Here We Grow…again…

I feel like I’ve written about this so many times, but if the issue continues to rear its ugly head, I’ll keep swatting at it. Yesterday, my little peanut told some girls at school had been mean to her. Ughhhhh…can you envision my head erupting and lava pouring down my body onto the kitchen floor? Cause that’s pretty much what happens when my kids tell me someone was mean to them.

Now, these particular transgressions were mild. Passive-aggressive. Nothing outright mean. Also, let’s consider that this tiny kitten is my virtual clone, and one of my biggest shortcomings is reading stuff into what people say and do. It is possible she is overreacting.

Here are the facts: No one was blatantly mean to her, but there was undercover, shady mean stuff. She picks up on that nonsense though, and it’s my job to help her navigate through these issues no matter how big or small because they’re all big to her.

More facts: For the life of me, I do not understand this bullshit any better having dealt with it for more than 40 years than I did when I was her age. My girlfriend said we should write a book about it. Sure, I could write a book about how annoying and stupid and hurtful and damaging it is, but could I offer any insight about how to make it less so? I don’t know.

But today I saw an eagle at the lake, and that encouraged me to be courageous and stretch beyond my limits and pull together some advice people have given me, and I’ve given my girls over the years re: mean girls. Maybe something helpful will emerge.

Facts about Mean Girls
1. They are sneaky and sometimes snarky.
2. They bully people–overtly or covertly.
3. They are often jealous and insecure.
4. They sometimes grow up to be mean women who spawn the next generation of mean girls.
5. They probably just want love and acceptance and have a twisted way of seeking it.

Once you break them down into little pieces, it’s easier to find tactics to deal with them. And it’s fun to break mean people into little pieces. My mother’s advice re: mean girls? Just ignore them. I used to tell my girls the same thing. Just ignore them. I never could though. And last night, after hashing through this stuff with my itty bitty girl, I realized that ignoring isn’t always a valid coping mechanism. We had to come up with something better.

Here’s what we threw together:

1. Be kind. You don’t have to be everyone’s friend, but it feels better to be kind even when someone is mean to you. People who feel loved on the inside don’t treat others unkindly, so when a person treats you badly, it’s probably because she feels bad on the inside.

2. Don’t play with people who are mean. One of your “friends” always insists that you play the game she chooses. That’s okay. Play with someone else. But all your friends are playing with her? Make new friends. You don’t have to fight about it, simply remove yourself from the situation.

3. Speak up. The last thing passive-aggressive meanies want is for their behavior to be called out. “It’s not kind to whisper about people.” “I don’t want to play with you because you are bossy to me and our other friends.” “It’s mean when you threaten not to be my friend or to tell on me just because I don’t want to play this game.” This works for all ages with minor modifications. Try it. It’s empowering. And it’s almost as fun as breaking mean people into little pieces 🙂

4. My favorite advice is from my Queen Mother Maya: When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. I’m not saying that people can’t change, but when someone is mean to you, pay attention. When you see a “friend” being mean to someone else, remember, tomorrow that someone could be you. Notice the person who gossips about everyone. What does she say about you when you aren’t around? Watch how people treat waitresses, fast food employees, bank tellers…people they believe to be…inferior. Trust me. It tells you a lot about a person. How do people act when they think no one’s looking? I can tell you with absolute certainty: The same people who were mean to me 20, 30, 40 years ago are still mean to me today. Even the ones who smile and hug me.

5. Finally, give people grace. Mean girls included. You don’t have to hang out with them, be their friend or even speak to them. But we don’t know what’s going on in someone’s life that makes them act the way they do. We don’t have to try to understand or figure them out. We don’t have to read into their actions. We can give them grace…freely…and maybe from a safe distance.

At this point, I’ve cut all the mean girls and people and even a few cats–cause some of them are just assholes–out of my life. I’m no longer trying to make people like me. I’m not interested in being the homecoming queen. And I have zero energy to give people who don’t bring joy to me and to our family.

Fortunately I am extravagantly blessed and grateful to be surrounded by smart, kind, compassionate people who love me for who I am while challenging me to learn and grow. And I’m trying my damnedest to be kind, compassionate, loving and forgiving while raising 3–or 2, is Chloe raised? gulp–people who will be the good…the change I want to see in the world.

And you know what? It’s working. My big girl excelled through three years at a women’s college. She met amazing people who encouraged and inspired, believed in, challenged, taught and learned with her. She didn’t have hardly any mean girl nonsense. It’s a slow process, but it’s working.

I sometimes still let S%*T bother me.

Sometimes, I try to put people into molds. Sometimes, I hold people to very high standards. Sometimes, I get very disappointed when people don’t meet my expectations. Sometimes=All. The. Time. Occasionally, in moments of clarity, I recognize the messed-up-ness of this flawed process and reset. I return to working on myself and accepting other people as they are. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing.

Chloe told me about one of her friends who would comment on a person’s behavior as, “Oh, that’s just Sam. Doing Sam stuff.” This made me laugh every single time I heard it. Lately, however, I’ve been thinking about what a simple but profound lesson there is in adopting that viewpoint.

Once I was really upset with Brad about some perceived slight or shortcoming, and when I was telling my little mermaid fairy guru about it, she said, “Mama, you’re kinda just mad at Daddy for being Daddy. That’s not really fair.” RIGHT?!

Of course it’s not fair. And this admission is selfish and arrogant and unfathomably egotistical, but sometimes I get pissed at people just for being who they are instead of who I want them to be. Bleck.

I’ve written about this repeatedly. Obviously, I’m still working on it. I still let some s&*t bother me.

I keep praying about and meditating on accepting people as they are with no expectations, judgment or labels.

The last few times I did yoga, I set this as my intention. Every morning, in my journal, I pray that my every interaction with people might shine love and light into them. I pray to make people feel encouraged, heard and understood. I fail. A lot. But I keep trying.

Lately, I got hung up on gossip and being “two-faced.” People saying unkind things behind each other’s backs and then being sweet to each other’s faces. Honestly, if you are a woman (between the ages of 3 and infinity) you’ve encountered this. Maybe you haven’t. You get Wi-Fi under a rock? That’s pretty awesome. Anyway, I have been both guilty of gossiping and hurt by people gossiping about me. So in the last few months, I’ve been trying incredibly hard to be impeccable with my word. You know, I drone on and on about The Four Agreements, but seriously, it’s so simple: Don’t say anything unkind. About anyone. Ever. It really is a simple concept, but in our critical culture, it’s so hard. Really, really hard. I encourage you to become aware of the power of your word–and others’ words.

So, the more I started to focus on being understanding and accepting and kind, the more I realized that in order to reflect that, I had to feel it myself. I couldn’t wake up and criticize myself for all my shortcomings and then expect to be encouraging to others. That’s not exactly true. I could do that. I have been doing that for years. Here’s how that story ends: I feel slighted, wishing someone loved and understood me. Wishing someone made me feel special in all the ways I try to make other people feel special.

I know this sounds disgustingly self-indulgent and whiney, and I rarely spend time consciously feeling sorry for myself. I want to be completely transparent so that I can share this revelation: The gossip, the criticism, the nasty, shrewish, two-faced behavior that I so despised was how I treated myself. I have to stop being mean to myself.

When I set my intention in yoga to seek to understand and accept everyone who crossed my path, that needed to include me. I had to stop punishing myself for all the ways I haven’t lived up to my own ridiculous expectations–because if they’re high for other people, they are astronomically out-of-this-world unreachable for me. I had to start this little kindness revolution right in my own heart.

Last night, I went to yoga convinced that I would probably spend most of the practice in child’s pose. My knees hurt. My hair was dirty. I had tried on a bathing suit earlier which sent my self-esteem in a downward spiral. I almost didn’t go, but I realized that I was withholding yoga as some sort of punishment for not looking good enough in that bathing suit. Or something else …  I’m not sure. Anyway, I put it aside. And I got on my mat and let my breath carry all that negativity away.

Today, my intention remains to be compassionate, to understand, listen and encourage people. To say only kind things. And most of all: To accept all of us exactly where we are.

Still not mother of the year

The past few weeks, my life has been a little busier than normal. I’ve felt–quite frequently–like I had a lot of balls in the air, and that one of them was bound to drop sooner or later. I have been talking to myself. A lot. I fit in pretty well at the nursing home. It’s like when I am trying to remember a phone number, I’ll say it over and over again in my mind since I can never find a paper to write it down.

Now, however, I’m saying all these things in my head because I wrote them down somewhere, but I can’t find the damn paper so my inner dialogue is like, “Pick up Peyton at 5 or 7, wait what day is it: Monday, okay 5, I think. Lily has gymnastics. Drop off the recycling. Pick up my mom’s laundry. Bring her insurance card. Did I bring her clean undershirts and the kind of socks she likes? Did I text Chloe good morning? Did I check on Lori? Did I pack lunches this morning or were the kids buying? Did we study spelling words or did Lily really write “whore” instead of “were” anyway?” True story. Good that her teacher is a precious angel who finds humor in my parenting shortcomings.

All of this has made me feel much more compassionate toward those around me as I think most of us probably have way more going on than anyone knows. Since, I’m always trying to work those four agreements and lots of times getting stuck on not taking things personally, this is helping.

I have a really bad habit of sinking into myself. Crawling into my shell and dropping out of every inessential (by inessential, I mean no one will die if I don’t show up) part of my life. That means, I don’t really talk to my friends. I don’t go anywhere with anyone. Often I’m short if I remember to respond at all. All of this is an effort to protect and nourish my spirit, but it can often seem to people who care about me, that I’m mad at them or being a bitch. I’m really so sorry.

I’m working on doing a better job of communicating. And at the same time, I’m going to make some vows to you, my girlfriends, who are doing so much more than anyone knows, often at the expense of taking care of yourself the way you need and deserve to be loved and cared for. If you would, though, please pass it on…

1. If you forget to pick your son up from any sporting event, I will take him home. I will not tell anyone that you forgot or give you any shit about it. We don’t ever have to speak of it.
2. Those pants look good on you. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow too if that is what you choose. I don’t care how often you do laundry or if you gained 10 pounds and they’re the only comfortable thing you have. I promise I didn’t even notice until you told me.
3. Your daughter is beautiful even if her clothes don’t match and are too small. I know that she has a whole wardrobe of matching adorable clothes but it isn’t worth fighting with her in the morning.
4. I don’t judge you for yelling at your kids. Good lord, if someone had a hidden camera in my car or house, child protective services would be at my door daily. I am at times a horrible raving lunatic.
5. I couldn’t care less if your kids valentines aren’t homemade. I force my child to do crafts so we can bond, dammit; she would much rather have store bought ones. We’re all works in progress.

I could go on and on and on. Sometimes we are just so mean to each other. Judging and comparing and competing and gossiping and bleck, bleck, bleck. I promise you all, right now, if you’re reading this: I am never going to judge you, your clothes, your kids, your parenting, your weight, your hair or anything else. I get it. I understand. I feel you. My mantle is still void of a mother of the year trophy. Actually, I don’t even have a mantle! What do you think about that?

Please, let’s be kind to each other. And more than that? Let’s be kind to ourselves.

xoxo

21 Days: Day 6

One thing I have never mastered is cooking tofu. A few weeks ago at a Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, a perfect tofu pad Thai dish inspired me to try again. The tofu was amazing. Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Mine was the same as always: Mushy. This is irrelevant other than it just happened, and I wondered if any of you had any suggestions about how to cook tofu.

Today, I had a happiness hangover of sorts. So much good in one day was overwhelming. In a good way, but still overwhelming.

1. I woke up next to my husband. That alone makes all the blessings I normally count so much sweeter because none of them would exist if not for the sweet sleeping boy next to me.

2. After I lamented Lily’s lack of interest in watching movies with me, her teacher (who is my good friend) assigned her this snow day homework: Snuggle and watch a movie with your mom. She’s a good egg, that one. Somebody needs to give those angel teachers a raise. Lily wanted to watch Mean Girls, which has some inappropriate-for-8-year-olds content–that I’d forgotten–but brought up a lot of good talking points because that bullshit starts when girls are teeny-tiny. It also continues until, well, I’ll let you know when it stops.

So yesterday, in a tangled web conversation with one of my closest friends, we unwound some strains of hurt and betrayal. Wanting to be loved and accepted are basic human needs not just desires. Unfortunately, through the cuts and bruises and scars we acquire moving through the sometimes thorny forest of life, we end up with some weird insecurities and hang ups. Then, unfortunately, on occasion we foist that crap onto other people we encounter. My really smart and amazingly talented friend Molly wrote about that here. She’s a great writer, right? That brings me back to this: We all want to be loved and accepted so let’s stop comparing and judging and criticizing and gossiping and trying to feel better about ourselves at the expense of someone else.

Trying to feel better about yourself by pointing out another’s flaws or shortcomings won’t make you better than anyone else. It won’t really make you feel better either. And, it will just show people that you have issues in your own life that you’d rather not deal with. I’m choosing to be kinder. I’m trying to accept people as they are and not as some idealized version of who I think they could be if they’d just deal with their shit. I’m trying. One mindful decision at a time.

3. I’m still crying about yesterday’s thank you note. Ugh. I have no idea who to write to today.

Yesterday, I gave in to the siren call of spinach dip and also something called Sex on the Horizon.

 If you could say no to Sex on the Horizon, then you’re a better woman than I am. And if it makes you feel better to say that you’re better than me, then you might want to read that paragraph above again, ’cause you might have missed the point. It tasted almost as good as it looked, but I paid severely for these transgressions when my stomach launched a full-fledged assault against me at 4 a.m.

Today has been good Daniel-fast wise, except for the tofu fail. Did I mention my husband is home? So despite the fact that 1/5 of our little world is starting her own little world in the City of Bridges, life feels mostly full and happy today.

How are you doing, my friends? What good did you eat? What made your heart smile? Aren’t you glad I finally shut up about coffee :)?

Books, Blogs, Bibles, and Bullies

I try hard to be real. I share my past, my struggles, my flaws, my shortcomings … some people think I share too much, but it is how I process experiences. Regardless of what I’m going through, I seek out books, articles, blogs by people who have been through a similar event.

For example, when my brother committed suicide, I read every book I could find about suicide. If you’re interested, The Suicide Index and History of a Suicide were amazing. I found understanding and comfort reading about how others dealt with these experiences. Additionally, reading, unlike talking, allowed me to process it in my own time, in my own space. I could walk away if I wanted and carry the words around when necessary.

Speaking of carrying words around, last week, my sister-in-law sent me a blog that I have read and reread about 42 times. This line: “…my counselor tells me to try not to give people my heart and the hammer to smash it with all at the same time…” has been rolling around in my head all week. My dad used to say, “If you walk around with your feelings hanging out, someone is going to step on them.” And in the wisdom of Proverbs 4, one of the lines we hear most is about guarding your heart. For me, it all points to this: Too often, in my efforts to be real and transparent, I give people ammunition.

One of my spiritual gifts is mercy, and I believe that part of my purpose in life is to listen–empathically and without judgment. People share stories with me. Deep, personal, often intimate stories. Mostly, I feel blessed to offer them a place to vent and unload. Sometimes, the level of personal information divulged is awkward and uncomfortable, but I seek to make the person feel heard and valued. Occasionally, I feel burdened and want to be left alone, but listening is what I do.

So…back to that article, my dad, and the Bible. Sometimes, I feel a false or inflated sense of camaraderie with people and divulge personal information of my own. You might think, “You say all kinds of reallllllly personal things here; what’s the difference?” You’re right. I try to share relevant relatable information so others can find validation and support. But sometimes, I can be even more vulnerable and transparent interpersonally. Historically it hasn’t worked out very favorably.

Let’s be real. In a moment of feeling it’s a safe place to share or having had one too many glasses of chardonnay, you confess to a friend that you are feeling really insecure about your recent weight gain. A week or so later, at lunch with the same friend, you order cheesecake for dessert, and she comments with one eye-brow cocked heavenward, “Ohhhh, you’re having dessert?” Whether or not she means anything by it, your feelings are hurt. You gave her your heart and the hammer, and she used them. Ouch.

I’ll be even more real, since I can finally laugh about this. When my kids were little everyone used to say how much they looked like Brad. When Chloe was a baby, one person said, “It doesn’t even look like YOU had anything to do with her.” It hurt my feelings, and I shared that with a few people. One of my closest friends kindly pointed out, “Yeah, your kids really don’t look anything like you.” Heart. Hammer. Boom. 

Side note: Not all my friends suck. My dear sweet girlfriend made Peyton a t-shirt with my baby picture on it so it was very, very clear just where he got his curls.

The point of this is not that my friends suck or your friends suck. Sometimes we give people ammunition. When they use it? It is because of something that is flawed or broken or lacking in them, and it says nothing about us. I’m gonna just write that again. It is because of something that is flawed or broken or lacking in THEM. Not us.

Have you ever secretly celebrated a friend’s misfortune–even a little? Ever felt a twinge of jealousy when something terrific happened for someone else when things weren’t going so well for you? I have. More times than I care to admit. When I was trying to get pregnant, I almost had to go into isolation because it made me so sad every time I saw or heard about another pregnant woman. That had nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.

Recently, I have been dealt a couple low blows, and my initial reaction was to feel hurt and ask myself what could trigger such meanness. Fortunately, I remembered that it isn’t my job to figure out what is going on in other people; that’s why God directed me off the counseling path. However, it is my job to be kind, to be loving, to forgive and to show mercy and empathy.

If someone has hurt you with their words, actions, or inactions, you don’t have to own that. It isn’t about you. When people use our vulnerability as a weapon to hurt us, they are bullies. And bullies are often frightened, hurting, and making a lot of noise and commotion to distract people away from their own vulnerabilities.

Whew. Namaste.

Circles

Two days ago, my itty bitty girl came home from school and said, “Mommy, would it hurt your feelings if someone said that one person was their ‘best’ friend and you were just their regular friend?” Having experienced more than my share of my own and my oldest daughter’s mean girl interactions over the years, I confirmed that it would hurt my feelings. Especially at 6. We talked about it a lot and decided it wasn’t kind, and we would try not to single people out in some sort of importance hierarchy.

And while soothing my tiny girl’s heart, I realized that I talk about my “best” friend all the time. It never crossed my mind that it would hurt anyone’s feelings. Especially since one of my “best” friends never sullies her beautiful mind with computers and social media and such. However, when I used the term in a blog, one of my closest friends was unsure if I meant her or someone else.

Like many women, I’ve gone through plenty of friendship evolutions. I have known lots of reason and season people. I have walked away from friendships, had people walk away from me, and had God call people before I was ready to let them go. At this point, I am much better able to see why people are in my life or why I am in theirs.

I have not always had very many real friends, which is why I clung so tightly to my “best” friends. In the past few years, God has blessed me and opened my eyes to see the amazing group of women surrounding me. Women who teach me so much. Women who listen, support, hug, pray for and pray with me. Women who reach out to offer a kind word or just to remind you that you’re not alone in your journey.

To my girlfriends, whether we interact on Facebook, Twitter, at church, work, or a baseball game, I cherish you. Whether I have known you since we were little girls or I just met you, you are important to me, and I’m blessed God allowed our paths to cross. Whether we share DNA, a common relative, or simply an affinity for cats, we are connected, and I’m grateful to share this journey with you.