NOTE TO SELF...

Dearest Self,

Here we find you again, second guessing your competency.  This is really getting kind of tiresome.  I’m really going to need you to put on your listening cap.  You’re an independent, single mom, single-handedly taking care of an entire household!  The universe knows that you are stretched thin making sure every member of your pack is physically fed, financially supported, emotionally bolstered and spiritually nourished.  At the end of every day you are fatigued, overwhelmed and feeling lonely.  Given all you are required to do by yourself it’s no wonder.  Even though you may not currently have a partner supporting your efforts and keeping you warm in his arms at night, your work and selfless acts are not going unnoticed.  You probably don’t see it, but God is working in your favor! 

While there are a million players, users and abusers, the Lord is preparing you to be ready for a great man who is RIGHT NOW looking for all the redeemable qualities you possess.  He is willing to accept all your greatness as well as all of your flaws.  This man will not be the one trying to “holla” at you in the club.  He will not be the man who will try to strong-arm you into a commitment, because he believes he is God’s gift to all women and you are the most recently identified conquest at hand.  He will not be the one who can’t maintain eye contact, because he’s too mesmerized by the swell of your breasts or the shelf of your behind.  He will not be the dude who pretends to be genuine… perched-up at your crib, grinning at you while trying to sweetly wheedle his way into your panties after a few dates.  He will not have unresolved steamer trunk baggage with “baby mamas”, ex-wives and other random straggling women, women with broken hearts brimming with unfulfilled promises made by him to ease the transition into a relationship for his comfort with no intention of ever developing into anything more permanent.    

This man will be God driven, hardworking, respectful, and appreciative of what you bring to the table.  He will be a provider.  He will be a great role model and step father to your kids.  He will embrace all of you, always keeping in mind that you and your children are not individually acquired but are a package deal. 

Girl, just keep being the great woman you are!  Quit looking!  Remain focused and keep presenting yourself with class, never settling for less than you deserve.  Remain patient and keep doing the great job you are doing with your multitude of responsibilities in preparation for this Way Beyond Z man to find you in God’s time.   

Blessings,

The Universe

“He who finds a wife finds a good thing and receives favor from the Lord.”

Proverbs 18:22

JUST TOO

I do a variety of things while riding the train in the morning.  I sleep, pray, snack, sit extended Shiva for Prince while listening to Adore on repeat and wonder why he didn’t leave a will.  I read when I can maintain my concentration, which lately is not often.  This morning was very different.  This morning I had a discussion with my 11-year-old daughter who asked me about self-love in a decidedly roundabout way.  I panicked.  In that moment I thought back to every piece of generic advice I’d ever received about the importance of loving oneself.  The same generic shit that I’d been feeding her for her entire life.  But this morning, while spitting the perfunctory “know-your-worth”, “straighten-your-crown”, “you’re-a-queen” spiel, it dawned on me that this was a love that I had been moving farther and farther away from for the better part of the last decade, essentially her entire life.  I suddenly felt ill-qualified to advise her on a self-love that I’d become increasingly unfamiliar with.  Well damn!  For years I dressed up the negative self-talk in funky gear and fancy friends, but now here I was on the 6 train feeling exposed before my own perceptive, Afro-Latino, abandoned-by-her-first-love (daddy) Black girl, who needed me to teach her about a love I didn’t quite understand anymore.

While both my parents were adamant about teaching me how to love myself in all my Afro-Cuban-girl glory, it is amazing how one person’s behavior towards you at the right time has the ability to topple a lifetime of esteem, painstakingly assembled like a house of cards.  During the last decade, two relationships with men who professed to love me (who I recognize now were simply incapable of loving me completely due to their own steamer trunks of baggage) was the resident monkey on my back that recently made every emotion needlessly complicated, especially love.  Don’t get me wrong, I have a tremendous capacity to love.  I can love other people.  But myself… that depends on the day.

Rationally, I know that the cheating and lying behaviors that were common threads in both my marriage and the relationship that followed, were not due to anything I did or did not do, but my rational mind isn’t the culprit here.  My irrational mind is totally culpable and it tries endlessly to convince me that if I were just prettier, more accommodating and less… me, somebody could love me fully.  Then I wake the fuck up and shake it off… depending on the day, of course.    

So, back to my daughter who is, by the way, approaching the age when boys aren’t as “yucky” as they used to be (and with her being gangly, which apparently isn’t all that attractive to a pimply, hairy-palmed, adolescent boy... the nerve), is expressing uncertainty about anyone’s ability to love her when her first love broke her heart.  After all, when your own parent chooses not to love you, in the mind of an 11-year-old, you’re pretty much doomed.  Sweet, wooly-haired, baby Jesus… WTF am I supposed to do with this?!?  Not to mention that she watched both of my last two relationships crash and burn.  These facts, combined with her smarts and the intentional lack of information and details provided to her about my failed relationships, she formed her own opinions which are decidedly unflattering.  Geez!  Here I was thinking that I was providing a strong and unwavering role model for her by pretending that one failed marriage followed by one failed relationship didn’t rock the foundation on which my self-love had been firmly seated.  What an intergalactic idiot I was to think that this sharp-witted, little chick wouldn’t see right through the thinly veiled “strong-black-woman” façade (cue Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive) and jump straight to the place that I thought was mostly healed and land in a raw spot where I picked at the scab daily without even knowing.  So, now what?

What now is I’m worried about her looking for someone to fill in the empty spaces, the lonely places that exist because she doesn’t completely believe that she is… enough.  I’m worried that she needs someone to “complete” her or validate her.  My ex-husband had me convinced that I was just never going to be enough for anyone.  That place of inadequacy is an awful place for your head to reside.  He reminded me often that I was divorced, had two young kids, was too tall, too skinny, that my hair was too curly, my eyes were just brown, I had an angry looking C-section scar, I was too opinionated, and too independent… I was just too.  He forgot to mention that I was just too damn expansive for him to comprehend and therefore appreciate, but that was for me to figure out.  Unfortunately, before I fully came to that realization, the door opened just a crack for the next relationship to float in on silver-lined wings… because he was so “different” from my ex-husband.  It turns out that while he was certainly different, that didn’t prevent him from putting himself first, or not cherishing the love that I freely gave nor did it prevent me from tolerating a fair amount of nonsense because I was still recovering from a mild Celie complex.  

We’ve all loved people that didn’t deserve a look from our direction.  We bend and contort ourselves to an image that might hasten the attainment of that crystal stair that we’ve been previously denied.  These are things that I never wanted for my daughter.  So, when my ex convinced our baby girl, not by his words but by his deeds, that she was also… just too, I did the only thing I knew how to and turned on the generic self-love advice.  

She. Saw. Through. Me. To. The. Raw. Spot.

I promised myself, and her, this morning on the 6 train that I’d find a way to fill in her gaps and spaces, as well as mine, and knock it off with the hokey, generic self-love advice.  I know that we Black girls are born with lemons in our hands.  We just choose different recipes to make our lemonade.  I think I need to add honey… 

Have a WayBeyondZ Day, my loves!

“I believe when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade...and try to find someone whose life has given them vodka, and have a party.” 

― Ron White

JUST TOO

I do a variety of things while riding the train in the morning.  I sleep, pray, snack, sit extended Shiva for Prince while listening to Adore on repeat and wonder why he didn’t leave a will.  I read when I can maintain my concentration, which lately is not often.  This morning was very different.  This morning I had a discussion with my 11-year-old daughter who asked me about self-love in a decidedly roundabout way.  I panicked.  In that moment I thought back to every piece of generic advice I’d ever received about the importance of loving oneself.  The same generic shit that I’d been feeding her for her entire life.  But this morning, while spitting the perfunctory “know-your-worth”, “straighten-your-crown”, “you’re-a-queen” spiel, it dawned on me that this was a love that I had been moving farther and farther away from for the better part of the last decade, essentially her entire life.  I suddenly felt ill-qualified to advise her on a self-love that I’d become increasingly unfamiliar with.  Well damn!  For years I dressed up the negative self-talk in funky gear and fancy friends, but now here I was on the 6 train feeling exposed before my own perceptive, Afro-Latino, abandoned-by-her-first-love (daddy) Black girl, who needed me to teach her about a love I didn’t quite understand anymore.

While both my parents were adamant about teaching me how to love myself in all my Afro-Cuban-girl glory, it is amazing how one person’s behavior towards you at the right time has the ability to topple a lifetime of esteem, painstakingly assembled like a house of cards.  During the last decade, two relationships with men who professed to love me (who I recognize now were simply incapable of loving me completely due to their own steamer trunks of baggage) was the resident monkey on my back that recently made every emotion needlessly complicated, especially love.  Don’t get me wrong, I have a tremendous capacity to love.  I can love other people.  But myself… that depends on the day.

Rationally, I know that the cheating and lying behaviors that were common threads in both my marriage and the relationship that followed, were not due to anything I did or did not do, but my rational mind isn’t the culprit here.  My irrational mind is totally culpable and it tries endlessly to convince me that if I were just prettier, more accommodating and less… me, somebody could love me fully.  Then I wake the fuck up and shake it off… depending on the day, of course.    

So, back to my daughter who is, by the way, approaching the age when boys aren’t as “yucky” as they used to be (and with her being gangly, which apparently isn’t all that attractive to a pimply, hairy-palmed, adolescent boy... the nerve), is expressing uncertainty about anyone’s ability to love her when her first love broke her heart.  After all, when your own parent chooses not to love you, in the mind of an 11-year-old, you’re pretty much doomed.  Sweet, wooly-haired, baby Jesus… WTF am I supposed to do with this?!?  Not to mention that she watched both of my last two relationships crash and burn.  These facts, combined with her smarts and the intentional lack of information and details provided to her about my failed relationships, she formed her own opinions which are decidedly unflattering.  Geez!  Here I was thinking that I was providing a strong and unwavering role model for her by pretending that one failed marriage followed by one failed relationship didn’t rock the foundation on which my self-love had been firmly seated.  What an intergalactic idiot I was to think that this sharp-witted, little chick wouldn’t see right through the thinly veiled “strong-black-woman” façade (cue Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive) and jump straight to the place that I thought was mostly healed and land in a raw spot where I picked at the scab daily without even knowing.  So, now what?

What now is I’m worried about her looking for someone to fill in the empty spaces, the lonely places that exist because she doesn’t completely believe that she is… enough.  I’m worried that she needs someone to “complete” her or validate her.  My ex-husband had me convinced that I was just never going to be enough for anyone.  That place of inadequacy is an awful place for your head to reside.  He reminded me often that I was divorced, had two young kids, was too tall, too skinny, that my hair was too curly, my eyes were just brown, I had an angry looking C-section scar, I was too opinionated, and too independent… I was just too.  He forgot to mention that I was just too damn expansive for him to comprehend and therefore appreciate, but that was for me to figure out.  Unfortunately, before I fully came to that realization, the door opened just a crack for the next relationship to float in on silver-lined wings… because he was so “different” from my ex-husband.  It turns out that while he was certainly different, that didn’t prevent him from putting himself first, or not cherishing the love that I freely gave nor did it prevent me from tolerating a fair amount of nonsense because I was still recovering from a mild Celie complex.  

We’ve all loved people that didn’t deserve a look from our direction.  We bend and contort ourselves to an image that might hasten the attainment of that crystal stair that we’ve been previously denied.  These are things that I never wanted for my daughter.  So, when my ex convinced our baby girl, not by his words but by his deeds, that she was also… just too, I did the only thing I knew how to and turned on the generic self-love advice.  

She. Saw. Through. Me. To. The. Raw. Spot.

I promised myself, and her, this morning on the 6 train that I’d find a way to fill in her gaps and spaces, as well as mine, and knock it off with the hokey, generic self-love advice.  I know that we Black girls are born with lemons in our hands.  We just choose different recipes to make our lemonade.  I think I need to add honey… 

Have a WayBeyondZ Day, my loves!

“I believe when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade...and try to find someone whose life has given them vodka, and have a party.” 

― Ron White

CHOMPING DOWN

There is a common theme that I’ve been witnessing lately and I must admit that it annoys the hell out of me.  It defies logic, makes the one choosing to exercise this warped behavior look fairly idiotic and frankly is just the ultimate display of immaturity.  The common theme that I’m referring to is biting the hand that feeds you.  Let me define the idiom: “Biting the hand that feeds you” means to turn on someone that has supported you, to turn on a benefactor or a friend or to repay right with wrong.  “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” comes from Aesop’s Fable, The Dog in the Manger, where a dog takes up residence in a manger belonging to an ox.  When the ox returns to its manger and attempts to eat the straw the dog bares his teeth and refuses to share the straw or the manger with the ox.  The dog displayed no respect for the ox and curled up and went to sleep in the ox’s manger with no regard to where the ox would eat or sleep.

When my kids were toddlers, the meaning of “don’t bite the hand that feeds you” was quite literal.  I get that you’re hungry and must have the Cheerios immediately and I get that you are quite proud of your brand new, razor-sharp, baby teeth, but please use your manners and at least wait until I place them in your bowl to start chomping down.  Now that my kids are older and less inclined to bear their teeth when I serve them their meals, this phrase has become much more figurative in meaning.  If you want people to be nice to you, it's best to practice kindness, as you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.  Pay it forward.  I’m sure you get the drift… hopefully they do as well. 

The bottom line is that people will surely stop doing things for you when they find out that it is expected rather than appreciated.  Be WayBeyondZ grateful and realize that if you bite the hand that feeds you, you’re going to stop being fed. 

Those who bite the hand that feeds them usually end up licking the boot that kicks them.

~Eric Hoffer

INBOX INFIDELITY

Once upon a time there was a strict definition of cheating.  Your spouse or significant other had sex with someone other than you and POW, out comes the scarlet “A”!  Let the shaming begin.  These days there is a whole slew of gray area around the definition of cheating.  There’s the devastating emotional infidelity; anger provoking digital infidelity and then if you’re married to or dating a drama queen/king/extremely insecure and prone to low self-esteem person, there’s the imagined infidelity.  The question is what is really cheating (outside of the obvious falling naked into another person’s arms (genitals) and the inevitable… “what had happened was…”) and what is not.  The answer to this question really lies in the context of each individual’s marriage or relationship.  In my humble opinion, pretty much anything that is sexual in nature and conducted in secrecy and that one party KNOWS would erode the trust of the other party may be considered a form of cheating.  Now, whether or not you break up over it is another issue entirely…

Gray area cheating:

1.  The lap dance:  If you are the recipient of the lap dance and there are preexisting trust issues in this relationship, this probably isn’t the best idea, dude.  Furthermore, if you have a “thing” for lap dances and have already gotten into trouble for it, give it up and find a safer pastime, like train surfing.  While you’re sweating, grinding and fantasizing here are a few questions running through your spouse’s/girlfriend’s mind:  Is he at the strip club alone?  Is he with wild-ass (insert name)? What else happened during the lap dance?  When you are able to slow your heart rate and your bigger, and hopefully more prominent, brain recovers its rightful position as the leader of the body you should begin to prepare to answer all of these questions in rapid fire sequence.

Glo’s take: This isn’t cheating if you know this is going down (for instance at a bachelor party); however, if he’s lying and telling you that he’s out doing community service with his frat brothers and he’s trolling strip clubs this might be the beginning of a slippery slope.  Forget what happened at the strip club but remember his propensity for lying.

2.     The tongueless kiss:  This is a quick kiss on the lips or right by lips.  I have had a woman tell me that any kiss, intimate or not is cheating.  Frankly, she was a paranoid mess, but to each his own opinion shall rule. 

Glo’s Take:  Latino and European people just love to kiss and greet each other this way regularly.  Calm down, you’re approaching the border of Crazyville.

     

3.  The pornography watcher:  Again, there are people who feel that anything remotely sexual that steals time away from their relationship is cheating.  I’m not at all suggesting that sitting naked for hours watching unrealistically buxom women and unnaturally endowed men engage in loveless sex is not an issue, but the larger issue here is that your time could surely be more productively spent.  Hey, here’s a novel idea: try taking your spouse out to dinner and talking to her!  How about asking her to help you create your own memorable sexual moments.  At the very least it’s likely more spontaneous and enjoyable than watching canned sex and at best it will bond you and your spouse closer in a shared passionate experience.

   Glo’s take:  I don’t consider this cheating.  If you’re concerned about him expending sexual energy on anything that doesn’t involve you?  Then get involved!  

4.     The Ex Contacter:  Listen, listen… no one was born the minute they met you.  Everyone has an ex (more likely an assortment of exes) and it’s pretty commendable if they are all mature enough to communicate like civilized adults rather than petulant kids (particularly if there are children involved).

Glo’s take:  If you or your spouse is communicating with an ex secretly or for the purpose of anything other than just “catching up” or discussing little Jesse's latest report card, this is dicey territory.  Your current spouse/significant other will likely feel uncomfortable with you hanging out with or talking to your ex on a regular basis… especially if your spouse/significant other doesn’t know said ex.  Again, the problem is the secrecy and lying.  If your relationship with your ex is innocent why not bring it to light?  Cut out the unnecessary stress in your relationship! Secrecy erodes trust!   

5.     Emotional Affair Participant:  Oy vey!  This is often the beginning of the end for a relationship.  This goes without saying, but it is devastating and probably the most perilous and trust-shattering type of cheating.  It’s probably easier to forgive physical cheating than emotional cheating.  Sexual infidelity means you need to have sexual contact with a person who is not your partner… often this can and does occur without any emotional connection.  Emotional infidelity; however, means that you’re confiding in and emotionally connecting with a person outside of your relationship without the sex.  The intimacy that is the hallmark of emotional cheating, the creation of emotional bonds, is behavior that should be reserved for you!  RED ALERT!  RED ALERT!

Glo’s take: This denotes a potentially relationship shattering problem is present.  If this relationship is to be saved, the offending party needs to commit to discontinuing the relationship and sever all contact with the subject of the emotional affair.  Additionally, both parties need immediate and intensive marriage/relationship counseling to root out the source of the discontent that the emotional affair was borne from.  

6.     The offline flirt:  The neighbor from apartment 3F who compliments him every morning or the girl from the office who he flirts back and forth with and “does lunch” with on a regular basis are examples of offline flirting.  As long as it’s innocent, there is no harm in it.  Everyone’s flower blooms a little more colorfully with a little attention from the opposite sex!  Face it, everyone does this occasionally.  If you’re absolutely honest with yourself, you can be accused of this too.  

Glo’s take:  Nope, not cheating and please refrain from creating a situation where there is none.  This type of flirting happens organically and is spontaneous.  The difference between this and online flirting is that online flirting takes preparation and planning and that’s the kind of cunning that spells big trouble.  

7.     The online flirt:  Tango, Match, Harmony, Christian Singles, Plenty of Fish… all of these online dating sites should be off limits once you’re married or dating someone seriously.  Social media outlets make it too easy to find old flames or strike up conversations with new friends of friends.  Everyone is just so available and there’s a curiosity element that affects everyone to some extent, regardless of how happily married or coupled you are.  Exchanges may start as harmless flirting but can trigger a dramatic emotional and physical reaction.  Everyone can agree that during the heat of the moment comes a rush of exhilaration from being naughty and sneaky.  Again, the blood is rushing somewhere other than the brain and the immediate feedback and gratification make for an irresistible environment that keeps drawing you back down that damned slippery slope.  Facebook in has particular has changed the game for a lot of people.  Your man/woman may not be overtly disrespectful to you on Facebook, but he/she may be hella disrespectful in the inbox of someone they’re flirting with.  Your significant other may be faithful on your wall, but cheating in their inbox!  According to a recent survey conducted by the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers, 81 percent of divorce lawyers say they’ve seen an increase in social networking evidence in their cases over the last five years.  Facebook was named the unrivaled leader for online divorce evidence with two-third of attorneys citing it as a primary source of evidence, followed by MySpace at 15 percent and Twitter at 5 percent...  The streets are watching, people, and what is done in the darkness will surely come to light.       

Glo’s take:  As annoying and disrespectful as this is, I do not necessarily consider this cheating; however, this raises a huge and billowing red flag!!  Hello, wake up!!!  If he’s still trolling internet dating sights and picking up singles on Facebook, then he’s still looking!  As hurtful as this revelation is… you aren’t “it”, Cookie!  If you want to maintain this relationship (if you’re married, you should consider trying to work through this) you may want to seriously consider counseling, as this relationship is severely damaged and it will be difficult to maintain trust going forward once this type of infidelity is uncovered.

The Red Flags of Online Cheating:

Are you worried that this could happen in your relationship?  Be on the lookout for some signs that may indicate your partner is caught up in an online affair:

•    He or she is secretive when it comes to email, cell phone, and social media accounts.
•            He or she spends more off-work time on the computer than with you.
•     Your partner is compulsively attached to his or her phone. 
•    Your spouse is significantly nicer (a sign of guilt) or suddenly nasty (a sign of trying to convince himself or herself that their behavior is justified) to you.
•    You discover that your partner has a secret social media, online dating or email account. 

No one is perfect and every human has the capacity to get caught up in a cheating situation.  I do believe that there are situations that can be avoided and preventative measures that can be taken to lessen the opportunities for cheating.  If you choose to repeatedly involve yourself in situations that leave you open to temptation, perhaps you aren’t ready for a marriage or committed relationship and should consider gracefully extricating yourself from that type of relationship, lest you risk irreparably hurting the one you profess to love. 

Furthermore, there is no one-size-fits-all rule book for cheating.  Cheating depends upon your individual definition of the act and more importantly how you FEEL about it.  The problem develops when you are devastated by something that your spouse has done and he/she thinks that there is nothing wrong with whatever he/she did.  You and your spouse need to come to a mutual agreement on where future boundaries will be set.

“The truly scary thing about undiscovered lies is that they have a greater capacity to diminish us than exposed ones.”

― Cheryl Hughes

I'M BACK!!!

So, I've been on a self-imposed hiatus.  Unmotivated, overburdened, distracted, disgusted, trying-to-be-discreet and trying-to-get-divorced sums up my absence when I should have been motivated and uber-focused because overburdened resolves eventually, being divorced can be a blessing (especially if you’re married to Satan) and the trying-to-be-discreet part was optional anyway.  So, I’m writing again, blessed, super-duper highly-favored and motivated to do what I love.

I spent my New Year’s Eve in my soon-to-be former house after visiting my soon-to-be renovated new house (I shed real tears when I think about and see the scope of the necessary work) with my brooding, pre-teen offspring and my boyfriend.  The night was quiet, calm and unassuming.  We talked, cooked, baked and generally spent what I consider to be quality time together.  A few days later, after trolling everyone’s New Year’s pics on Facebook and Instagram, it occurs to me that I may have grown up to be boring!  Jesus take the wheel!  I used to be the go-to girl for social events and gatherings.  I grew up in Manhattan, modeled, partied, traveled and generally enjoyed my young life, thoroughly.  

My life changed when I grew up a little, met Lucifer, fell head-over-heels in love, took a left turn at the Justice of the Peace, moved into the “parent hood” and traded my Jimmy Choo’s for sensible (yet stylish) shoes, Pyrex cookware and Tupperware snack containers… come on, who doesn't love Tupperware?  BUT, now that Beelzebub has gratefully taken yet another concubine and I’m dating/”relationshipping” (hopefully I’m not moonlighting as a call girl for another one of Abaddon’s companions), I feel like I need to ditch the sensible shoes and Pyrex (get your filthy hands off of my Tupperware… I know what you’re thinking) and reclaim my sexy!  I think I'm still quite attractive and my body still looks great after a few kids, but, I’m admittedly less young, less… fun, and often dog tired.  Single parenting is a HUGE job and I do it at a high level, so after school and soccer and dance classes and play-dates and birthday parties and countless other activities, I’m beat!  Who has time to be fun?  The answer is you should! 

This brings me to the fabled and often whispered about “me” time.  Ahhhh… Nirvana, Moksha, Deliverance!  “Me” time is the first step to maintaining (or regaining) your sexy!  In reality, “me” time is nothing more than taking some time to put aside your everyday business and treating yourself to an activity that you enjoy.  Maybe it’s a mani/pedi that you crave or getting a massage; perhaps slipping away to the gym.  How about just leaving the kids with someone and catching a non G-rated movie ALONE?  If you can’t get away, then you need to create a quiet corner where you can be alone and uninterruptedly catch up on your reading or whatever reminds you that you are more than just a parent and you need to reconnect with your human side that enjoys pampering.  Ideally, "me" time should be an opportunity to relax, refocus and recharge.  When you are able to successfully accomplish that, you can come back to your everyday responsibilities with greater focus, commitment and maybe even enjoyment.  Indulge in some “me” time and get WayBeyondZ recharged!  It’s the best investment in yourself you’ll ever make!  

My greatest beauty secret is being happy with myself.  I don’t use special creams or treatments – I use a little bit of everything.  It’s a mistake to think that you are what you put on yourself.  I believe that a lot of how you look is to do with how you feel about yourself and your life.  Happiness is the greatest beauty secret.

~ Tina Turner

BECOMING AN ORPHAN

I’ve been in a serious funk lately and haven’t been able to pin down the source of the crotchety, cantankerous and grouchy bent that has affected me.  I know I am in serious need of a vacation that includes clear blue water, white sand and a skimpy two-piece but this pall is set deeper than that.  I’m by no means depressed or unable to carry on with my gazillion normal activities but there is a definite pettishness that has been matching me step for step.

 

After hearing of the loss of the parent of a dear friend and watching The Best Man Holiday (no spoilers) I think I’ve finally pinned it.  The holidays are fast approaching and I miss my parents terribly.  I lost my mother after a short illness 26 years ago and have been on my own ever since.  My dad was always present, but was a big believer in offering assistance only when you’d exhausted all other options and I guess my über resourcefulness precluded me from needing much assistance, which is good… I guess.  My dad succumbed to cancer last year after gracing the world with almost 90 years of his presence.

 

Losing parents is never easy no matter how old you are.  Though difficult, it is the natural progression of things and although an upsetting reality, most people will lose their parents during the course of their lives.  My journey towards being an orphan began on a pleasantly mild Tuesday during  April of 1987.  I had just celebrated my 20th birthday weeks earlier and watched in horror (and some fascination) as my mother peacefully drew her last breaths.  She was 63.  For weeks, a cloak of confusion, rage and disbelief descended.  Outwardly, I was able to function normally.  I was attending classes, completing assignments and eating adequately, but no one saw the rages that tore through me at night and caused me to trash, at first my bedroom, then extending to full nightly sessions where multiple rooms were mercilessly and purposefully attacked.  I experienced overwhelming grief and lamented about the mess that my life had the potential to become.  Then like clockwork, and consumed by guilt for questioning God’s will, I painstakingly restored order and discarded the remnants of my rage that I hadn’t quite figured out how to control.  During those weeks sleep was fleeting.  By contrast, my dad's death, twenty-five years later, held no real shock.  He lived a long and fulfilling life and his death came as no real surprise.  I was well in control of my emotions by this time and managed the grieving process with grace.     

      

I didn't trash any rooms or cry inconsolably, but it dawned on me that I needed to preserve the fading memories that I’d stored as there would be no new ones to draw from as I transitioned from loved daughter to orphan.   I felt anchorless.  I was no one’s child.  I felt, and feel like my roots have been hacked away.  Before you question it… I’m an adult and yes, my mama taught me well, I am independent and I can stand alone.  This doesn’t negate the fact that at times I feel very alone.  I have wonderful friends and am grateful for all of them.  I have wonderful children and am grateful for them as well, but they're not my parents.

 

To anyone who hasn't lost their parents, here's a bit of news:  you never get over it.  I'm not trying to frighten you.  You get through it, yes, and you'll probably get used to it, but you’ll not get over it.  A piece of your puzzle has been removed and, however much you rearrange the other pieces, they never quite fit in the same way ever again.  They say change is good… perhaps there is some good in this as well.  I’ve learned to not only find my own happiness but to savor my many moments of WayBeyondZ joy and I appreciate those moments even more because I've also experienced the lows of sorrow.

There is something you must always remember.  You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

~ Winnie the Pooh

 

PEER PRESSURE WOES

So, I’ve been suffering with a serious case of writer’s block, which is less than pleasant considering that the majority of my job consists of writing.  I was painfully plugging away at an RFP when I received a phone call from the Dean of Students at my daughter’s school a few days ago.  The tale the dean recanted was way too ridiculous to make up, and I’ve decided to share it.  It’s a tale about peer pressure, luckily harmless, but peer pressure requires immediate intervention, none the less, lest it balloon into a more significant issue if left to its own growth pattern.  

  

As I mentioned, I was sitting at my desk, when the phone started ringing.  I wasn’t having a great afternoon, as my creative juices hadn’t been flowing freely for a few days.  I leaned over, glanced at the caller ID and sighed.  No parent likes to receive calls from school in the middle of the day, as it either means that your kid is ill and needs to be picked up early or he or she is in hot water.  Schools never call to wish you a pleasant day or tell you that your kid is a rock star… bummer.  I picked up the call and was greeted by a very tense sounding Dean of Students.  She gave me her obligatory greeting and segued immediately into the reason for her call.  She sounded sketchy and spoke haltingly but I patiently waited as she informed me that Julia was given detention as a result of an “incident” that she witnessed earlier that day in the girl’s bathroom.  She went on to say that she was apologetic that Julia, who had never, ever  been given detention for any reason, was  going to have to attend; but she felt it imperative to send a message that no student is ever exempt from following school rules and adhering to appropriate standards of conduct.  Hmmmm… standard of conduct?  What in the devil did this child do?!??  When I realized that she was rushing through this explanation because she was clearly uncomfortable with having this discussion I stopped her.  I asked, “What exactly did you witness?  What did Julia do to earn herself a stint in detention?”  The dean paused, took a few heavy breaths and proceeded to tell me a tale that almost caused my naturally curly hair to straighten.  She said that she was passing by the girl’s bathroom when she heard what sounded like cheering and clapping.  When she poked her head in to see what the disturbance was all about she witnessed my child, my nine-year-old, academically gifted fifth grader, “way up high… surprisingly high, actually” on a pole in the bathroom!  She stood there long enough to watch Julia wrap her skinny, pre-pubescent leg around said pole and determinedly SLIDE slowly down and around it.  This noteworthy performance apparently caused the dean to blush deeply and caused the other girls in attendance to cheer.  Jesus be a fence!  I was completely speechless, fully unable to find any words to articulate my scattered emotions.  I had shot straight from writer’s block into articulation impaired and was careening into cardiac failure at a breakneck speed!  I was hot and cold and confused and ashamed and frankly I was as angry as hell!    

  

The dean assured me that she’d had a full discussion with Julia, that included Julia bursting into tears and owning up to the whole incident (I mean, how could she deny it?  She was caught red handed!)  Julia asked if there was any way that she could serve detention without informing her mother… fat chance, Cookie!  Anyway, my newly-errant, pre-pubescent child was caught red-handed doing a pole dance in a school bathroom and I could NOT WAIT to speak to her!  Unfortunately, there was early dismissal that day and Julia was en route to her dance class (how ironic) and a pull-up would have to wait.  Sigh…

… 7pm and Julia is seated on my bed, facing me, head bowed as I paced my room like a caged tiger.  “What in the HEYELL could have possessed you?  What in the universe could you have been thinking?” I asked, not so calmly.  Julia turned her little angelic face towards me, with huge, teary, doe-eyes and simply said, “But mama, I had to do it.  A sixth grader challenged me!  You know how competitive I am and she said I couldn’t do it.  Then she climbed the pole and slid down herself!”

 

Huh?  Well thankfully this behavior was learned and not self-initiated, but HWHAT in the HEYELL?!??  Then my little doe-eyed child stood up and folded her skinny arms across her birdlike chest and said, in a strong voice that contradicted the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, “Mama she was obese!  There was not a chance I could let her think that I couldn’t do something that she could do… even her ankles are fat!!”  Julia dissolved into tears and I walked out of my bedroom to process (and laugh... don’t you dare judge me).  I needed a shot of tequila but settled instead for a glass of sauvignon blanc and marched back up the stairs to address my daughter and her faulty thinking.  God doesn’t give you more than you can bear, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to bear having to talk to my 9-year-old daughter about pole dancing.  Ay Dios!

 

I began with the whole… “she was obese” thing.  I explained that her description of the sixth grader was rude and unkind, and covered why it was unacceptable to label people.  I spent a significant amount of time on the hazards of falling victim to peer pressure and used detention to illustrate how there are negative consequences to being a follower.  This point took a while to sink in because Julia disagreed that she was following, but accepted the sixth grader's challenge willingly… I stayed on script.  I eventually segued into how I was disappointed that my daughter was caught by a school administrator doing a pole dance and how this reflected poorly on our “team”.  Through our conversation, I recognized that Julia viewed this as a purely physical challenge and not a display of seductive behavior.  (Thank God for small favors.)  Still she understood what lens she could have been viewed through.  All in all a pretty upsetting incident led us into a very productive conversation.

 

I had a few questions though.  I asked Julia if the pole was a steam pipe?  Because if it was, wasn’t it hot, and shouldn’t it have been too close to the wall to climb?  Julia said it wasn’t a steam pipe and was in the middle of the bathroom?!??  What?  Can someone please tell me why there is a pole in the middle of the girl’s bathroom?  That’s like an invitation, no?  I recognize that that’s not an excuse for her pole dancing extravaganza.  There could be a double-hump dromedary in the bathroom and I would no more expect her to ride it; although, at this point I wouldn't be surprised, but I’m just sayin’… why?

Peer pressure is unfortunately a fact of every kid’s life and this becomes heightened during the teen years when the opinion of one’s peers is more significant than the opinion of one’s parents.  No matter how popular your kid is, how well liked your kid may be or how together they might feel, sooner or later they’ll have to face peer pressure.  Whether it is pressure to conform to a group norm or pressure to act a certain way, peer pressure is something everybody has to deal with at some time in their life.  How successfully they handle peer pressure depends a great deal on how they feel about themselves and their place in the world.  When peer pressure kicks into high gear it becomes easy to get caught up in the moment and forget about consequences.  We, as parents, have to be relentless in our attempts to build esteem and empower our kids.  We must build character and instill core values.  In this way, hopefully they will always stand up for what they think is right no matter who feels differently.  It’s a difficult line to walk though.  Kids need to learn how to be assertive without becoming preachy or self-righteous.  If they are ostracized because their methods have them standing on a soap box while they're standing their ground the pressure to conform may be heightened and kids have a strong need to belong.  Alas, we must teach our kids to be WayBeyondZ leaders not followers.

 

“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”

― Bruce Lee

IS IT AFFECTION, ENVY or STALKING?

It is said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  It is also said that copying someone is flattering because it shows you want to be like that person.  The bottom line is that when you find yourself in a situation where you your movements are being mimicked… it’s creepy, disturbing to the recipient of this behavior and even borderline stalkerish!  This is especially creepy if the person mimicking your movements is only a casual acquaintance or even farther removed from your circle than even that.  You meet someone at a conference, in school or are introduced by a mutual friend and BAM… a stalker is born.  You go out to lunch… there they are!  You attend a workshop… there they are!  You go to parent/teacher night and you guessed it… they are there, carrying a similar Gucci handbag and are rocking the scarf you just purchased!  Damn, now the scarf has to be donated (keeping the bag though).   

We don't typically consider what it is like for those who are envied, but people who are the recipients of envy can be made to feel uncomfortable.  Imagine having someone dislike you, or even hate you, because you have an attribute, a possession, or a privilege that they want and are feel they are clearly lacking.  Envy can be triggered in circumstances that involve a social comparison where someone perceives that you have possessions, attributes, or attainments that diminish their own status.  These triggers often mirror admiration, but admiration lacks the hostility of envy.  In either case, people will glamorize or idealize who you are or what you possess.  Yet the flavor of envy is ugly whereas the essence of admiration is warm, even if it creates discomfort in those who are admired. 

Envy can make a person preoccupied with comparison and repeatedly measure their self-worth against what they perceive to be your own.  They may try to position themselves or align themselves with your friends, allies, networks or physically position themselves to replicate your activities (which mimics stalking).  Although envy can motivate someone to damage the position of the person who is envied, either in their imagination or in reality, their envy can also make them work harder in order to attain what the envied person has.  Yes, it is creepy; however, preoccupation with an envied person is compelling, even if it is a waste of time.  Creepy may even border onto dangerous depending on the level of preoccupation. 

Stalking is defined as unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person.  Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them.  The word stalking is used, with some differing meanings, in psychology and psychiatry and also in some legal jurisdictions as a term for a criminal offense.  When admiration turns into envy and lends itself to stalking you may then want to consider protecting yourself through legal means, i.e., an Orders of Protection or Temporary Restraining Order (TRO), because you can never be too careful when dealing with people who attempt to interfere with your personal space and peace of mind.

    

The daggers that accompany envy are anything but enviable.  So if you doubt that emotions influence human behavior and decision making, step back and take another look at envy as one of many examples.  Everyone is great in his or her own right.  Have WayBeyondZ love for yourself! 

 

“They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay