Beautiful things

May 5th, 2012

It has been a few years now since I began exploring how to be happy in spite of my circumstances. One of my earliest discoveries was that, for me, any day could be improved by an injection of visual beauty.

I grew up in very modest circumstances. Home decorating projects were few and far between for my mother. Although she loved pretty things, we lived on a very tight budget in an old farmhouse. It was difficult enough just to keep the roof from leaking and the wind from whistling through the old windows. Beauty was usually found in our home in wildflowers picked from the roadside or a Christmas tree cut from the woods. A new bedspread or curtains had to be planned, with saving begun far in advance of the purchase. The home I grew up in was not spartan, but it was rather plain compared to many of today’s lavishly decorated houses.

The result of all this was that I came to feel that beauty was not a necessity. In fact, I believed it was at least moderately sinful to love things for their looks.

I never studied art; it wasn’t practical or useful. The home arts, cooking, decorating, sewing and such, were not considered valuable for a bright young lady coming of age in the late 1970′s. I was a whiz kid, smart and fearless, and I was to have a career. Anybody could be a homemaker, after all. At least, that was the message I absorbed from teachers, bosses, magazines, television and other media. Because I worked in the media, I was exquisitely sensitive to it.

I had a hunger for beauty, however, and it would not be stilled. I became a largely self-taught cook, seamstress, and interior decorator. My favorite leisure activities involved craft projects or sewing. After I married and had children, I stayed home with the kids. Unfortunately, I had a husband and some friends who belittled my interests. Eventually, I lost interest in most of them myself. At least, I told myself those things were not important. Cooking counted because others liked it, but it became a joyless chore because it was demanded. I stopped sewing and took up running because that’s what my friends did. My ex-husband and I built two homes, and I enjoyed decorating them, but he was parsimonious not only with cash but with praise for my projects. I let his attitude color my experience. I pretended I didn’t love beauty any more.

A few months before he left the marriage, I began exploring what small things could make me feel happier. I found pleasure was available everywhere if I allowed myself to look for it. I discovered that I love color the way some people love flavors. I could be besotted by a jade blouse or a deep pink lily. Oriental rugs were a sumptuous feast for my eyes. One of my first purchases for my new, post-divorce home was an exquisite Oriental for my bedroom. It was shockingly expensive, but it is a source of visual joy every day. I am fortunate to be able to indulge some of my wants with purchases like these, but beauty can be free for the taking, as simple as a few lacy wildflowers tucked into a jelly jar.

A couple of weeks ago, I hosted a bridal luncheon for my stepdaughter, who will be married in a waterfront ceremony in Florida next month. Most of the Clark family won’t be able to attend, so I tried to bring the beach to them at the party. My well-known passion for Pinterest served me well in planning. The ideas were terrific, but I enjoyed the visual feast of the preparations as much as the event itself.

I don’t apologize any more for the things I love. I love color, beautiful seashells, glass of all types, food that is delicious and eye-appealing. It is fun to host a frilly girl party for the women I love. Indulging my desire for beauty brings me joy and satisfaction. Why did I ever feel the need to deny who I am or to try to change to please others? I am worthy of happiness as much as they are. And so are you.

(Photos from the frilly girl party are below. Click on them to see the large versions. You can find me on Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/LouAnnWClark/ )

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Posted in Delight, happiness, Love, Positive emotions | No Comments »

Bully for me!

April 22nd, 2012

Bullying is a topic that has received a lot of press over the last few years. Most of the articles and news items I have seen refer to children being bullied in school. The saddest reports are about teen suicides that seem to be related to bullying.

From recent personal experience, I can tell you that bullying does not end when childhood does.

In trying to deal effectively with a bully in my life, I went to my trusty friend, Google. I came across several articles online that, to be kind, were of limited usefulness. Advice to ignore a bully isn’t really helpful, especially when the bully is someone you must see daily at work or in some other setting. And while all of our technological connectedness allows our friends and family instant access to us, it also allows a bully with an e-mail address or a cell phone number to intrude. Blocking and deleting work only if a bully is not a co-worker, a boss, or in some other position that requires contact.

Adult bullying is likely to take the form of emotional attacks rather than the threat of physical violence. One website I visited
calls bullying by adults “social violence.” I think this is an apt phrase. My bully didn’t have to lay a hand on me to make me feel beaten up. Emotional beatings can cause damage that isn’t visible but is real.

Clever bullies can even trick us into participating in our own abuse. My bully knows that I want things to go well and that I try very hard when I work on projects. I’m known as a little of an overachiever, because I work to make sure things are done right. When anything goes wrong, I am quick to claim responsibility, even if it isn’t mine. It’s part of the “good girl” pleaser-type profile that I have worked somewhat unsuccessfully to shed.

Nothing is ever the fault of a bully. Choosing someone like me to pick on makes their job so much easier.

I didn’t label my treatment at the hands of this person “bullying” at first, but as time went on, and as I felt more and more attacked, I began to ask the questions I needed to answer.

Had I made a mistake that led this person to attack me? Was I truly screwing things up for everyone involved? Were the criticisms leveled at me valid? Was I, in fact, mean-spirited, controlling, over-emotional, and hypocritical?

I tried to be rational and reasoned in looking for answers. Was I totally blameless in the situation that led to the most recent emotional attack? No. I shouldered perhaps ten percent of the blame. The other ninety percent belonged to the bully. I soon realized in the cool light of reason that I was being attacked as a handy scapegoat. I also realized that the vitriolic criticism leveled at me was far out of proportion to the problem being addressed. And therein lay the solution for my emotional reaction to the bullying.

I was able to step back and see that the hateful words directed at me were not about the situation at hand. They were about the bully’s need for control and power.

Well, that bully picked the wrong girl to pick on.

I made a decision to defend my own mental health. Having performed an examination of my own actions and motives, I told the bully to leave me alone. I must have contact with this person on occasion, but when I do, I will not allow the attacks to continue to penetrate my consciousness. I will vigorously defend myself, but not by engaging with the bully. I will save my own sanity by having and executing a plan that occurs mostly within my own mind.

Little digs? I will ignore them. They are not about me; they are about the bully’s need to hurt me. Denying that will be a pleasure. Open criticism in front of others? I will respond by saying, “Thank you for your feedback.” Nothing more. Phone calls will go unanswered. E-mailed nastiness will be ignored. I have the option to decline to work in groups which contain this person, and I will exercise that option.

Do I expect the bully to get the message and go find someone else to pick on? Nope. This bully likes a challenge, and I expect there will be a stepping up of efforts to get to me. When those efforts fail to bear bitter fruit for the bully, over time, the bullying will stop. And I am strong enough to withstand the attacks.

I am strong enough because I know to remind myself of these things:
–The bully needs control and power.
–By refusing to engage with the bully, I keep control of myself and my power–my right to make decisions for myself.
–I do not have to be perfect. If legitimate criticism comes from a bully, I can choose to learn from it without accepting the whole package of blame and scorn.
–I deserve to be treated well, and it is my prerogative to decline to interact with anyone who does not respect me.
–I have control of my own life. I can remove myself from the situation including the bully, either temporarily or permanently.

When I was online, exploring the issue of adult bullying, I ran across a blog that I liked. I especially loved this quote from its author, Lisa Merlo-Booth: “Hold yourself in warm regard even in the face of their obnoxious, mean-spirited behavior.”

Warm regard is a lovely thing to offer yourself. I recommend it highly.

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Mom to the world

March 7th, 2012

Last night, I met with some other moms at the cheer coach’s house to plan a banquet for our daughters’ team. The coach introduced us by our first names to her daughter’s boyfriend. As each of us were introduced, we said our daughter’s name, because he knows all of them. I laughed and said, “I don’t have a name. I’m just Katherine’s mom.”

I have been a mother for 27 years now, and I have grown accustomed to being known as my daughters’ mom. There have been times when I had to struggle to define and retain my own identity outside the role of “Mom.” Sometimes there still are. It is a common problem among my friends. I believe it will get easier when my youngest daughter flies from the nest, but for now, I’m still in Mom mode most of the time. We are also hosting a lovely French exchange student this school year, and being a “host mom” had held its own set of joys and challenges. I take pride in being a good mom, but sometimes I do feel like mothering is all that I do.

When I returned home from the meeting last night, my husband told me about a commercial he had seen for the Apple iPhone, in which a young man told his virtual assistant Siri to call him “Rock God.” I recently acquired the same phone, and I have been learning to use Siri to help me. I thought it would be funny to have Siri call me, “Ma’am.”

I picked up my phone and opened the Siri app. “Siri,” I instructed, “I want you to call me ma’am.”

“Okay,” her robot voice intoned, “From now on I will call you Mom. Okay?”

I looked at the screen. It displayed, “From now on I will call you ma’am. Okay?” But she pronounced it “mom.”

What the heck? Everybody else calls me mom. So I said, “Okay.”

“Mom,” she said. “That has a nice ring to it.”

And so it does.

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Posted in Family, Relationships, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Reaction time

March 6th, 2012

After visiting my doctor and getting halfway through a round of antibiotics, my meat body feels much better today. I am not yet 100% well, but I am vastly improved. While I am still close enough to clearly see the physical illness that laid me low for five days, I want to remind myself that the meat body can hold tremendous sway over the spirit.

I was feeling too lousy for most activities, so I spent a lot of time online and reading. The reading was great, but the online activity was not the best idea. In an online forum this weekend, I was roundly criticized by a “friend” for my “failings” as perceived by that person.

Normally, I would have shrugged it off for what it was: someone talking about something that is none of their business. Weakened by illness, I took it far more personally than I should have. When we are already hurting, fresh hurts are more painful.

Sometimes, the best way to respond to challenges is to wait. Wait until your body heals. Wait until your emotions calm down. Wait until you have had time to think about it, to sleep on it, to let it simmer for a while. I work hard to remember that “responding” is not the same as “reacting.” A reaction can be the first thing that pops into our minds or even a reflex that occurs before any thought at all. That’s why they are sometimes called “knee-jerk” reactions. A response can be thoughtful and constructive.

I chose to ignore the perceived attack publicly, but privately, I wore out a couple of friends with my venting. Venting can be useful, of course; just think of what happens if a pressure cooker doesn’t blow off a little steam. I hope that I didn’t overtax my friends. Because they are true friends, they indulged me for a little while and then encouraged me to move past it. What excellent friends I am blessed to have!

This is what it means to practice healthy thinking. It is both meanings of the word practice. It is a behavior that we consciously choose, and it takes repetition to learn to do it well. If I practice, practice, practice my practice of healthy thinking, I will get better, and it will get easier.

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Posted in Healthy thinking practice, Negative emotions | 2 Comments »

What a sicko!

March 3rd, 2012

The plain truth is that I am just plain sick today. Why does it feel like I have failed?

I get bronchitis nearly every winter. Every time I get it, I know what it is. That heavy feeling settles in my chest and along the tops of my shoulders, and I know what is coming. Every time, I try to pretend it isn’t coming. I try to fight it off with fluids, ibuprofen, and positive thinking. Every time, I wind up at the doctor’s office, getting another prescription for antibiotics.

Once upon a time, beginning in 1978, I was a heavy smoker. I quit in 1992. Still, the bronchitis comes nearly every year.

This year, it is accompanied by a raging sore throat. I feel like I tried to swallow a cactus, and it got caught a quarter of the way down. My ears are full and aching. Most of me aches, in fact. I can breathe only through my mouth. I am, in short, disgusting to behold. It is quite unpleasant to be me today.

Every time the bronchitis comes, I berate myself for my years as a smoker. It was stupid to begin, stupid to believe I wouldn’t get hooked, stupid, stupid, stupid. Well, what do you expect? I was young and stupid. It took me 14 years to quit. I still sometimes dream that I am smoking again. In my dream, I look down at the burning cigarette in my hand and start to shriek. How could I be so stupid as to start again?

Every year, when the bronchitis comes, I worry that I will someday die as a result of my youthful stupidity. The experts all tell me that after ten years quit, my health risks return to those of a lifelong nonsmoker. I’m nearly twice that, almost twenty years quit. Still, the bronchitis comes every year, and experts are often dead wrong. The specters of lung cancer and emphysema haunt me. One claimed my grandfather, the other my first mother-in-law.

So what good does it do me to worry?

None in the least.

I have done everything I know to rejuvenate my heart and lungs and blood vessels and whatever else might have been damaged by smoking. My doctor compliments me on my blood pressure and heart rate even as he writes the prescription for the antibiotics. Still, the past lurks. Cancer sometimes waits for years to show itself. What can I do about it?

Nothing. Even God can’t change the past. My 14 years of heavy smoking are done, gone, never to be retrieved or redeemed. All I can do is try to live in a healthy way today. That means eating right, exercising, and keeping my head on straight. Sometimes that last part means accepting that even fluids and a happy outlook won’t fend off the germs that sicken me.

We are sometimes told in so many words that if our bodies get sick, it is because we have somehow failed. We didn’t eat right, we didn’t stay fit enough, we didn’t rest or care for ourselves adequately, we didn’t think positively enough. I love that old joke: All these health nuts are going to feel really stupid someday, lying in the hospital dying of nothing.

In sickness, I find the opportunity once again to forgive myself and to be compassionate toward myself. Yes, I could eat more vegetables and less sugar, I certainly could exercise more, and sleep deprivation is a way of life around here. Still, I am doing pretty well on most fronts, and I am reasonably healthy. Beating myself up for allowing myself to fall ill isn’t productive or kind, and so I am trying to stop it as much as I can. I would never dream of scolding a friend who had fallen ill. The least I can do is to treat myself as well.

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Tick, tick, tick…

February 28th, 2012

I am a strong woman. This means that I have been called a derogatory term beginning with B many times in my life, probably including today. It isn’t even 10 a.m. yet, and I have already managed to tick off three people. Call me an overachiever.

I like people. I really do. I like everybody until they give me an excellent and unavoidable reason to dislike them. When I dislike someone, I ignore them if possible. There is no point in belaboring the thing. But disliking and ignoring are not the same as dealing with conflict. Conflicts cannot always be avoided if we want to stay in relationships with others.

I have encountered conflict today for the usual reason: someone wants something in direct opposition to what I want. I have refused to back down today because I am not in the mood to take myself off of my list of priorities.

This is very, very difficult for me.

Whether it is a product of my genetics, my family upbringing, my motherly instincts, or my cultural training, I have a hard time saying no when someone asks me for something. I have a hard time even when I know the thing they want is not good for them. I have a hard time even when I know it’s tons more work for me than it is worth for them. I have a hard time when I know that whatever they think is wrong, wrong, wrong.

It is hard, but it is worthwhile.

Before you agree to give someone else your life energy in the form of service, money, or time, make sure that you are doing it for the right reasons. If you don’t, you will find yourself, as I sometimes do, experiencing an energy drain. This is good for no one, least of all yourself.

I have tried not to be unpleasant about it. I don’t intend to be mean. I don’t want you to be upset; I really do not wish you ill.

But the answer I give you today must be “no.” Because otherwise, I cannot say “yes” to myself.

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Say it with flowers?

February 13th, 2012

Every year, around Valentine’s Day, I see some kind of article discussing roses and the meaning of the different colors. I have always found this hugely entertaining. If there are hidden meanings, and we need an explanation to decode them, of what value is the message?

Red roses mean love. All little girls grow up with this knowledge. At least, they did when I was a little girl. So many things have changed that maybe this has, too.

Beyond that, all bets are off.

One website I consulted says that yellow roses mean “Joy, Gladness, Friendship, Delight, Promise of a new beginning, Welcome Back, Remember Me, Jealousy” or simply, “I care.” I’m thinking, go with yellow. It covers every possibility! Then I check another website, which tells me that yellow roses can mean “Farewell,” and “infidelity in love.” I guess unfaithfulness does often result in flowers being sent, especially if the infidelity is discovered. Yikes. Stay away from yellow!

Pink roses are so pretty, so girly, so feminine, right? Yet, one reference chides me that “pink is not just for girls.” It says that pink signifies affection that has not yet deepened into love. So pink says, “I think I kinda maybe sorta like you,” or something even less specific, or “I might love you someday, unless I get a better offer.” Some websites offer different meanings for pink, depending on whether the pink is light, bright, or dark. One of those meanings is sympathy. “I’m sorry you fell for someone who only kinda likes you?” Oops. Stay away from pink!

What about white? The neutral color goes with everything, especially weddings. If you aren’t proposing, you might want to reconsider. Even if you are, white may not be the way to go. One source cites white as the rose that “glorifies a love that is unaware of the temptations of the flesh and resides only in the soul.” If you want to say the opposite, yet another site advises that coral is the color of desire, while orange and apricot mean “enthusiasm.” Can you tell orange roses from coral and apricot ones? Can your beloved?

Stay away from roses altogether!

Just kidding. I love flowers as much as the next person, and florists need to eat and buy shoes for their children as much as anyone else. But I think we should take this confusing mess of messages seriously.

If you want to say something, on Valentine’s Day or any other day, say it. Say it directly to the person or write it down. E-mail if you must, but only if you must, if the message is important. A message written in your own hand is a treasure no one else can give. If it is written on a card attached to flower arrangement, your words will speak clearly no matter what the flowers might “say.”

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Blah, blah, blah. BLAH!

January 26th, 2012

It is January, it is wet, it is chilly. It is foggy. It is gray.

And so I offer you this image as a reminder that sunny, warm days lie ahead.

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Speaking up, at last

December 12th, 2011

I surprised myself today when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had returned home from a successful speaking engagement at my local Chamber of Commerce, and I was riding high. I dearly love to speak to a live audience, and today’s group was attentive and really tuned in to what I was saying. It was very gratifying.

When I glanced in the mirror, I was shocked at how I looked. I knew I had taken care with my appearance; I always do before a speech. I knew that I felt happy, but the woman grinning back at me from the glass was all aglow, as if lit from the inside. I literally did a double-take. Was that…me?

I think the Universe just whopped me upside the head, as they say in these parts. I looked at my reflection twinkling back at me and thought, “This is what I was born to do.”

I have spent a lot of my life pleasing others, or trying to, as so many women of my generation have. We have put the desires of others first for so long that it’s our default setting. Many of us actually feel guilty when we take time to do something for ourselves, even something as important as finding our right work. I have known I loved speaking since I was in middle school, nearly forty years ago. Is it my turn yet to do what I really love?

This has been a hard lesson for me in my practice of healthy thinking. What I want does matter. And no, I cannot blame my choices on anyone else. I tried hard to please my parents. I tried hard to be a good sibling, a good student, a good citizen, a good wife, a good mother, a good friend. The list goes on forever…good stepmother, good aunt, good club member, good volunteer, good board member, good church member, good cook, good listener…and I think I was pretty good at most of those things. I enjoyed every one of them. The problem is this: most of them never lit me up from the inside the way public speaking does.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids, my friends, my parents and extended family and all my clubs and boards and committees…but 2012 is going to be the year I put this love at the forefront. My youngest child is driving a car all by herself and making plans to escape from my clutches, and I think it’s time. It’s time for me to share my struggles with depression and anxiety in a book. It’s time for me to tell the whole story of how I fought back and won. And the more times I get to tell it in person, the better.

If you need a speaker in 2012, I’m your gal. I’ll be easy to spot. Just look for the glow.

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Posted in Delight, happiness, Healthy thinking practice, Positive emotions | 3 Comments »

Chain of Blessings

November 24th, 2011

Our family has an ideal holiday tradition that I look forward to every year. I call it “ideal” because it brings us closer together and focuses our attention on what is valuable to us as a family. Yet it costs virtually nothing.

We call it our chain of blessings. At the end of October, I cut sturdy colored paper (construction paper or card stock) crosswise into strips about three-quarters of an inch wide. I put the strips into a container, add a few fine-tipped markers, and set it all out on the kitchen counter.

Beginning on November 1, each family member writes on at least one strip per day. We write down persons, things, or experiences we are grateful to have in our lives, one blessing to a strip. We then staple the strips into interlocking rings, just like the paper chains you remember from elementary school. I tape the chain over the dining room windows.

We try to avoid duplicates, although it is almost certain that each of us will write down our pets’ names at least once. We will write that we are grateful for each other, for our comfortable home, for our friends and extended family. We appreciate the big things, of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a new car? But no blessing is so small as to be beneath notice. My daughter loves the time she spends cuddling with the cat. My husband is grateful for the pocket calculator that helps him keep his figures straight. I am grateful for a good hair day!

We write the blessings down, taking a moment to savor the thought of each of them. We link the rings together, and the chain grows longer. Family members and friends who visit our home are invited to contribute too, and some of them go home and begin chains of their own. Daily we are reminded of how much good exists in our world.

It’s fun to review the blessings we have noted. Who wrote down hot cocoa? Someone noticed a beautiful sunset. Someone else was touched deeply by a sympathetic hug offered at a sad moment.

On Thanksgiving Day, as we sit down to a feast with those dear to us, we are literally surrounded by our blessings. Some years, the chain is integrated into our Christmas decorations. It serves as an enduring reminder that even an ordinary family living in ordinary circumstances can be extraordinarily blessed.

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