I Am A Work in Progress – Trying to Claim my Authenticity

There are numerous articles written on how to discover yourself.  They are mostly targeting adolescence and young adults trying to find their way in life.  Where do I find a manual for a woman who finds herself between 65 years and death, a woman who wants to be authentic?  

Each phase of life seems to be a time of discovery… a shedding of a skin that no longer fits and an evolution into a more fully developed being.  It goes beyond deciding to no longer color my graying hair.  It is a personal soul-searching, trying to claim the person I am discovering myself to be.  What do I do with this discovery?  How do I live it?  How do I continue to be embracing of all, respectful of others’ positions, honoring the differences while not having to hide what is in the depth of my being?

I was never really an activist.  I didn’t burn my bra.  I have not joined marches. I was not a “flower-child” in the 60’s.  I was a young mother trying to feed my children and sew my curtains.  I have struggled to discover my truth and it is hard, because I am able to see different points of view and I get confused.  Like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof,  I say “on the one hand…” but “on the other hand…”  I am able see the rationale that is buried in the position of someone who may differ from me.  This  makes me feel wishy-washy.  I ask myself “Where do I really stand?  What do I really value?  What is my honest opinion?”

I find these days of political turmoil and division in society very painful. I read the newspapers, magazines and “tweets” and I am filled with reaction.   I am a social person and I value the friendships that I have formed over the years.  And while I may hear a dear friend voice an opinion with which I do not concur, I honor my friend’s right to hold that opinion.  Yet it does can place me in a difficult position.  Do I say nothing…just smile…accept what they say…and keep the peace?  Do I say something…honor my position…speak my truth, hopefully in a civil manner, and risk alienating my friend? 

I do not like discord; I avoid confrontation.  I recall being told that I was unrealistic…a dreamer.  I want everyone to get along and it can’t always be like that.

So my current journey is to first try to identify my real values.  What do I hold non-negotiable?  What will I hold on to no matter what, my true North?  I pretend I am in a rowboat and it is sinking.  In the boat with me are all the things I hold dear…and I ask myself, “What am I willing to throw out to keep the boat from sinking?” 

What I am left with in the boat are always the same things.  

First of all it is Life, that sense of being fully alive, filled with a spirit that makes me who I am. I have always known that there are those who “give me life,” energize me and make me feel more myself…my Life-givers.  And there are those who “deplete my life,” with whom I feel the life in me being sucked out, like a balloon being deflated.  I want to be a Life-giver not a Life-taker.  I want to be with Life-givers and avoid Life-takers.  It is Love, being connected in the heart to others, my family and friends.  It is Respect for myself and for others, acknowledging that no one is better than another.  It is Compassion knowing that everyone is just trying to do life and we are all trying to help each other home.  It is Integrity being able to trust the honesty in my words and actions, and those of others. It is Hope, that there is always possibility.   These are the values I hold dear and I think describe my soul.

The next step for me is to allow these values to guide me and shape my priorities.  If I believe that my presence on this planet has something to contribute to the greater good, than I have to be authentic and put it out there. It does not mean that others must agree.  While it might not be right for others, it is right for me.  

I am stumbling around these days trying to be true to myself, to share my truth.  In our present arena, when so much flies in the face of my own personal values I am not as brave as I wish I were.  I am reminded of the quote “All it takes for Evil to triumph is for good men (and women) to do nothing (remain silent.)” How do I contribute to the common discourse in conversations, writings, social media?  This is my dilemma and my challenge; to do so in a way that imparts Life, Love, Respect, Compassion, Integrity and Hope. 

Stay tuned….

I Am ALMOST A Silver Fox - Going Gray

How wonderful is the human psyche!!!  Thoughout my life, when I have thought of some potentially difficult, anticipated time in my future, I have wondered how I would be able to “deal with” it.  And yet, when the time came, something inside me had shifted and I discovered that I was ready for this new event.  I especially think of this now as I am in the later phases of my life and many of those future events have arrived and are my new present.

One of those future events was knowing when the time was right to “give up the bottle,” to stop my monthly appointment with Sebastian, to have him carefully apply color #12 to hide my roots and keep my crowning glory a lovely, luxurious brunette.  For the last couple of years the thought would fleetingly cross my mind, but I would say, “No, not yet!”  I would ask Jay for his opinion and he would say, “No, not yet!”  Were we both trying to hold back time?  I was hesitant because the image I hold of myself in my mind’s eye is of a vibrant, alive, 40 year old woman.  

I was not yet ready to be elderly.  I did not want to be seen as elderly and I did not want to be treated as elderly.  And, I guess Jay didn’t want to think he had an elderly wife!

But as time has passed, I am reminded each morning that the woman I see in the mirror is not 40 years old.  I have fine wrinkle lines on my cheeks that remind me of  my mother.  The skin is no longer tight and elastic, but is soft and “squishy” (to quote Gino). My complexion is varied and dotted with occasional age spots.  And the graying roots of my hair are outlining my face.  I am trying to get to know this woman.  

When I sit quietly with her and take a simple internal inventory, I discover that this woman is in a good place.  She is content with her life.  She is no longer running on a treadmill, trying to prove herself worthy, trying to please everyone, trying to control the world.  She is at peace and grateful for all the good in her life.  She worries much less.  She knows she is loved by those who are important to her and she is happy.  I can see this in her face when I look at her in the mirror.  She is ready to embrace her natural hair.  At least, she is ready to try.

So a month ago, I had Sebastian just cut and blow dry my hair.  He is not quite sure I am ready, but he is being supportive.  Jay says, “Go for it!”  My sons say since they currently have more gray hair showing than I do that it would balance the scales if their mom was also gray.  My daughters assure me that I am not loved for my hair but for my heart.  So I will see how it goes.  I don’t know what my natural hair will look like.  Who knows, maybe I will be a Silver Fox!

It has been one month since I began this “going gray journey!”  The passage has been interesting.  Each day, as I checked in the mirror, I saw a little more gray and instead of making me feel older, it made me feel energized…happy…authentic…as if I was “claiming” myself.  

I would catch Jay looking at me and ask, “Do you feel like you are sitting next to your mother?”  He would laugh and say, “No, in fact, I like it!”

Here are my before and after (first haircut) pictures:  By the next haircut, all the colored “highlights” should be gone.  

The only concern I am still holding on to is the reaction of Gino and Jessie, who have not seen it yet.  They notice every little thing.  Once after I washed my face (and was minus my “enhanced” eyebrows) Gino asked, “What happened to your face?  Why is it a new face?”  

What is my lesson in this?  I guess it is to trust in life.  To just show up for it and let it happen.  There are still some potentially difficult, anticipated times in my future.  I can try to prepare but I can also hold on to the knowledge that when the time comes, I will be able to handle it.

Stay tuned…

I Am A Grandmother - A Weekend with Mima

It is 6:30 am.  I listen and the house is so quiet.  There is no music from Peppa Pig playing on the TV.  There are no little voices screeching, “Mima, Mima,” “No Jessie!”  “Mine!” “Let’s go outside,” “Panda Cookies, please,”  “read a book,”  “tickle me,” “chase me,” “Sing ABCs,” “Strawberries,”  “I do it myself!” I lie quietly and feel so alone.  There are no little feet pushing into my side.  There is no little body pushed against my tummy.  I open my eyes and there are no two sets of big brown eyes staring at me.  The children have gone home.

I have just survived 42 continuous hours caring for Gino and Jessie. Their mother, a 24/7 mom, an Amazon Woman who never stops, finally had the opportunity to have a weekend to herself, to fly off to Monterey to attend the college graduation of a dear friend’s daughter.  Their father, who was to have been on a business trip, was home nursing a physical ailment.  I was asked and gleefully accepted to care for my two grandchildren.  No problem, I have raised three children, I can do this!

I now understand why we are fertile only when we are young.  I begin to think that my body may actually have an expiration date.  Being the fulltime caregiver of 2 toddlers is an extremely taxing responsibility and yet, one that fills all the cracks and crevices in a psyche.  While their attention spans last about 3 minutes, I seem to go from pillar to post in an attempt to keep them occupied.

We went for walks,

we went for rides, 

we visited Bump at the golf course and got cookies from Kate.  

We visited the neighborhood dogs and watered the plants in the garden.  

We played with Play Dough 

and navigated Youtube for Kids for videos on the tablet, 

we worked puzzles.  

We ate  strawberries,

               eggs, 

chicken, Panda Cookies, hotdogs with ketchup, Panda Cookies, Big Bird Bars, 

Pizza, 

pasta, Panda Cookies,                              ice cream, 

cupcakes, and.... Panda Cookies.  

We looked for boats on the ocean.  We read books, we sang songs, we played Zingo.

I even imported some help in the form of cousin, Gabriel, who helped keep Gino occupied by building Legos and talking about Super Heroes. 

Both toddlers are talkers and the day is filled with “why?”  At times I cannot understand what Jessie is saying as she speaks to me with her eyes wide open and a little smile on her face.  I turn to my translator, Gino, and ask, “What is your sister saying?”  Jessie turns to him and repeats what she has said.  He turns to me and says, “She says she wants to sing ‘wheels on the bus.’”

The house looks like a train wreck.  Jay tries to pick up the trail of toys but I tell him to just leave it be.  The toys will back on the floor in two minutes.  Jay plays fetch and carry, bringing me their water, a tissue, some more Panda Cookies from the storeroom.  We look at each other over their little heads and exchange a nod of understanding and support.

As the day wears on and they become tired, we put on pajamas, we brush our teeth, we get our blankets, and we sit in the rocker…one child on each leg…and after negotiating which song we will sing first (of course they each want a different song!) we begin to rock and close our eyes.  

The next trick is navigating two sleeping bodies to the bed.  They co-sleep as a family so I get to spend the next 8 hours sleeping with two little bodies pressed up against me.  I lie there and feel their little chests rise and fall with each breath. I look at them and see their perfect little faces still at last and I am filled with a sense of wonder and a feeling of fierce love.

It is Sunday around noon and their father comes to pick them up.  They have had a bath, their hair is brushed, their clothes are packed in the suitcase, their snacks in the snack bag, their toys in the toy bag.  They give me hugs good-by and pull out of the driveway with Daddy, eager to see Mommy who will be home in a few hours.

I return to the house, sit in the recliner and sleep for 2 ½ hours.  

And this morning I wake up to a silent and still house.  I feel empty.  I have read many articles on how grandparents can impact a grandchild’s life.  But it is a mutual admiration society.  The impact of a grandchild on a grandparent’s life cannot be measured!  We all need to experience unconditional love and that is what I receive a hundred fold from these two little ones.  I would fight tigers for them.  But for now, I have to go buy some more Panda Cookies!