Shit-Part 1

Hey, all.  Older, Middle Sister Jill here.  It’s not really my turn on the blog this week – it is actually Baby Sister Kristen’s – but she is at military training, and I have been sandbagging on writing, so you are stuck with me this week.  I haven’t felt like writing recently for at least a couple of reasons.  First and foremost, I don’t really have anything that is weighing heavy on my mind.  When I was in the military, I was constantly triggered and had a ton of angry topics to write about.  Since I retired from military service, my life is gentler and calmer.  This unanticipated result is great, don’t get me wrong, but it also doesn’t make for very exciting stories.  Second, I have been working through some shit lately.  Not the kind of shit I want to write about.  Hard shit, real shit, emotional shit, just all kinds of shit.  And no one likes to talk about shit.  So here I am, on the blog, with nothing to really say.  So fuck it.  Maybe I will talk about some shit.  But shit can’t be talked about in one sitting, so I guess this one will have to come to you in parts.  

SHIT:  PART I

Although the shit goes back much further than this, I will say it probably culminated almost a year ago, when I was in Cape Cod with my entire family.  The Cape is extraordinary--quaint villages filled with seafood and snack shacks, oceanside bars, lighthouses and picturesque beaches.  History intersects seamlessly with the modern day and creates the rare circumstance where literally anyone can have a good time.  Anyone but meapparently.  I was completely and utterly, well, miserable.  I prayed every morning for the strength to fake it just one more day for my family’s sakeoften got up early and cried outside the presence of my kids and family.  I wondered how I could be so despondent in such an amiable place.  I knew what I was experiencing was not okay, and yet, I had no clue what was wrong.  I didn’t know how to fix a problem I couldn’t even identify.  I felt lost, alone and empty.  One beautiful morning, I literally found myself googling “why do I feel like shit” and “what to do when you feel like shit and don’t know why.”  These outrageous searches are probably what prompted Facebook to generate an ad in my newsfeed for this program called Mountains to Marathons Leadership Program. I’ll call it M2M for short.  I don’t ever click on ads.  I really don’t.  But on this day, in the midst of my misery, I clicked on the M2M ad. You can access the link here if you are curious at any pointhttp://mountainsandmarathons.world/

Upon clicking the link, I learned M2M trained its participants to either run a marathon or climb a mountain and also provided some kind of leadership development and training.  To be honest, completely glossed over the leadership stuff because of my own hubris.  I believed that since I had my master’s in management and had taken countless of leadership courses through the Army that the leadership part of the program would be the standard run of the mill crap I had already encountered.  I clearly, in my head at least, did not need more b.s. leadership training.  However, what did catch my interest was that the next session of M2M was slated to run a marathon in the Bahamas.  For the past two years, I had been trying to find the motivation to run my tenth marathon, but I hadn’t been able to stick with the training.  I never previously had problems with motivating myself to train for a marathon, and therefore, I had no idea how to regain my inspiration.  In retrospect, I know why I was unable to get motivated or have the energy to train for a marathon but at the time, I was stymied.  At any rate, when I read the next M2M session would culminate with a retreat in the Bahamas to run the 2021 Bahamas Marathon, I thought I could probably put up with the leadership stuff (that I didn’t need) if it would motivate me to get that tenth marathon done.  It was the first time in a long time that I felt a small spark, but any spark, no matter how slight, was welcome at that point.  Without much thought, I filled out the information request form and pressed send.  As I would come to find out, even the tiniest spark – ill-placed as it might be  is sometimes all it takes to ignite something remarkable.    

Much like clicking on some rando Facebook ad, the events that transpired next are somewhat inexplicable.  In less than 24 hours from when I filled out the online form, I found myself on a Zoom call with Jaminone of the M2M coaches.  Here is why that is unusual.  Until recently, I absolutely hated talking on the phone.  Text or Snap were my preferred methods of communication.  Shit, even letter writing was in front of having a damn phone call.  Zoom added an entirely different layer of stress to the equation because I did not want to look at someone and vice versa while we were talking.  That was the stuff nightmares were made of.  Yet, for reasons I cannot quite articulate, I agreed to this Zoom call with some stranger named Jamin.  Before I write this next part, I have to apologize up front to Jamin and anyone who knows Jamin that might ever come across this piece.  I have learned that Jamin is a warm, giving, and heartfelt person.  I’ve never met him in person, but it sure feels like I have.  Anyway, that is how I know Jamin now.  But, when I first spoke to Jamin, I firmly believed he was full of shit.  My mindset at the time refused to let me trust anyone or anything.  I was shut off to possibility, and I honestly really put that guy through hell.  Yet, this cat named Jamin never expressed frustration with me or gave up on me and for that I am truly grateful but it doesn’t change the fact that I thought he was full of it when we first talked.  On our first call, Jamin gave me the overview of the program.  He started with the leadership crap that I wasn’t interested in - some something about inner peace and being in alignment.  Blah blah blah,” I thought, get to the marathon training part.  But Jamin didn’t want to focus on the marathon part. Instead, he wanted to know about my life, why I had made the inquiry, what was missing, who I was, what I was passionate about and all sort of stuff I didn’t have the answers on.  I honestly wondered why this guy was asking me all of this stuff because it had nothing to do with marathon training, which I had made clear was my primary motivation.  So I gave Jamin, well, virtually nothing to work with.  I was closed off, tight lipped, probably a little flippant and possibly a real asshole in retrospect.  Normally, by this point in a conversation, I have either exhausted, intimidated or offended the other party so much so that they will go away but this Jamin person did not seem to be phased.  In fact, he wanted to schedule yet another Zoom call.  WTF.  And double WTF as I heard myself agreeing, opening my damn calendar and scheduling the call.   Who was this person?  

During my second Zoom call with JaminJamin started in again about the leadership stuff.  Seriously, this guy was not getting the hint that I didn’t need the leadership stuff.  My normal tactics of pushing people away seemed to have little effect on this guy.  In fact, it seemed like he was okay with whatever I was experiencing or expressing.  Jamin was an enigma to me, and I think instead of me wearing him down, he must have worn me down because eventually, I found myself telling him that my transition out of the Army had been scarier and harder than I expected, that I didn’t know who I was post-Army and that I felt completely and utterly alone.  Whoa,” I thought.  Why in the hell did I just tell a stranger all of that?”At the same time, I was sort of relieved – not because I had gotten it off my chest - but because I thought FOR SURE this Jamin character would not want to take on this level of cluster fuck.  I mean, his program was for people who weren’t googling “what to do when you feel like shit but don’t know why.”  His program was for people who had their shit together, which I clearly did not.  But, of course, since it was Jamin I was dealing with, what did he want to do?  He wanted to schedule another damn call with me.  I told myself I would not get on the call, that I would find some way to get out of it.  But instead, I found myself Zooming Jamin once again at 7:00 a.m. the next day.    

So here is where I am not going to do things justice because my memory can be shitty sometimes and all of this happened quickly in between me faking being happy in Provincetown or at some beach in Cape Cod.  I think it was on our third or fourth Zoom call that I finally began paying attention to what Jamin was saying about the leadership stuff I didn’t think I needed.  Jamin pitched it as a six-month program that could transform my life.  The leadership he was talking about wasn’t like the Army leadership I had been trained in, but more like learning to be a leader/creator in your own life instead of a passive actor in a play written by someone else.  And then he would throw in, “And yes, we will get you to finish your tenth marathon.”  During one or both of these calls, two things Jamin said spoke to me.  The first was that he said, “You can’t even imagine what your life will look like if you complete this program but you 100% know what it will look like if you do not.” Fuck. He was right.  Change only comes about by changing something.  If I did nothing different, I knew exactly what that looked like.  He also said, “Deep down, you know that this program can help you.”  And I so desperately wanted to believe him.  But it just seemed impossible that a program could fix in six months what 20 years of counseling could not.  I was worried about spending the money on something I had no guarantee would work or helpand I was tired of throwing money down the drainYet, once again, Jamin said something that made sense to me.  He said, “Even if just one quarter of what I say is true, wouldn’t improving your life even by 25% be worth it?”  I really couldn’t argue with that.  Feeling as bad as I did, I was damn near willing to do anything to improve my life even by 10%. But I still wasn’t completely sold.  Over the course of three or four days, I think Jamin and I had five Zoom calls.  No shit. That was the most phone calls I had experienced in the entire last year.  vividly remember thinking to myself, “This man must be completely insane or he truly wants to help people.”  I decided to find out.  

I imagine when most people make the decision to sign up for an M2M program, they are filled with excitement, perhaps even joy or hope mixed in with a bit of trepidation.  Signing up to climb a mountain or run a marathon is a huge deal.  But not this asshole.  I was, and might always be, the least excited person who signed up for an M2M session.  I simply announced in a perfunctory fashion, “Fine, I’ll do it.  But I’m probably not going to like it.”  I had not met her yet, but the other part of the M2M dynamic duo, Jen, overheard me say this.  She would later recount this to me and, in a very loving and amusing way, told me that at the time she wondered what Jamin had gotten them into.  I will talk more about Jen in later segments I am sure.  Deep down, truth be told, I was a little excited, and I had even felt a little hopeful.  But I still felt mostly like shitdidn’t know if I had one more marathon in me and wondered if I had just blown money on another failed endeavor at self-improvement.  Jamin, just being Jamin, simply took it all in but now that I know Jamin a bit more, I am pretty sure he was excited enough for both of us but knew that if he was too over the top with it he would have alienated me at the time.  And so, with excited non-excitement, I embarked on a six-month journey that would hopefully take to me anywhere other than where I was.  

END OF SHIT PART I 




Musings on a January Morning

It is true...for me, anyway. Anger, unhappy, and frustration take a lot more energy than acceptance, peace, and calm. The first three definitely have their time, place, and value. I just don't have the energy for passion in a blog this week. Trust me...my sisters are well aware of my passion topics I'm queueing up for my posts. But...it's January, it's winter, it's been snowing for going on 24 hours, this is my busy time for work (I write for my job so writing in my off hours can seem overwhelming), and I don't want to get worked up. Even for something constructive. So...what I have been thinking about this morning is an excerpt my friend Mike texted me last week from Rules of Civility by Amor Towles (highly recommend). The passage stated much more eloquently than I could ever begin to, some things I have been noticing and mulling around in my head and heart.

"My father was never much one for whining. In the nineteen years I knew him, he hardly spoke of his turn in the Russian army, or of making ends meet with my mother, or of the day that she walked out on us. He certainly didn't complain about his health as it failed.
    But one night near the end, as I was sitting at his bedside trying to entertain him with an anecdote about some nincompoop with whom I worked, out of the blue he shared a reflection which seemed such a non sequitur that I attributed it to delirium. Whatever setbacks he had faced in his life, he said, however daunting or dispiriting the unfolding of events, he always knew that he would make it through, as long as when he woke in the morning he was looking forward to his first cup of coffee. Only decades later would I realize that he had been giving me a piece of advice."

When I read this passage, I felt tears coming to my eyes. Because I have known the feelings surrounding that cup of coffee...literally and figuratively. I do wake up in the morning, excited for my coffee. On vacation, of course...the thrill of finding a new little coffee shop...soaking up its energy and ambiance. Savoring the smell and color and taste. Or sitting near the water with a mug in my hand, feeling and breathing the air, relishing the luxuriousness. During the holidays, waking up to coffee in the kitchen with my family, warm and lively and shared. At home, too...I love getting out of bed and selecting a coffee mug that feels special and reminds me of people and places I've been. I love the smell and warmth of the coffee. I love it when my husband makes my coffee for me and brings it to me in bed, seeing which special mugs he picked out for the day. I can vividly recall the excitement these cups of coffee awaken in me. I feel like a queen or a goddess or love and I feel giddy.


I also remember how it feels when that sentiment is missing from my life. When I'm so sad and lonely, heartbroken and confused, that the coffee doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter. This is part of my warning system. This is when I know something needs to change, something needs to be addressed; I need to change or accept or grieve or communicate...or all the things. It's a frightening realization - and a reminder that I want make it through so I can get back to myself - a reminder that there is some lesson I'm to learn. That the excitement for coffee in the morning is more than a feeling - it is a way of being in this world. It is something to fight for, to make my way back to. And that can take a long time - this past fall was consumed by my struggle to get back to my coffee feeling. At times, I felt like I didn't care if I got back to the coffee feeling - and it scared me. And then, one day after what seemed a long time of tears, angst, soul searching, internal and external hard work, I was excited for my coffee again.

There are other "cups of coffee" in my life...starting a new book, going to Drake Diner, going on a bike ride, cooking and baking, putting gifts together for family and friends, being sent a quote and knowing that someone is thinking of me. If we are fortunate, we all have them. In my experience, these every day treasures are to be carefully guarded and when those feelings go missing, it's my internal alarm system saying, pay attention. You're going to lose something here if you're not careful. And I am the only one who can make my way back to my cup of coffee.

The passage goes on to say, "...when a person loses the ability to take pleasure in the mundane - in the cigarette on the stoop or the gingersnap in the bath - she has probably put herself in unnecessary danger. What my father was trying to tell me, as he neared the conclusion of his own course, was that this risk should not be treated lightly." I have felt that danger many times in my life. It scares me. So far, I have been able to make it back to that cup of coffee. And when I do, I feel joy, relief, love and gratitude. Here's to our cups of coffee - may they remain a meaningful presence in our lives' journeys.


Pip




As I mentioned in my last blog, someday I am going to write a book about all the lessons I have learned through my children and how they can be applied to “grownup” problems. Here is another vignette for you until then.

Often, I talk with my sisters about calling people out on their bullshit or when they do something for which they need to be held accountable. It would not be a rare occasion for us to get fairly spirited saying something like, “yeah, call that *expletive* out!” Additionally, in a recent workplace training on creating a compassionate work environment, I answered one of the instructor’s inquiry on how to do so by saying that people who do not act in compassionate ways should be “called out.” 


More recently, however, I attended a training for my victim advocacy during which the facilitator was talking about how we should work to not call people out but rather to call people in. This portion of his talk really struck me. It made sense to me in the way that he explained it and even just thinking it through in my head but I did not really see it in a real-life example until my four-year modeled it…


One night during this last month Larry and I were arguing and nitpicking with each other after a long day at work. Who the hell knows what it was about. It was probably something silly and due to the stress of the year, the pandemic, the holidays, who knows. We never argue in depth in front of the kids but for small disputes, we have never hid the fact that we have disagreements. 


After dinner, I took the kids up for a bath. I think Larry was taking longer than normal to come upstairs to assist and so LJ asked me where he was. I told him he was taking a long time because he was “being a pip.” A pip is our word for being a little irritable or difficult to get along with for the moment. LJ did not ask any more questions and instead said, “I’m going to go get him.” He went downstairs, got him, and stayed by his side the rest of the night. As soon as he brought him upstairs he asked to read a book with him and said, “I love you, daddy.” It is a bit difficult to put into words because in writing this it somewhat just sounds like typical four-year-old behavior. But it wasn’t – LJ was calmer and sweeter. You could tell that he knew that daddy was being a pip and probably needed extra attention instead of just being “called out.”


As an adult, I would have and was tempted to tell him to hurry up and get his bum upstairs and to quit acting like a pip! My four year old knew better – often when someone is “acting out” they need more attention. And when someone does need to be “called out” on their behavior, you may get a better response if rather you “call them in”…or upstairs to snuggle, read a book, and tell them that you love them.

Be Kind

Someday I am going to write a book about all the lessons I have learned through my children and how they can be applied to “grownup” problems. Until then, you will have to continue reading my blogs.

About 6 weeks ago, Adeline was riding with LJ in their battery-powered John Deere tractor. For almost every day during quarantine, they have tooled around in it together with LJ always driving and Adeline putting her feet up and enjoying the ride. They have utilized it so much that the plastic tires are bare. On this particular day, LJ stopped in the middle of our cul-de-sac and Adeline went spilling out the side. I heard LJ proclaim “Zsa Zsa!”, his nickname for her, and then Adeline got up and came running to me with blood streaming from her mouth. She hardly ever cries but she cried for almost an hour straight after the incident. She would not close her mouth and I was worried that one of her front teeth knocked loose. Thank goodness, her mouth healed quickly and there was no damage to her teeth.

 

For the next week or so I found myself following her around the house saying “be careful!” or “slow down!” or “don’t jump” or “don’t run!” or some other phrase because I was anxious she was going to bump her mouth again and either aggravate her wounds or knock her tooth loose for real. The night OF the incident, she and LJ were running around the house doing a gymnastics routine which consisted of flipping on a bar, running a lap, and then doing a forward roll. My anxiety was through the roof. “Adeline, slow down!” “Adeline, be careful!”


About a week after that, Grandma and Grandpa announced that they had gotten Adeline her own battery-powered Jeep for Christmas. She has talked about having a jeep for over a year, points out every Jeep on our drives and runs, and yet I seriously considered telling them not to give it to her because of her run-in with the pavement weeks before.


At some point, I realized how ridiculous I was being. I cannot run around trying to keep my kids from injuring themselves. Sure, I could have eliminated all battery-powered toys from our outside toy arsenal and put a ban on all gymnastics routines inside of our house but then what message would I be sending? To tell a toddler not to run or jump is like telling them not to be a kid. They NEED this for physical development and for body/spatial awareness.


I thought back to some of the best advice I had received as a parent. It is less helpful to tell your child “Be careful!” which may be well intentioned but sends a vague message to your child that everything around them could be dangerous anis just generally uninspiring. For example, if a child is navigating over uneven terrain while on a walk in the woods, simply telling her to “be careful” may send the message that everything on this walk in the woods is scary and dangerous. On the other hand, if you say something more specific like, “Do you see those rocks right there? They could be slippery,” or “Do you see how some tree roots are sticking out? Keep your eye on them.” This is more inspiring because it conveys the message that you are confident in your child to know risks and to take them AND it lets them know that they do have some control over what could be dangerous.


So, how does this relate to my idea of writing a book about how lessons learned through my children can be applied to grownup problems? Well, a phrase has snuck into our vocabulary during this pandemic that really bothers me. People depart in person saying it, they sign their emails with it, and they end meetings with it. The phrase is, “BE SAFE” and I cannot stand it. This is the adult version of shouting to our children, “Be careful!” It is a well-intentioned phrase with potentially negative effects. This is not a post to debate the pandemic. I do believe and follow guidance that we should be wearing masks, distancing, and taking other measures to mitigate the effects of COVID-19. However, we already live in a society where anxiety is the most commonly diagnosed mental health disorder. Telling people to “Be safe.” sends the message the world is nothing but a scary place. What does “be safe” even mean? If everyone took the phrase “be safe” to heart, we would never do anything. Life is full of risks. Falling in love is a risk, having a child is a risk, starting a business is a risk, speaking up in a meeting is a risk, investing in the stock market is a risk, etc etc etc. Yes, I do believe in the intention of the phrase “be safe” but I would suggest we start using something else that sends less of a vague and uninspiring message. 


What if we said, “Be kind.” instead? What if we said, “Becompassionate.” instead? Be kind/compassionate to others and their decisions around the pandemic, be kind/compassionate to others who may have fared differently in their physical and mental health over the last 10 months, be kind/compassionate as we head into more unknowns for the next six months. Be kind to the old man who has decided to go back to the YMCA to exercise in order to improve his failing mental health. Be compassionate to the woman who has an autoimmune disease and has requested to work from home until there is a vaccine. Yes, you could argue the phrase “be kind” or “be compassionate” is vague as well, but in general, it sends a positive message and if we have people being “generally kind or compassionate”, that is still probably a good thing!


I am not sure if we should choose this phrase over the phrase “Be safe.” I am open to suggestions!  Maybe I need to just accept that the phrase annoys me and move on. If you think I am a whacko and think using “Be safe” is the way to go, I’d love to hear that opinion, too! 


Until I hear from you, be kind and compassionate, friends. And let your children have battery-powered toys and do gymnastics routines. LOVE!

 

Holy Interruptions

This isn’t the blog post I intended to write this weekend. I had planned on writing a reflective piece about grief and 2020 as it is a topic that has been weighing heavily on my mind the last couple of days.

I will still write that post (potentially the next time I write), but it will not be the post that I’m writing this weekend. You see, it’s 9:21 on Sunday evening, and I am just now starting my blog post. I had wanted to start composing it earlier this weekend, but this weekend has been a straight up clusterf*ck.

Essentially, it’s been one interruption and chaotic event after another this weekend for the majority of my family. It started on Thursday evening when my car was stolen. I won’t go into the entire story here, but suffice to say, that event was a huge interruption on both my- and other people’s- lives. Because my car was stolen, I was not able to accomplish the work that I needed to do that evening, and I lost several of my intimate possessions. It was, clearly, an interruption on my finances and career. Additionally, I had to call my father to come get me, and then he waited with me while we talked to the police. His life was interrupted trying to help me. Then, because of security reasons, I stayed at my older sister’s house this weekend, and she had to give me food and rides. Her life was interrupted. Moreover, because my phone was in my car, I didn’t have any sort of way to communicate with everyone I needed to collaborate with. So, I had to borrow my nephew’s phone for a day. His life was interrupted. And then, if enough people weren’t involved already, my mom came down on Friday, and she spent a significant amount of time taking me to get a new driver’s license and a rental car. Her life was interrupted.

And then today, just when the consequences of my car fiasco started to abate, I received a frantic call from my nephew (the same one whose phone I had borrowed until I got a new one running). He was frantic and in tears, and he hysterically explained that he cut himself on a knife. He was bleeding everywhere and he was deathly afraid. I was in the middle of working and had to pull over so I could talk with him. I did my best to calm him and talk with him, but when he showed me the blood and the gash on his finger, I knew he needed medical care. However, I was in Ankeny, and it would take me too long to get to his house. So, I called my father, and he went to take him to the hospital until dissident daughter Jill, his mother, could meet them there. More interruptions for all of us this evening to care for my nephew and his accident.

Ay yi yi. It was a tough weekend in many ways. And yet- while I don’t particularly love the idea of interruptions- I AM learning to embrace the holiness that comes with them. Despite the fear and exhaustion from these various layers of interruption, there is so much grace and connection in these moments. I mean, the cart theft alone was one hell of a story that I was able to share with others and laugh about. I appreciate the extra time I was able to have talking over coffee with my mom, sister, niece, and nephew because I spent the night with them. Those casual, intimate moments are the substance of life and relationships. I also enjoyed the extra hours of lounging I gave myself this weekend after dealing with the stress of having so much stolen from me.  And, finally, I absolutely love that my nephew trusted me enough to call me tonight to ask for help when he didn’t know what to do.

There is so much holiness and grace to be found in these interrupted moments that do not go according to plan. These moments give us connection, insight, humor, and appreciation that we may not have experienced otherwise. Moreover, they highlight the incredible interconnectedness and mutuality that need to define our social communities. These concepts sound so simple and obvious, and yet, we humans often fail at reciprocity. I love that my 12 year old nephew let me borrow his phone, and only 2 days later, I was able to embody the bi-directional relationship exchange by supporting him in return.  

Interruptions are holy, and we can experience that transcendence if we look for it and allow it.

Of course, I also don’t want to wax poetic about these experiences as though they are completely positive and without challenges. Let me be clear- to be “holy,” does not mean that something is “pure” and “without fault.” A definition of holy that assumes it means “unsullied” is one that is- quite frankly- naïve. For an experience to be holy, rather, is simply to notice how the presence of God is able to proliferate and be felt despite the unfortunate aspects of the context.

There ARE undeniably negative consequences from some of the clusterf*ck this past week. I’m going to take a financial hit with everything I have to replace in my car, and it’s happening at a horrible time as I’m a month away from closing on my first house. My father was not able to accomplish everything he needed and wanted to this weekend because he was running all over helping us amidst the chaos. He is retired and lives close by, so we lean on his time often to help us out. Additionally, my nephew was in significant pain as he cut his finger, and he was scared by the amount of blood that the cut caused.

There are negative, challenging, and tough experiences when life is interrupted, and we do ourselves – and others- a disservice when we try to pretend that every event is sunshine and roses. However, what I DO want to encourage all of us to do is to look for the “holiness” that occurs within and despite the shittiness of life. I promise you- it is always there- and it will lift you up and keep you moving forward.

Thanks, everyone, for helping me with my interruptions. I felt loved, and the incident is already very manageable and comical with only 3 days hindsight. That’s what holiness does for us. 

Get What You Want

“You deserve to have what you want, not just what you need.” Recently my girlfriend told this to me,  as I refused to go back into Little Caesars to ask for ranch that would definitely enhance the taste of the $5 pizza. Yes, much like many of our conversations, something as insignificant as ranch sparked an authentic and meaningful conversation. I went to Little Caesars on Veteran’s Day to get the free lunch special. On the way there I was telling my girlfriend how this was the first Veteran’s Day I actually capitalized on the free food perk because normally I would feel bad, or think that obtaining free food on this day wasn’t truly necessary. I decided to indulge in the free food this year because I wanted to share the experience and free food with her.

When we got there I ordered the lunch special, but forgot to ask for ranch. I went back out to the car and my girlfriend reminded me that I usually ate ranch with my pizza and asked if I wanted to get some. I hesitantly responded no and she questioned why, as it’s rare I don’t eat pizza with ranch. I responded and said, “Well, I don’t really need the ranch.” She pondered why that actually mattered and continued to push me on my thinking with a series of questions. She also pointed out that it is very frequent that I don’t partake in something because I don’t “need” it or that I’m often placing other’s needs and wants in front of my own.

I reflected on her questions and pushes in relation to other experiences. I felt bad buying my jeep in 2017 because I didn’t “need” a new vehicle. I always proactively offer to ride in the back seat of family trips and sleep on the couch because I can “handle” being uncomfortable. I felt hesitant to move out of the shared 8 bedroom house into a nice two bedroom apartment in San Jose because the 8 bedroom house was still “livable.” I grew up in a household where you were always planning or saving for the next worst thing to happen. Why buy something nice when you may regret it later if your water pipes burst? Why spend the extra money on dessert when you can be full without it? Why get a treat at the theme park when you could easily pack a lunch to eat outside of the park beforehand?

Although I am talking about this in a financial context right now, this mindset has also been adaptable to other areas of my life. Stay at the job even though you’re miserable because you may not find a new one. Don’t embrace the vulnerability of a relationship because you may get hurt. Don’t hang out with educated and affluent circles because you come from Podunk, Iowa. My sisters and I have referenced this mindset a lot in our conversations, as this mindset is an indirect result of our upbringing. We call it the “scarcity mindset.” The scarcity mindset is the mindset that tells you there will never be enough. There will never be enough money, food, shelter, love, resources, life, etc. This mindset is a nagging fear that prohibits you from obtaining what you truly want because it’s not truly what you need. You are surviving and that’s all that’s important. Heaven forbid you splurge, or treat yourself, and then regret it later when the next anticipated and terrible thing happens to you.

When my girlfriend told me, “You deserve to have what you want, not just what you need,” I got teary eyed because that was the first time in 27 years has anyone ever told me that. She asked me if I believed that, and the reality of it is, I do believe that, but I was never quite sure anyone else did. 




Music to My Ears

There’s just something about hearing that song on the radio. You know the one…and there’s always more than one. You could play it on your smart phone, or computer any time…but when it comes on the radio, unsolicited, it feels like this moment was made just for you. Personally, music has gotten me through many a challenging time and sparked or heightened many a good time. It is in that vein of thought that I am posting about music…because I think we all are facing challenging times right now and maybe a musical interlude in our lives can provide some joy, spark some memories, offer solidarity, or even make us dance.

Research demonstrates that listening to music can reduce anxiety, blood pressure, and pain, as well as improve sleep quality, mood, mental alertness, and memory (I knew there was a justification for all of the money I’ve spent on concerts!). Music also creates feelings of cohesion and social connectedness. Music bonds us. We all probably remember our high school or college school songs, have shared "our" song with a romantic partner, been sung to and sang to children at bedtime (I know I still remember my dad’s eclectic bed time collection that included Country Roads by John Denver and It’s Too Late by Carol King…and that, for better or worse, has now been sung to another generation), and have those summers, events, and seasons of life where a specific song was the soundtrack for that period of time (I'm looking at you, Shut Up and Dance and Somebody Told Me).

I am on the Wellness Committee at work. I chose music for our November Wellness newsletter for just the reasons I listed above. I came across a 30 day music playlist challenge that made me excited and happy and I wanted to share it with all of you. I want to see what playlist my sisters put together and I would love to see what you, our readers, put together, too, if you're willing to share. I'm looking forward to putting mine together and listening the shit out of it on my walks - both help me put "the real world" outside of my head for a while, help me remember good times and special people throughout my life. Even the songs that evoke tears remind me of all I am grateful for, the beautiful souls I have and have had in my life, and can remind me that yes, this, too, shall pass.

One of my favorite music memories is my sisters and I, my dad, and my niece and nephew road tripping down to Idaho to see my dad's old fire station for his 70th birthday. We all took turns picking a song, playing them on my blue tooth speaker, and singing along. We kept track of what we picked and in what order so we could make a playlist of that trip. As you can imagine, with the ages ranging from five to 70 and everywhere in between, we had quite the mix! I still think of that time whenever I hear The Lion Sleeps Tonight or Spirits by the Strumbellas.

I hope you enjoy this - even if reading it makes you just think of the songs you might pick - it's guaranteed to spark a memory, inspire a smile or laugh, make you dance, and maybe provide some sweet relief from the current shit show we are all living in and enduring (doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon so keep your playlists handy!).

Your go-to karaoke song.

Song you like with a color in the title.

Song off the first album you ever purchased.

Song you like with a number in the title.

Song that reminds you of someone special.

Song that reminds you of summertime.

Song you can’t help but dance to.

Song that needs to be played loudly.

Song by a band you wish were still together.

Song to drive to.

Favorite song from the 80’s.

Song that makes you happy.

Song from a movie.

Song that makes you sad.

Favorite cover song by another artist.

Song you never get tired of.

Song you know every word to.

Song that reminds you of your teen years.

Favorite power ballad.

Song you like from the 70’s.

Song from the year you were born.

Song that makes you feel motivated.

Song that makes you think about life.

Favorite song from a musical.

Song you like with a person’s name in the title.

Your newest favorite song.

Song that moves you forward.

The ultimate road trip song.

Song you think everyone should listen to.

Song that reminds you of a school dance.


In case you want a longer play list, add these songs, too!

Song you like by an artist no longer living.
Favorite song from the 90's.
Song that breaks your heart.
Song your parents always played.
Song by an artist whose voice you love.
Song that makes you feel relaxed.
Song that reminds you of yourself.
Favorite duet/remix.
Your most played song this year.
Song you never get bored of.
Your guilty pleasure song.

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