Running and the Art of Living

Posted on April 4, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

running art of living

I started running for weight loss. I continued running for stress relief and meditation. It made me feel alive. Now, I run for life. I’ve come to realize running is life. Everything about running can be said about life. Here’s some of what I’ve learned about life through running:

Forward movement: La Chica, who is 7 years old, loves to run with me. No, let me rephrase that. She loves the concept of running with me. During the actual running part of our runs, she complains and moans and whines and screams and spits and shoves. She never gives up, but she hates every painful moment. I remind her to just keep going. No matter what, just don’t stop (mainly because the car is parked by the finish line and I need to get her home eventually). You can run/jog/shuffle as slow as you want to, as slow as you need to, but whatever you do, just don’t stop. Keep going. Forward movement. One step in front of the other, and you’ll succeed. You may not know what the course looks like or where you’re going, but just keep going and in the end you’ll be right where you’re supposed to be, at the finish line. Or beer tent.

Each mile is different: A trainer told me once that each mile is different. Some are easier than others, some stronger than others, some more painful than others, some slower than others. No mile is the same. I used to be so black and white, all or nothing. I viewed races or runs either as I completed them, or I didn’t. I ran a good time, or I sucked. Was it good or bad? Since hearing this new perspective, I’ve paid attention and become more mindful in my runs, and sure enough, each mile is different. The first few almost always suck for me–it takes about 3 miles for my body and mind to work out the kinks and aches and really warm into my runs. If I quit before 3 miles due to aches, I would never feel the joy and exhilaration of mile 4, or 7, or 9. I wouldn’t see the heron by the lake or have the pleasure of being attacked by angry geese. Some moments in life are harder and more painful than others. But we need to keep moving forward through the difficulty and pain to get to the joy and wonder in life. Don’t generalize one bad mile into being a bad run. Don’t generalize one crisis or failure or hurt into a bad life. Not every mile is difficult, not every moment is hard. Each step adds up to a mile. One mile at a time. Each moment adds up to a day. One day at a time.

Just breathe: And the mindfulness leads me to breathing. When I’m in a really horrible mile, where I’m just feeling weak or tired, or everything aches, all I want to do is stop and go home. The beauty is I make sure I’ve run far away enough from home that this is not a possibility. This is why I don’t do treadmills well–because I am home so I do indeed stop. So when I absolutely hate the current moment while I’m running, I remind myself that each mile is different, and this too shall pass. And while I’m waiting for it to pass, I breathe. I focus on my breath and my form and my body cutting through the air and space. I breathe my way through the pain and difficulties. When a moment in life is hard or painful, I remember (most of the time), to breathe. And it passes. It may come back again, but I breathe through that too, remembering how happiness and peace and joy are interspersed through life as well. And I remind myself I am grateful to be alive and able to feel the pain, because I know that means I’ll be able to feel the joy that comes later too.

Buddy system: As you can see, running gives me the space to be very introspective. I need and love a lot of time to myself. Running used to be a solitary sport for me not only for thinking, but because I felt very inadequate about my running. I felt I wasn’t fast enough or good enough to run with someone. I felt great embarrassment about my lack of suave and graceful running form and speed. One day, a friend asked if I was interested in running a race with him. I had always refused to run races because in my black and white thinking, I thought races were about winning–why would you call it a race if it was just about participating and not about trying to beat everyone else to the finish line? Call it a playdate or festival or happy hour then, or something! But I agreed to do it with great trepidation and fear, and a promise of Bloody Mary’s post-race. And it turned out to be a lot of fun. I now have a trusted running partner that I really enjoy running races with. He is always supportive and kind and encouraging. I feel safe with him, I trust him. I know he won’t judge me, and he accepts my pace for what it is. Through running, I’ve learned to be vulnerable and to open space to trust someone. I’ve learned doing my best and having fun is what connects us as humans, and that’s the best swag in life.

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness, Running | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Fool Me Once…

Posted on April 1, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

April Fool's Day

What was the best prank you ever pulled off for April Fool’s Day? I got married. In Vegas. In a free standing chapel on the strip. You know, because I’m real classy like that. To be fair, it wasn’t a prank, and to be fair, I’m not really all that classy even though I can clean up fairly well.

Elvis wasn’t there–it wasn’t a prank, even though I think it may have been the same chapel Britney Spears got married in. We meant to get married. We had been dating for years, and engaged for a year as we planned a real wedding with favors and guests. This spontaneous decision just seemed like the thing to do at the time, and we did it. Let me tell you, my parents were not pleased. We hadn’t planned on eloping. In Vegas. On April Fool’s Day. But we did.

We used to say if we ever divorced, we’d just shout “Just kidding!” to the other about the marriage. Well, coupling and uncoupling isn’t as simple or lighthearted or fun as an April Fool’s prank. We took our vows seriously, we worked hard at raising our family. More than anything, I believed in the commitment I made not at the ceremony, but when we got engaged. I had said yes, I would build a life with you and your family. I took that very seriously, and I really believed everything would work out in the end even through the difficult times. I had doubts, I saw red flags, but I wrapped them up tightly with hope and the belief that love always prevails. That’s what fairy tales and movies and society taught us–that in the end, everything would be ok.

That message is the prank, I’ve come to learn. Believing in that message made me the April fool. Things don’t always work out in the end. There isn’t always a happily ever after. There was nothing funny about the slow descent into uncoupling. There was nothing lighthearted about realizing the world as you knew it no longer existed, that everything you believed about life isn’t actually so.

On April Fool’s Day, many of the pranks are of the harmless bait and switch variety–tricking someone into believing in something that it’s not, like cupcakes made to look like spaghetti and meatballs, or swapping out sugar for salt. We thought and hoped and wanted and meant for this to last forever, and it did not. I’ve been divorced now longer than I was married. Somehow that sounds strange to me. Not quite a bait and switch, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to happen that way traditionally.

“Just kidding,” we were to say to each other if things went south. Instead, I think the words were actually, “I just can’t do this anymore.” I can’t say I was just kidding about our marriage, or that I didn’t take our commitment seriously. A lot of things happened, a lot of things didn’t happen. The demise, like our relationship, had everything to do with both of us. But it was no joke.

Posted in Dating, Mindfulness, Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

When I Grow Up…

Posted on March 29, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

e.e. cummings

What do you want to be when you grow up?

We ask kids this all the time. We don’t ask: What are you good at? What do you enjoy? What speaks to you? What job do you want to do? What occupation might fulfill you or make you happy? What job do you think you would be good at? What do you want to be doing for the bulk of your days?

No, we don’t ask any of those questions, but we ask what do you want to be?

It’s no wonder so many people encounter some sort of identity crisis at some point in their lives. We’re setting people up at an early age by using the words, “What do you want to be?”–we’re tying a job, a set of duties, day-to-day activities, a paycheck, to who a person is. That’s powerful stuff.

And we tend to project characteristics of an occupation onto an individual–we assume priests are kind, good, trustworthy, and honest people. We assume pimps are generally not. We groom children for careers, and what those careers might say about you. Our careers become so much a part of who we are, what we identify with. One of the first questions commonly asked at parties is, “What do you do?” Doctors are smart, salespeople are personable, accountants are careful. There’s a lot of assumptions and judgments about your personality and lifestyle wrapped up in one word. The successes or failures of our careers and career choices oftentimes determine how people view us, and subsequently our own self-worth.

This becomes problematic when, as all things that go up always do–career trajectories must come down. Life never unfolds in a linear fashion. We have ups and downs. Life isn’t fair. We don’t all get promotions and bonuses for a job well done or for hard work. We don’t always get our just rewards. That really messes with our sense of self, and our sense of justice in the world. Depression sets in when you feel like you’re not providing for your family enough, or if you haven’t been promoted yet. You begin to question yourself.

Then there are times when we just don’t know what we want to do next in life. We may want to do so many things, both professionally and personally. Or we might not have any idea what we want to do at all. But through society’s message, we believe our career choices determine our self-worth and who we are. That’s a lot of pressure. One mistake, and well, I don’t even want to know. Anxiety paralyzes you, and then the depression sets in.

This is where we have it all wrong. You know I believe words have meaning, and we need to choose and use our words wisely. Let’s look at the definition of a career:
-a job or profession that someone does for a long time
Notice there’s nothing about a career being who you are. It doesn’t say anything about the character of your being, or your work ethic, or your interests, or your compassion, or your resiliency, or your humor.

Now what about this second definition?
-a profession for which one trains and which is undertaken as a permanent calling

Why don’t we train for jobs that resonate with us, that we enjoy, that we’re good at, that pays the bills, that allows you to feed all the different parts of who we are? And why don’t we think long and hard about who we want to be when we grow up? Why aren’t we asking our children these questions?

I used to say even in my 30s, and as I turned 40, that I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. But I do know. I want to be kind and compassionate and grateful when I grow up. I want to enjoy my life as I grow up. I want to make a difference in this world when I grow up.

I asked my kids what they want to do when they grow up. The Boy wants to be a horseback riding instructor, or an Olympic equestrian, or anything that remotely has anything to do with horses. He wants to enjoy his life with what resonates with him. La Chica wants to be a teacher–of ballet, or math, or Rainbow Looms, or any subject matter quite frankly. Or a babysitter or daycare provider. When asked why so many options, she says she just wants to take care of people, she just wants to love people.

Those are great career goals–what a permanent calling to have: to take care of people, to love people, to enjoy life. So long as they can pay their bills, I think being joyful and spreading love are the right goals in life. There’s no way you can have an identity crisis with that.

Posted in Meditation, Mindfulness, Parenting | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments

Dancing Queen

Posted on March 25, 2014 by bonnevivantelife
Dharma Comics

Dharma Comics

I’m gonna put my dancing shoes on. No, not the glittery stilletos when I go clubbing. I mean good old fashioned social dance. Ballroom dance. Salsa. Tango. Foxtrot. I’ve got a date with Mr. Arthur Murray!

Why? It’s my acupuncturist’s fault. She’s like my own personal Yoda with little tiny needles and amazing glass cups, but regular shaped ears and normal skin tone. She and I go about living our separate lives, doing our own separate things, and sometimes we intersect in moments of life (we’ll call them “appointments”) when she’ll work wonders on my back and knees and neck and qi. Every now and then, BAM, she randonly throws some wisdom at me that I just wasn’t expecting. It used to piss me off.

But we’ve started getting friendlier because she sees me mostly naked more than anyone else these days. We make small talk, and she told me about her ballroom dancing hobby. I shared that I took a Social Dance class in college and it did not go well. I said I was surprised it was so difficult.

She remarked, “It’s actually not hard. You do hard things. You’re impatient and don’t follow well. The problem is you don’t like to be led.”

And then she had the nerve to leave the room. So I’m alone in the room with only her words, a thin sheet, and a bunch of needles in my back. Damnit if she’s not right. How does she do this?

I have to admit to myself she’s right. I hated that dance class. I hated not being in control. I hated that I had to relinquish control to someone who was supposed to gently guide me. I was supposed to trust someone’s abilities and intentions. I was expected to just go with the flow as a stranger defined it. And in a class setting, your lead differs with each class. You meet new people all the time, and I was supposed to just trust them?

I decided I didn’t like this topic so being the mature adult I am, I chose to ignore her when she returned to the room. But in a subsequent appointment, like a moth drawn to a flame, I asked more about her dancing. She told me where she dances, and then turned it right back to me. She said, “You must learn to trust to let someone lead. Let him make mistakes. Wait for him to come back to you. It’s OK even when he makes mistakes. Follow him. He’ll come back.”

Ugh. So there you have it. My next adventure is social dancing. Why? Because I need to practice how to trust and follow and relinquish control. I used to trapeze to trust. But since I can’t do that any time soon, dancing it is. It’s gonna be ugly, in all sorts of ways. “You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life…”-Abba

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

This Much Is True

Posted on March 20, 2014 by bonnevivantelife
Dharma Comics

Dharma Comics

I hear The Boy, in a very sanctimonious tone, tell his sister, “You should have done it this way…” and I can hear him drone on in his self-righteousness; while simultaneously, a low-pitched whine emanates from his sister, and gets louder and shriller in a direct correlation as his “guidance” increases. Soon there’s a screaming match and they both come running to me to air their grievances and right their wrongs. He is Right. She is Right. So one of them must be Wrong, as they both don their capes of Indignation.

This happens so often that I literally can’t even remember the content of this particular argument. But I do know this: It’s better to be kind than right. And just because it’s true, doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.

I pull The Boy aside. I allow each child to be heard, but I know exactly what just transpired–I witnessed the entire thing. He maintains he was just trying to be helpful. He is rigid with his shoulds and rules and what’s right and proper with the world. He lives his life by the most efficient, most effective, most right way to live and act and breathe (I might have had something to do with this early on in his life. I’ve since reformed). He was just pointing out to his sister that she should have done things this way, for a better and proper outcome.

La Chica screeches that she wanted to do it her way, and it worked out in the end. She lives life by what feels right to her, what resonates. She assesses what each action and outcome is worth, and chooses what speaks to her current values at that moment. She just wants to be left alone and doesn’t want to be criticized.

I try to teach The Boy that yes, this time technically he is right. But it’s better to be kind than right. Her decisions on that issue don’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. He needs to pick his battles, and unless safety or something else wildly important is at stake, let her do things her own way. Be kind to her, please. There’s value in not uttering every thought out loud, even if you’re right. And there’s even greater value in being kind and gracious.

The Boy says, “I was just saying. I was just being honest. It’s the truth.” And this is where I have to point out that he’s learned this through generations of this dynamic in my Asian family. My parents are masters of this passive-aggressive criticism. “I’m not being mean, you have indeed gained weight. It’s a fact.” or “Your daughter’s not as cute as she gets older. I’m just saying.”

People these days revel in what they proudly declare to be “brutal honesty,” when Brene Brown, PhD, rightly points out this is merely “brutal bullshit.” This goes back to what we were taught as kids–if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all. Really, what’s the advantage in pointing out “a truth” if it potentially makes someone feel bad, or if it really doesn’t make a difference in the end, or if it’s just not kind?

As I was writing this, a newsletter from Still Water Mindfulness Practice Center pops in my Inbox. And as life so oftentimes comes full circle at just the right time, I read this passage from a Dharma talk by Thay Phap An, a senior monk in the Plum Village tradition:

Thay said, “What you spoke was not the truth. Truth is something that has the capacity to reconcile, to give people hope, to give people happiness. That is truth! When you speak and it causes damage, even though it may be correct, it is not truth.”

The truth should bring us together. Not separate us. Ain’t that the truth?

dharma comics

Dharma Comics

Posted in Meditation, Mindfulness, Parenting | Tagged , , | 15 Comments

Don’t Call Her Helen

Posted on March 18, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

TD9-6059-2T

My daughter told me people in school, students and teachers alike, call her Helen. Which would be fine, except for the fact that her name is not Helen. La Chica’s name is actually four syllables and doesn’t start with an H. So I asked her why they call her Helen.

“Because we look the same, “ she replied. You see, Helen is also an Asian girl in her grade. My heart tugged. That refrain has followed me like a shadow throughout my entire life–it became a part of who I was, and I couldn’t escape it or outrun it. I thought my daughter’s generation was more diverse and open-minded–our county’s school district can now boast that minorities are the majority in regards to the student body. I thought this might make a difference in allowing others to see her as an individual and not as a category.

My entire life, people confused me with every other Asian remotely enrolled in the same school or employed in the same agency regardless of our skin tones, length and style of hair, facial features, height, weight, or other physical attributes. It irked me to no end, and when I would point out that the other woman doesn’t even wear glasses, or that I had a straight bob hairstyle and she had long, curly hair, or that I wasn’t even Korean, the response would inevitably be, “Oh, but you two do look the same.” Um, OK. I cannot take that conversation any further other than accepting the fact that no one can see me.

What really bothers me about the situation with La Chica is that she has begun to internalize these external messages already–when she says “Because we look the same,” she can already feel what they mean. For her to say that, she’s beginning to believe that they do indeed look the same. I don’t want her to incorporate the world’s invalidation of her individualism so I ask her what she thinks about this.

She says, “But we actually don’t look the same. Her hair is straight and not as long, and always in a braid. We’re not the same height. And we like different things.”

“We like different things.” Thank God. She gets it. She gets that the crux of the issue is that people can’t see her. She knows she’s more than her outsides and the external evidence of her race, and she knows it’s important for the world to validate who she is as a whole person.

I ask her what she does when people call her Helen. She simply responds, “I’m not Helen.” Then she asked me what she is, and what I am. “What?!” I ask.

Oh wait. I know where this is going. This too is another shadow that has followed me through life. Apparently, a teacher recently tapped her on the shoulder and asked her, “What are you?” and she rightly did not know how to answer the question.

When she said “I don’t understand what you mean,” the teacher then asked, “I mean, what is your mother?”

La Chica rocks–she looked blankly at the teacher and walked away. She literally could not comprehend how that question could begin to allow anyone to see who she is, or who I am, or who Helen is, as whole and complex individuals. These are not just rude or insensitive social mis-steps. These are instances of invalidating and not seeing a human being in front of you. I hope La Chica continues to feel this dissonance when confronted by this (which sadly it looks like she will continue to encounter), because we are not Helen.

I used to say I could get away with joking that “We all look the same,” but I see now I can’t, and shouldn’t. By doing so, I give tacit permission that this concept of not validating a person is acceptable, that it can even be funny. It’s not. I’m betting Helen doesn’t think it’s funny, because I’m pretty sure not everyone is calling Helen by her name either.

Posted in Empowerment, Parenting | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

10 Miles of Grey

Posted on March 15, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

2014-03-14_16.38.42

Timing is everything. And in the end, it’s nothing. In this case, timing was perfect when yesterday, a friend read my last blog post on my ambivalence (the absolute Blacks and Whites, and the nebulous Greys) with my upcoming races, and he suggested I choose the ones that resonate with me. He also shared that he no longer times his runs. Then I read a post on Facebook from a trainer: “Use your technique as a guide for when to pull back on the pace. Technique Trumps Tempo every time.”

I let all that sit in my head for a bit. And I prepared for my run this morning. I took ibuprofin, because I’ve come to realize my headaches come back with a vengeance when I run, and that just slows me down, shortens my runs, and makes me both miserable and vomit. I meditated a bit, put on my Garmin, and I ran. It was supposed to be a short run, 3 miles. But for the first time in a really long time, I felt great, so I kept going. I decided I would keep going until it no longer resonated with me. On the third mile, random thoughts started flowing freely again, like they used to. And what my friend and the trainer said started bouncing around in my head. I didn’t look at my watch. At all.

And I kept repeating in my head what I thought the trainer said. In typical Me fashion, I thought he said “Form dictates pace.” Cut me some slack, that’s essentially what he said. So I paid mindful attention to my form, and adjusted my pace the entire run as such. I never looked at my watch to check my pace at any point. And being mindful of my form really allowed me to be present in the moment throughout the entire run. This (and the ibuprofin), made all the difference. I felt great physically and mentally. It was such a peaceful, relaxing, energizing run. I had obsessed too much with worrying about my time–I feared potentially being yanked into the short bus by race organizers as the course closed around me. Ironically, I ended up with a perfectly respectable time (for me at this point with my health issues) by not keeping tabs on my pace and letting form dictate my pace. This was also the first time my back hasn’t ached after a long run.

The perk of being so slow is that I have hours to think while running. I realized “Form dictates pace” should apply to everything in life too. Good form in life–you can think posture, body language, etc. But also, paying mindful attention, patience, grace, kindness, compassion. If you have good form in this way, and allow those techniques to dictate pace, life is a bit slower and not as hurried. And the results are also more peaceful and relaxing. Think about when we rush our kids out the door so we’re not late–when we focus on the pace: “Hurry, we’re late!” we screech. They balk. And it all goes to hell. But when we’re mindful and kind and patient, everyone eventually gets out the door, and you do end up where you need to be.

From a larger life perspective, form dictates pace as well. It does take time and energy and mindfulness to be gracious and patient and kind. That changes the pace of your everyday living, your energy, your life, and the lives around you. It slows you down, and this can lead to priorities shifting. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Having such a successful run today had me thinking I could do all the races. And I realized by trying to decide which Grey to pick, I had turned each of those into a Black or White. When I just want to run all three races, and see which shade of Grey I end up with. I might not finish any, I might finish some, I might finish all. But I want to try. Because in the end, timing means nothing. Because running in itself resonates with me. Screw the pace and sag wagon. I need to focus on my running form and my patience and mindfulness form. And the Greys will shake out as they will.

Posted in Health Issues, Meditation, Mindfulness, Running | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Fifty Shades of Truth

Posted on March 13, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

50 shades of grey gray

I’ve heard there’s 50 shades of Grey. But someone once pointed out to me there are actually over 260-something shades of Grey. That’s a lot of space between Black and White. I used to love living in Black and White. I thought life was so much simpler and easier then. Plus Black is my favorite color and it’s slimming.

Understanding that there are so many variations of Truth between Black and White really made me mad. It made life so much more complicated and harder, I thought; until I stopped trying to force a Grey to be Black or White, something it’s not.

I loved the certainty of Black or White. It is or it isn’t. Right or Wrong. Yes or No. Left or Right. It’s easy to categorize people and and issues and decisions this way. Put it in its proper column, and walk away. Of course, Life had been preparing me all along to see Grey, but for most of my life, I refused to acknowledge there was anything other than Black or White. Because there is no certainty in Grey. Running was the pivotal impetus to my letting go of certainty. I used to truly believe I physically did not have the capacity to run a mile. Black or White: I certainly couldn’t do it. So I didn’t. Until I was in my 30s. I finally ran a mile, without stopping–and no one was chasing me with a gun. I hated it, it hurt, and I was slow. But I did it, and I couldn’t believe it. I realized then that I could do anything, I just had to believe it. It was so empowering. Through the years, I worked my way up to running 13.5 miles. At one point I thought I couldn’t do it. Now I know I can. 2 miles, 4 miles, 6 miles, 9 miles, 11 miles, 13 miles–a spectrum of all different shades of Grey.

I’m having trouble with the Grey right now. I’m accepting my body is different now after injuries, age and over-use. I’m struggling with deciding which shade of Grey I ought to choose now. I need to make some decisions in the next month. The Black option is not running any half-marathon race. The White option is running three within 15 days. The Greys range from registering for all three and definitely doing one, playing the other two by ear depending on how my body is feeling; or registering for all three and definitely doing two while seeing how the third goes; or registering only for two and calling it a day; or only registering for and completing one and calling it another day; or playing them all by ear and hope registration doesn’t close before I decide; and then there are all the different Greys on how to train: frequency, intensity, mileage…

There are so many scenarios of how this could play out, I realized there really are hundreds of shades of Grey, and none of them are right. They are all still Grey. I’m struggling though with balancing the hard-earned belief of being capable of doing anything, and realistically bumping into a wall of Grey.

I used to seek clarity in life, search for an understanding. I intellectualized everything, I lived inside my head, where Black and White thrived. Where there’s clarity, there’s certainty. Now I pray for, and breathe in, peace and acceptance with everything and everyone in my life. Because Grey is opaque, and stare as you might at any shade of Grey, there is no clarity there. There’s just Grey: foggy, misty, nebulous.

So I’m not pressed to make a decision just yet. I’m waiting to see how things unfold, and how I feel–my knees, my back, my head, my heart. I trust that everything will play out as they will. In my races and in my life. I know I will make my decisions when it’s time, when the fog lifts just enough and a particular shade of Grey resonates. I hope it’s a slimming shade.

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness, Running | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Just Say No

Posted on March 10, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

Just Say No Nancy Reagan

La Chica: If someone asks me to marry him, and I don’t want to, how do I say no nicely without being rude?
Me: How about “No thank you?”
La Chica: Why didn’t you say that?

Indeed, why didn’t I? I was going to answer that had I said no, she and her brother would not exist. So I’m glad I didn’t say “No thank you.” But she didn’t ask if I was glad or felt regret. She asked why I didn’t say No.

I didn’t say No for the same reasons so many of us take on volunteer work we really don’t have time for, or attend parties with people we’re not really fond of. There are societal pressures. We don’t always know how to say no. We’re afraid to say no. It makes us feel uncomfortable. So many of us say, “Oh it doesn’t matter to me–whatever you want is fine with me,” when in fact, that’s not always entirely accurate. We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so how do we honor our boundaries and needs and desires, with someone else’s?

“No thank you.” These words can be very difficult or uncomfortable to say. We fear rejecting someone and making them feel bad. If the other person feels bad, we’re afraid that means we’re a mean person. So we feel obligated to overextend ourselves. I’ve certainly volunteered more time than God gave in a day and stayed up many a late night making ridiculous cakes and cupcakes and goody bags. I’ve stayed in relationships well past their expiration dates because I just didn’t know how to end things. And honestly, it seemed easier to stay in them than to be really uncomfortable and say a difficult thing. Yes, I am that person.

No, I was that person. I’ve since learned to sit in uncomfortable feelings and breathe through the knowledge that maintaining my boundaries may hurt someone. But I take great care to be kind and gracious and respectful and honest in ensuring my needs are met. That is the best I can do. Is it still uncomfortable? Well, it’s not my favorite thing to do. But it gets easier each time I assert myself and my needs, and I feel immensely better without the cloak of guilt that always used to envelope me after I would say Yes to take on more work or activities or continue in a relationship, friendship or otherwise.

We have to learn to distinguish the difference between making someone feel bad because we were mean or selfish or disrespectful, versus respectfully maintaining boundaries. The latter may involve some feelings of hurt or disappointment on the other person’s part, but it’s not your responsibility to take that on. Unless you choose to. And then we need to practice, practice, practice, saying “No thank you.”

As an aside, I then asked La Chica if she wanted to ever get married, and she said No. I asked her why not, and she said because she didn’t want children. I replied matter-of-factly, “Oh, you don’t need to get married to have children.”

To which she asked, “Then how are babies made?”

To which I quickly shouted, “Want ice cream??”

To which she said, “Yes, thank you!”

Phew! Close one…

Posted in Dating, Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness, Parenting, Relationships | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

When Was the Last Time?

Posted on March 6, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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They grow up so quickly, everyone reminds me. Time flies faster as we get older, they tell me. Cherish every moment, people implore me. What no one told me was how funny it is that there are certain things I will remember forever, and other things I will never recall, because it’s impossible to cherish and remember every single moment. Truth be told, there were many moments I don’t want to cherish, or remember–many of them involving sleepless nights or cleaning up some form of body fluid or me losing my shit in a less than gracious form.

But I do remember how warm it was that late November day we brought him home. It felt downright balmy on that sunny day as I carried the car seat awkwardly and gently into the house. I do remember the first time I dropped him off at daycare and I sobbed and sobbed until I picked him up at the end of the work day. I do remember his first steps, and that I gently pushed him over because I knew my life would only get more difficult if he was mobile. I do remember his two surgeries in his young life, and how I simultaneously cried and held my breath for the duration of each. I do remember his first day of kindergarten, and I managed not to cry.

I don’t remember the last time I picked him up and held him. I don’t remember the last time I “nibbled” his toes. I don’t remember the last book I read to him on my lap. I don’t remember the last time he held my hand crossing the street. I don’t remember the last time he crawled into my bed in the middle of the night scared of a nightmare or thunderstorm.  I don’t remember the last time he believed my kisses could heal a boo-boo. (Now, he believes Band-Aids will heal everything)

I didn’t know then it would be the last time. Until time had passed, and I realized he would no longer fit on my lap, and that he hadn’t cuddled on my lap in a very long time. It wasn’t until he stepped on a scale and clocked in at over 100 lbs. that I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I picked him up and carried him. Realizing that I didn’t know then when each of those were the Last Times reminds me to cherish Each Time now. I won’t know until it’s too late that it will be the Last Time as he grows up and away from me . Sadly, his younger sister is the recipient of this realization, as I cuddle and snuggle her every chance I get. When I’m holding her, I look at him wistfully, wishing for wasted moments past. I’d like to think I maximized my cuddle time with him, and I know he didn’t lack for loving touches and hugs and kisses. But I know I spent too many moments distracted or too busy cleaning the house or making organic baby food from scratch or well, I don’t even remember what some of those distractions are anymore. Irony can be so cruel.

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