That's so Cliche'

I often stop and take some quiet time to reflect on the most difficult time of my life. Giving up on my marriage and embarking on the divorce journey changes a person, no matter the reason for the decision. It’s very similar to the stages of mourning. The marriage has died, the commitment needs to be buried, and the dream of happily-ever-after deserves to be mourned. I found myself often amazed at the kindness of some, as well as the judgement of others. So many of my friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances offered empathetic wishes and unsolicited advice.  It was, from most, offered with the best of intentions. I began to notice that most couldn’t find their own words to express condolences so, instead, they used those common well-meaning clichés. These still ring (loudly) in my memory:

This too shall pass.

What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.

There is light at the end of the tunnel.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

Every dark cloud has a silver lining.

Time heals all wounds.

Faith looks up.

There are so, so, so many more. But, seriously, people?  Who wants to hear that when they’re in the throes of a struggle or a deep, dark depression?  Certainly not me.  I hated the way people looked at me. That look of sheer curiosity mirrored with utter pity.  It was sickening.  I hated the inevitable question:  What happened?  What the Hell does that mean?  How does one explain how their marriage failed?  It just…failed. For me, there was no juicy story to tell.  No one cheated.  No one gambled away all our money.  No one was abusive.  Life happened.  That’s what happened.  Sorry, folks, no grand tale.  No juicy story to pass on with a twist.  It was just…life. Life happened, ha, isn’t that so cliché? 

After I began to find myself and feel a little less vulnerable, I’ve begun to find the humor in the whole thing.  The thing is, five years later, during my reflection times, I realize that all of those obnoxious clichés are, well, true.  The overwhelming depression did, in fact, pass.  It didn’t kill me and it did, most definitely, make me stronger.  There was a light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.  It, our marriage, was simply NOT meant to be.  I lived under that dark cloud for far too long, and slowly, but most definitely surely, I see that silver lining.  Time is still healing my wounds.  And, faith?  Faith does look up.  Cheers.

Surviving, Thriving, & Blooming

It seems that everyone I meet has a “line of division” in life; that line that divides their before and their after. For some it’s before and after children, for others it’s the death of a loved one, and for many (like myself) it’s the end of a marriage. So many of our stories begin with “when I was married” or, even more often, “after my divorce.”  That is our line of division: marriage and post-marriage. It defines us. There was a time when I thought that definition to be unfortunate. I resented it, even. Time goes on, though, and you realize that what doesn’t kill you DOES, in fact, make you stronger. You learn to bloom right where life plants you.

When I was married, in my before-divorce life, we had the white picket fence family life, on the outside. Inside, things were in constant turmoil but we hid it well. I spent countless hours, days, weeks creating an old English garden around our home. It was my therapy. Subconsciously, I suppose, I thought if things lived and flourished outside, we would be able to do the same inside. I planned, I planted, I cultivated, I weeded, I shoveled, and I pruned. The garden grew. It was gorgeous: my pride and joy. When the time came to move and leave that home behind, I mourned the garden. A silly thing, it seems, to so many. I walked the perimeter for hours and shed tears for all the wasted hours spent and all the blood, sweat and tears that I’d invested. I wondered if the next owner would appreciate the fruits of my labor. I worried about what would become of my plant babies. They were just plants & flowers, but I felt guilty for abandoning them. There was a story behind each one; a story that, in some odd way, defined a time period of our fifteen years as a family in our before-divorce time. I decided in the last hours of the move, that I would take some of my favorite plants with me. I chose the ones with the best, most meaningful stories. A crazy idea, I realized, but I was determined. Among the furniture, the bins of childhood memorabilia, and hundreds of other boxes, I packed pots full of memories disguised as plants & flowers. They wilted and struggled to survive. The parallel is so ironic. As I reflect on the story and the irony within it, I laugh out loud. WE, the people, were struggling to survive. We wilted.

Fast forward two years. This morning, I sit on the balcony of my replacement home sipping coffee and reflecting on life. I look around at the privacy barrier I’ve created. It’s made of potted plants. Plants that survived a divorce and the loss of their home. Some of their parts died. Some of the most beautiful parts of them didn’t flower or flourish for several seasons. Slowly, though, they began to grow again. Slowly, with some TLC, they began to thrive and to bloom…right where they’d landed. Once again, I reflect on the ironic parallel to the people inside the home, and specifically to the gardener. I struggled.  Parts of me died.  Other parts stopped blooming and lived in darkness for many seasons. But I survived.  WE survived. And, slowly but most definitely surely, we’ve learned to bloom…right where we landed; right where life planted us.

 

Yin, Yang, & Yoga

I decided to try my hand (actually my whole body) at Yoga. A good friend of mine suggested that it was a great way to work through life stresses and exercise the muscles. I did a little Googling and discovered that Yoga is often recommended for women over 35, for various reasons. I signed up online for a one week trial at the local Pink Lotus Yoga Center.  Being the overly ambitious, jump right in, type A that I tend to be, I chose a different class every day for the following seven days. Yup. You read that right…SEVEN days: Friday to Friday. They offer a large variety of classes and I wanted to get the most out of my one week trial (and the money I paid for that trial). I dressed in what I thought was appropriate Yoga attire & headed out for my first class. I walked in fifteen minutes early and the experience began. First of all, let me say that the class could not be more appropriately decorated or located. It’s in the Old Mill building, complete with rugged rock walls and gypsy-like décor. I love it.

I signed in and watched all of the seasoned, experienced yogis and followed along like a hesitantly excited puppy. I grabbed my mat roll, two blocks, a blanket and a bolster. I found a comfy spot near the middle, yet close to a window. I sat in what appeared to be the standard Yoga-style sitting. Then, suddenly, I noticed everyone else was barefoot. Ok. I admit, I should’ve known that yoga was a barefoot-princess type sport. I got a little freaked. How many people had walked on these rock floors? How often had they been washed (or NOT washed). I swallowed my anxiety and slowly removed my socks and shoes (gulp).  Oops, I digress…

The class began and it took all of 10 minutes for me to be all in. I followed directions, copied poses, opened my heart and my mind and found the poses to be surprisingly comfortable to perform. I can do this, I thought!  I can’t wait for tomorrow’s class.  The 75-minute class went by in a flash. As a side note, at the close of the session, the instructor says a little mantra about going forward and doing good things, which I found very inspiring.  I attended the next two classes and was equally enthralled with hem.

Three classes down and it’s Monday. Monday’s class is “Gentle Yin.”  I was feeling a bit under the weather from all the pollen that keeps trying to bully my sinuses and considered cancelling. “Oh,” I thought, “it’s the Gentle class, though. It’ll be relaxing.” Beginning to feel much like one of the regular yogis, I found my usual spot, took on the starting position, and got ready. Oh wow, was I in for a treat (insert snarky grin and a little eye-rolling here). 

I vaguely remember the instructor giving this little speech about how this Yin Yoga was a good way to “let go” of the negative things that plague us and that it can be difficult for some people. How was I supposed to know she was talking to me???  The class consists of six spine poses held in “relaxation” positions for seven minutes each with a short stretching session between. The first pose lasted forever. I was pretty darn sure it was way longer than seven minutes. I readjusted. I fixed my bolster pillow. I put a block under my hip. I tightened my pony tail. I scratched my ear. I resituated myself (a few times). Someone across the room was breathing in an almost-snore rhythm. Someone else made a whistle sound each time she exhaled.  The couple next to me had on matching bracelets. I couldn’t concentrate, for God’s sake! There was nothing to concentrate on. By pose three, my inability to relax was quite obvious. The instructor came over (I heard her coming), laid beside me and we had a short whisper-voice conference. “It’s really hard for some,” she said with empathy. “Your body is reluctant to let go,” she explained. She tapped my back and my hips and made some suggestions. “Just breathe in and relax here,” she suggested. I thought, “I AM relaxing!! My body just won’t listen!” I realized in that instant that I was the ADHD person in the room…there truly is no existing Yin to my Yang. I struggled through the next three poses and when the class was finally over, I quickly gathered my Yoga accessories and headed for the door. The teacher stopped me, she was so kind and looked at me so sweetly. “Those that struggle the most with this class,” she said, “need it the most.”  I’ve been chewing on that all week (but that’s for another post). 

I am so plagued by thoughts of my inability to sit still and/or to relax. I Googled again. Evidently, Yin and Yang are supposed to go hand-in-hand as contrary forces that are interconnected and balance each other. I’m out of balance. I have to go back. I will go back.  After all, I have to (somehow) find the Yin to my Yang.  Stay tuned.

Check it out: 

For information on The Pink Lotus Yoga Center     

http://www.pinklotusyogacenter.com/

For more Yoga humor:

http://www.rodalesorganiclife.com/wellbeing/10-things-a-yoga-teacher-learns-about-you-within-the-first-5-minutes-of-class

Choose Marriage

Lessons about Marriage from a Divorcee

So often when discussing married life with my still married friends, I catch myself saying, “Who am I to give advice? After all, I am divorced.”  Just last week I was talking relationships with a friend and I dropped my famous line. She immediately retorted, “WHO better to give advice than a divorced person?” I’ve spent a week chewing on that. She has a point, I told myself. Who better to give advice than one who tried and failed and has spent years looking back, reflectively? That’s me.  Since I separated from and, subsequently, divorced my husband, I’ve spent countless hours analyzing our 15 years of marriage, identifying errors & indiscretions (both his and mine), pondering possible solutions, and wishing I’d had been a different wife. Perhaps divorce was our fate. Perhaps we could’ve/should’ve tried harder, or for longer. Those things, I’ll never know.

Here, for what it's worth, is what I do know:

Show up.

Showing up, ready to work is 50% of the job, any job. Marriage is a job. So, show up. Be present. Be available.  Be attentive.

First & Last

Make your spouse the first person you say good morning to and the last person you say goodnight to (not your children, not your pets, not FaceBook). Your waking thoughts should involve your spouse and so should your dozing-off thoughts. When they don’t, there’s a bigger problem.

Say what you need to say.

Convey your thoughts and feelings to your spouse. He deserves to hear them, to ponder them, to reflect on them, and to use them to better know you. You deserve to be heard, to share your thoughts and emotions, and to feel free to use your voice.  Bottled up thoughts and feelings fester and will, eventually, spew. It is much more difficult to listen and to understand thoughts that are conveyed out of frustration or anger. Avoid that. Think first, then speak. Never stew. Never spew.

Save the sarcasm.

There is a fine line between being sarcastic and being witty. Skip the sarcasm at home. Save your sarcasm for being the life of the party, for making your friends laugh, or for the rude cashier at the drive through. Spare your spouse. Don’t use sarcasm to give your emotions a voice. You’ll be misperceived and misunderstood. Sarcasm is passive aggressive and, all too often, hurtful.

Go to bed mad.

I’ve always heard that you should never go to bed mad. Boooooy, do I disagree. When making any big life decisions, we’re always advised to “sleep on it.” I find that to be much better advice. It’s ok to go to bed angry.  It’s okay to sleep on it. You’ll probably discover that when the next morning rolls around, you’ll feel less agitated than you did the night before. You’ll be more rested and probably thinking more coherently. Your thoughts will be easier to convey and, probably, better understood. Go to bed mad. Wake up rested.

Apologize.

It takes two: two to get along and two to argue. Apologize when you’re wrong (and you will be wrong). Apologize sincerely. Apologize even if you don’t understand. Apologize even if you don’t agree. Apologize simply for hurting his feelings. Apologies move mountains.

Do YOU.

It’s so easy to merge yourself with your partner, especially in the early years. But I caution you to not let yourself get lost in the “you” you are with him. Stay in touch with yourself: the things that you like to do, the healthy habits that you’ve formed, the parts of your personality that make you unique. Marriage is about compromise and synergy, not sacrificing. You can synergize yourself with his self but don’t sacrifice your wants, your needs, your likes, your hobbies, or your dreams. You’ll grow resentful and the marriage will cease to flourish. It will flounder and begin to fail. Be YOU. Do YOU. He will love you for you.

Don’t BE grateful.

Don’t be grateful. Gratitude is silent.  SHOW grateful. We often feel appreciation that we struggle to portray to our significant other. Contemplate what makes him feel grateful and learn to show it in a way that he can perceive as appreciation. Don’t be too proud to compliment or to say thank you. Give your gratitude a voice.

Bridge the gap.

As life happens, you will occasionally grow apart. It will happen but it doesn’t mean it’s the end. Make the effort to bridge the gap before it becomes a great divide. Stay alert. Notice the gaps as they form. Like any other small problem in life, it’s best to address it early on before it grows and is irreparable. Practice damage control. Bridge the gaps, quickly and efficiently.

If you want a partner, be a partner.

It’s the golden rule of marriage: be what you want your partner to be. If you want him to work with you, work with him. If you want him to make you feel loved, make him feel loved. If you want him to appreciate you, appreciate him.  If you want him to be affectionate, show him affectionate. It’s easier said than done. Believe me, I know. But, it CAN be done.  

Choose marriage.

In today’s world, divorce is widely accepted and often seems to be the “easier” route. However, it’s a choice to give up.  It’s a choice to get divorced. Choose marriage, until and unless you have NO choice. For as long as you feel you have a choice, choose marriage.

Note: Because I am a heterosexual woman, I default and refer to a spouse as "he." However, the road runs both ways, folks.

Eating my Words (with a few drops of oil)

I’m not a sellout. I’m not a buy-in. All of my friends and family know it. I don’t do the fancy chef thing, the scrapbooking extravaganza, or the secret panties club. I don’t want the free facial, the extra points or the fancy stick on nails. None of that. I don’t go to parties and I don’t host parties. No ifs. No ands. No buts. So, when one of my good friends began selling (and pushing) essential oils, I stuck to the rules. “No thank you,” I said. I ignored the testimonials, the invites to classes and the firm nudging to “just give it a try, Karla.” I thought, “I’m NOT doing it. I’m not buying in. I will not sellout.” I taught preschool at the time and many of my co-workers bought in, many of the mothers bought in. I stood strong. Admittedly, I truly thought they were all a little bonkers.
Let me digress. I’m a fairly healthy woman in my early forties but I’ve struggled with asthma and allergies (thanks to my daughter’s beloved cat) for years. For years and years, really. I was on a daily regimen of allergy and asthma medications that included, but was not limited to, the following: melt away, immediate relief 12-hour allergy tabs once-a-day, every single day, a morning dose of a decongestant, a daily dose of asthma-preventative medication, a preventative inhaler AND a rescue inhaler. Yet, still, I knew better than to laugh too hard or try to run too far or even to clean too many rooms on a Saturday morning. My adult-onset asthma truly ruled my life.
My youngest daughter has suffered from severe (and I don’t use the word lightly) eczema and psoriasis her entire life. She suffers from constant “itchies” that she struggles to resist scratching. The scratching then, inevitably, creates open sores that are susceptible to a plethora of staff infections. Through her eighteen years, we’ve tried it ALL – every cream sold in the drugstores (both prescription and non-prescription) and many that aren’t sold in drugstores. We’ve tried oral medications and she’s taken her fair share of steroid rounds. In our home, we don’t use scented anything. All detergent, body wash, shampoo and etc is perfume and dye-free. We do not use perfumes, air fresheners, carpet powders or anything that even remotely smells of perfume. Our strict no-perfume rules have helped but the itchy problem has remained a constant presence in our daily family life.
Now, I’ll come full circle, while I was thinking that my “oily” friends and acquaintances were a little crazy, I also refused to sell out and buy in due to our firm “no smelly things” rule. Many tried their pitch. “It’ll help your allergies,” they claimed.  “It’s so good for itchy eczema skin,” they tried to tell me. “Pish,” I thought. How can anything so smelly help my already sensitive allergies OR my daughter’s itchy skin. Smelly things exacerbate the problem, not help it. That’s just crazy talk. I continued to firmly, but politely, decline their sales pitches, offers of samples and invites to educational classes.
Fast forward a year (give or take). I’m suffering from yet ANOTHER sinus infection brought on by an allergy flair after a cleaning spree. I remember feeling miserable and thinking there just has to be a sensible solution. So, in a moment of desperation, I sold out. I messaged a friend that I knew lived a loud and proud oily life. She was more than happy to share her testimony (NOT a sales pitch) with me. Then, I bought in. I purchased a starter kit of Young Living essential oils AND the Young Living Thieves cleaning products kit.
That was five months ago. It’s been quite the educational experience. I’ve learned more than I can share in a single blog post so I’ll keep it short. Please understand that I accept that I’m now one of the crazy-oily people that goes around smelling “funny” and saying things like “Hey, there’s an oil for that.” However, I am not (and most like will NEVER be) a sales person. This is not a sales pitch. Instead, consider this a testimonial of the highlights of my oil journey so far.

·         I no longer take allergy medicine every day. I take it some days here and there, but not every day.

·         I no longer use an inhaler every day. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I did use it.

·         Our home is alllllllllmost chemical-free (which I believe is the main contributor to bullets one and two).

·         My daughter’s skin looks better than it has looked her entire life. It’s less itchy so she sleeps better and feels better during the days.

The simple truth is that I cannot pinpoint exactly what has benefited us the most; the diffusing of essential oils, the application of particular oils onto our skin or the elimination of chemicals in our home. Truth be told, I don’t really care which it is. I enjoy doing all three and I’ve seen my family benefit from the combination. For us, it’s been an excellent investment. I’m careful, mind you. I do my research. I know more about essential oils, essential oil companies and the toxins and chemicals in everyday household supplies than I ever thought I wanted to know.  My knowledge has only scratched the surface. I learn something new every single day.
I sold out. I bought in. I’m a believer.  I live an oily life. The end.

*Disclaimer*
It gets on my nerves that this is necessary in today's society, but alas...
The content presented here is NOT meant to replace professional medical diagnosis, treatment or advice. Information obtained here has not been medically or scientifically verified and should never cause you to disregard or delay seeking advice or treatment about a medical condition from a medical or healthcare provider. Use of any information from the content of this site solely at your own risk.

A Friendly Rant

Part One: Friendship

Here’s the thing, in my opinion, a person’s FB page is just that…THEIR own personal FB page. They have the freedom to choose who to be friends with, who to unfriend and when, and what to post on their own page. And so do I. I choose my FB friends much like I choose my real-life friends. Wait. As a matter of fact, for me, there is no difference. I am only FB friends with my real–life friends.  They are one in the same. If I wouldn’t stop and speak to you in the grocery store, we aren’t friends…FB or otherwise. You don’t really care about my children or grandchild and why should you? We aren’t friends. We don’t know each other. We may have met once or twice, worked together twenty years ago or have friends in common. But, we aren’t friends. 

I’m often shocked at the friend requests that I receive from random people that I hardly remember. I find myself questioning where I may have known them from. No, we aren’t friends.  I’m also baffled by people that have 500+ FB friends but never seem to be actually talking to any of them. The same five friends respond to their posts and the same 5 friends are included in their pictures. Who are the other 495+ people? Again, that’s completely their choice to be friends with people that they aren’t actually friends with. It just baffles me.

Part Two:  FB Ghosts

Why do some people have a FB page and never post or comment on their “friend’s” posts? That’s not rhetorical. I really do want to know. These silent FB page owners are creepy to me. No judgement intended. I just don’t get it. If you are a FB ghost, please feel free to explain. Surely there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Is it because you want to keep up with your friends from a distance but really have no desire to foster a relationship with them? Is it because you are too shy? Antisocial? Private? Too lazy? Is it because you want to know everyone else’s business (that they willingly post for their “friends” to see) but you don’t want anyone to know yours? Why, please explain, are you FB friends with people you don’t even like to communication with?

Part Three: Solicitation

I wish FB had a front door. You know, so people actually had to knock to come in and so I could hang one of these awesome signs on it, loud and proud!  Ya know, when I open my FB to see what’s going on in the world with my friends, I don’t want to be slammed with marketing ploys. I have been hit up to buy (and sell) Pampered Chef, Mary Kay, Isogenix, Tastefully Simple, Rodan & Fields, and various essential oil companies.  I mean, people that I haven’t seen or been in contact with for years and years have sent me these creepy FB messages about joining their amazing business venture. They most often begin with messages like, “Karla! I saw your mom/sister/dad/daughter the other day. I can’t believe how many years it’s been…” OR, my personal favorite, “I see you’ve returned to your maiden name and assume you’re divorced. I’m sorry. I’d like to help you by introducing you to my company. Here, you can make millions…” or some bull malarkey like that that is then followed by an obvious copy-and-paste sales pitch. Stop it. Seriously. Stop it.  I always resist the urge to reply, “I’m not divorced. My husband died.” That might shut them up. Or maybe not. Here’s a newsflash: I never respond to those messages or accept those friend requests. As a matter of fact, I block them so they can’t find me again. We are not friends. We never were and it is quite obvious that we never will be.
Now, I will say that there are a few of my friends, that I actually keep up with, that use their own FB page to post solicitations for their multi- or mid-level marketing company.
Which, in my opinion, is perfectly acceptable, so long as they don’t harass me. Referring back to Part One. Your page is your page. Solicit away. Maybe I’ll contact you to buy or be educated. Maybe I won’t. Don’t bother me. I won’t bother you. Confession: I’m a Young Living member. I love my oily, (almost) chemical-free life. I love my DIY hair products, cleaning products and bath products. I may post about my love for my oily life but I never solicit using my FB page and I never, ever harass. (Don’t bother waiting for it, there will be no sales pitch in the next paragraph). I signed up to be a member of YLEO’s through a friend. She lives the oiliest life of anyone I’ve ever known. If you meet her, she’ll give testimony and witness but she’s never tried to push me or give me a sales pitch. There is a difference.  She has never called me during the day while I’m at work or in the evening when I’m being a mom to talk to me about “building my business.”  She has never sent me obnoxious, annoying messages or sales pitches via FB messenger.  She doesn’t use her FB page to beg for business and she doesn’t flood her page with nothing but oily this and oily that. She has never bugged me to host a party or teach a class. Fact is, if I want to buy something, I’ll look for a marketing-type FB page, or, Hell, I’ll just go over to Amazon.

Remember, people, friendship is defined as a relationship that involves communication, trust and support. I suppose Webster needs to define Facebook Friendship.  Clearly the two are very different.

Fix your Child's Hair!

This post comes with a warning. 

Caution: Please watch your toes.  They may get stepped on.  Read at your own risk. 

Selfish, self-centered parents…I can’t stand ‘em. We all know them and most of us simply ignore their shenanigans.  It’s accepted and almost encouraged in our society.  I’m not a vain person, per se, but I am a firm believer in appropriate, acceptable public appearances. Come on ladies, how can you justify getting your nails done while your kid is wearing tired, pill-balled hand-me-downs?  Parents that do not take the time or make the effort to teach their child to take pride in their appearance are just…selfish!  Listen, I’m all about living on a budget and stretching pennies. But, seriously.  Worn out, soiled clothing weighs heavy on young shoulders.  Beauty does come from within but it shows without. When these poorly dressed children feel less than worthy and less than attractive, they show a lack of desire to be clean.  They have dirty feet, dirty fingernails and frizzy, matted hair.  Can’t you teach your child to grasp the importance of taking pride in his/her appearance?  It drives me absolutely insane to see parents with their name brand jeans, fancy tennis shoes and recent dye job when their kids don’t even look like they’ve recently bathed.  Presentation and cleanliness are signs, in our society, of self-confidence and self-respect.  Who wouldn’t want their child to have a strong sense of self-worth?  Many people, I’m afraid. Children can be mean; just plain mean.  They do not want to be friends with someone that smells of days old sweat.  They don’t want to be friends with the child that hasn’t taken a shower in four days.  They don’t want to be friends with the child that looks like squirrels have been mating in their hair.  It isn’t skin deep.  It’s that even at a young age, they know.  These children, they know that the kid that looks “thrown away” is an easy target.  They sense the target’s fear and lack of confidence.  It’s a cruel world but it’s the world that we brought our kids into.  It’s the world that they have to live and learn to thrive in. Don’t you want them to thrive?  Children that are ridiculed and bullied run a strong risk of “failure to socially thrive.”  As a parent, you’re going to have to accept that you are the root of that failure.  It is your responsibility to teach your child to have just the right amount of self-confidence.  It is your responsibility to avoid over-inflating your child’s sense of self-worth without under-inflating it.  It’s a delicate balance and it is your responsibility to find it. You, mom, should feel ashamed to send your daughter to summer camp without even brushing her hair.  You, dad, should feel ashamed that your son smells like a donkey on a hot day. Do your job. Wash their clothes (& shoes). And, for goodness sake, fix your child’s hair!