Madison

I have always wanted a daughter.  And I have always wanted three children.  I was blessed with two sons biologically and they are the light of my life, no matter how many grey hairs they give me.  I am so lucky that my wish eventually came through, just not the way I thought it would.    

A little over 10 years ago I met Madison.  I met her before I met her daddy.  Many of you know the story of how Chris and I met-and through Madison's mom and stepdad, who was my good friend from work, this little girl and I came face-to-face for the first time.

Madison and I didn't have an easy time to start with.  She was her daddy's whole world and he jumped when she wanted him to.  It was not easy for her to have another person in her orbit, especially at 9 years old.  

Through the years we have had our ups and downs, and we have grown to love each other.  

I have immense respect for her mom and always made sure to not step on Lisa's toes while building my own relationship with her daughter.  Madison and I cooked together, putting together grand feasts for Thanksgiving and other holidays through the years.  We baked a whole afternoon's worth of lemon desserts through the quarantine days.  She joined my run club.  We trained and completed 3 half marathons together, before we did one as a whole family-and then another after that.  We had family vacations together and weekends away.  I always loved it when she wanted to join me and Chris at Disneyland or for a weekend at Big Bear.  She has always been up to share an adventure with me.  

Two years ago, Madison spread her wings and went away to college almost 600 miles away.  She was so brave.  It's not easy to follow through on a big move like that at 18 years old.  And as hard as it was for her to not want to pack up and come home, she stayed there and built an existence where she thrives.    

Chris and I took a visit to see her world a few weeks ago.  It was so good to hug her tight.  We were only in her town for 2 1/2 days, but we had a lot of fun.  She had big plans for us!  We saw her apartment and she told us about their escapades.  It made me smile because it reminded me of my similar days in an apartment very much like the one in which she lives.  We got the grand tour of her beautiful campus.  We loved seeing where she is making her mark.  We wanted to spoil her a little bit and after grabbing a bite for breakfast, we took her shopping.  It is fun to give our kids what they want or need at unexpected times.  She and I had a good time going through jewelry racks together and picking out some cute earrings to wear.  We showed her our Air BnB and then she and I took a nap, while her dad did his own unwinding on his trusty laptop.  I very much needed a nap after hearing her plans for us later that night.  

Our social butterfly had some sorority plans for early in the evening, so Chris and I settled in to watch the Playoff game of Padres vs Dodgers.  We were to meet up with her at 10:45 pm at a fraternity for a party.  Two 50+ year old parents were going to a fraternity party-not to mention, waaaaay past our bedtime.  😂   It has been 30 years since I was at one and I don't think Chris has ever had the pleasure.     

At the allotted time, we arrived at the fraternity house.  We took a deep breath and walked across the street to see our favorite gal, eagerly waiting for us at the door.  Although we were skeptical about her friends wanting us there, they were all so welcoming and friendly.  Every single one of her friends walked up to us and introduced themselves.  One even took Chris' number so they can keep in touch.

We stayed 90 minutes before we decided to leave them to their own Saturday night fun.  As much as it was a cool adventure to be welcomed by Madison and her friends, we were a little out of our element, as the minutes ticked on.  We could only hang for so long.  

What struck me most was that in the middle of her college Saturday night party time, there was our Madison, having a great time and surrounded by people she trusts.  And they were all looking out for each other.  She had a circle of people watching out for her and she was watching out for them.  I saw her completely capable and mature and yet so much in her element of being a carefree youth-on the cusp of adulthood.  

I was really proud.  I still am.  

We have our kids in our homes for a short time.  Most of those moments we are pulling our hair out and figuring things out as we can.  We see them as babies and kids and teenagers.  And then they grow up.  We are only afforded a peek of who they are in their own circle, as they allow us those glimpses.  Being able to see Madison spread her wings and making smart decisions about her plans and how she operates in her day-to-day was such a gift.  To know that she is where she needs to be and soaring and growing and making her own place in this world, well, it made our hearts feel so full.  

After only a couple of days we had to head home.  We met Madison for breakfast, and she so thoughtfully brought us a gift as a thank you for visiting her.  She took the time out of her day to pick out specific things she knew we would enjoy, had it wrapped and presented it to us with her final hugs as we got in the car to make the 2-hour drive to the airport.  

We couldn't help but tear up a bit as we were on the road.  But the tears were followed by so many smiles.

Madison calls me by name, as appropriate.  And she refers to me as "second mommy".  I love it so much.  I am so honored to have that distinction.  Her mom and dad did the right thing by her when they split, always putting Madison first.  They gave her the space and the safety to love me and Brent (her stepdad), without feeling like she was betraying Chris or Lisa.  They really paved the way for us to have the blended family we all get to enjoy. 

Madison is smart and sassy and driven.  She is thoughtful and sensitive and funny.  She is loyal to those in her circle.  She has lived a lot of life in her young 19 years.  Seeing where she is headed, we know she will do amazing things with whatever path she chooses.  In the meantime, we will watch her and encourage her and cheer her on.

A few years ago, at the San Diego fair, Madison and I broke out in dance together when Justin Timberlake's song "Can't Fight This Feeling" came on.  The song is said to be about dancing, being happy and not caring what others think. I hear the song and it forever reminds me of her.  

I got that sunshine in my pocket
Got that good song in my feet
I feel that hot blood in my body when it drops
I can't take my eyes up off it, moving so phenomenally
You gone like the way we rock it, so don't stop

Under the lights when everything goes
Nowhere to hide when I'm getting you close
When we move, well, you already know
So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine
Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance
Feeling good, good, creeping up on you
So just dance, dance, dance, come on
All those things I should do to you
But you dance, dance, dance

And ain't nobody leaving soon, so keep dancing  

There is a certain growth and freedom in knowing yourself enough to dance and be happy and not care what others think.  I didn't have it when I was 19.  I saw a little bit of that in Madison.  I see it a little more every time we are around her. 

Madison: Don’t stop.  Keep dancing.  Just imagine.... 

I love you lots!   xoxo, second mommy

Being a Mother to Adult Children

Being a mom is hard.  Being a mom to adult children is harder than I ever imagined. 

As a mom, no matter what age the kids are, my heart is constantly on the outside of my chest.  I am more sensitive than I ever was.  I do everything I can to not cry far too often.  It has gotten better lately, but I work constantly---CONSTANTLY!!---on breathing deeply and not taking everything so personally.  And if you are a mom, most things really are personal, no matter what we do to think it isn't.  That makes so much sense, doesn't it?  ...I know it doesn't.  It's just what I battle all the time. 

There are so many days I watch younger moms with their kids and I am so wistful for those days.  I want to cherish the moments far more than I ever did.  When you are knee deep in the trenches, you just want to get to the next, bigger, easier milestone.  You want more sleep.  You want less busy-ness.  Right now?  I want all of it all over again.  I want the sleepless nights.  I want the snotty nosed snuggles when they are sick.  I want them to want me to be their mom again.  I long for the days when them needing the safety and the love of their mother isn't met with their doubt of it being a step backwards in their lives or something they need to discount in all of their adultness.  Not to mention all of the baggage of the mistakes I have made over the years that are amplified in memories as they grow older.  If I had the blue genie's three wishes, I would go back.  I would re-do it all....but only if it brought me back here to my new life with my husband and daughter and job and friends afterwards.  My wish would be to be back here without the wounds of our past.  

Chris and I were on the cusp of the empty-nest.  And suddenly we aren't any longer.  Our youngest child is away in school, living her best life.  School, new apartment, sorority, work...all the things that launching into the world looks like.  The middle guy...he is back home.  And as much as we were enjoying the empty nest, we are quite happy about him being home.  He left in a fit of anger and high emotions and lived with his love for a bit.  For reasons that is his story to tell, he is back.  I am just happy that we are a safe place for him to fall, even amidst the frenzied thoughts and feelings that are filling his head and heart.  I am glad that when he feels like there is nowhere else to go, he knows a call to home is where he will be welcomed, no matter what.  The oldest guy is still trying to figure out where he and his talents fit in his new reality after living a hell none of us wanted him to have to face last year.  I can't even explain the highs and the lows we see and feel.  Talk about backfire...  But here we are, on this new path, trying to figure it out day by day.  

The boys and I rebounded from a tumultuous existence when we moved back to California from Omaha in 2010.  We didn't know how to exist, much less exist in any semblance of a healthy manner.  We learned a lot through trial and error.  That trial and error made us closer for a time because we had nobody else.  As they grew older and became their own people, it was hard for me to see them as anything but my boys.  I didn't know how to let go.  I was probably far too involved--and I was intent on being the opposite of the other parent, who lived six states away and didn't seem as interested and vested in their day-to-day.  And then when we add in the neglect and indifference I remember from my own mother as a teenager and wanting the interest and the involvement from her, well....I may have overcompensated a bit with my sons.    

I reveled in being the strict mom when they were younger.  I wanted them to respect me and grow into good human beings.  I wanted to show them the right way. I loved them so much and wanted to do right by them.  I still do.  And then when it was just us, I loved being the one they wanted to spend time with.  All the while, however, I was making mistakes at every turn.  There was no road map.  Our life is 100% better now than it was.  We've had conversations over the years where the boys recognized we are changed for the better.  We knew we made it this far together, with people who were our angels along the way.  We learned to be resilient.  We forged ahead and made our life into what we dreamed about as we sang the lyrics to the song, Someday, by Rob Thomas, which we deemed our little family anthem.        

One of the hardest things I realized this past year was that togetherness I thought the boys and I shared doesn't always translate through their memories when they are figuring out their place and healing from the traumas they feel themselves.  I found that every mistake I have ever made was magnified and I was living them all over again, a decade + later with them as adults.  I was not afforded human-ness in their memories.  Things I thought we had grown from were in front of me all over again.  The narrative sucks because none of us are in the place we were back then anymore.  Despite all of the reminders and the backlash and the shitty things being said and done in our direction, Chris and I remained steadfast in loving them, holding onto each other for dear life while dealing with the pain that feels like the worse loss imaginable when your kids don't want anything to do with you.

The thing is:  We can't change anyone's mind about us.  And truly, what they think about us isn't our business.  And then you think:  Those children came from me.  We went through hell together.  How can they forget?  How are they be so influenced?  I had to really learn how to let go of everything...expectations, feelings about what they were doing, saying, seeing, who they were hanging out with.  I had to learn to see them as adults.  They are now men!  Tall, hairy, sometimes stinky, always messy men.  They have their own thoughts and feelings and direction.  I had to realize the distance between two points isn't always linear.  I had to realize they are going on the path that makes the most sense to them and to let go.  It's not easy to let go.  I cried every day.  Every single day I would cry at least once.  Sometimes it would last a few minutes and pass and sometimes I would wail the pain into the heavens, just hoping for some relief.  

My friends know of my pain the past year-and of the millions of tears I have cried in response.  My friends have shown me support and advised me on the things I should be doing.  These are things I have not done.  I always hoped the boys would come back to the fold.  I held on to the belief and the hope that the part of them that is me is soft and loving and forgiving.  I knew that if we took drastic measures in the face of some pretty bad times that it would cut the tie forever.  I couldn't do that.  Tough love doesn't work when there is so much trauma that we have come from.  

So, Chris and I were patient.  

We started to live for ourselves.  We took trips and found "us" again, after the last two years of madness.  And we were always kind.  We saw where we need to let go and see the kids for the adults they are.  We stopped asking when they would be coming home and where they were.  We stopped expecting them to pick up the phone when we called.  We stopped asking the unnecessary questions.  

We let go.

And then the calls started to come.  The conversations and the smiles started to return.  I was asked to have a weekly dinner with my youngest son and then he started to work in my building.  Now we have excursions after work.  He talks to me all the time now.  He is back to asking for advice and I am careful with what I offer.  No opinions, just support.  The other is coming around, too.  He has a tougher exterior, but I know his heart.  It's still golden.  And I am still patient.  I have learned to be a parent, but not to parent.  

My sister-in-law gave me that advice:  to be a parent and not to parent.  It was, quite frankly, exactly what I needed to hear.  I have taken it to heart.  And it has helped me to navigate this minefield of new adulthood.  I can love my kids and always be here and be their parent.  But I am done parenting them.  They know what they are doing, if not what they want to do, or even the general direction of their goal.  They also know I am here if they need me.      

Today we had to go to the funeral of our cousin, someone who I will miss.  Chris and my youngest son came with me.  We sat in the pew and in his sadness, my son put his head on my shoulder.  He knew it would be there.  He knew he would be comforted by mom.  It was on his time and on his terms, and suddenly I knew it will all be ok.     

I am a parent and my adult children will be ok.  And so will I. 

Someday by Rob Thomas

You can go
You can start all over again
You can try to find a way to make another day go by
You can hide
Hold all your feelings inside
You can try to carry on when all you wanna do is cry

And maybe someday we'll figure all this out
Try to put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to make things better now that
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

Now we wait
And try to find another mistake
If you throw it all away then maybe you can change your mind
You can run
And when everything is over and done
You can shine a little light on everything around you
Man it's good to be someone

And maybe someday we'll figure all this out
Try to put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to make things better now that
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

I don't wanna wait
I just wanna know
I just wanna hear you tell me so
Give it to me straight
Tell it to me slow

'Cuz maybe someday we'll figure all this out
We'll put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to just to feel better now
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

'Cuz sometimes we don't really notice
Just how good it can get
So maybe we should start all over
Start all over, again

'Cuz sometimes we don't really notice
Just how good it can get
So maybe we should start all over
Start all over, again

Shiny and New

Chris and I have been together for the better part of 10 years, married for almost 6.  We have had ups and downs, like most people.  I laughingly say, "Old dogs, new tricks...." as a way to explain us finding our way on our togetherness path.  

The vows:  For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health...we have seen it all in our still young marriage.  And in those years together, it is easy to become complacent and annoyed at our partners.  I know we have both been guilty of this.  

Chris is a good man.  He is kind and patient and he loves my boys as his own, as I do Madison.  He is also stubborn and impatient and can be quite crabby in the morning.  We both sometimes say things we don't mean.  We have had to learn that it's better to be kind than right.  We have also learned to hold our tongue when we need to.  

In the normal, boring life that happens when you are parents and work and just getting through the days, it's easy to not see the sparkle in your partner.  It's life and it happens.  It doesn't mean the love isn't there or the caring is gone.  It just means the daily grind is grinding and the outside isn't as shiny, at the moment.  

Chris and I recently went to Yosemite for a long weekend.  We were with friends and hiked and had some fun adventures.  Chris even did a half-marathon with me, despite it not being his thing (and it was his fifth time completing a half-marathon with me) and he was not feeling his best.  The race meant we had to wake up at 4am and get dressed and get our stuff together and drive a town away to ride a bus to the tippy top of a mountain and run a race at, seriously, the ass crack of dawn.  This was after spending the previous day hiking and doing things outside of his comfort zone, like trying to cross a creek on a very unstable set of rocks and branches.  And yet, he did it.  He might have melted down once in awhile or grumbled in our direction when he wasn't quite awake yet, but he did it.  He showed up and he was by my side and after pushing himself outside his little comfortable box, he had a really great time.  The pictures on the race course tell the story with his bright smile, looking more refreshed than is fair for a guy who had a total of 4 miles training for this race.  

On the last day of our weekend away, we went on the ultimate adventure during our time away:  white water rafting.  Over 15 years ago when I was living a different life in a different state with a different person and not very happy, I made a list of things I wanted to do.  It was my bucket list before they were widely called bucket lists.  One of the things I wrote down was to go white water rafting.  I had dreams of travelling the world and experiencing fun and scary things that pushed through my feelings of security--basically I had dreams of living a big life.  I didn't get a chance to cross many things off that list when I was living that different life with a different person in a different time.  Here I am, a decade and a half later, ready to cross this off my list.  I had a lot of excitement built up to do this trek down the river.  But what struck me most was that in my new life with this kind man, my dreams were coming true, one listed thing at a time.  This isn't the first time I had this thought.  When we took the kids to Hawaii, a place I only read about or heard about from my friends and family, I remember thinking the same thing.  My happiest joy was when he told me he wanted to travel the world with me.  It was a joy that made me feel aglow with hope for all the things yet to do together.   

Back to white water rafting...here we were:  adorned in all the gear, me with wide-deer-in-the-headlights eyes about to make our way down a very cold river with big waves that could very well bounce me out of the blown-up-boat.  A funny thing about me:  I am quite scared of many things.  And yet, I will still do most of the things offered when given a chance.  I was pretty terrified.  I was also very excited.  

We went down 11 miles of waterway on the river, traversing the rapids, under the watchful eyes of our guide.  It was exhilarating.  During a lull in our voyage, Chris asked about the hows and the whys of becoming a river rafting guide.  He was having the time of his life.  He laughed and waved and smiled his way through the rapids.  We joked with him that he could give up his math teaching career and be a man of the water.  His smile was radiating and his delight could be felt by all of us around him.  

When we got to the end of journey, everyone pitched in and helped bring supplies up to our waiting vans.  I sat and watched my husband go back and forth, helping and carrying the heavy rafts, until help was needed no more.  I just loved watching him.  He happily lends a hand and he asks what else he can do to make things easier on the people around him.  The dull finish that periodically happens in long relationships became shinier every time he went to bring another raft up.  There were 6 of those heavy things to heave onto the truck.  It made me so proud that I get to call him mine.  

After getting dried off and dressed and buying all the things from their gift shop, he made sure I had a nice meal for mother's day.  It was a melancholy day for me, for reasons I don't feel like going into, and he did everything he could to make sure I was celebrated and treated nicely-before we got on the road for the long 6 hour drive ahead of us.

I told him out of the blue that he was shiny again.  He knew what I meant and just smiled at me.  

Ruth Bader Ginsburg once told someone who asked what the secret to her long marriage was, that it was good to be a little deaf sometimes.  I really keep that one close.  Sometimes as humans we say or do inconsiderate or insensitive things.  I try to give the benefit of the doubt-it's not always easy.  But when Chris does these things, I try to be a little deaf.  I try to give him grace and I try to ignore the rotten tone or the sometimes offensive words.  Most people don't mean the shitty things they say.  It would be wrong to not recognize that even through this grace and deafness I try to afford him, that sometimes this kind, goofy guy I get to spend my life with doesn't seem so shiny through these moments.  None of us do.  I am sure I lost some shine in his eyes through the years, too.  

I love that watching him help out the group and experiencing his kindness sparked some shine in his direction.  It's easy to get caught up in the mundane and find fault with every stupid little foible.  He has some special days ahead:  Father's Day and his birthday follows the next month.  I am going to remind myself everyday of something that keeps him shiny and new in my eyes.  I won't let complacency and the regular hours of our days dull the finish on the really good man I am proud to call my husband.  I will remember to thank him for the things he does to make my days a little easier.  I will bake his favorite banana bread and send him to work with a lunch that not only satisfies him, but also delights his sometimes picky taste buds.  I will remember to dance with him after a long week on Friday nights, so that we can both have more fun and he can have more confidence when called to shake those hips that don't always shake.  I will go and watch one of his baseball games and cheer him on, while he prepares to hit the ball out of the park.  I will plan a little get-away so that he can rest and relax after being "on" in front of a classroom everyday.  I am going to do my part to keep his shine bright.  And as he allows me to sleep while he takes the night shift driving home from trips we take or visits to friends, I smile and rest easy that I am so lucky that I have him to love and cherish from this day forward until death do us part.  

Masks

A mask is a covering for all or part of the face, worn as a disguise, or to amuse or terrify other people.

We have worn masks every day for the last two years in places of employment, grocery stores, when there is are more than one person in a car or there are too many people around while outside. The little face coverings have kept us safe.

There is another kind of safety that masks provide, as well.  Arthur Brooks, an American author says of wearing metaphorical masks, “many of us do this every day when we cloak our identities or true feelings by suppressing our thoughts or acting in certain ways. Some of these masks we like, and some we don’t. Some we are forced to wear to get along in life, and others we wear voluntarily and are afraid to remove.”  As I have been walking through this period in life, I find that I am putting on masks everyday.  Each one, an attempt to hide my feelings and put a smile on my face and try to exist when I am feeling utterly empty inside.  

I have a mask of the successful employee.  Work is a safe place for me.  I am successful at what I do.  I connect with people and use my real life experiences to help them make hard decisions about their loved ones.  I make good money and big commissions.  I am able to donate to organizations that are important to me and I can afford to stock my refrigerator with whatever me or my family desires.  At the end of the day when I leave for my personal life, I remove the mask and have to face the unbelievable pain behind it.  

I wear the mask of the friend.  I am a friend to all.  I believe in putting good out in the world.  I am supportive of those in my circle and even those out of it.  I am one of the first to give when there is a need or a reason.  And yet when I have vulnerabilities, I cocoon away from people. I’m afraid to show too much because I don’t want to be too much. Will people still like me or love me when I have too much baggage or garbage happening in my sometimes tumultuous life?  Am I the one asking for a shoulder to cry on too much?  Am I showing up enough when I say I will be there?  I crave being around people I love and then I get scared it will all disappear.  I used to pride myself on being brave and outspoken.  I was proud of it until a friend once said to me, “Say what you really mean” in the way you know they don't appreciate knowing what you really mean. Do you want me to not be honest or strong or confident?  Those words have created the mask within me of not being as forthright and not as strong and certainly not confident when it really matters. I can walk up to any stranger or give a speech in front of people because they aren’t close to my heart. But put me in front of people I care about and the mask goes on. Do I measure up?

I wear masks of being one of the smart ones or the nice one in a group.  But there are insecurities all over the place-I have some really brilliant friends.  I was told by my mother I was the smart one in the family.  What she meant was I am not the beautiful one.  And although I know much about many things....I am the jack of all trades and a master of none: there are deficits in my education, I often don't think I have enough to contribute and there is not a lot of interesting things about me.  As far as being known as the nice one, people mistake my softness for weakness.  I am often talked down to or patronized because I don't care to engage or fight about things we don't have a lot of control over.  I liken it to making better use of my time.  Out in public however, I show cheer and grace and I attempt to ignore ugliness because these masks protects me from the anguish of being inadequate.     

On the weekends and many times during the week, I wear the mask of an athlete.  I was athletic when I was young.  I played tennis throughout high school and a bit for fun in college.  In my 30s, amidst what might be viewed as a mid-life crisis, along with getting a tattoo, I started doing half marathons.  I call it "doing" because at first it was as a walker and then a run/walker with dreams of becoming a runner.  The truth is if you run, you are a runner and yet I am plagued with feelings of self doubt and thoughts of:

I am not fast enough.

I do not progress enough. 

I am too fat. 

I am not coachable. 

All of the encouragement I extend to others, I look at myself and see it never crosses my mind that I deserve the same.  I have more than 50 medals hanging on racks on the walls of my bedroom of completed 5ks, 10ks half marathons and a marathon, among other races.  I still don’t feel like enough.

Do I still matter enough to run with or race with or coach if I am too fat, and too slow and if I don't progress fast enough?  Am I really an athlete?  Or am I just a fun runner because I have enjoyed the journey and the scenery and the friends made along the way more than I have enjoyed it for the time and the PRs?  It's a mask I am not sure I even understand.  

And then we have the hardest masks of all to take off because there is history and growth and faltering and being human--all rolled up into them: the family masks.

My kids mean everything to me. Sometimes, maybe, they mean too much.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes over the years and although I have done everything I can to rectify my part in bad situations, I find myself constantly never being enough. Or I am too much. It’s the story of my life. I sometimes haven’t held my tongue when I should have.  I’ve done the wrong things. I’m overbearing and too demanding of respect I haven’t been shown. I never had a role model in my own mother as what loving a child in a healthy way looks like. So I've loved as much as I could in whatever way I knew how, learning along the way.  I’ve tried to be a soft place for my kids to land.  I’ve tried to create fun experiences and memories for us in our new life-and I still don’t measure up.  For the mistakes I’ve made along the way, I now tolerate misuse because it’s the little bit of them that is afforded in my direction.  I wear the mask of mother but it feels so undeserving because they don’t want this piece of me.

I wear the mask of the dutiful sister, cousin, niece, and aunt.  Families have weird dynamics and ours is no different.  When we are together, we laugh and have fun.  My heart feels full and I don't want these occasions to stop.  I still fear these instances are too fleeting.  I will do anything for those I love.  I try to stay in the moment and capture every piece of these times as memories I will never forget but the questions in my head are always there:  Will I say the wrong thing or not do enough or react too emotionally?  Am I good enough?  Will they come to me if I don't go to them?  Will they be there for me when I need them?  Will they walk away?  Will I be alone again?  And yet the days go on and I relish every second until it's time to leave.  When it is time to get back to my routine of running with friends and going to the grocery store and walking my dog, my heart can relax a little more because it is easier to not feel all of the feelings.  The mask comes off in the nonce of the mundane and my body mellows.  

For most people, the symbolic masks project how they want to be seen by the world. For me, they amplify what I am not.  I’m tired of masks. Some days I wish people could see who I am behind all of the covers we wear and that I was confident that I would be accepted as just me. The truth is, just like many others, I don’t want to end up like my mother: without friends or family or children by my side as the days ahead of me are less than the days behind me.  My masks protect me from the biggest fear of all:  I don’t want to be alone.

 

Finding the Light and Doing Hard Things

There are some truths that sound like platitudes, but they make so much sense:

    *You don't have to go to every argument that you are invited to

    * Just because someone says it, doesn't make it true. 

     *There is always one asshole in the room, don't let it be you.

    * People's reactions and actions toward you say more about them than it says about you

    * Apologies mean you care more about the relationship than you do about your ego

    * It is better to be kind than right

    * Let your light shine so brightly that others can see their way out of the dark

I have friends that have really bright lights. 

Life is rough.  Things get hard.  Feeling get hurt.  I experienced all of these things tenfold during the Covid Quarantine years.  But my friends and chosen family got me through those hardest moments.  Two of those friends and I embarked on a silly adventure a week ago that now has grown into something bigger than the three of us.  Lights are shining all over the place.    

One of those friends recently gave a Tedx talk, which is cool in it's own right.  More importantly, she helped me start to see my worth and helped me learn tools to navigate my emotions amid pitfalls that happen when you feel everything around you.  An empathic life is not always easy to handle.  My other friend has created a safe space around him and a beautiful oasis where people retreat to find joy, peace and calm.  He is someone who has seen really tough times and takes his experiences to help lift people up.  On a personal level, he has talked me through some of my most painful and dark moments and reminded me that better and brighter times are always ahead.  

Last week the stars aligned and we all had a chance to be together.  The evening started with a fun ride in a zippy convertible going up the 5 freeway.  I wore a sweatshirt to keep the chill off and my hair up in a bun so I can enjoy the ride with the top down on a Southern California Spring night. We went to dinner and the conversation was what I have always hoped I would have with friends.  It was fun and encouraging.  We told each other truths we needed to hear and then we hatched a fun plan.  I always leave these meetings with a full heart and a glowing, satisfied soul.  That evening was no different. 

Our plan is to run the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington DC in 2024.  No small feat.  We figured with 2 1/2 years before the race, we have plenty of time to train and get healthy and find our run again.  Before we knew it, 80 people from our running groups and our friend groups are ready to sign up with us.  What started as a small glittering fleck of dust has transformed into a radiant glowing force. 

What this says to me more than anything is that we all have the power to lift up the people who surround us.  

Running my first marathon was the hardest thing I have ever done.  And it was the most proud I have ever felt with any physical feat.  To know that others will be able to feel the pride of watching their body do things it has never done before and push their mind past the places that have a way of finding ways to limit ourselves, well, it is something I can't wait to be a part of.  We shine our lights on each other.  

Amid this plan of shenanigans...I really love that word...after the last two years, it feels light and fun...but I digress.  While we were putting this plan together and encouraging others to join us, I was gifted the honor of joining someone else on their journey to excellence.  And really, anytime someone tries to better themselves, it is a journey towards excellence, isn't it?  I have a friend I met at a race 7 years ago.  And as you do with friends you meet in the running community, we have kept in touch over the years.  She mentioned to me that she is running the NYC Marathon in November of this year.  She ran it last year and signed up the next day to run the 5 boroughs a second time.  It's iconic and one of the six marathon majors and has some of the best race support from those watching.  It is a race I have always wanted to do.  To my surprise, my friend is giving me the honor of running the NYC Marathon alongside her, as her support runner.  She shone her light brightly in my direction. 

I get to run the NYC Marathon this November.  

I am so excited and completely terrified.  That part about pushing your body and your mind past all of the thoughts that limit you?  I remember that part vividly-the good and the bad.  And now I have the responsibility to make sure my friend gets over the finish line.  

I spoke with my run coach about it recently.  I have been woefully out of shape this past training season.  I have my first half marathon in quite awhile coming up in 2 weeks.  I was so excited about training for a real live race for the first time in 2 years.  And then I got Covid.  It's not an excuse, but it really derailed me.  I was lucky enough to qualify for an antibody infusion and it helped me feel better, but coming back from being sick was harder than I thought it would be.  I am finally feeling like I have stamina again.  My long miles aren't killing me anymore and I am able to finish them, even if they are slow.  But my coach, as always, shared some wise words with me.  She knows her runners so well.  It's not just physical for her, but also a relationship she builds with each of us and we trust her implicitly.  She told me she thought this would be good for me because I tend to put others before I put myself.  She said I am a mother and a wife and a friend...and she is right.  I do all of that before I am me.  So when I am in the middle of training and my kids or my husband or a friend needs me, guess what...I tend to them before I finish what would benefit me and my health first.  I will be doing this race for my friend first and then reap the benefits along the way because I won't let her down.  I will work on my pace and increase my strength to make sure I am a worthy partner to her in the race.  I am determined to do right by her.  My running coach lifted me up and shone her light in my direction just by sharing her observations and her wisdom.  Of course, there is the other part about learning to shine the light on myself and learning to put my needs ahead of things...but one thing at a time. 😏

Booker T. Washington once said, "If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else."  When I look back at how all of these events are interconnected, I see how we all are lifting ourselves up, but it all started by shining the light on someone else.  By deciding to train together for the Marine Corps Marathon and inviting our friends, we are now on a long road to health.  By deciding to accept the honor of supporting my friend at the NYC Marathon, the mental part of training, the part that has held me back for so long, has really kicked in.  By listening to my run coach and accepting the light she shines in my direction, I see where I am ready to support my friend. But also in the bigger picture, I see where it's ok to start taking care of myself.

Rihanna sings to Shine Bright Like a Diamond.  Take the advice.  You never know who might inspire you.  Or who you might inspire, yourself.