To the Woman With The Raised Eyebrows: I did not abandon my son

To the Woman With The Raised Eyebrows,

“How’s your son doing?”  You posed this question to me in the middle of a Walmart aisle even though you are merely an acquaintance.   It didn’t surprise me though.  When you live in a small town, a town in which you grew up and now live and work, news travels fast whether it be true or false.  It was no secret to many that my son had been in lots of trouble for the last year; getting kicked out of school (from the district in which I teach), being put on probation, using drugs, as well as many other parental nightmarish things.  I was used to the questions and had gotten pretty good at being vague, or so I thought.  

“Pretty much the same,” was my canned answer.  This is the answer I give to those who don’t really deserve an answer.  These words help me to replace my anger at the audacity of the asking by those who have no business doing so.  And so, it was the answer I gave to you as well,  “Pretty much the same.”  

Usually that ends it.  That phrase is a signal that there really is nothing to talk about.  It’s a signal that I really don’t want to say much.  It’s usually a signal to change the subject which is what I tried on that day we ran into one another.  

“How’s your family?” I asked.  But you didn’t want to let it go.  For some reason, a reason that I may never know, you pressed forward saying,  

“Oh dear!  How do you handle that when you have a small child in the house?  How do you keep her from all of the things he’s doing?”   

And I don’t know why but I instantly felt defensive. I am ashamed of myself.  I shouldn’t have felt that way.  But I did.  So I answered your question when I should have been strong enough to tell you that those logistics were really my family’s business and not yours.  

Instead I blurted out, “She doesn’t see him. We don’t see him. He doesn’t come to our home.  So she doesn’t know about ‘all of the things he’s doing’.”  

And that’s when it happened.  Your eyebrows raised to the ceiling  and out of your mouth came what I am sure is the reaction that many parents would have about our decision to not see our son.  “What do you mean you don’t see him?  How could you abandon him? If his mom won’t help him, who will?”  

I felt my neck get hot and an iron fist begin to clench in the very center of me.  Angry words began to line up like soldiers in my brain.  But I took a deep breath and I reminded myself that you were ignorant.  Your questions proved that.  You had absolutely no information about my son and our relationship and so instead of letting those war words fly, I chose to forgive you.  Right there in the middle of Walmart...I forgave you, wheeled around you, managed a “Yes, I guess that is one way to look at it,” and pushed my cart heavily laden with groceries and guilt down the aisle away from you.

But I want you to know...I want parents who haven’t experienced the things that I have experienced with my son to know...that the decisions that parents with troubled teens make are personal and agonizing and made with unconditional love and aren’t to be judged by anyone.  You don’t get to do that until you have lived with each and every one of us, until you have seen the backroom deals, the pleading, the letter writing, the bargaining, the visits to the hospital, to the principal, to court, to the police stations, the days of crying and the nights full of terror.  

Our decision to use “tough love” on my son came after every other method had been exhausted.  At the end of our rope, we spoke to a therapist who suggested what we knew all along; that my son, whom I love with all I have, will only change, will only seek help when HE thinks there’s a problem, when HE is ready and not a minute before.  She also helped us to see how necessary it was to tell him that as long as he continued living the lifestyle he was living, we couldn’t allow him in our home, that we wouldn’t pretend that all was well because to us and FOR him, all wasn’t well.  

Make no mistake, my son knows we love him.  Part of “letting him go” was to also tell him that when he was ready to live a different lifestyle, when he was ready to get help we’d move mountains to assist him.  We’d be his biggest cheerleaders. We’d use every resource and walk every step of the difficult journey with him.  But until then...until then...we just can’t support the life that he was choosing.  Loving someone unconditionally doesn’t mean that we don’t set boundaries. Had we continued to accept his behaviors as if they were alright in our world, we would have been sending a message to him that he could keep on walking down that dangerous path.  

 

So, my dear  Woman With Your Eyebrows Raised,  don’t ever make the mistake that being tough means we’ve abandoned my son. Tough love is just that--love that is tough--on BOTH the family AND the individual.

  

Graduates! Be Selfish!

Congratulations!  Such a milestone—finishing high school! Your family won’t have to tell you of their unending admiration for you.  Those feelings for you, they’ll wear on their sleeve and tell you over and over of their pride and unabiding love.  However, there IS something that they might NOT tell you, something important that you need to know before you pull out of your driveway and off to your new adventure--something so essential that it must be heard by every graduate. 

Although you probably learned the opposite all your life, let me tell you that these days after high school are ones in which it is essential to be…selfish.  That’s right.  It is time to think only of you.  You are enough, and you are worthy, so very worthy. 

You are worthy of an intellectual journey all your own.  Drink in all that your professors have to say.  Take advantage of educational experiences abroad.  Join clubs.  Act, sing, dance—Grab those four years of literacy, mathematics, history and science and squeeze the life out of them.  You are worthy of the best that education can offer.  Your brain is capable, your thoughts valuable, your contributions endless and needed.  Yes graduate, you are worthy. 

You are worthy of loyalty and love without compromise.  As you move into adulthood make a promise to yourself that you will seek out those who see your value, who know your goodness, who build you up and would never tear you down.  When you find them, hold onto them, because you see they are scarce in this world.  But scarcity does not mean that you settle.  You will need those that are true to you on your life course.  You are worthy of nothing less. Never ever accept anyone who isn’t keenly aware and fiercely protective of your worth. 

You are worthy of finding your purpose.  Take your time.  Let it come.  There is no rush.  Experience life to the fullest, try new things and someday…there it will be…your reason, your destiny.  And whatever it is that you find, you are worthy of exploring it to its highest possibility.  Don’t let anything stand in the way of who you want to become, of your earthly purpose.  If you fulfill that, everything else will fall into place.  

You are worthy of self-interest.   Your empathy and kindness is something to be celebrated indeed, but be sure it doesn’t cost you more than you can pay—your sanity, your peace of mind, your ability to do what you want to do, see what you want to see, go where you want to go.  The selflessness that you carry within you is admirable, but let me suggest or even urge that over the next few years, as you enter into adulthood that you remember to put yourself first more often than you do now.  You and your needs are worth it.  Rumi says to “Respond to any call that excites your spirit.” This quote should be the battle cry of the young!  I am certainly not saying “go ahead and be selfish”.  I am simply saying that words like “what is it that I want for myself?” and “I won’t take part in what wouldn’t be good for what I need right now,” are words that should move to the forefront of your mind.  Believe me, when you start your career, when you marry, when you have children, when your parents age there will be plenty of moments where selflessness and sacrifice will be necessities and must-do’s.  But at 18…it is perfectly ok to do what is best for you.  Don’t ever forget that that doing for yourself is something in which you are worthy. 

And finally great, gregarious graduate, you must think about yourself and know your worth because despite what the fairy tales tell us, there are NO knights in shining armor whose sole purpose is to rescue damsels in distress, no princes on white horses, no magical fairy godmothers.  You only have you and your sense of self-worth to get you to where you want to travel, to pull you up by the boot straps when you slip and fall.  Only your worthy self can turn your saddest days into happy ones, and your darkest places into light.   When it comes right down to it…down to the nitty gritty…YOU are all you’ve got.  

A Response to the Woman with a Louis Vuitton Bag

A few days ago, HuffPost Parent published an article by Anjali Joshi who made the decision to use her Louis Vuitton handbag as a diaper bag in

"an attempt to break out of the rigid mommy mold that society imposes on me and show the world that I am a woman like any other who exists not only for her children, but for herself too.”

This idea, that a handbag could possibly define us as women, has dogged me since reading it. This is my response to her and any other woman who thinks that her worth is solely a result of what she wears and the material possessions she has acquired.

So you own a Louis Vuitton bag.  You saved and scraped from a meager teacher’s salary, and when you had your son you made the decision that you’d continue to carry it, and the reason for that, you say, is very simple.

“My bag is an attempt to break out of the rigid mommy mold that society imposes on me and show the world that I am a woman like any other who exists not only for her children, but for herself too.”

I agree with the sentiment above.  Oh how I agree.  It is tough on mommies to maintain some semblance of the woman before...the woman that’s still there under the Lifesavers, McDonald’s toys, juice boxes and used tissues that now occupy a once pristine handbag.  But, I am concerned about the idea that said handbag (albeit a Louis Vuitton) be the sole thing that represents you as the woman “who exists not only for her children, but for herself too.”  A handbag?  A handbag is going to help preserve your role as a woman? Is that truly the symbol you want to use to represent you, the one you want to use to break you out of your mommy role?   I’ll be blunt.  I don’t like the message.  Not one bit.   

We’re treading on very thin ice here.  Haven’t you heard the news?  Women are second class citizens when it comes to work and pay and positions of power.  Espousing that material possession help us to remember who we were before children just helps to feed that kind of cynicism.  Women are so much more than fashion and makeup and shoes and high heels.  We are so much more.   My dear fellow mommy,  preserving the woman you are OUTSIDE of mommydom can be achieved in so many ways other than hanging on to a meaningless piece of merchandise.  What about the career you dreamed of?  How about volunteer work, a cause, or some sort of political involvement?  Dance in a production!  Sing on stage!  Get involved!  Get involved!  Your passions before your child are probably still the passions that you have running deep and full throughout your entire being.  Find a way to make them a real part of your world.  Find a way to be both the fantastic mama AND the woman with dreams, aspirations, wants and wishes.   Endeavors, not material possession, are what will help remind us that we are more than just a mom.  BEING the woman--allowing her to be or become through action will represent you (and other women) in a way that speaks to our potential, to our drive  to our successes and achievements so much more than clutching a bag (a material possession) from days gone by.  

And what about your son?  What message does the idea that “my handbag makes me a woman” give to him?  Don’t we want the future men of the world to learn that women are just as ambitious, just as capable, just as deserving of equal pay and equal consideration?  Like it or not it is our job, the moms of the world, to teach them to respect, revere and see as equals the opposite sex, and I am sure...absolutely sure...that a handbag will not be the symbol of that revolution.  We must choose well the decisions we make to preserve and uphold our rights to be women as well as mothers, and I hope for your son’s sake, and yours as well that it becomes clearer to you that you, your wishes and your dreams are far more worthy and eons more valuable than even a Louis Vuitton bag.  

How To Meditate While Your Kid Is Screaming In The Back Seat (Yes, Really)

Today's blog post comes from a new writing friend, Laura Probert.  It is the first post of a series I guess I'll call, "Make the Most of Your Moments, Mudders!"  I love her wisdom, and simply adore her ideas for mommy-meditation!  READ ON, Mudders!!  

The idea that you do not have to carve out an hour of crossed legged sitting on the floor, sans distractions, thumb and forefingers super glued together to practice meditation might be a shocker.  Being able to mediate while driving to the shoulder scrunching sounds of your child screaming in the back seat...priceless.  The idea comes from a book by Adyashanti called True Meditation.  He teaches us that every single moment of our every day regular lives, yep, even the noisy ones, are an opportunity for meditation.  We can now stop referring to meditation under our breath as the “M” word.  This is a game changer.

What this meditation master was talking about in his book was more along the lines of body awareness, being able to feel what is going on inside yourself at any given moment of the day, and respond rather than react, whether you are in a sitting mediation, changing a diaper, balancing your checkbook, washing the dishes, or yes, listening to your kid scream bloody murder.  

Teaching the idea of body awareness should be a foundation of every healing art, and included in Living and Parenting 101 classes that we get somewhere in our 20’s when the reality of life sinks in and we start fending for ourselves in this big bad world.  Instead we get sucked into the vortex of our stressful lives without any real guidance, and the only thing we really feel is out of control, and exhausted.  We must feel to heal.  Without the skill of body awareness, there is no choice, we are stuck in our chattering minds, intent on solving future problems or worrying about past choices and in the meantime, the body can be stuck in one big clench.  

The realization that any moment could be an opportunity to meditate, should cause a sigh of relief.  The full time job, two kids, two dogs, get the proper amount of exercise, traveling husband, busy life isn’t going to allow for “proper” mediation.  There is no doubt we need to do it, just no way in hell it is going to happen according to the rule books that we have all previously read.  This new idea is the way in, and it might turn out to be a huge blessing, giving you a practical practice of present moment awareness that could change the way you live, and parent, giving you opportunities for healing along the way.  

Here are 5 ways you can meditate anywhere, anytime, even while your kid is screaming in the back seat:

1. Realize that any moment is a chance to feel and be present, so try being present to the feeling in your body as you roll over and sit up in bed in the morning.  What parts of you do you notice?  What kind of thoughts are already entering your mind?  How do you feel inside your body?

2. When we drop down inside, shifting our energy and attention from the constant voices or messages in our mind, to the feeling senses, and notice what is going on in the body, we are becoming present to the moment, a moment of meditation.  So try doing this as you interact with the first person of the morning, and notice how your body reacts to their voice.  Just notice.  No judging.  No analyzing.

3. As you get in touch with your present moment sensations, know that this is a pathway to your healing.  As you gather your things and walk out the door, take a moment to fully arrive in your body as it moves.  You can be aware in any movement...what hurts, what feels tight, what has ease and flow?  As you get more active, are you checking out and being drawn into your mind chatter?  Are you distracted by the demands of a child?  Breathe.  Stay in your body.  

4. When you are driving in your car stopped at the light, buttocks and jaw clenching to the screech of your kid in his car seat behind you, take a breath.  Unclench.  Be here, now, and feel what your body is doing in response to the sound or stress.  Can you respond to the tantrum without checking out of your body?  Can you focus on relaxing and responding, no matter how loud it gets?  

5. As you face the day’s challenges, at work with a frustrated colleague, at home with a sick child, or maybe on the phone with a distraught friend, stay in your body, relax and breathe, present to the tension so that in the same moment of feeling it, you are already releasing it.  Listen closely with your whole self, without the need to form a reply.  Your presence is a gift, both to them and to yourself.  

You can respond to life, aware and awake, in this way, and instead of reacting, you can meditate in these moments, allowing each of them to be an opportunity for a calm response and choice.  Every emotion has a physiological effect inside the body.  If you are reacting to life’s moments with anger or frustration, you will feel it inside.  Turning stressful moments into “awareness challenges” helps you change that physiology and your health for the better.  Does it still count as meditation if I don’t plant my butt cross legged on the floor for a predetermined amount of time every day?  I think so, and I know at least one meditation master that calls that true meditation.  

Laura Probert, MPT is the owner of Bodyworks Physical Therapy and the author of “Living, Healing and Taekwondo.”  Find out more about her profession, writing, and passions at www.bodyworksptonline.com and  www.taekwondospirit.com/blog, and follow the progress of her new book at www.facebook.com/warriorlove

Take the Good with the Bad: The Listen To Your Mother Show NYC

You've got to take the good with the bad, smile with the sad, love what you've got, and remember what you had. Always forgive, but never forget. Learn from mistakes, but never regret.

- Unknown

I have been living this quote this past week...taking the good with the bad...or perhaps I should say EXPERIENCING the good and the bad. The GOOD: a trip to Manhattan last Tuesday where I stepped inside the beautiful Symphony Space, the site of 2014's Listen To Your Mother Show, which will be taking place just a few days away on May 4th.  (You can buy tickets here: http://bit.ly/ltymnyc2014) Again the GOOD: being surrounded by the warmth and kindness of the immensely talented cast, having their support, making new friends, being appreciated for who I am and the experiences I bring to the table.  Leaving Manhattan, that night, the stories of the cast members and their strong voices swirled around me and resonated in my soul. (I am telling you...come...come and listen to these stories.  They will change you!) Driving the three hours home, I felt light and airy, content and successful...hopeful and so very very grateful.

But then, as life sometimes does, after living the very best of life--taking the good--I was handed the bad, on a silver platter...no, no..silver is too good for the bad I received.  The bad came on a shattered platter where the shards of glass pricked and scratched my skin and impaled my heart.  And while I am not ready to write about the details of the bad, what I was struck with was how quickly all the good disappeared. The good that had filled me to the brim just 24 hours before was gone in an instant. I was enveloped in a shroud of dark as if there was no light, as if someone had extinguished it all, licking his thumb and first finger to snuff out each brightly burning candle.  

This "BAD" has shaken me to my core, uprooted all my beliefs and pulled the rug of safety, security and sanity right out from under me.  I'll admit that it has been hard to lift my body from my bed each morning, to put a foot down on the floor, to walk the three steps to the bathroom.  There have been moments throughout the day that tears come unannounced and I choke and sputter and feel like the grip of "BAD" will hold me tight and never leave me.  And perhaps...it won't.  Perhaps, it won't.  

So what does that mean?  What does that mean for me?  If this "BAD" is permanent, if he won't go away, if he won't let "RESOLUTION" come to rescue me, then what am I to do?  Ah...that IS the million dollar question isn't it?  And just today, while I was forcibly fighting the bad to leave my space, my head, my home it occurred to me that the "GOOD" that I had experienced just 24 hours before "BAD" came to visit held the answer to the question, "What do I do now?"

When I think about the Listen To Your Mother cast, when I recite their stories in my head, I realize that they hold the keys...or the weapons...against the BAD.  Each story has a lesson to teach me about life and how to tackle it head on...both the GOOD and the BAD.  Laura's story reminds me to be kind to myself, to remember that just because there's good doesn't mean that the bad won't happen and that at some point, it is fine to accept that both will be here for awhile.  Neil's story of his mother helps me to try and find some GOOD wrapped up in the BAD.  Elise's story prods me to remember that as women we do what we can do with the circumstances that we have chosen, sure in our convictions even if we aren't sure of the outcome.  Thanks to Kizz's sweet story, a snuggle with my big goof of a dog last night brought me comfort and peace while I thought of the wisdom that Nadine's piece offered.  It's entitled,  "A Swift Kick in the Ass"  and perhaps I don't  need to even explain the lesson that her story teaches me.  Doreen's story emphasizes that the unexpected may happen, but after the wounds heal and the hair grows back we are much wiser and no worse for wear.  

These are just some of the beautiful, heart-warming, and hilariously funny stories about motherhood that will be shared on Sunday night.  And although, last Tuesday, I was feeling lucky to be part of such a cast, today...THIS Tuesday, I know that I will be forever grateful for the gifts that each storyteller has given me during a time where life proved that "You must take the good with the bad."

I hope to see some of you at the show!  Believe me EVERY story is...well... better than GOOD!

  

Hindsight's 20/20...and Messy...and Beautiful: A Second Chance at Parenting: My Messy Beautiful

This post is part of  Momastery's Messy Beautiful project.  I am honored to be a part of it, because dear Mudders, it's ALL messy and beautiful.  Isn't it?

I was a horrific parent.  Ok...that seems harsh.  Let me try that again.  I was a self-centered, misguided, terrible parent who did happen to have good intentions but just didn't know how to implement them.  I guess that's more accurate. I mean, I was a screamer and a squeezer (not the good kind either--the one where you're in public and they are doing something you don't want them to do and you can't say anything out loud but you want them to stop so you squeeeeze their little arms and then they just scream or cry or carry on louder...Yeah...THAT kind of squeezer).  Often my shoulders slumped when they walked into the room, their giggling made me anxious, I even called my sons names sometimes--nasty, awful, cutting names--and instead of praising the good, I jumped all over EVERYTHING they did wrong and glowered down upon them with a sermon that they'd eventually tune out, which in turn would cause me to get louder, which in turn would cause them to talk over me or put their fingers in their ears, which in turn would make it so I would simply-go-ballistic--feet stompin' hand slammin' "GOD-WHY-ME--ballistic.  This kind of parenting was also coupled with a fierce drive to make sure (that besides my unpleasantness) my sons never ever experienced anything at all out in the world that would make them feel uncomfortable.  Homework not done?  I'd write a note excusing them.  Forget their band instrument? I'd leave work to bring it to them every single time.  Worried that they might not play enough during Little League?  Let's just have their step father be their coach for every team, every year.

The list goes on and on.  Why?  Why did I think my children shouldn't experience hardship?  It would be easy for me to blame it on mom-guilt.  After all, the kids got the short end of the stick when it came to family; a nutty mom, an every-other-weekend-father-who-wanted-to-be-their-best-friend-"Hey"-let's-watch-rated-R-violent-movies-"cause-your-mom's-rules-suck kind of guy, two sets of grandparents with their own deep issues, and step parents who loved them but...well let's just say neither of them were perfect either.  (After all--what kind of people would marry into THIS mess?) However, if I was being honest...and let's face it, I am...I'd have to say that all that entitlement was because it was easier.  It was so much easier in the moment to appease them.  It was so much easier to give in so I didn't have to hear them yell and carry on, fight and throw themselves around.  (Where DID they learn that THOSE behaviors were acceptable any way?  *Blink Blink*)

I bet that I don't have to tell you the results of all that poor parenting, but just in case you honestly can't imagine, let me illuminate you.  Both children a few years back left the raving lunatic house of their mother for the house of their father; a house with no rules and where anything goes. After that, one son dropped out of school after being caught with drugs, ended up on probation,has failed numerous drug tests and unless something drastic changes, his future doesn't look at all like the ones mommies dream of when they hold those newborn babes in their arms all pink and hopeful.  The other son, I am happy to say is working through his "stuff", but years ago, ended up in places and situations that he never dreamed of either.  His future, back then, looked nothing like he nor I dreamed about.  It was clear that I helped contribute to the downfall of my sons, and if I let myself go back...if I let myself remember all my mistakes, the weight of the guilt sinks me into a dark abyss--black and bleak and painful.

Two decades later, I am not that mother anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I have my moments just like all other moms, but I know better now what works and what doesn't work.  I guess that is one of the good things in having two sons and then two decades later having a daughter. (You heard me...two decades...almost).  I get the benefit of hindsight.  It is hindsight and a brush with death that helped me decide to "get-it-right" this time, and do a whole overhaul on what makes me tick.  I am proud of the mom I am now, but at the same time there are moments--guilt-dripping moments--that almost suffocate me BECAUSE I am a better mom.  

Let me explain.  For every wonderful, happy, appropriate response or moment or gesture that comes from my daughter, there is this deep soulful satisfaction in me that I am finally doing SOMETHING right in this thing called motherhood.  But...but...there is also this feeling, sometimes in the far reaching corners of my mama-mind, sometimes closer still.  This feeling is a mixture of regret and guilt and sadness and responsibility and agony.  It is the feeling that reminds me that I DIDN'T do this kind of parenting with my sons, and perhaps if I had, they'd have an easier road than the ones they are traveling now.  (Ok, who am I kidding?  Not PERHAPS...they'd DEFINITELY have an easier road.)

The thing is, (and it's this way with most mothers,) the KIND of parent I was or I am doesn't change the fact that I love all three of my children...all three.  I love them ferociously, and whether past or present, I raised them with good intentions--GOOD INTENTIONS.  Mamas, isn't that true of all of us?  There isn't a mom on the planet that consciously says to herself, "I think I am going to blow this parenting thing so bad that my kids end up on drugs, have no self esteem, end up in jail, or any other mama-nightmare that might exist."   It's just that as a new mama in my twenties I parented using the model that I knew, and well we now know how that ended up.

So now, after years of work, (and probably years more),...now my daughter reaps the benefit of the massive mistakes that I made with my sons.  They were the guinea pigs of her success and oh how it hurts to admit that...to know that...but at the same time, for her sake, I am grateful for those mistakes.

A few weeks ago, my oldest son was over for dinner.  His 4 year old sister decided to scream and cry and carry on about not liking what was on her plate.  She worked herself up into a frenzy, and while he was sitting at my right, I reached out with my left hand and grabbed hold of my daughter's hand and said, "How can I help you calm down so that you can talk to me about what's bothering you?"  In between sobs she eked out, "I...I...I need a hug!!"

As she climbed up into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her, I could see my son gaze at me from the corner of my eye.  I knew what he was thinking, "When I was little, she would have forced me to eat that.  She would have screamed at me.  She would have sent me to my room without anything to eat."  All of this was the truth.  All of it.

As I whispered to my daughter some solutions to the big bad dinner problem, simultaneously my heart soared for being able to calm and reason  with her so that she saw me as a problem solver, and yet,  ached with the knowledge of the incredulousness and "why not me" feelings that my son was experiencing.

Maya Angelou says, "When you know better, you do better."  This is a mantra that I live by now and so, later that night, after dinner, I did what the old mama would never do, what many mamas that have made mistakes don't do; I said sorry, and I was, I AM...so so sorry.  Sorry for not being able to be the kind of mom I am to his sister, sorry for contributing to a young life that was filled with chaos and sadness, sorry for not figuring it all out sooner so that my sons knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the love that their mama feels for them.

 "I'm a different mama now."  I said shyly, guiltily, proudly.  He nodded, paused...then swallowed. Oh the many tangled ugly thoughts that must have been in that swallow, but I pressed forward.  "I am sorry that I wasn't this kind of mom when you were growing up."  He shrugged his shoulders and fidgeted in his seat and I took that as a sign of discomfort and stopped my apology there.  But as he was leaving a few hours later, I reached up, put my arms around his neck and leaned in for the rarely-allowed-because-I-am-twenty-and-too-cool-for-that-mama-kiss.  Standing there awkwardly I tried again, saying, "Even though I didn't do the best job parenting you as a kid, I can at least do it now.  I love you."

Then, my 6 foot mountain of a son hugged me tight and said, "I love you too, mom."   After the front door closed, the tears flowed and I sat on the couch feeling that mixture of pride and guilt, and sweetness and agony.  My daughter climbed into my lap, wiped my tears and said, "Don't cry mommy.  He'll be back.  He has to come back.  You are his mommy.  We are his family."

And she's right.  We are family.  One messy, beautiful family.

Susie's Lesson

I made a grave mistake waiting for the "right" time to connect with a sister-in-law who was obviously so incredibly special to so many.  

I am suspicious of those that love me.  That is a difficult sentence to write, but early on what I learned about love was that it was conditional, and I had been told by those who were supposed to revere and protect me that I was very very flawed.  Unfortunately, these two erroneous experiences led  me to believe over the years in my deepest core that there had to be something wrong with who I am, what I do, the way I think, the way I look, the choices I make. That core belief, of course, as core beliefs often do, played themselves out in various ways throughout my entire adulthood.  I did not think I was a good human.  I did not think I was worthy of good because of my "badness" and therefore I often sabotaged things that could have been great or wonderful or beneficial because I believed what I was taught--I was less than--less than beautiful--less than dutiful--less than loyal--less than lovable--less than worthy...less than.  Therefore, anyone who loved me; loved me with all its true meaning of acceptance and unconditionality, I was wary of.  After all, what kind of person would love me?  There must be something wrong with THEM too.

The realization of what I believed about myself, and the subsequent discussions of the laws of attraction (you get what you believe, be careful what you wish for and all that jazz) have been worked through over and over with Dr. Speed Dial and I am making progress.  Alas, this week I realized that my progress has not moved fast enough, and because of that--because of my innate suspicion of those that are kind to me--I missed an opportunity to be loved, I missed an opportunity to have a spectacular human being firmly planted into the soil of my life.  I missed it, and I can't get the moment back.  

You see, on Tuesday, one of my sisters-in-law passed away.  She had been sick with cancer for a long while and fought it valiantly with grace and beauty.  My daughter Ila shares a birthday with her aunt, my sister-in-law.  Sue leaves behind a beautiful family; a son, a daughter, three gorgeous grandchildren one of whom is Ila's age.  In fact, her grand daughter and Ila were born weeks apart four years ago. 

Back then, I was very sick and my dear sister-in-law, Susie, made an incredible effort to help.  When she bought things for her sweet grand daughter, she bought the same for Ila.  When it was time for Ila to get her first doll, it was Susie who gave it to her.  On Halloween and other holidays, my sister-in-law loved all over my daughter as if she was her own grand child.  All of this might not sound unusual to some of you, but you see, before the birth of my daughter, I really didn't know my sisters-in-law very well. I am ashamed to say that I still don't.  They were people I would see twice a year during the holidays, because after all, as I told you, it felt very awkward and foreign to be around people who were so completely kind and wonderful.  I didn't truly deserve that did I?  How did I get so lucky?

So for years, I pushed the idea that I might be able to be part of the bosom of this gorgeous family way way way way way out of my consciousness.  This was easy to do because it was coupled by my husband's equally erroneous feelings of not belonging among them as well.  Being the youngest of ten boys (you heard me) his brothers were all grown and gone with their own families when he was young and so the camaraderie of some of his other brothers seemed intangible to him as well.  Therefore, my sister-in-law's kindness was incredibly generous and completely selfless and, well, I did what I usually did when faced with kindness and love, I avoided it, shunned it and made sure that it'd go away thereby confirming what I'd always believed about myself--I was unlovable.  I am absolutely sure that these insecurities makes me seem aloof and haughty and not very nice.  But I assure you that my tendencies to push people away or not even give them a chance comes from a place of pure uncertainty of my worth in the world.  

However, because of the intense work with Dr. Speed Dial and a decision to change what ails me, I have come to realize that I don't do this thing called family well.  I also came to know that I had done that nasty pushing away stuff with Sue. However, in my mind, there was always this thought that now that I was starting to believe in myself a little more that perhaps, perhaps, I could make it right.  I could accept the love and kindness.  I could start over so that she and I, Jeff and Ila could feel like family feels, like Sue had tried to do four years ago.

But now, it's too late.  It's too late. I may have thought about forming a relationship with this loving human.  I may have thought about visiting her, Facebook chatting with her, asking her to watch and mentor Ila every once in awhile, but...I never did.  I never did, and now, I never will.

There's a saying, "In the end we only regret the chances we didn't take, relationships we are afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make."  My sister-in-law's passing makes this message feel urgent to me.  Dear readers, no matter what is in our past, no matter the mistakes, no matter our beliefs, we must never let them interfere with being loved and being accepted. Even more importantly, we must never let all our baggage keep us from loving others.  It is our sacred duty as humans to push past whatever holds us back from having true, real and wonderful connections with humans so that we never regret or cause regret in others.  Even the most jaded humans need to feel loved.  I know most of us would agree that it is the most flawed among us that NEED the most kindness, the most understanding, and the best that humans can give. Why is it then that we don't apply that kind of thinking to ourselves?  Jaded as we are, finding a human who WANTS to love us--flaws and all--is probably just what Dr. Speed Dial would order.

I made a grave mistake waiting for the "right" time to connect with a sister-in-law who was obviously so incredibly special to so many.  But dear Mudders, the only thing that I can do, or you can do when making a mistake is learn from it.  Let our mistakes change us for the better.

And so, that is what I am going to try to do.  As I shed the itchy heavy coat of "I'm bad" and learn instead that I am--what ALL of us are---combinations of our choices, our deeds and most importantly our intentions about ourselves and others, I will turn towards the idea that I am lovable.  I am worthy. We all are, Mudders.  Thanks to my dear sister-in-law, I intend to learn to be a better family member, (if my extended family will still have me). I will choose to receive the kind of love that everyone deserves, and most importantly I will freely give back that love to all who give it to me.