Let Go of the Leash

A friend sent this meme to a text chat that we were having yesterday. We mothers were lamenting how hard it is for us, when our “remote kids” (grown and/or away at school) are going through stresses and we can’t be there to “fix” everything. We all laughed and related to the meme. I related to the meme so much that I spent a lot of yesterday afternoon thinking about it. When my friend sent the meme, I immediately texted back, “I think that’s what my family can’t stand the most about me.”

A few years ago, one of my sons angrily stated that I held all of my kids “on a leash.” That statement stung. (Obviously, it stung, as I am still remembering it and writing about it now.) I was floored by his statement. I was flabbergasted. I was so completely angry and incredulous and insulted. Was he kidding?!? A leash?!? I was the mother who went out of her way to give her kids privacy. I never opened doors without permission to enter. I never went through their things on snooping missions. Unlike many of their friends’ parents, I never tracked their whereabouts on my phone. I wanted to raise confident, independent, adventurous and autonomous children. I was the one who championed studying abroad, and I made the appointments for them to get their drivers’ licenses, as soon as legally possible. My mantra had always been to trust my children, until I couldn’t, and I stuck with that mantra valiantly, for the most part. I really never understood what my son meant completely with his “leash accusation”. I think we dropped the whole argument back then, and we moved on. Yesterday, though, I had an “aha” moment.

Despite my best and highest intentions, I realize that I do sometimes keep my entire family “on a leash.” The leash is never physical. The leash is never about whereabouts, or rites of passages. It’s more about happiness and comfort and security and control. It occurred to me yesterday, though truly unintentionally, I sometimes keep my family on a tight “emotional leash”.

For some backdrop to my point, I would like to talk about codependency. “Codependent” is a term that was first used to describe a spouse or a close family member of an addict. A codependent gets themselves so wrapped up in the addict’s life, keeping up appearances and responsibilities that really should be the addict’s duties, that they lose themselves in the process. A codependent’s happiness and security is only felt when they are keeping the addict’s life on track. If the addict is happy and behaving appropriately, then the codependent is happy. But trying to control an addict, and the consequences of addiction in an addict’s life, is a lot to deal with, and codependents often end up exhausted and depleted. Codependents often get extremely frustrated and resentful of their addicts, because they believe that everything that they are doing for their addict, often goes unreciprocated and unappreciated. The codependent has this idea that if they take care of the addict’s life, then it follows that the addict will “owe them” and return the favors and help to meet the codependent’s needs (whose needs tend to be mostly for security and control), but of course, that rarely, if ever, happens. Security and control do not blend well with addiction. Even more crazy, when an addict sometimes does do the hard work and heals their addiction, and then takes responsibility for their own life back, a codependent’s life typically falls apart. The codependent has made it such a total part of their own identity to keep the addict together, that they have completely lost focus on their own self (and sometimes their own mental and physical health) in the process. And whose really to blame in this scenario? Many people would say “look what that terrible addict did to that poor person”, and many times codependents do get a martyr status, but at what cost? Who gave their life away in this toxic system? The addict gives their life away to their substance or habit of choice. The codependent gives their life away to the addict. In the end, it is often the case that the codependent finds himself or herself to be equally as sick as the addict. The codependent is addicted to fixing the addict’s life, at the expense of working on their own lives, and growing their own interests and fostering their own health and well-being. And that is why they say that addiction is a “family problem.”

Now, thankfully, none of my children are addicts. The above explanation is the severest form of codependency, which I have used to drive my point. Codependency is a trait that a lot of us women have a tendency to veer into (even without the problem of addiction), particularly those of us who are mothers. There’s a whole spectrum of codependency and there is a whole spectrum of caring. Those of us women who have made raising our families, our highest callings and our highest purposes in life, often lose ourselves in the process, without even realizing it. That was never our intention. It’s just that we get so ingrained in our family members’ individual lives, that we forget about our own individual interests, and our own needs and our own well-being. We feel happy when everything is going well for our family members, and we feel devastated when it’s not. Now, some people would say, “Well, that’s just love and there is nothing greater than a mother’s love.” And that is true to a point. Of course, it hurts to see a family member struggling. Of course, it is exciting to see the people, whom we love with all of our hearts, triumph. However, when our own emotional states are so intertwined with the states of other people’s lives, to the point that we are losing sleep, taking on responsibilities that aren’t ours to take, making our loved ones feel incompetent because we step in all of the time and take over the wheel, and in the meantime, find very little of meaning or have very little focus on our own individual lives, that’s when we’ve crossed into unhealthy codependency. That is when we start holding emotional leashes. That’s where the term “helicopter parent” comes into play. When we make others feel responsible for our happiness, mostly because we have made ourselves responsible for their “happiness” (as we have defined it), this is an unhealthy equation that does not bode well for close, authentic relationships. We are not independent or interdependent in these types of relationships. Instead we are dependent on each other, and thus “codependent.” When others feel they have to be a certain way, or feel a certain way, or act a certain way, in order to keep our equilibrium okay, this system is bound to fail. It isn’t real. It makes everyone on edge. It has become a family system based on false security and a desperate need for control.

In the end, each of us is responsible for our own happiness. It’s not even possible to make anyone else feel anything. We each make our own feelings, and our own responses to, and boundaries around, things that happen outside of us. We each are responsible for our own lives, our own boundaries, and own satisfactions. No one deserves an emotional leash. Every adult in a healthy family deserves to be “free range.” We deserve to meet each other in our beautiful, familial meadows, sharing individual and shared adventures, without feeling a responsibility for anyone else’s responses, emotional states, or perspectives of these experiences in life. As much as caretaking is important in motherhood, so is modeling a healthy way of being. It is interesting to me that a meme that at first made me laugh at myself knowingly, made me introspect as much as it did, and seriously so. It made me reflect on life lessons that I thought I had already learned and mastered. Ha! (the story of my life) The meme made me want to get my proverbial scissors out, and to cut some leashes, for the betterment of my family and also, for the betterment of myself. Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip. And now, only love, authenticity and abiding faith remains.

Pause and Ponder

I live in Florida and my friend sent me this meme. Only we Floridians are allowed to share it. Happy Autumn, friends!!! Fall is so many people’s favorite season. The cooler (but not too cold) weather, the beautiful changing leaves (in most parts of the country), the comfy sweaters and sweatshirts, getting back to a little more structure, the pumpkin breads, and pumpkin lattes, and pumpkin pies and pumpkin cookies, basically the pumpkin everythings, wearing boots again, Halloween and Thanksgiving, football, the crispness in the air and the coziness of blankets . . . . . Fall/Autumn (I wonder which name she prefers?), no matter what you want to call this season, it is nothing short of sublime.

It’s not lost on me that I am in the autumn ripeness of my own life. Will I one day look back on my own life and say to myself, “The autumn season of my life was definitely my favorite.”? I don’t know. I do feel a deep richness in this stage of my life, like no other. I have shed a lot of things that no longer serve me, much like a tree sheds its leaves, and yet I still feel rooted and solid. I am experiencing the bounty of everything which I have worked towards creating in life. My family has grown up nicely and still remains quite close at heart. My relationships have matured and deepened. My writing fulfills my need for purpose. My spirituality feels naturally a part of my every day experience, like never before. I wonder if with each season, we get closer to God? Perhaps it is in that little sliver of eternity, within the holy meridian that divides winter from the start of spring – perhaps that is when we are One with God completely? Is this perhaps, what is meant by the circle of life? That’s what I like about this autumnal time in my life. I have the time and the energy and the physical health, in order to be able to ponder these ideas and many other things. Autumn gives us time to pause and to ponder. What a beautiful, glorious, colorful gift!!

Monday Musings

+ I hate songs that have police sirens featured in them. They always catch me off guard. A song came on the radio the other day with a police siren, and I desperately looked for a place to pull off of the road, convinced that a high speed chase was happening, despite the fact I was waiting in line at a bank’s ATM.

+I love the Fresh Market’s almond pillow cookies. The almond filling in the cookies tastes exactly like the way sweet almond oil smells. That’s a rare feat. Very few things smell and taste exactly the same. I can’t find the words to describe it, but it is amazing. I think sweet almond oil is one of the most alluring and beautiful smells ever created. I have purchased almond scented shampoos before, only for one reason, the shampoo’s lovely scent. Still, when you think of eating almond shampoo, that sounds absolutely gross, but yet these cookies taste divine, and their taste is totally idiosyncratic with the smell of sweet almond oil. Try them, and tell me that I am not right about this.

+We have been picking up a lot of take-out food lately. I have started taking pictures of the crazy long car lines which I have waited in, in order to get our food. My husband says that waiting in long car lines for take-out at restaurants, has become the new waiting in line for an available table.

And a couple of good quotes by other people:

“People who don’t enjoy food, it’s like I don’t want to work with them or be friends with them.” – John Turturro

“I usually play characters who smoke and drink box wines.” – Allison Janney

“Whenever I need to decompress now, I take my dogs for a walk. They are truly the ultimate therapy.” – Tory Burch

That’s all for a Monday. Keep looking up, better days are coming!!!

Power for the Future

RIP – Ruth Bader Ginsburg

We women so easily forget how hard the women older than us, and in the generations before us, had to work to get women the deserved respect, equalities, and opportunities that should have always been rightfully ours.

Dissents speak to a future age. It’s not simply to say, ‘My colleagues are wrong and I would do it this way.’ But the greatest dissents do become court opinions and gradually over time their views become the dominant view. So that’s the dissenter’s hope: that they are writing not for today, but for tomorrow.” – Ruth Bader Ginsburg

remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.” – Abigail Adams, in a letter to her father John Adams, in 1776

Isn’t that a beautiful thing, to stand up for something that will make a better tomorrow for people like you, even knowing that you may never see the fruits of your own labor? What if we looked at every single one of our own individual actions as our own personal gifts to the people of the future? What would we do differently? What would we do more?

Every once in a while, old blog posts of mine trend on my view stats, seemingly out of nowhere. This blog post from February 13, 2019, has been viewed often in the last couple of weeks, so I suppose it has words that bear repeating. Please find that blog post entitled Fragile Like a Bomb, here:

Friends, I’ve admittedly been a little fragile this past week. It has been a tough week for a lot of reasons. But don’t you ever worry about me. I am fragile like a bomb.

Phew, It’s Friday

Woohoo, It's Friday! Pictures, Photos, and Images for Facebook, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Twitter

Happy Friday!! I am so happy that today is Friday. So, so happy and relieved, I am. New readers, on Fridays, I stay at the shallow end of the pool. I don’t go deep on most Fridays. Fridays are “Favorite Things Friday” here at Adulting – Second Half. On Fridays, I list three favorite things, songs, websites, beauty products, etc. that make my material life fun. I strongly encourage you to share your favorites in my Comments section and please check out previous Friday posts for more of my favorites. Here are my favorites for today:

MDLIVE – I have a great general physician, but last Sunday, I was at the end of my rope with a lingering cough (don’t worry, I have tested negative for Covid), which has lasted for over a month. So, I got an appointment with a doctor, spoke to a doctor, got a prescription for antibiotics sent to my pharmacy, picked up my prescription and started taking my medicine, on a SUNDAY, all in a time span less than two hours. The doctor was very kind, empathetic and professional and MDLIVE accepts some insurance coverage. I would use this service again in a heartbeat, but I hope that I don’t have to for a while. I hope that you don’t need to utilize MDLIVE either, but keep it in your back pocket, just in case.

StriVectin Powerlift Instant Tightening Mask – I love StriVectin products. I have used their neck cream for a while now. However, this “Tighten and Lift” mask is my new favorite product from their line. The stress of all of this 2020 mess has been showing on my face, and this is the first product that I have ever used that I saw an immediate difference. If you need a lift, literally, try this product. Of course, there are no miracle anti-aging products that mimic a real facelift, but this product definitely helps fill in the lines, a little bit. It’s a picker upper in a tube and worth the price!

SWAD Coriander Chutney – I have been on a ramen soup kick these days. I start with the ramen and then I get creative by doctoring it up with leftovers, and salad about to wilt, and random single helpings of meat from the back of the freezer, and topping the hot, steamy soup with some crunchy cheese toast. Anyway, to give the soup some flavor and kick, I add a teaspoon of this delicacy to my concoctions and it makes all of the difference. If you are one that likes spice and tang, you must purchase a jar of this chutney. It is one of my go-to ingredients for a lot of my cooking. I purchase my jars of this wonderful flavor, on Amazon.

Enjoy the weekend, friends! Thank you, always, for coming by!!!

HAIR'S WHAT I THINK Or Monday, Monday… Can't Trust That Day…

Candy Corn and Soup

Image

I sent this meme recently to some of my family and friends. My middle son and I found it to be hilarious. My middle son said that eating candy corn is like eating candle wax. I’d honestly eat the candle wax first. Most of the responses to the meme that I got back were along the lines of, “Ha! Yes! Nobody likes candy corn.”

Well, it turns out that my daughter and a few of my friends DO like candy corn . . . quite a bit. They took offense. It seems to me that candy corn falls into the “you either LOVE it or HATE it” category. There is no in-between. You either love or hate broccoli, brussels sprouts, cilantro, sardines, mushrooms and . . . . candy corn.

On a food note, while moping in my bed yesterday, I received a phone call from a sweet young lady from Nordstrom Department Store. She wanted to know when I was going to pick up my package.

“What package?” I asked.

“It’s soup, under your son’s name,” she replied sweetly and patiently.

“Soup?!?” I exclaimed. Right away my mind was going into, “Why in the hell did my son order soup from Nordstrom?!? That’s got to be some expensive soup. I didn’t even know that Nordstrom sold soup, but then again I haven’t been to the mall in forever.”

“It’s a SUIT, ma’am,” she said, giggling.

My son and my husband had recently purchased my son a suit for his medical school interviews. The customer service person and I got a good laugh out of our exchange. It feels good to laugh. Laughter is good medicine.

Outpouring

When I experience some of my worst days in any one year, my emotions hit me hard. I’m a fire sign and I am deep. My emotions come at me hard, Miley Cyrus style – like a wrecking ball. I experience my emotions fast and furious. I usually give myself some mope time when I am really sad and disheartened. It is my way of acknowledging my feelings and letting myself feel them. I typically look a mess, and I keep my bed unmade so I can crawl into it and cry into my pillow whenever I feel like it. When I indulge in some mope time, I find that I am able to inch to the other side of it, faster than I would, than if I just powered through it all and pretended it away. I know myself. I don’t like feeling lousy for long. I get tired of feeling down and blah. I get tired of my droopiness. I know that I won’t get lost in the abyss because my natural state is to be upbeat and hopeful.

When I go through something hard, my first thoughts are totally dramatic. I write this blog every single day and on days that something hits me really hard, like my son’s seizure earlier this week, I ask myself, how do I write my blog? How can I possibly write my blog? Maybe I should just shut my blog down! These feelings arise because I can’t stand dishonesty. I am not a good pretender. I wear my heart on my sleeve. But the thing is, I love this blog. I love to write. I love to connect with you, my beloved readers. I find myself through my writing, which feels and seems to be particularly important at this middle stage of my life, for some unknown reason. As you know, I write this blog when I am on vacation (back when there was such a thing) and on holidays. I write this blog when I am feeling amazing, and I write this blog when I feel like shit. Writing this blog is part of my every day breath. This blog is one of my fondest creations, besides my children, of course.

I won’t tell you every detail of my life. I honor and respect the privacy of my family and of my friends, and that is what is most sacred to me. But I won’t lie to you – that would be like lying to myself, and this blog is an outpouring of pure me. People have expressed to me that they read my blog for inspiration and that makes me happy. I love to add inspiration and hope to this world. I will tell you that even in my darkest times, I love life. I am so grateful for all of the good in this world and there is so, so much of it. Goodness prevails and it seeps out of the least expected places, many, many times. Anyway, I am crawling out of my mope fest each day, and I am saying to you, I love you. Thank you for being here, and the blog stays. See you tomorrow.

Charlotte

We had another setback yesterday, with my youngest son’s epilepsy. My son is okay, thankfully, so that is what really matters the most. Lately, when I offer a gargantuan pile of advice, or pepper this particular son with questions (like I have a tendency to do with all of my children and loved ones – thank you for still loving me), he likes to sing his answers back to me. It is sort of like a warning sign, like a dog growling. And it’s hilarious. The very off-key, fervent singing usually breaks the tension, and while it annoys me and amuses me in equal parts, it also reminds me how much I love my children and each of their unique personalities and their ways of being, in my world and in the whole world, in general. That is why days like yesterday are so stomach pitting-ly tough. There is nothing stronger, yet at the same time more vulnerable, than a mother’s heart. When you have days that force you to confront the idea that your strong, vital heart could be instantly shattered, at any moment or at any time, the fear that you feel is overwhelmingly ferocious. I read something recently, which suggested that we women have a lot of our parts and our essence made out of silk. Like silk, we look feminine and delicate and fragile, but here are the real facts:

“Quantitatively, spider silk is five times stronger than steel of the same diameter. It has been suggested that a Boeing 747 could be stopped in flight by a single pencil-width strand and spider silk is almost as strong as Kevlar, the toughest man-made polymer.” (www.chm.bris.ac.uk)

It turns out that we women are really made of gorgeous, silky steel. Don’t we know it! Charlotte, the teeny, tiny “fragile” spider, really was the strongest character in all of our childhood tales. A tiny, knowing, beautiful, wise, feminine spider, spun her messages in silk. Her love and her gift to the world was her silken word, and her safe, silken nest, where her babies grew and came to life.

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Soul Sunday

Hello friends. I hope that this Sunday finds you in a state of peace. Sundays are reserved for the songs of the Soul, here at Adulting – Second Half. Sundays are devoted to poetry. Please share your poems in my Comments section. This is a “no judgment” zone. This is a safe place for release in the form of the written word. Here is my poem for today:

I Hear You

I’m listening, Body.

You are the one who always gets ignored.

The Middle Child, mediator of the Mind and the Soul.

You don’t have the voice, or the emotion of your siblings,

But you house the heart.

You make possible the breath.

You work overtime, trying to keep everyone and everything in balance.

You subtly ask for care, but your subtly is so easy to ignore,

Until your whispers turn to cries.

Don’t let my cries, turn to screams, you say.

I’m listening, Body.

Today, I care for you.

You are the precious vehicle for my travels in life,

And for the acuity of my Mind,

And for the sensories of my Soul.

Today, I honor you and I respect you,

For everything that you give, to the whole of me.