so much to do. I don't know how I'm going to get it all done." Husband thinking to himself (words of affirmation, quality time): Amy is so tired. She should go to bed. Maybe if I keep encouraging her to go to bed, she will. Amy thinking to herself: If he would fold this laundry, then maybe I could go to bed. But instead he's just telling me I should go to bed. Husband thinking to himself: Why is she folding that laundry when she is so tired? If I offer to fold the laundry, she may lash out at me since she's so tired, and (needing words of affirmation) that would ruin the night, so I will just stay with her (quality time) and gently encourage her to go to bed. Amy fuming at this point (acts of service, physical touch): If he's not going to fold the laundry, he could at least rub my back. Then maybe I could relax enough to go to bed. But husband doesn't rub my back because he wants the words of affirmation and reassurance to do so and the spiral continues. Neither spouse did anything WRONG, but remembering each other's love language might have made for a much more pleasant evening. Pleasant evenings bleed into smooth mornings and so forth. This example is just one of many. It can apply to family, friends, coworkers. You may be trying to show appreciation with a gift or money but they WANT / NEED to hear you say why you appreciate them. They may be doing all the little chores and acts of service to get your attention, but you WANT / NEED them to stop running around and spend the afternoon with you without any distractions. It really is fascinating once you know the love language of your partner or best friends. You can spend an entire afternoon dissecting why one situation went south based on love language miscommunication alone. But back to PHYSICAL TOUCH, I think this love language is often overlooked and misunderstood. For obvious reasons, it's viewed with caution, and while that is good... it is also robbing us of a basic human need. With the surge of technology and virtual everything, many of us go days or weeks without touching another human, particularly these last 2 years. Throughout my career, I have used touch as a means to reassure and connect with my patients. Since I received touch as a child and infant in a safe, healthy environment, I have been able to give touch easily. I know that is not true for everyone I encounter, and I acknowledge that. Here are some ways I have used touch in my practice:
Here are some ways I have used touch in my home with my children:
My challenge to you, wherever you are, however old you are, whatever childhood you had, whatever love language you prefer, however many times you've been hurt, is to THINK about physical touch in the setting of a newborn baby. I have linked an article below touting the science behind touch and neurological growth and development. If you're old enough to find this article, then you have been a child yourself. You may have children or be involved in a child's life. We all know that a crying baby or toddler is often soothed by the touch of a loved one or caregiver. Animals are the same way. I dare say, adults are ALSO the same way. If you love someone (your child, your partner, your mother, your close friend), touch them. HUG them. Incorporate safe and healthy touch into your daily routine. We have grown generations of adults now who are not used to being touched. Those untouched adults are now having more untouched children. Those untouched children are looking for affection in ways that a simple "cuddle session" (what we call it at our house) may have averted. It saddens me when I shake a teenager's limp and nervous hand or attempt an appropriate side-hug with someone and am greeted with surfboard-stiff awkwardness. I see the physical and emotional effects of the untouched in my office each week, and it breaks my heart. Pat Harris was my first grade teacher. She had a Hug-Me-Spot right by the door to her classroom. No student could enter her room in the morning or leave her room in the afternoon without hugging Miss Harris on the Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs a Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs an army of Miss Harrises. The rules and restrictions have created a generation of kids that don't know what touch is actually appropriate, and adults that are too glued to their phones to use their hands to rub their child's back or snuggle on the couch. These touch-starved kids marry each other and are LONELY and starving for affection that was never modeled for them. And here we are. I challenge you to touch someone today. And tomorrow. And the next day. Hug. Cuddle. Kiss your partner. Squeeze your child. Hold hands. Make touch a part of your day every day. We may really change the world. 🌎 Let's try it. ☀️ Godspeed. I do want you to listen to the podcast, because I think there are some big pearls in this interview, but here are a few highlights:
Find out who is in your circle:
Plan as much as you can ahead of time:
Final pro tips: -Keep a medical binder of all your paperwork -Have a designated inbox for all incoming papers (follow The Planning Woman for more on this) -Apply for intermittent FMLA with your employer -My personal pro tip: PET THERAPY! 🐶🐱 Charlie the Dachshund makes everything better!
In olden days your last name often described your family’s occupation and reflected your status in the community. The Bakers baked bread. The Carpenters built things out of wood. The Smiths crafted items from iron, silver, and gold. For as long as I can remember I’ve known I was adopted, so my family name was not my own and seemed to reveal nothing about me. That’s not to say I wasn’t treasured as a longed-for baby adopted at nine months and an adored only child until I was six when my adopted brother joined our family as a four-year-old stranger. Let’s say my family’s name was Farmer. Although I was unconditionally loved by the whole Farmer clan, I never felt like a Farmer. My mom had a laid-back temperament. Mine was more intense. My mom liked to sew. I had no inclination as a seamstress. Fitting my dresses, she often commented on my wide shoulders and narrow waist, so unlike her own figure. When I was in fourth grade, I discovered I had a different first name before I was adopted, and growing up, always wondered what was behind that name. Who were my people, and what were they like? (For the details of that fourth-grade episode, see my blog “Carried.”) Out of respect for my adoptive mom and dad, however, I never searched for my biological parents while they were alive. But when my adoptive parents passed away, my husband said, “Your bio mother and father are getting old too. If you want to find them, you better hurry up,” so we opened the green metal box always kept in the downstairs closet of my childhood home and dug through official papers to find my adoption agency. When I read the family history they shared, I discovered a great uncle was active in community theatre, and so was I. Another great uncle was a teacher of foreign language who later became a diplomat to Uganda. I got my masters in language, literacy and culture, and my favorite job later in life was teaching English to brand-new immigrants. When I finally met my bio mom, she invited me on a family vacation. We walked a Cape Cod beach, and I marveled that her body was shaped just like mine. My husband videoed us chatting, so I could see how our animated mannerisms mirrored each other. She shared my grandmother's favorite flowers were lilacs, my favorite scent, and that my grandmother was a DJ for a classical music and public affairs radio station. I’d just gotten into opera, but when my mom played my grandmother's favorite arias, they were mine. The icing on the cake was when she told me, a writer, that my great, great, great grandfather was Nathaniel Hawthorne. Recently, my husband urged me to do a 23 and me DNA test, to locate my bio dad's family we’d never been able to connect with. As a result, I found a bio half-brother and subsequently the rest of his siblings. Neither of my maternal half-sibs look like me, so when I saw my paternal half-sibs, I was stunned. Let’s call my father’s family The Jones. There was no denying I was a Jones. Recently someone told me, “Trauma can be not only something bad that happened to you, but the lack of something you desperately needed.” This average family resemblance flooded a gaping void I was unaware of. In fact, I felt more connected to the half-brother I just met than to my adopted brother who’s felt like a stranger all my life. All this to say, whether you’re adopted or not, there is power in knowing your name and everything behind it! My adoption simply highlighted the security of being connected to your family by blood, seeing your image reflected in another, and understanding that the way you’re designed is clearly a gift from God, above and beyond any influence from your environment. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be acknowledged by my real father. Without a father you are unclaimed, unnamed, and unprotected from the shame that labels you a misbegotten, out-of-wedlock bastard. Harsh, but those words are synonyms for illegitimate, the term that lived just beneath my skin my whole life. That’s why my most important name is still not my own, but it reveals everything about me. Under the banner of Christ, no matter my origin or circumstances, I am a chosen, holy, beloved member of the family of God with a blood connection to Jesus, the first born of many siblings. Together may we reflect his image above all others for the rest of our days. Thank you Ann for your beautiful words and vulnerability. May God continue to bless you and your family. |