Roar Gently

Roar Gently

Do you ever feel like you’ve been silenced? In one way and another, incidents have been piling up for me and in a flash of insight, I realized that I’ve been staying quiet when perhaps I should’ve been speaking up.

To right this, I put Katy Perry’s Roar on repeat and cranked the volume up while I was driving. Just letting the words wash over me, “You hear my voice, you hear that sound, like thunder gonna shake your ground” tightened my resolve to let the world (or at the very least, a few select people) hear me roar.

As women, this can be a tough sell in our culture. We often feel the pressure to be nice, to get along, to not rock the boat, to avoid being labelled as difficult or bitchy. Facing conflict head-on can cause many of us to panic and retreat.

roar gentlyI struggle to find a balance between speaking up when something affects me or my kids and choosing to stay quiet when it’s none of my business (even if I may have strong feelings on the subject). I long to be as kind as possible, like most women do, but to also demonstrate courage by going boldly into tense situations without backing down. This is not an easy line to walk.

After feeling pumped up by Katy Perry’s beautiful and strong anthem, I wanted to simply say whatever came to mind to several people. But this didn’t seem right either, as we need to practice discretion so we aren’t abusive or cruel in our self-expression.

I’m trying now to think in terms of Roaring Gently. I have every right to use my voice, as every person does, but in order to stay true to my values and integrity, I also desire to choose gentleness in my delivery. Both of these words together give me a better framework for this important process.

Practicing new skills is hard. We should expect setbacks. We’ll bite our tongue and wish later we had spoken up. Or the opposite will happen: we’ll be stirred up and pissed off, so we’ll push our filters aside and let the person have every one of our nasty, unvarnished thoughts. This might require some apologies in order to keep our relationships healthy, but we can offer ourselves grace and love as we work through these normal bumps in the path.

Feeling voiceless gives us a sense that we are not in control of our lives. We can slide into victimhood, lashing out in a passive aggressive manner instead of bravely asking for what we need. This is not a healthy long-term strategy. But neither is saying hurtful things in the heat of the moment that can never be unsaid. Roaring is critical to our health, but a gentle roar is preferable to an angry one.

Let’s roar gently together – women who aren’t afraid to step up and be heard, but who value kindness as much as we do honesty.

Gender Equality Progress

Gender Equality Progress

I think it’s time to talk about Hillary Clinton. This isn’t a political post, but it is a discussion on gender roles, which feels like the best part of the U.S. election process so far.

I grew up in a conservative, evangelical Christian environment. I was taught that the husband is the head of the home and that the wife’s role was to submit to his authority. This seemed unacceptable and unhealthy to me then and I feel exactly the same way now as a forty-three-year-old woman.

It simply does not work. Most of the women in my childhood model said all the right and demure things about being submissive while finding inventive ways to manipulate, control and manage the outcome of any situation. It was a system that bred resentment, distrust and outright abuses of power.

When I fell in love as a twenty-three-year old, I made damn sure to find a man who did not subscribe to this “the man is the head of the home” dictate. Jason was (and is) open-minded and flexible in his worldview; a fact that has led directly to a more balanced way of life for our two children.

Gender Equality ProgressAva just turned thirteen and is a budding activist for gender equality. My heart swells with pride when I watch her stand up for the rights of girls and women to be anything and anyone they choose – rights that boys and men have taken for granted for centuries. Ava says all of the words I was too timid to express when I was her age. She inspires me to speak up and be braver now.

This “Smile for Joe” hashtag gets me all riled up. The idea that a man believes he can tell a woman what to do with her face when she delivers a victory speech (in 2016 for shit’s sake) simply demonstrates how deep this unconscious bias runs in North American culture. Why should a woman have to smile? Is it to demonstrate how easygoing and sweet she is so that men feel more comfortable. No way. Not any longer.

Then there are the young women who decided they won’t vote for Hillary because she’s a woman and they feel they are “expected to.” This baffles me. Don’t vote for her if you don’t like her politics – I can respect that. But to say it’s too obvious because you’re a feminist shows that you don’t understand just how hard women have had to fight for their rights to get you to this point. And we are still fighting. We all still have work to do.

I’m hopeful that we are making progress. The little things matter when we are talking about gender equality. Language is important. I love that Hillary is running so these issues are front and centre. If no one would criticize a man for saying or doing something (i.e. not smiling in a speech) then the same must go for a woman.

We are all in this together but I do think we are moving in the right direction and that makes me happy (even if I don’t smile in public over it). Let’s keep going. One day these posts won’t be necessary at all.

Life is Messy

Life is Messy

I’m lost. And afraid. I’m not clear on anything at the moment, which means I’m in the shittiest phase of the growth cycle. I know I won’t be stuck here forever (even though it feels like it) and big changes are likely in the pipeline that will be good for me. But none of this knowledge helps to heal the current pain I’m feeling.

It’s time to get honest with myself and to others about how confusing, alienating and exhausting life can get. It’s messy with a capital damn M. My soul is like a wounded bear, growling from my den, daring anyone to come at me with yet another “this too shall pass”. I know that already. We all do.

I’m longing for more shared honesty. For more “me too” and less stoic pretence. I want no more advice, so I must continue to work at not giving any out either. What helps the most when my soul has been rubbed raw with lemon juice is a piece of hope from someone else who has also experienced genuine pain, loss and grief.

life is messyThe world is a scary place. Sometimes it’s simply all too much for me. My kids are in pain and I must do my best to help them through, to offer encouragement and strength even when I am thoroughly beaten and defeated myself. I’m trying to be gentle and kind to my weary mind and heart, offering love in place of judgement, but life offers none of us a chance to get away from our problems. We only get temporary reprieves at best. The sadness will still be there, lying in wait, when we are done with our shopping, eating, Facebook surfing, exercising or Netflix binging.

Every one of us is in constant flux, evolving and changing, trying our best and still occasionally falling flat on our faces. This journey of becoming our true selves can be so rough. We get lost, night falls, our compass breaks and we have no clue where we are in our own inner landscape.

I pretended for years that I was fine when I was actually dying inside. I know that way doesn’t work, but trying to be vulnerable in a world committed to posing as rich, thin, happy, helpful and eternally young is deeply challenging too. No one said it would be easy, and at the end of the day I must choose what is right for me no matter what anyone else is doing. But stepping out as your real self, keeping a soft and open heart, trying to be honest when you are struggling – these things go against the grain, and the sense of isolation can be enormous.

The only way I know how to survive is to keep going. To breathe in and out. To hug my husband and my kids. To watch a great movie and read an inspiring book. To reach out to someone I respect and love to say, “I’m hurting. How are you?” To try again, when I prefer to hole up inside myself and never try again. To realize that the mess of life serves a growth purpose.

Nothing worthwhile is achieved without significant pain. Doubt is a huge part of this process. It’s normal. I’m not the only one to feel this way. Something is happening. New life is around the corner. I have no choice but to wait for it. All I really have to do now is the best that I can in this rough patch.

What is Hard for You?

What is Hard for You?

We have a key jar (courtesy of our friends at Momastery) that we pull out at supper. In the key jar are a variety of open-ended questions designed to get us talking about more meaningful subjects. The kids love it and so do I (I’m pretty sure Jason tolerates it).

I’ve been thinking a lot about one of the recent questions Ava drew out and read: What is one thing that’s hard for you? A few of the answers around the table were “patience”, “being wrong” and “trying new things”. I said, “Watching people do stupid, mean or irresponsible things and not getting involved.”

Asking ourselves this question, “What is hard for you?” helps us get at our blind spots; those areas of weakness we paper over and pretend they aren’t there. Denial is a powerful force. It protects us from pain, but it also keeps us a prisoner of our own bullshit, making it impossible to move forward unless we summon enough courage to face it.

what is hard for youLetting air and light on our greatest areas of shame give us an invitation to grow. We begin to see where improvement is needed and this helps us outline what to work on in our daily lives. For me, I must practice letting go of any misguided notions of control. It’s egotistical for me to assume I know what’s best for someone else. I simply do not have that kind of reach, power or influence.

I must learn to stop obsessing or worrying about what other people are doing. It’s none of my business. If I am asked to help, I can decide at that point if I want to offer assistance. But if I am not asked (which is most of the time), I do not need to trouble myself with any swirling drama, chaos or fall-out from the life choices of other people.

It seems freeing to state it like that – a marvel of healthy boundaries. It’s not so clear-cut or easy to carry out in regular life. I get angry too fast over perceived injustices, frustrating parenting examples, a stranger’s rudeness in a store. Perhaps the only thing I can do is take a long, deep breath and clarify again that I am not the moral conscience of the universe.

As the recovery movement so succinctly declares: Let it begin with me. I must be the change I wish to see in the world. It’s obnoxious for me to tell other people what they are doing wrong, for after all, this is only my opinion and therefore highly subjective.

I rarely tell people how much they annoy me, which I can slot in the “win” column. But I lose too much of my energy, joy and peace thinking about situations that are not my direct responsibility. Bringing this up at dinner has clarified the need for me to put effort into this area.

Strengthening my boundaries is a worthwhile goal, so I can focus on my own priorities instead of worrying about messes and problems I had no hand in creating. Bringing these buried and dusty weaknesses to the light is a painful process, but it gives us a road map to follow when it comes to our own emotional health.

How about you? What is one thing that is hard for you?

Impermanence

Impermanence

Coming to terms with impermanence is a task for every living person. Nothing lasts. Try as we might, not one of us can hold onto anything or anyone. The days turn into years, our children grow up and away from us, and anticipated events and seasons pass and fade into memories.

The good news is that we can choose our attitude to the certainty of change and loss. It makes us better or it makes us worse. We grow or we resist growth. Both states are uncomfortable.

To be human is to be in a state of flux, with our feelings and the circumstances that comprise our days. We feel melancholy, then grateful, and occasionally suffused with unexplained joy. Our emotions ebb and flow like the tides, often surprising us with their force and power.

impermanenceI think the key is holding all of it loosely. So easy and healthy-sounding to write and so challenging to live out. I know that fighting the inevitable is useless. We can’t change the passing of time. All we can do is adapt to it by accepting that the process is bigger than we are. Each of us exists as a cog in a much larger wheel, stretching back into the past and extending far beyond us into the future.

And yet, impermanence itself leads us to gratitude for whatever is currently in front of us. When we stop running from the truth that our life on planet earth will not last forever, we can sweeten our experience of this particular day. It means more, because we only have a limited number of them to come.

This concept of time passing is more keenly profound in middle age. We are at the halfway point (if all goes according to plan), and we find ourselves astonished by how much of our life is already behind us. Then we look ahead, and we see old age in a way that seems much closer than it used to.

One of the hardest parts of living authentically is bravely facing up to these truths, instead of numbing them with food, alcohol, work, other people’s problems or the enormous time suck that is the internet. Being true to who we are involves recognizing that what we are building into will not last forever, but when we invest in those we love, we can pass those skills and securities to the next generation.

I’m attempting to focus on what brings the most meaning, to myself and to others, in the days and months ahead. How I define this will continue to shift and change, as I do, but it’s a helpful way to channel my energy into something positive and worthwhile. I hate to feel paralyzed by panic and fear at what I cannot control. I’m better off staring this anxiety straight in the face and stating, “I accept you, exactly as you are” and then going along my merry way with a lighter heart because I’ve addressed the darkness instead of ignoring it.

It’s a hallmark of dysfunction to feel isolated in our sadness, but when our sense of loss is part of our shared human experience, it helps a little to actually share it. To bare our souls with as much courage as we can muster, in the midst of our brokenness, and hear another say those healing words: “Me too.”

The load is lighter when others help us carry it. Nothing lasts forever, but as long as we are alive, we get to choose how to spend our time and who we share our lives with. And those choices determine the quality of our days, which matters a great deal.