The forest through the bellybutton trees

It's human nature, I think, to focus more on the negative validation we receive in life, and ignore or discount the positive. Especially if you tend to be a perfectionist (guilty) - you dwell on the negative and assume it somehow is within your control, or worse…your FAULT, your shortcoming. Even in corporate culture there is a huge emphasis on fixing your weaknesses vs. leveraging your strengths. A healthy attention to improvement can be great, but sometimes it can catapult you into a pretty myopic, dysfunctional place where you get so zoomed in on the negative / less-than-perfect parts of your life, you don’t see all the good parts.  You miss the opportunities of joy, personal and professional growth, and creativity.  I'll admit that over my life time, but especially over the last couple of years, I've been guilty at times of zooming in way too much on the negative, on what needed fixing and not valuing the positive enough.

During our commute home each day O and I generally spend the time singing, laughing and goofing off (L participates too, generally by giggling and saying "more!").  One day a couple of weeks ago, somehow we got on the topic of bellybuttons. O determined she needed a new one, so I asked her where she would go to secure this new bellybutton. Without hesitation, she proclaimed she would go to the bellybutton trees where the bellybuttons grow. This launched a whole philosophical discussion around what things (body parts and otherwise) grow on trees (apparently noses and ears as well), are there farmers that tended massive orchards of bellybutton trees (yes), do they need a lot of water (some), and so on. L had no idea what we were talking about, but laughed hysterically every time her big sister laughed. This moment was just one of those many little moments I've been trying to focus on more - laughter, joy, freedom from rules or preconceived notions, peacefulness.  Staying zoomed out enough to appreciate all the great moments in my life.

The week following the bellybutton tree conversation, I ended up in the ER.  I woke up that Friday morning feeling ok, but by 11 am I knew I was pretty sick and something was wrong -- excruciating headache, throwing up, high fever.  Finally by around 7 I went to the hospital. After a spinal tap (attempted FOUR times by the newbie doc before the specialist was called in), a CAT scan of my head and a chest x-ray, I was diagnosed with viral meningitis.  I don’t know that my life was ever truly at risk (viral is a lot better than bacterial)-- but I was definitely the most deathly ill I've ever been, and I was actually scared it could all end badly, especially when my fever got to 103+ and I couldn't hold any food down.  I ended up being in the hospital for 5 days and will feel fatigue and headaches for the next several weeks.  The infectious disease doc figured it was probably just a virus one of my kids had (L had diarrhea earlier that week) and I won the lottery of having the right genetic makeup to let those little buggers into my brain and spinal fluids. Yay me!

As I was laying in the hospital, pressing my little pain medication button (a lot) and wondering if I was ever going to be able to see straight again, I found myself thinking about the bellybutton trees conversation…and I was again reminded of all the great things in my life and how fortunate I was to be loved, to be taken care of personally and professionally and to have my wonderful kids who were healthy and safe.  I didn't just have one special someone in my life -- I had a frigging ARMY of amazing friends and family - parents, ex inlaws, friends, co-workers, my ex-husband. Everyone rallied and did what was needed -- getting me to the hospital, taking care of the kids, allowing me to recover once I finally made it home, checking in on me, offering help, sending flowers.  I had a job that didn’t bat an eye at me taking a week off to recover, a job that provided really great health insurance so I could pay for this little escapade. And hey... at least it was viral meningitis! Ok maybe that last one is a stretch…but the point is, I could look at all this and dwell on the negative, or I could  choose to focus on the positive. Given the circumstances of this situation, I fared pretty darn well.  

It is true what they say - the crises in life, especially those that are life-threatening (even pseudo-life threatening) can really shift your perspective, help you stay zoomed out enough to embrace the positive and see the bigger picture in life.  If you choose.  I know it's corny to have the whole George Bailey moment as a result of this, but for me it really  has helped me see the forest through the trees…the bellybutton trees, that is.

I love you to the lotuses

The lotus is a popular symbol in Eastern religions, representing rebirth and awakening.  It starts as a small flower down at the bottom of a pond, deep in the mud and muck. It slowly grows up towards the water's surface, continually moving towards the light. Once it comes to the surface of the water, the lotus flower begins to blossom and turn into a beautiful flower.

 This has become a bit of a "totem" for me, representing what we all go through in life at times, but more importantly how I hope to live my life…pushing through the muck and the darkness towards the light, allowing myself to open and embrace the light. To bloom.  It didn't hurt that my yoga studio was selling cute little lotus necklaces, and of course I bought one. I wear it all the time as a reminder of the lotus's perseverance and beauty that I hope to embody. When O saw the necklace for the first time, she loved it. She got all close and cuddly with me, gently taking the necklace in her little hands, and asked me softly "Mama, what's this pretty necklace?"

I explained to her the meaning of the lotus and why Mama likes it so much.  O is pretty amazing at grasping advanced topics for someone her age, but she seemed rather non-plussed with my story and moved on to pretending she was my parents' three-legged Chihuahua named Jasmine (her favorite of the three, yes three, Chihuahuas my parents own).  My job then was to pretend I was Grammy (my mom) and give her fake marrow bones.

A few days later, we were reading L a story before bed called "Guess How Much I Love You?" If you have not read this book or given it to a kid you love, do it now. It is one of the sweetest, most tender books out there for kids. The bunny parent (Big Nutbrown Hare) and the bunny kid (Little Nutbrown Hare) take turns saying how much they love the other, each time with greater and greater magnitude. It ends with the bunny parent softly saying, as the bunny kid falls asleep, "I love you to the moon…and back."   The impossible magnitude of the love you have for your kids captured so beautifully.

Later the same evening, as I was putting O to bed, I told her I loved her, as I do every night (and all the time, really - I don’t think you can tell your kids enough how much you love them).  O smiled and said, "I love you to the lotuses."

I've already learned the lesson that your kids are listening even when you think they are not (the hard way) so be careful what you say. And I know that O has a pretty amazing imagination and is very creative.  But this struck me as just awesome.  O not only remembered the story of the lotus, but I think she really got it, maybe more than I had at the time.

 At the end of the day, the thing that powers my inner lotus, my perseverance, my desire for awakening and blooming is love. Love for my kids to push through the crap life gives you sometimes so that I can still be a good example, a good mom, a positive person. Love for my family and friends to appreciate the light and brilliance they bring to my life, even when my days seem dark and to hopefully reflect some of that light and brilliance back on their lives.  And love for myself to know I can blossom and embrace beauty and light, that I am worth pushing through, even if I get stuck in the muck sometimes.  People might have religion to help them through the tough times in life, or just a strong sense of spirituality…but I think at the end of the day, it really is about love, no matter what your belief system is.  Loving others, knowing others love you and loving yourself.

As I kissed O goodnight and tucked the blanket around her, I said to her softly "I love you to the lotuses…and back."

 

 

That owie is NO problem!

The other day, O had a scrape on her ankle.  This was one of those awesome scrapes that stayed kind of oozy, and of course I lapsed on keeping a bandaid on it, and so naturally it got stuck to her sock as part of the healing process. As I got O ready for her bath, I yanked the sock off, not knowing this would result in screaming and blood gushing everywhere.  As O was crying she kept saying over and over how she didn't want to go back to school. After exploring this a bit, it turned out that O was afraid to go back to where she got hurt (the school playground).  This event was so traumatic  she never wanted to be in the place where the trauma could happen again.

 Turns out, I knew exactly how O felt.  That feeling of being so hurt, so scared, so confused as to why something painful was happening --I mean, why the hell did taking my sock off hurt so bad?!  -- that the only thing you can think of is how to avoid it EVER happening again.  It's such a natural, human response, at any age to choose to avoid pain, or even the chance of pain.  A relationship ends painfully - why not avoid getting close to anyone again? It can be tough not being an expert in a new job - why not stay put in a job where at least you can be knowledgeable and can avoid failure? You hurt a friend - why not stay distant from people so as not to expose your shortcomings?

O and I talked about what she was feeling. And I told her a few stories of how Mama got owies - including a particularly embarrassing one where I passed out while running, hit my head on the asphalt and even had a car stop to see why I was laying on the side of the road.  I walked home feeling shaky, embarrassed and wondering what the hell just happened. 

 
But then I told her how I still run -- because it is good for me, and keeps my body and mind healthy. And that I just focus on how to make sure I didn’t get hurt again in that way (lesson learned: don’t run in 90 degree D.C. weather, up a hill and then stop, bend over and tie your shoe). And even though it was a scary, painful experience, I couldn't let it stop me from doing something I loved. 

At the conclusion of my story, O proclaimed "Mama, that owie is NO problem. I'm not going to let that owie stop me from doing ANYTHING!" I think in that moment I had never been so proud of her.  And yet again - lessons learned from a 4 year old. 

We can't let those owies be a problem -- whether they are from a failed relationship, trying and failing at something new, realizing we are not perfect by a long shot or falling down while running.  Do we learn from them and seek to do better, choose better? Absolutely. Should we try to avoid potentially life threatening situations? Um, yes :-)   But for me, I strive to learn so I can do what I love, so that I can still love and so that I can be loved.  Embrace my imperfections, my mistakes -- and still live life to the fullest.  We cannot be afraid of a relationship not working - otherwise the choice is to be alone. We cannot be afraid of doing something new - otherwise the choice to be bored and not grow. We cannot be afraid of showing others that we are not perfect - otherwise the choice to not learn, grow and be loved.

I have been doing a lot more yoga lately.  I find it is a great physical representation of the battle my heart and mind go through. I have to remember to breathe, I have to be forgiving and accepting of myself and my abilities, and I have to be willing to trust myself to go to new places.  This may mean doing a pose or NOT doing a pose. The other night, I had a "moment."  I was in the standing splits pose which is prep for doing a handstand. And for weeks I had just been hanging out there, not trying to do the handstand.  In that pose, it just doesn't FEEL like you can get to handstand. You don't have any momentum - you feel stuck. Plus I just have a general fear of flopping around loudly in an otherwise pristine yoga studio. Man, what a parallel to moments in my life over the last couple of years.

But then I made a well-educated decision to say screw it - my body felt good and if my 4 year old can get over her skin being ripped off, I can certainly try the handstand. And so I tried. And I kind of got up. Momentarily. With minimal flopping. And then I did it again and again.

So despite past pain, past failures -- it is nice to find the internal momentum to just move from where you are stuck. To forgive yourself and love yourself enough to take chances and seek out new experiences, even if there is a risk of getting hurt. So some may say "feel the fear and do it anyway"   -- I'm going with "That owie is no problem. " 

A REAL horse

My older daughter O is a huge fan of me telling her stories -- stories about dragons and monsters, stories about little girls like O, owie stories where Momma had an injury of sorts, all...kinds...of...stories.

During one of my stories somehow it came up that I studied Economics in school (don't ask me how), and I asked O if she knew what that meant. She replied "it's about eating."  I figured, close enough. Then I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and she said "A horse. No, a REAL horse." 

This really stuck with me -- at her age, she knows no boundaries to what she can do. Astronaut, doctor, even a horse if she wants to be one.  And the heartfelt emotion and passion to be a REAL horse -- to be something tangible, meaningful, without pretense. All she knows is to seek something fulfilling that matters to her.

My wise little Yoda.  As I have moved into a more stable part of my life, post-divorce, I have contemplated what I needed to do next in my career - how should I begin to reinvest in myself. I'm working out, having some semblance of a personal life, and feeling joy in my life after a fair amount of heart ache. As I look to my job -- I struggle with the choices between work-life balance, career growth and ultimately feeling authentically in love with what I do. I *think* the answer right now lies in O's lesson -- don't be constrained by artificial boundaries you create in your head.  YOU decide what is important, what you will accept and what you won't -- and that could mean hours of work, type of work, pay, whether this moves your career forward or it lets you hang out for bit, etc. You control the boundaries and there is power in that.

Then, whatever you do -- feel the real.  Live it with all the intention you can muster, knowing this is the right place for your right now, and maybe you will make changes later, but right now, you are real and you've made your choices for real reasons.

Easier said than done, of course -- but if we can just find a little bit of that 3-year old imagination, freedom and authenticity, I think we can make the right now better, and make the right things happen in the future. I'm working on applying this thinking to both my current job and any future decisions I might make about what to do next.

Anyone else finding their way through tough career decisions?

A new identity is born...

When my daughter was born, I had these grand notions of jumping into the mommy blog fray, spending my maternity leave writing witty vignettes in between Stroller Stride classes and trips to Starbucks.   Then I realized that I was lucky to even shower during those first few months -- and once I returned to work, lucky to make it through the work day mentally and physically intact so I could spend some time with my husband and daughter.

I managed to get roughly 2 blog posts done, and then life got in the way and I didn't write again.  Flash forward 3 1/2 years, I now have 2 daughters (3 1/2 years old and 1 year old), I am divorced and my life is completely different...I have had wonderful moments, angry moments, sad and despairing moments and hopeful, inspiring moments. And throughout all, I've asked myself over and over -- "Who am I?" 

As most of you know, it's a huge adjustment becoming a spouse, a parent, a single person once again, and it's been challenging in some ways as I try to figure out who is this new Liz moving forward. I think life is a series of identity crises (some minor, some major) -- moving away from home and establishing independence, deciding who I would be as a young woman, going to grad school and moving across the country from family and friends, working hard and moving my career forward, getting married and figuring out how to share my life with a partner... being responsible for two tiny beautiful humans, deciding to end a relationship and face some of these challenges on my own.

I look at myself and think -- I'm part mom, part career woman, part daughter, part friend, part sister, part adventure seeker, part outdoors lover, part yoga enthusiast, part runner...the number of parts we split ourselves into begins to get exhausting, and I start to think how hard it is to know what to do with all these different parts.  Do I keep dicing myself up into more parts to avoid losing anything, but risk becoming fragile, thin, tenuous?  Do I drop parts to make room for higher priority ones and risk not feeling like "me"?  Or do I make some parts smaller, hoping one day there will be more time for them?

Or perhaps some new identity gets forged out of all these parts.  Maybe there is a new me that encompasses being a wife, a woman, a great marketer, a person passionate about living, a girl who rode mopeds in Vietnam but also reads The Economist...maybe I have to let go of the predefined "parts" and all the "I used to's" to allow some new identity to emerge. Embracing that some parts change to help create new parts, or some parts break off, but made room for newer, stronger parts.

When I was in grad school (Go 'Heels!), I took a class called "Preparation for Execution Management" even though I was pretty sure I never wanted to be a CEO.  At any rate, we had two guest female CEOs speak one day. Both had never had children and were past that point in their lives.  One of the women said something very wise, I think -- "You can do it all, but just not at the same time."  I think it's embracing that concept that is key to letting this new identity emerge -- a new identity that doesn't require you to keep splitting yourself up into more parts, or to drop parts and feel a sense of loss...but that fully embraces your choices, priorities and desires as being exactly right for the specific time and place.

Easier said than done, but I'm happy to be on that journey.  So, to all my fellow identity seekers, tell me about your journey. How have you managed through your life changes and come out whole on the other end?