Echolalia

On writing honestly

"Aren't you worried someone is going to think you are writing about him?" my friend asked.

Not really, I replied, shaking my head.

Because when I write, I don't really write about anyone in particular.

Perceptions and feelings. That is what interests me most. I write about how I feel, from my heart and my mind. I don't write about anyone else. How can I? I don't know what other people think and feel -- I don't live in anyone else's head. I also don't write about singular experiences. Things that are fleeting may capture my attention briefly, but rarely do they give me enough to consider as fodder for a post. Plus, I have lived long enough on this earth to know that I don't have an original thought! Nor do I have original experiences! (Not only do I like to write, but I really, really, like to read. There's quite a lot to read out there on the intertubes!)

Seriously, that's true.

When I am finally motivated to write about something, it's usually because I have experienced something more than once. I pick up on patterns. I mull over them. I do a lot of introspection. I wonder, is it just me? Is this something unique? Is it a shared condition? In my search for meaning, I read what others write. Often I am surprised at how similar our experiences are. In many cases, I put down my (metaphoric) pen and close my pad. Enough said. Other times, I don't see what I am thinking out there...and so I choose to add my two cents to the mix, hoping to add additional insight to someone else's thinking.

Writing honestly is not about being clever. It's not about serving your ego either. For me, it's about having a conversation. It's about expressing thoughts that need to be said so that a connection is made with another person. That's it.  Pretty simple. If you spend all your time crafting the exact prose -- you may miss the whole point of writing -- that is -- to communicate. 

Honesty doesn't mean that you are right all the time. It doesn't mean that you expose people or all your inner thoughts for the world to see. What it does mean is that you write clearly and cleanly without pretense. It is about taking look at yourself, looking at others, drawing conclusions, and having the courage to express your opinion. Opinions aren't write or wrong. They just *are*.  As someone, somewhere said, like (fill in body parts) -- everyone has one.

If you think you see yourself in someone's post, I believe that means you are open, and perceptive, and can grow.  I see myself in honest writing all the time when authors describe something that I am insecure of in my own life. As you might imagine, I find myself touched, often when I read about challenges people have being good mothers, good wives, good employees, good bosses, good daughters. I read about better ways of managing my relationships all the time and wonder at what point -- what is good enough?

But I think we're all in various states of imperfection. That's what makes us so interesting. That's what makes reading honest writing so interesting. When people don't pretend to have all the answers. When people are willing to lean on each other, it can "honestly" -- be magical.

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Reflections from the Christmas Tree

The week that sits smugly between Christmas and New Year's has always been a week of limbo wonderland for me.

I love the smells and the sights of the holiday season. I like how people seem to be just a little nicer (when they aren't stressing out over parking spaces and retail deals.)

I love getting the tree out, and remembering the who, what, and when of the stories our ornaments tell. The stringing of lights -- should we do all white? Purple? Multi-colored? And where are those little pinecones and snowmen I love? I like the cold weather, the white of the snow, the gentle snowflakes falling against the window --sticking fast then melting slowly, the birds perched on branches, pecking away at the seeds, the warmth of the fire,the smell of hot cocoa with gooey marshmallows that melt into oblivion, the sweet taste of candy canes, the tartness of the lemon over the fish... oh, the sights and sounds and smells of the season can be intoxicating!

But then there is the end of the year, the reckoning of what was and wasn't accomplished. Where we were and where we are now. It is incredibly sobering to stop and take measure of what you've done with the last twelve months.  How much you've grown, and for many of us, how much you may have regressed in areas where you most needed to let go.

I get a double-whammy of navel-gazing this time of year because my birthday falls during this week, too. I think of where I am with my health -- my family, my friends, my work -- and where I may have thought I wanted to be. Fortunately, I don't think I would change much if I had the chance to relive my life. I find myself ever bolder than ever these days, saying what I think, and meaning what I say. I am trying to make what is hopefully, the second half of my life even more rich than the first. I tend to think that we age like fine wine -- we only get better with time. But stopping to assess and enjoy a few sips along the way is essential. No sense in going to your grave with an unopened bottle.

When I was in grade school, I hated having a holiday week birthday. Mine was celebrated with family, but without much fanfare, and honestly, that was something I grew to expect. I'm not actually complaining. I think they did the best they could -- as they struggled with their own demons during the holidays -- but they did share this unmistakable melancholy veil that tinted holidays to come.

As I got older and could choose what I wanted, I was fortunate to have colleagues for friends. They would have champagne and cake with me if I worked that week. And my sweet husband always remembers and has surprised me with his creativity and kindness, especially in years where I have felt the lack of sunshine and the paradoxical sadness which is the other side of holiday joy.

I think about so many people who suffer from loneliness during a season even though they are surrounded by people. I have worked hard to combat those feelings by adopting people as family into my life. We spent this Christmas Eve surrounded by our "chosen family." Many of us were talking about how incredibly cool it is to be with people who don't put you into any role from your childhood. No family fights, no biting commentary. Just silliness and laughter and a sense of camaraderie.

The idea of having people in your life because you want them there, not because they have to be there is quite compelling to me.  Spontaneous expressions of wonderment which come from sharing experiences is the best gift of all. Having someone like you for you. That's more than any mandatory family (or relationship) can offer, it is indeed something to be treasured. I am not a religious person, and although I know some people think labeling yourself as "spriritual" is a cop-out -- it's the truth. I don't believe in a "god" but I do believe in the magic of our spirit. I believe in people I meet who are extraordinary in their willingness to grow. I believe in old souls and new perspectives. I get the butterfly effect -- I feel it. Energy is alive and can be shared or sucked out of us depending upon our own awareness of how we affect others.

Not sure what 2014 will bring, but looking back on this year, and celebrating this past week with people I care deeply about makes me feel very lucky indeed.

 

 

You Can't Take it Back #30DBC

My friend, Royale, posted about the value of learning from our mistakes by simply observing. The title of her post -- Famous Last Words...I Really Didn't Think About It --  made me reflect on all the stupid stuff I've done in my life.

I'm not a big one on living a life of regrets. I tend to believe we do things we're not always proud of but hopefully, we learn from them and move through life a little wiser.  I also believe that we're here to connect but not all connections are necessarily going to last a lifetime and not everyone is healthy to have in your life (for your state of mind.) Sometimes, you have to be cruel to save your sanity.

But while I don't regret things, I do have a recorder in my brain that seems to replay things I've said out of anger -- no matter how many times I try to erase the memory.  They range from the purely inappropriate said in complete jest (to my mother-in-law!) to a mean denial (to my dad about the naming of my son.) 

I have uttered words that were cruel to lash out at someone when I've felt misunderstood or frankly, fed up. And it's true what they say, once things come out of your mouth -- the ship has sailed. It's hard to bring it back in to port.

I doubt that other people still play those words in their recorders -- my guess is that they've been long forgotten. But I can't help think that I should have been kinder, wiser, smarter -- I should think before I speak. 

And you know, there are a few things I've said that have enriched my life -- and no, I can't take them back either. Entirely inappropriate perhaps? Admitting a crush, being a goofy admirer, saying I love you when I wasn't quite sure if the feelings were appropriate much less returned -- those things I don't regret, although I admit to being a little embarrassed by my declarations.

Does your recorder instantly replay things you've said 20 years ago, too?

 

Breaking Bread in the 'Burbs #30DBC

I just read an article in the New York Times about the demise of a city institution, The Dinner Party.

Free on Saturday night for dinner and poker?

The author talked about how difficult it is to fill the table with interesting people, plan the "right" menus, and deal with guests who don't really know the rules of etiquette.  They don't always RSVP, and if they do, it's last minute and via text.

I lived in Manhattan when I was out of college. I was far too broke and unconnected to be part of any social circle that involved the dinner ritual. I would read articles about fancy parties and imagined myself dressing up to the nines (what does that mean anyway?!) and being seated next to good conversationalists in art and business circles. "Well when I was in Cannes..." I'd begin.

Yep.

Instead, I found my life partner and he and I moved out of our city apartments, had a year lay over in Hoboken and eventually wound up in Old Greenwich, CT. A completely different fantasy filled my head. I saw the 30 somethings from Wall St -- blond women with tow headed children on the beach at the point -- husbands coming home off the train. And for a while, I imagined myself in that role -- throwing the annual Christmas parties or having a masked ball.

All along, I had a job. I actually had several. I was never a socialite, and I worked in an office until I formed my consulting practice a few years before we had our kids.  Poof! The fantasy of fancy dinners disappeared.

When we moved "upstate" (actually Central New York) we knew a handful of people. Most of us had young children. We also enjoyed adult company. And through a desire to do both -- have our limited time filled with our kids, keep expensive babysitters and evenings out to a treat -- we started having dinner parties.

These were not fancy affairs, but they were culinary adventures. We've had lots of theme nights -- soup, salads, barbeque, Japanese, takeout Thai, meals on sticks, freshly caught wild game -- you name it, we'd do it. Everyone would bring something and we'd eat together and share stories of job hunting, health, politics, religion, sex, caring for aging parents, and raising children. 

And when dinner was done, we played Texas Hold'em. In the beginning, when the kids were really young, we'd put them to sleep and stay up talking and drinking and playing until 2:00am. As the years progressed and early weekend sports became the norm, we've found that we need to end things by 10:30 or 11:00 so everyone can get home and sleep before the next morning.

Breaking bread together has been a very significant part of my social life. My kids have learned how important it is to welcome people into your life, into your home and to be kind.  We've had nights with upwards of 12 kids running around while we adults were crowded around a table, laughing, and forming inside jokes that will last for years (Lenny Kravitz!) Some friends have been staples around the table, and we've had a few move on  -- some  literally -- to other countries! I wish it were possible to do more than 4 couples at at time. It gets a bit unweildy when there are more -- but sometimes we do it anyway.

One of the interesting things is how much you can tell about people when you play a game that is social and yet cerebral with other couples. People who are too competitive or nit-picking their spouses just don't make it back. We have a lot of mutual respect and admiration for the people around our table and always bring in new couples or singles who are easy-going and interesting -- but to be honest, I've invited people just because I'd like to get to know them. Funny thing, as the kids have more activities on the weekends, we've had a difficult time coordinating our dinners. And we've discovered that or kids miss them as much as we do.

I wouldn't trade our weekend gatherings -- as simple as they are -  for a million NYC dinner parties. Would you?

Some are silver and the other are gold #30DBC

Remember this childhood rhyme?

"Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and other is gold."

The rule is pretty simple -- go make shiny new friends -- but your longer term, old friends are like gold, always hold on to them.

While old friends certainly can feel comfortable like your favorite pair of slippers, there is something to be said for bringing new people into your life.  Like shoes, a new pair is important now and then as different footwear is good for different terrain. 

I have young children, and I have met many other wonderful men and women who have become "framily" to us. We live far from my sisters and my husband's brothers and so these are the people who have become part of our daily lives. We celebrate birthdays together, we vacation together, we help each other through rough patches. We cheer for each other's kids at soccer and baseball, we cry when we hear about divorces or illness. No, new friends don't have the history that our old friends share, but we are creating our new shared memories together, now. We live in the present, not in the past.  Many of these friends have become as dear as our old friends and have quickly become people with whom I have no doubt that we'll know long into our gray hair days.

We've been dealing with some serious health issues in our home.  Our family came up as soon as they heard (traveling 500+ miles from points south) -- but they can only do so much from afar. So, we've had to rely on our friends to provide practical support (rides, childcare) as well as emotional support (often including wine!) One of my old friends took an entire week of meals upon herself -- (filled my freezer, full!) and another paid her cleaning people to come get my house in order.  That's old friends for you.  (Go big or go home!)

Friends bring color into your life!

I can't even begin to tell you how amazing it was to have our newer friends set up a MealTrain to feed us over these past few several weeks.  And the most amazing part is how many people signed up to help us.  Many people we knew socially, but they were not close friends. It's not like we actually need to be fed each day. At first, I resisted the idea. But as the weeks have gone on, I have discovered that there is nothing more nurturing than people who care who want to do something. A meal is something so basic -- but we have to eat. Helping nourish someone else, especially when there's nothing else you can really "do" takes on a greater meaning than usual.

No matter where I go, people are always offering help. And they call daily, they laugh and they cry with us. These people go beyond friends -- they've turned into what I like to call "framily."  While some say blood is thicker than water, you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends -- and they can choose you.

And then, there is an entirely different group of people that I have been talking with for what seems like years online, but we've yet to meet in real life. Yet I feel like I know them well and they me, too. I have no doubt that when we finally see each other, we'll embrace and settle in comfortably. These new friends bring new experiences, new stories, new ways of looking at things. They offer their friendship without strings attached.  We just wind up being there for each other, connecting, providing comfort and advice not from a feeling of obligation but rather by choice. 

Friends are the glue that keep us together. Whether old or new, the truth is that you have to be willing to receive help when it is offered, and you have to be able to give help when it is needed. True friendship is a balance of vulnerability. We don't want to always admit it when we need help, and often we don't want to request it or take it when it is offered. But in order to have friends, you have be a friend. And you have to forget about the "tit for tat" notion. People give freely without expecting anything in return. And a good friend knows when to give freely and when to be open to receive.

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Social Media, Imperfectly Perfect? #30DBC

Posting and blogging and tweeting and instagramming. What do these things all have in common? Instant gratification!

I believe the briliance of the social media is the ability to post spontaneously. And like so much in life these days, the old rules aren't necessarily helpful when you are just jumping in. It's not that grammar or structure are no longer important, but rather, the idea that you have to polish your text or photoshop your your blemishes on your photos before posting is very old school. 

Truth be told, social media is just life real life. Most people feel more comfortable with those who are willing to relax a bit and let their guard down when meeting others. I know this to be true -- my closest girlfriends are those whose homes aren't picked up each time I visit. (I can assure you, neither is mine!) And we all go out without makeup or our hair done -- and often meet for that first cup of coffee in our pjs.  The truth is, we're ourselves no matter what the situation is. And in our real lives, sometimes, hell, most of the time, things are definitely NOT perfect. Showing up with your guard down goes very far in having genuine relationships.

It's great to have a clean house, and I love feeling polished -- but the point is that you don't have to be that way all the time and in fact, if you are, you can have the opposite effect on people than intended! Hard to believe, but its those flaws that make us who we are. 

As for getting online -- I think the trick to posting is to share what you know and be open to differing opinions. And if you are going to post something controversial (anything political, religious or sexual in nature) then you should expect to attract people who are going to see it another way. That doesn't mean that you have to avoid this issues, but think before you post something that is absolute. Keeping the door open to discussion allows real conversations, real learning.

I think the worst thing is to allow your sense of perfection to ruin your opportunity to start whatever it is you have an urge to do or say.  One of my favorite quotes ever? The one that I clipped out of a booklet when I was about 13 or 14 and have had with me (now tattered and torn) since then? 

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!” 
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

Read more in the post that got me thinking -- by Anna Rydne.

http://www.steamfeed.com/why-you-are-better-off-not-being-perfect-online/

 

The masks we wear #30DBC

 

'"A mask tells us more than a face.” 
― Oscar Wilde

We all have masks. Even the most transparent of us, those who wear our hearts on our sleeves, can find ourselves in a position where the truth is not appropriate to share. Sometimes, it is a conscious effort, this mask we put on. Telling people that you are just fine can relieve you from the awkwardness that happens when you trust them with your real thoughts.

But what if maybe you're not that upset? Or maybe you are too angry for words? Maybe you just don't feel anything at all. Sometimes, I think by not sharing something, you are sharing too much. If you're too quiet, people make up their own stories to explain your actions or lack thereof.

My mom has been bipolar ever since I can remember. She is also a hoarder.  Both of these things were undiagnosed until about 12 years ago when things finally came to a head. She was always very cheerful and energetic when we were out and about at school and activities. People thought she was charming. But back at home, it was a house of cards. 

My childhood was spent keeping secrets. We were never allowed to have friends visit our house. I think the only relatives ever let in were my aunt and cousin who had similar issues with keeping more than they could handle.

My sisters and I became very good at making up stories. (OK, lying.)

We were always instructed to tell people that my mother was ill (which ironically was the truth -- it wasn't as much physical as it was mental) and therefore we couldn't have visitors. That wasn't really the whole story. Only a few very close friends were privy to my mother's manic outbursts and the living conditions in our house. It was simply much easier and less embarrassing to lie to everyone else.

All during my childhood, my sisters and I would try to fix things. I remember always dreaming about winning the lottery and spending all on fixing up our house. In the beginning, my aunts would tell us to listen to our mother and help her out. We did. We'd throw out trash and she'd bring it right back in the house! It took many years of banging my head against the wall to realize that you cannot and will not -- never ever -- change anyone. Change must come from within. If you don't want to recognize there is a problem, you will never get out from under its trap.

I left after college and never, ever, contemplated a move home again despite my mother's pleas to come home and "pay rent."  I felt a great deal of freedom in my tiniest of apartments where people could visit any time without any shame or excuses. 

As crazy as this sounds, I think that the funny part is how I learned so much about how NOT to be from watching my parents.  I loved them dearly, but I didn't like them very much. I should be clear -- they were both very intelligent, funny, and caring people. They gave us a roof over our heads, they paid for our education, they took us on vacations, they did what they thought was best to raise us to be fine young ladies. Unfortunately, they had some serious monsters that they couldn't tame on their own.  All of those wonderful things they did will always be clouded by my memories of their instability, anger and insanity. I would argue with them and try to talk some sense into them  -- and my mom would try to end the argument by screaming that I OWED her respect. The more she did that, the more I came to the conclusion that anyone can birth a kid --  respect is earned through your actions during the toughest of times, especially if it involves exposing yourself to kill your demons.

I think one of the biggest lessons I took away from my childhood is that if you can identify a problem, you have to try to fix it. Ignoring it will not make it go away, it will only make it get worse. This is particularly true with health problems.

You could look great on the outside but your body and mind may be ill. This affects how you see other people, how you treat them, and it shapes your family dynamic.

You can't keep a mask completely on and pretend that you're OK with things that aren't OK. My dad did that for years and he died not fully realizing how much we loved him despite the fact that he enabled my mother but not forcing her to get treatment. He did no one any favors by accepting her as she was.  Now that she's medicated -- we can see the person he fell in love with years ago.

If you pretend everything is OK on the outside and bring your hell home to your family, your mask will eventually crack.  My mother had two switches. Either everyone was to blame for everything in her life -- or everything was fine and dandy because she believed in the Lord. We never knew which mask she was going to wear -- would she be praising us or cursing us? Eventually, her positive mask broke and it was impossible for her to pretend that she was fine.

We've been dealing with some serious health issues in our household. I realize that I don't want to wear a mask, but sometimes, I just can't express how things are. It's not like I'm deliberately holding back -- lord knows, I'm one to share. (Hopefully not TMI!)  But sometimes, things look good on the outside but in reality are pretty shaky in the inner circle.  Other times, they look worse than they really are. I feel great most of the time. However, there are times when stress causes me to buckle. I don't look sick, and yet sometimes I am.  I certainly don't want people to view me as incapable of doing anything.

People say that I'm a really positive person. I wonder if I really am, or if I'm just lying to myself. I don't want to be a constant complainer yet I don't want to pretend everything is OK when it isn't. And you know that it's true -- we all have issues -- and there is always someone who has it better or worse than you do when you make the inevitable comparison.

I can only hope that I am sharing in a way that shows empathy for those also experiencing trying times. And that by being careful with my masks, only taking them out when really appropriate for the audience.

Do you Invest in Your Relationships? #30DBC

I just came upon this article while perusing a friends' Facebook.

What a great article and reminder what it means to be a true friend.

I have a ton of acquaintances -- but my true friends are people with whom time and space doesn't matter. There are a few who I talk to almost daily -- several others who make it a point to check in once or twice a week. And then those whose lives are so busy (as is mine) that weeks if not months can go by without a chirp.

What I think I love most about tweeting and email and blogging and Facebook  is that I can still keep up with those I care about, and they, me.

My cousins and sisters read practically everything I write. How do I know? Once every few weeks when we chat they ask me about everything. I am often a little in the dark as they don't choose to post as much as they like to LURK! But even so, with my trusty phone beside me, I can easily text message or post a quick note to anyone practically anytime. And there is nothing like a "hello, thinking of you" to make your day.

We invest in relationships that mean the most  to us. You can tell when you're no longer important when you completely drop off the radar. Don't make that fatal mistake and lose people you care about.