Holding each other up through tough times & slippery crosswalks!

One thing about writing a personal essay blog is that it leaves you very open to criticism. Each week, I put myself out there and share my experiences with people that I don’t know and may never meet. My hope, when I started this, was that I would strike a chord with women and men who have had similar experiences, so that we wouldn’t feel quite as alone as we negotiate middle-age. It’s all we can do for each other sometimes, when faced with life’s challenges, is to hold each other up. I hope to share a lesson or two and when I have nothing wise to say (which may happen more often than not), I hope to at least give folks a good laugh!

I have to admit, I was a little worried. There are, on occasion, those folks who seem to have nothing better to do than write very mean, critical comments on the paper’s online stories. How will I react to one of those? I am not sure yet. All of the comments left by readers so far have been wonderful!

This week, however, I did get my first personal email from a reader, although the tone of his note suggested he thought he was emailing the paper directly and not me personally. While it wasn’t really as mean and hateful as some comments I’ve read on other writer’s pieces, it was not in any way a compliment. In fact, he called my writing lame and blamed it on my being from Rhode Island! (I am well aware that having lived here for almost 24 years in no way makes me a true Mainer but that is a subject for another blog).

I have to agree with you though Reader. Some Rhode Islanders are certainly lame, but not in any greater percentage than the rest of the country. Then again, maybe it was very lame of us to cover our beautiful state in condos and sub-divisions until we could no longer see the ocean nor afford to even live there.

On a lighter note I also got my first bit of actual fan mail this week. It even contained a gift! Pat from the BDN emailed me one morning to say that a package had arrived at the paper’s office for me. Not expecting anything, I asked him to go ahead and open it and see what it was. Once he had verified that it was not 1) ticking or 2) sent by mistake, he forwarded it along to my post office box.

I have to say, Heather from 32North, you really made my day! Thank you so much.

Heather Wasklewicz is the Social Media Marketing Director of 32North in Biddeford, Maine. 32North is the manufacturer of STABILicers. If you aren’t familiar with them, STABILicers are those attachments for the bottoms of your shoes with the little metal cleats that cling to the ice and keep you from falling. They come in a variety of styles and colors and secure to your shoes or boots in various ways. My favorites, however, are the lightweight rubber ones that slip easily over your shoes! Not only did Heather send me a new pair of them but she sent me the pink ones! I was already a huge fan of these. In the years that I worked at the LL Bean Call Center during the holiday season, I learned how fast the colored ones sell out and how hard they are to come by sometimes! This is not just a shameless plug for Heather, I really love these things!

What was even better than Heather’s gift, however, was the personal note she took the time to write. She had read my essay “Humbling Middle-Aged Moments” in which I described my recent slip in the middle of Main Street! She thought the STABILicers would help me stay on feet while walking downtown. She also mentioned that she has been going through her own trying personal challenges lately and that my articles had given her hope. That’s all we can do for each other sometimes isn’t it? When times are tough and there is nothing we can actually do or say to solve a friend’s problem, we can just be there for them. It is our friends, old and new, who stick by us, give us hope and hold us up.

Sometimes we do it with our words and sometimes with a nifty new pair of STABILicers!

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, January 8, 2012. 

I will never be the same

Sometimes, when I am wallowing in my challenges, full of resentment and anger, I worry about that. How will I ever get past this? Will I ever be the same! I was in that mood when I came upon Jim LaPierre’s column “Forgiveness and Freedom,” this past week. The fact that I’d been home from work several days with a badly infected, and very painful tooth was clearly contributing to my mood but that little voice inside me said “read this one, pay attention here!”

I try to listen to that gentle voice inside me, although I’m not always sure where it comes from. Is it my own reason? Is it my Higher Power? Sometimes I wonder if it is the voice of my ancestors, the generations of women before me whose blood runs through me now. Maybe it’s all those or maybe I’m just crazy, or this week just under the influence of pain medications! I just know that in difficult times, if I have taken a moment to be still and listen to that voice, I have made much better decisions than the ones made in the heat of the moment, out of fear or anger.

I remember as a kid watching TV and whenever the main character had a choice to make two options showed up represented by an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. To us watching, the choice seemed clear. There was good and there was bad and we’d cheer for the good side, even if we secretly suspected as the character did, that the bad might be way more fun!

If only life had actually turned out like that, every choice represented by two options clearly marked good or bad. As grown-ups we discovered that life’s choices are never that simple, never marked so obviously and that there were almost always more than two in any given situation. Ah, but that’s the key right there isn’t it. There are always choices. Even if in that moment of deep heartache or despair, we don’t see them. The choices are there. The trick is to be quiet, patient and still long enough to hear the answers when they come to you.

So that brings me to forgiveness and Jim’s column. Forgiveness is hard! Forgiveness is especially hard when someone else’s behavior has not just hurt our feelings but actually changed the course of our life. Forgiveness is near impossible when the person who hurt us is unable or unwilling to acknowledge the level of the pain they caused. To us it looks like they are just strolling along, happy and unaffected, while we are back here on the path they left, wounded and bleeding.

When I’ve been hurt or wronged, I wanted the whole world to stop and acknowledge my pain. I wanted everyone to point to the person who caused it and say “shame on you!” I wanted justice! But sometimes there is no justice, or reason, or resolution. Sometimes the rest of the world is too busy dealing with its own pain and I’m just going to have to handle mine on my own. Oh, I have the help of a group of people who love me but really, when it comes down to it, we all have to work this stuff out in our own heads, in our own hearts, and with our own voices!

Jim is so right when he says our “our resentments limited us – not them. They moved on and we stayed stuck. We cannot be free as long as we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.” Some days I feel like I’m hiking with a back pack full of rocks. Every time someone does something that hurts me, I throw another rock in the pack and hoist it back up on my shoulders, no matter how heavy it gets. If someone offers to help me carry the load, I always refuse. Sometimes I sit down and go through the pack, intending to discard some of it but like a bad episode of “Hoarders,” I can’t let go of things that are clearly of no use to me anymore.

I forget that I have choices. In fact, one of those choices is to just let go of the back pack! Of course that doesn’t mean it will be easy. I’ve tried before. I've tried just “choosing happiness,” saying it out loud “I choose happiness, okay here I am, I’m happy now.” It hasn’t worked that way. I can’t just let go of that entire bag all at once. What would I do with my hands with nothing to carry?

Maybe the answer is to keep trying to lose those rocks one at a time. Maybe while hiking, I can drop them off slowly, in quiet places in the woods where they won’t hurt anyone else. Or I can make a trip to the beach and fling a few in the ocean. I'm sure if I can free up some room in this bag I can find lighter things to carry, things like joy, and hope. There may even be room for forgiveness in there.

This week when I was worrying, feeling like I will never get past the hurt, or ever be the same person again, I read Jim's column and felt a little lighter. In fact, I heard the voice inside me say "no, you will never be the same, so what, you aren’t supposed to stay the same. You are supposed to change and grow and be BETTER!"  So here's to moving forward, a little lighter, minus one badly infected molar and a few less resentments! None of which were doing me any good anymore!

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, January 6, 2012. 

Humbling Middle-Aged Moments!

All we really get are moments. There are happy moments, embarrassing moments, heart breaking moments and moments of incredible joy but it all comes in moments. In between is a lot of hard work. It’s remembering those moments, both the good and the bad that gets us through. When we look back on our lives it is those moments we remember; the sweet moment when someone said “I love you,” the overwhelming moment when we held our newborn child, the moment full of pride when we watched one of our children cross the stage at their graduation. We remember the exact moment when someone broke our heart, or the last moments we held the hand of a dying parent. It is all these moments that make us who we are.

It’s been a few weeks of moments, hasn’t it? Holidays tend to magnify these moments. There was a humbling moment last week.  I’d had a great day at work. Here I was, feeling all metropolitan, crossing the street in front of Paddy Murphy’s on Main, in my new fabulous outfit and sexy high heels, when I slipped on who knows what and landed smack dab in the middle of Main Street, in the rain, just when the light had just changed and none of the cars could go because I was lying in the road, looking for my shoe. Ah yes, humbling moments you just have to laugh at.

Even this was better than the moment a couple years ago, that I woke up alone in my new apartment and the fact that was I middle-aged and unexpectedly divorced hit me in the chest like a sack of flour.

There was a moment on Christmas Eve. My mom, who is 77 now, was reading “The Night before Christmas” to all of my children the same way she has done every year, for over 20 years. I looked around at all my children there with us, all grown safe and sound and home and I just cried silently the rest of the way through the story.

There was the moment at midnight mass when the choir sang “Silent Night” and I felt a peace I hadn’t felt in quite awhile.

There was a moment on Christmas morning when I was making breakfast for mother and all my children. I was remembering all those other mornings when they were growing up, and all the breakfasts, and all the times that were both wonderful and frightening and all that we’ve survived and learned from all these years.

There were the moments Christmas Night when I gathered with a dozen or so friends, new and old, for a non-traditional celebration. We laughed and we ate and we shared stories about all the moments in our lives that lead us to this place and time. I was truly grateful for all the love in my life and all the people that have become a part of it. There was a moment later when I felt rather silly because my friend Judy’s story about our non-traditional Christmas meal came out in the BDN and we all looked rather sad and lonely.  Then I realized it was okay, really, a moment we can look back on and laugh at because we were anything but lonely. In fact, we were all pretty darn good!

This is what life gives us; moments of joy mixed in with moments of challenges. If we can only remember during those hard moments that they will pass, more joy will follow if we can just hold on. Another wonderful moment is right around the corner. Maybe I should wear flats today instead of heels so when that incredible moment comes by I’ll be ready for it.

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, December 26, 2011. 

Dear@Santa, is that really you on Twitter?

Dear Santa:

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve written. I’m not even sure you still accept letters. I found you on Twitter and Facebook but I’m not sure it’s really you.  I tried to text, but I think your service must be spotty at the North Pole. (If you did get it, yes, the “Yo Santa, S’up?” was me). Maybe you are still mad because I asked for some really mean things to be delivered to my x-husband a couple years ago. I’m sorry about that. (It’s not like reindeer aren’t making that stuff anyways and how many little plastic poop bags can you carry around with you all night)! Do you get a lot of letters from middle aged divorced moms? I don’t really need anything for myself. I’m good with all my children being happy, healthy and finally all living on this side of the ocean again. I know they’re adults now but there are just a few things they could use.  Some of this may be a lot to ask. Even the Big Guy upstairs has not been able to help with all of it, but then he’s probably busy with his son’s birthday coming up and all.

Santa, for my oldest daughter, if you could do something about getting more legislation passed to help with her students loans. She’s so smart and works so hard and is about to finish graduate school. She would really appreciate any good word you could put in for her. For my son, he served in the military for six years and really believed them when they said there would be good jobs for the veterans when they returned. I know, the economy may be beyond your control but again, if you could just whisper in the ears of few folks in D.C. when you are dropping off presents in the middle of the night, I think it would really help.

My middle daughter, she’s doing well Santa but if you could help her out with Beverly. Beverly is her very, old, worn out car. If you could just give her a hand to keep it running a couple more winters while she finishes putting herself through school that would be a big help. My youngest daughter has signed up to volunteer in Ghana this spring. If you could just close Ghana please, that would be great but I know that might be selfish on my part. So instead, if you could help her find sponsors and keep her safe that would be the next best thing.

Santa, for my son-in-law, could you find him a job that he really loves that doesn’t require him to drive between states all week? I know that would make him very happy! His parents spent a lot of money on college for him and we would really like it if he could keep working in Maine! Finally, for my son “by luck rather than by birth” who is running a small business downtown. Can you please keep an eye out and make sure it continues to be successful. (Then again, he sells beer so it will probably continue to do well all on its own). In fact, stop by on your way through I’m sure he’ll give you one on the house, but remember you’re driving!

While I’m at it Santa, if you could keep my Mom healthy and give her a few more good years we’d all be very grateful. She worries a lot about her Social Security getting cut. Anything you can do to help with that? For the guy I’m dating, well if you could just bring him a big box of patience because . . .  well you know me, Santa! One of my best friends needs a couple good knees and another is looking for a “silver-haired fox” just in case you run into anyone. Come to think of it, Santa, you are just the type.  If Mrs. Claus ever gives you the old heave-ho, let me know! I have someone special for you!

Merry Christmas, Love Karen

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, December 16, 2011. 

Merry, Happy, Whatever!

I was in the grocery store one evening, about this time last year, when a gentleman in the same aisle sneezed.  Without really thinking about it, I responded with “bless you.”  The man shot back at me with a very firm and unexpected lecture on the origin of the phrase, the history of the church and his rather strong feelings surrounding both. I was taken aback. Fortunately, I rarely lose the power to actually speak and responded with “I’m very sorry, my intention was simply to be polite, not to comment on your eternal salvation.” He was then rendered speechless himself and I pushed my cart on down the aisle.

I meant no disrespect to this man or his beliefs. I even agreed with him on some of his points about religion. In fact, I may have enjoyed a good debate/discussion. However, the grocery store was not the place for this conversation, and surely, it is not a conversation that’s a good idea to have with a complete stranger. So what should someone do in this situation? I believe we need to consider the intention of the person who is speaking with us. My intention was to wish him good health. He should have simply responded with “thank you” in the same way that I would respond if someone wished me a Happy Hanukah.

I’m not Jewish. I don’t celebrate Hanukah. However, if someone does and greets me with this wish, I would simply respond with “thank you” or “you also.” Their intention was to wish me happiness. It is not a comment or an insult on my own belief system.  Now maybe the correct thing would be to first ask the person if they actually celebrate the holiday you are about to wish them well with. If they say no, then just wish them peace or good health instead.  However, sometimes it is just impractical to inquire about everyone’s personal beliefs before offering a simple, well-intentioned greeting.

I think in our efforts to be politically correct we have gone way overboard. Isn’t it really all the same season; the season of peace and joy and good will towards our fellow human beings? I celebrate Christmas because I was raised in a Catholic family, but my own beliefs have evolved well beyond the church of my youth. I also like the idea of celebrating the Winter Solstice as well; a time to celebrate the cold, dark days each getting a little longer on our way to spring and new life once again. Its connection to the ancient gods or goddesses is intriguing but not threatening in any way to my particular faith. I love hearing about other faiths and traditions and would enjoy being included in a family’s celebration that was different than my own.

The same goes for my tree. You can call it a holiday tree or a Christmas tree or Auntie Karen’s Super Funky Sparkling Tree of Fun! It’s all fine with me. What you call it or how you celebrate or don’t celebrate does not affect my enjoyment of the holidays in any way whatsoever. I truly hope that nothing I do or say is offensive to you in anyway either. My wish is for each of you to enjoy your entire holiday season, in whatever form that it takes! Should I run into any of you in the grocery store, and I slip up and say “Merry Christmas” or “God Bless You,” please forgive me. I have only the best intentions!

Now I’m off to wrap presents to put under my Super Funky Sparkling Tree of Fun!

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, December 9, 2011. 

Parent Teens – I’ve lost some battles but ultimately I’ve won the war!

If there is anything I can share stories about in my life, it would be teenagers. I have raised them. I have worked professionally with them. I have lived with them, cooked and cleaned for them, driven them to and fro, stayed up half the night waiting for them, sat in emergency rooms with them, counseled them, laughed and cried with them, cried over them, and shared their accomplishments and joy!

My youngest child turns twenty next week. She is not nearly as excited as I am. Twenty is not a milestone birthday for her. She is still stuck between 18 and 21, in that land of “technically an adult but not quite yet.” For me, however, this is a huge milestone. My baby is no longer a teenager.  I have been parenting teenagers since my oldest turned 13, in 1997. That is roughly 14 years of teenagers. I have always said that the teen years are nature’s way of getting us ready, and willing, to have them leave home. If they left us when they were those cute, little, curly-haired, feety pajama clad, lovable children, it would surely kill us outright. So instead, nature turns them into large, loud, dramatic, hormone-driven creatures and we become much more ready to have them leave the nest when the time comes.

Nothing prepares parents for how hard those teen years can be. Sometimes you find yourself in battlefield conditions and all you can do is make sure everyone survives. Sometimes it seems like you are just moving from crisis to crisis but you get through, eventually. I hope that even when I made mistakes they always knew that I was on their side. There are still things they need to learn from you during those years, and things you still need to learn from them. There are skills you can pass on more easily like how to drive a stick shift. There are other things you can’t really teach them, like how to survive a broken heart or the death of someone they love. You just have to be there, stick beside them quietly, and let them know that yes, they will get through this. We all have.

They were years full of both joy and heartache. There were disappointments and unexpected accomplishments and times of complete hysterical laughter. There have been football games, swim meets, field hockey, track meets and boxing matches. There were driver’s ed classes, fender benders and speeding tickets. There were attempts to sneak out of the house, or to sneak other people in (eventually I installed a contact alarm on the back door, seriously!). We survived SATS, college applications and FAFSAs. There were long talks about sex and love. I’ve caught a few of them drinking. One time one of them even thought I would believe that the smell coming from his room was actually “incense” as if I had never been a teenager myself; just popped into this world in an adult sized, fun- ruining mom body! There were school projects and art exhibits and talent shows. Thankfully, there were also other parents. These were friends that I could count on, judgment free, as we negotiated those tricky years together.

I’ve lost a few battles, but yes, ultimately, I have won the war! They have served in the military, served in AmeriCorps, gone to college, or opened their own business. They have jobs, great friends, their own apartments and causes they believe in. Who knew this crazy group of teenagers, who could not even do their own dishes most of the time, were capable of such things! They have dreamed wonderful dreams that even I, as their biggest fan, couldn’t have imagined for them. Most surprising to me though has been finding out that parenting does not actually end when they are 18, that magical number we sometimes cling to when times are hard. It doesn’t end. It is just different. It turns out I am still their mother and they still need me sometimes. What has changed is that now, sometimes I need them too, just like my mother sometimes needs me. Now I am learning how to parent twenty-somethings. I am learning how to back off. (No, that has not been easy). I am learning to trust that I did the best job I could, and now it’s up to them. So far, they are doing a pretty decent job!

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!

This piece was originally published on the Bangor Daily News website, November 24, 2011.