A Wonder of a Woman

Posted on February 9, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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I have to tell you, I’m still sort of on a high the day after our first gig. I know, you’re thinking I’m a bit intense if I’m still so worked up over a half hour set the night before. Let me explain.

I’ve never been on stage like that before. Well, that’s not entirely true. In college I was a “runway model” for the fashion design majors for three years. But I sucked at that because I was the largest of all the models (sadly a size 4, and still the largest) and because I was a nervous wreck. I may have sprinted down the catwalk. I also had the distinction of being in the lingerie segment once. In a full-on clown suit. Complete with red fuzzy slippers. I kid you not. Needless to say, I have never been a fan of being on stage.

Our guitarist warned me that the time onstage will fly by. Boy did it ever. I was very nervous for the first song. Mostly because for some reason I hate that song. I can never get it right. I was a little fast for the first verse, but I mostly got through it with one minor mistake. Everyone in the audience agreed that midway through the second song, all of us onstage had relaxed into the moment.

Can I tell you how magical and cool it is to make music with other people? I felt the music. It is an experience like no other. It was so different than in band practice. The adrenaline amplifies everything. There’s something so intense about playing on stage. I’m so grateful to have shared this experience with the kindest bandmates who also happen to be uber-talented, and lots of fun.

Then, the fourth song. Oh the fourth song. It was so hard to learn. I even had a drum solo in it. I loved playing that song once I learned it. There’s a lot of counting in that song. And apparently counting is important in drumming. So sometimes I’ll lose count, or suddenly think about something to add to my grocery list. And then it all goes to hell. I was so nervous last night I lost count. Oopsie. But you know what? It didn’t all go to hell.

Instead, suddenly, all was right with the world. I eased into a calmness and peace, and really went with having fun. Once I got the major fuck-up out of the way, I was all good. So one reason why I’m still basking in the afterglow of my first gig is because I did something really hard and scary, and it was magic. Wonder-full magic.

The other reason is because of all the support that showed up for me. Most of my good friends and their families came to see me play and support me. They of course offered kind and supportive words, but it was their mere presence that made such a difference for me. They witnessed such a proud and pivotal moment in my life. It wasn’t just drumming that they bore witness to. But that I put myself out there in ways that were risky and hard for me. I am so grateful and thankful for such amazing people in my life.

Last night I loved every moment before the show, during the show, and after the show. I loved that I have made such a great life. A life doing things I love. Being with trusted friends I love. So I suppose my afterglow today is also a reflection and appreciation of the wonder and magic and awe of life and love.

After the show, La Chica presented me with a “surprise goody bag” that held a fun pen, a cute bracelet, and a “Lego Super Hero” keychain of Wonder Woman. She understands things in ways that she doesn’t even quite understand yet. I’m not Wonder Woman in the Super-Hero-fighting-villains-way. But I’m more like the Woman who appreciates the Wonder life has to offer. Be your own Super Hero, I say.  What would your superpower be?

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Keep Calm and Rock On

Posted on February 7, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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“Are you nervous, Mama?” La Chica asked me about my gig tomorrow.

See, I picked up the drums in late spring of last year. I’ve wanted to play since I was a little kid. I joined a rock band 14 weeks ago. Our first gig is tomorrow.

“Yes, yes I am very nervous,” I replied. “Were you nervous or scared when you had your first school orchestra performance on stage?”

“No. I wasn’t nervous or scared. I was excited. Because I couldn’t really see anyone in the audience. But I wasn’t looking at them while I played. I was concentrating hard on what I was playing. I was so excited to finally get on stage and show everyone what I learned and practiced so hard for,” she said.

“Were you afraid you were going to mess up?” I asked.

“No. If I messed up I bet no one would even notice.” she said.

So I have told all of my friends to come see me tomorrow because I figured it would keep me honest if I told enough people; this way I couldn’t back out or do this half-assed. The problem however, is that I have a horrible case of stage fright. I hate being the center of attention. I literally sweat bullets and choke. Which then makes me more anxious. In fact, even during band practice I get nervous and mess up despite being able to play just fine at home alone.

Everyone’s told me there’s a 100% chance of messing up tomorrow. That it’s part of the deal. That I just need to keep playing and have fun. I understand, and I fully intend on having fun. Because even with my nerves, it’s not about tomorrow.

Even though I want to do well tomorrow, and I’ve worked my ass off for this, it doesn’t really matter to me how tomorrow goes. For me, it’s about the process of the past 14 weeks. It’s about the decision to join this band despite my fears and inexperience. It’s about the growth and hard work I’ve thrown into this every day for 14 weeks. It’s about the growth I’ve experienced both as a person and a musician. It’s about doing hard things. It’s about being scared and brave at the same time. It’s about not giving up. It’s about having fun. And I’ve had so much fun already.

I have discovered there is something so sublime about playing with other people. I’ve discovered my children have noticed I practice for hours, and that they realize practice makes better. I’ve discovered there’s something quite satisfying in doing hard things. I’ve discovered that at 41, I can still be pretty cool. I have remembered that at my ripe old age, nothing I do on stage tomorrow will ever compare to my foolish antics of my youth so I’m already a winner.

So tomorrow won’t be a debut as much as a celebration of doing hard things that scare me. Rock on, my friends! “It’s only rock ‘n roll, but I like it.”-Rolling Stones

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An Open Letter (and a Cake) to Friendship

Posted on February 3, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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Tonight was an annual cake auction our Cub Scout Pack holds to benefit Friends of Scouting. I was reluctant to join cub scouts five years ago for various reasons, none of which matter now. Tonight was the last year we’ll participate in paying too much money for cakes made or bought with love. I pride myself in contributing two cakes every year to this cause. It benefits the Friends of Scouting, and to be modest, I make damned fine cakes that bring in hundreds of dollars.

Tonight was the last night we will spend eyeing each other across the room, strategically driving up the bids higher and higher to benefit a good cause. These Cake Conspiracies are not about eating delicious confections. They’re about giving our thanks back to something we’ve all found invaluable in our lives and our families’ lives.

This cause is near and dear to our Pack Leader’s heart. His family generously give their time and money and devotion to scouts, and we gladly stand behind what’s important to them. I understand why Friends of Scouting is so important to them.

Because our affiliation with scouts has certainly changed my life, my son’s life, my family’s life. It has been through these years and activities that we’ve come to find some of our closest friends. These are loyal friends who will be at your doorstep within minutes if needed. These are friends who are part of the Village that it takes to raise our children. These are friends who I trust my children with. These are friends I trust my heart with. These are friends I trust my secrets with. These are friends who do not mind when I end a sentence or three with a preposition.

Scouting has also taught my son things I never could have taught him. Things I’d never have thought to teach him. He’s learned to tie knots, fire a BB gun, shoot an arrow, start a fire, read a compass. He’s learned how to plant trees, to pitch a tent, and to cook a meal on an open fire.  He’s learned why it’s important to give back to the community and how to leave this world a better place. He’s learned how to articulate clearly and how to talk to adults. He’s learned how to use power tools safely and how to build tiny weapons of mass destruction (trebuchets). He’s learned how to make a kite, model rockets and friends.

He’s learned to never leave your buddy behind. He’s learned it takes teamwork and cooperation and compromises to make a pack go. He’s learned it’s better to go without if it makes a friend happy. He’s learned we’re all in this together, and your tribe is as strong as your weakest link. He’s learned how to help strengthen the weakest link, especially when it’s him. He’s learned what it feels like to believe in something. He’s learned kindness and helping others are two of the most important tenets in life.

Scouts has not only provided us with these lessons and opportunities to enrich our lives and world, but it’s also provided my son several strong, smart, positive male role models. Scouts has provided us with families we trust and love and respect. Scouts has provided moms who are more patient than I am. Scouts has provided lots of siblings to whisper and giggle with. For all this, I cannot be more thankful.

So my Friends IN Scouting, I say thank you, and I love you. I’m so grateful for your love, support, positive role modeling. Thank you for enriching my life and my children’s lives in ways that we will always carry with us. Thank you for helping to shape my son into the young man I am so proud of. Thank you for helping to shape the person I am today, who I’m also proud of. I’m honored to have walked through these years with you, as we’ve made a difference in this world food-drive by food-drive.

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Family Secrets

Posted on January 26, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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A friend asked me what my parents’ reaction was after I told them I was published in the Huffington Post. I crinkled my eyebrows and said of course I hadn’t told them. I haven’t told them for a lot of reasons. Some of which are that they wouldn’t realize what a big deal it was for me, how proud I was, what an accomplishment it was for me. How this validated my suspicion of talent all these years. How this satisfied an itch, a longing, I’d had since I was a child. They simply wouldn’t understand, because they still view me as the child who never met their expectations. I’m an enigma they just can’t understand. I’ve come to peace with that. They’ve tried as best they know how.

The other reason I haven’t told them though, is that they would be absolutely horrified. My best writing comes when I’m the most vulnerable. When I share my insecurities and fears and mistakes and poor judgment and losses. I have found through this journey of writing, that I am most beautiful in my weakest moments. Which ironically is where I find my strength. It is when I embrace and share my pain and my truth that the beauty arises.

In my family, and in my culture, quiet, dignified stoicism is valued. Anything less than perfect was to be hidden. Not even acknowledged. It was shameful. I grew up with a lot of secrets. Questions were not to be asked. Details of anyone or anything or everything were never to be shared. Disappointments hung heavily in the air. So I stuffed it all down and chased it down with a couple shots of Shame.

It took years for me to be able to utter these sins— imperfections and mistakes and wrongdoings of my family members and myself–in the secrecy of therapy. I’d always found solace in writing, in journaling. But saying these things out loud…well, it was blasphemy. It took many  more years to say them out loud to others, and own them as part of my history, my truth, my self.

I have worked hard at recovering from perfectionism. I’ve worked hard at accepting and embracing my flaws and mistakes. I’ve worked hard at not personalizing other people’s issues and thoughts and judgments. I’ve worked hard at forgiving and being love. I’ve worked hard at putting down the facade of who I wanted the world to think I was, and instead be who I really am. I’ve worked hard at doing these hard things.

And I know you’ve done hard things too. Which is why I share in my struggles and triumphs and frustrations. I don’t share to dishonor my family. We all share common moments of everything falling apart around us, of almost drowning in despair, of feeling Not Enough in some way, of feeling like I was the only one that… My family does too–fall apart, despair, feel inadequate. They just don’t talk about it. My Shame hangover was hurting too much for me, so I stopped. And started writing. Out loud.

My family would be horrified that I was airing dirty family laundry out in public. They would not approve. This would be the ultimate failure of me in their eyes. And yet this is one of my crowning moments of pride. And this is when I am reminded that we love each other the best we can. And we need not like everything about someone to love them. So I am ok with not sharing this success with them, ironically keeping my own secret. And trust me, they’re more than ok with not knowing. And we end each day knowing we love each other the best way we know how. That is not a secret.

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Hard to Find Good Help

Posted on January 19, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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Martin Luther King, Jr. Day has become a day of service. Choosing specific days of service is a wonderful thing–soup kitchens on Thanksgiving, donating to Toys for Tots during the holidays, volunteering on MLK, Jr. Day, etc. I also value incorporating kind deeds of service throughout the days of our lives. I try to support the concept that one of our purposes in life is that we are to be of service to others. As we consider how we can be of service, I’m reminded of what happened over this past summer.

The kids were looking through the local newspaper and came across the section listing volunteer opportunities. We had talked previously about finding ways to engage in activities that interested them as well as helped others. The Boy saw that a local nursing home was looking for students to come play an instrument and care for the garden. He was excited to do both. I was excited because this would be an opportunity for him to learn how to have conversations with adults, learn about other people’s lives, and interact in environments he was not used to. Also, if he could pick up any gardening tips, I’d have been so grateful. Win-win-win, I say.

So I call the volunteer coordinator, and we had a chat. She was surprised to hear my son was ten years old, and that he wanted to volunteer. We talked at length and she decided he was too young to pull weeds in the garden, but he could water the indoor plants. She decided he wasn’t proficient enough on his violin, so he could just chat with their clients instead. Then she asked if he could come every week on Friday afternoons from 3:30-4:30. I said we would not be able to reliably make every week, and perhaps once or twice a month would be a good start. I reminded her that The Boy is only ten. And he has other activities and homework. And that I work. Every day. And I have another child. Every day. And that such a rigid schedule for chatting and watering houseplants seemed a bit incongruent.

Then I find out what her hesitance is really about. She explained that high school students are required to complete a certain number of volunteer hours to graduate. And that if The Boy took one of those slots, someone who really needed them would not get those hours.

So here we are. Where children are mandated to volunteer. Mandated to help others. Really? What kind of world do we live in when we have to coerce people to help others? Isn’t that sort of the antithesis of the concept of volunteering?

And so here we are. Here’s a kid who wants to help out in whatever small way he can, and when he’s reached out to offer, she says no. It wasn’t what she’s looking for. He didn’t fit the bill. She couldn’t be flexible and problem solve–problem solve this problem of overabundance, by the way. The Boy couldn’t understand. He just wanted to be helpful and friendly. I had told her we’d gladly go through all background checks and health screenings and anything else.

They weren’t interested. I don’t want to hear it when people complain it’s hard to find good help. They don’t know good help when they see it. Help arrives in all different sizes and shapes and forms. Since this currently is not the world I want my children to both live in and lead in, we’ll continue to take our different shaped and sized help to whoever can recognize it. And I’m always grateful for any gardening tips. Really. All I can grow are weeds.

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When Was the Last Time?

Posted on January 13, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

Published today on Huffington Post–my 3rd HuffPo Post! Here it is again in case you missed it when it ran earlier. Feel free to follow me at HuffPo as well! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/susanna-sung/

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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…

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On Loss and Grief

Posted on January 8, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

Friends, one of my favorite essays ran in the Huffington Post earlier this week. I’m reblogging it for you now in case you missed it the first time around.

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Grief, my new constant companion, has moved in. I thought I’d take a good look at him since we’re spending so much time together now. And I’ve realized a few things. Grief is not sadness. I get sad when I break a nail, or when the shoe I want is not available in my size. I get sad when someone calls my son a wimp. But this feels different. Grief is so much more complex.

When we lose someone, there’s a sudden, jarring, almost violent realization that life is very different. At 11:00, you’re minding your own business. At 11:01, you blink, and all of a sudden, every thing and every moment is different. Am I sounding dramatic? Perhaps, but I think I’m right.

When you lose someone, you suddenly realize how this person bookended your days–you wake to him with a Good Morning, and you close your eyes and…

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Recipe for Resilience

Posted on January 7, 2015 by bonnevivantelife

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La Chica, age 8, wanted to make pancakes from her special princess recipe book. Yes, Hell has a bookstore section, and Satan sells this cookbook. Unfortunately for me, she was already feeling a bit verklempt that morning by the time she decided to make breakfast.  Her low frustration tolerance had already maxed out. And this is how it all went down:

La Chica: <cue whiney voice> Help me! I need help! I can’t do this!
Me: What do you need help with?
La Chica: <cue whiney voice> Everything! (insert grunt here)
Me: Be specific please. Use your words. What exactly do you need help with? Gathering the ingredients? Mixing? Cooking the pancakes? Using a normal voice?
La Chica: I SAID EVERYTHING!

So fortunately that morning I had not yet used up my reserve of patience and tolerance. I could see she was decompensating, and quickly. She so desperately wanted to make these pancakes herself. She takes great pride in this feat, as she is widely known for her pancakes throughout the cul-de-sac. I wanted to help her succeed. So it took an excruciatingly long time, but we finally got to the point of her using her words to precisely indicate what she needed help with.

Then it took more time to remind her she has been able to complete each of these tasks herself before. I reminded her if she would breathe and calm down, I was sure she could do it again today. I reminded her she can live through her frustration. I reminded her she’s not nearly as helpless as she portrays. I reminded her she has the internal resources and words and ability and knowledge to figure this out.

For Cinderella’s sake, it took forever for those pancakes to come out. Thank God I snacked on grapes behind her back. And possibly a bagel. But breakfast wasn’t the real issue. What she really wanted help with was her own ambivalence with her role in this world. She wanted to be validated and liked, while owning her place in this world. And she doesn’t know how to do both simultaneously. I empathize with her. I still struggle with that some days.

Here’s the deal with her. She wants to please. Don’t we all? She also wants people to save her, to view her positively enough to help her. Don’t we all? She has some executive functioning issues, and it’s difficult for her to not only grasp certain ideas, but to express her ideas as well. She is a fan of positive regard. Aren’t we all? People rush to her aid. Her brother, her father, her friends, her teachers. Everyone thinks she’s so sweet. And she is, don’t get me wrong. But she’s also creating a role in her life where she relies on people to save her. She’s creating her own learned helplessness.

I am trying to teach her to be grateful for people’s aid, but not to rely on it. I am trying to teach her resilience and perseverance. I am trying to teach her there’s pride in her efforts. I am trying to teach her to respect herself enough to stand on her own and make her own mistakes and critically think her way out of situations.

She truly is so proud of herself when she completes tasks by herself. She can be fiercely stubborn and independent. Yet it’s hard for her to fail. So oftentimes she takes the easy route to receiving positive regard.

I’m trying to teach her this ambivalence is a lifetime struggle, and at each point in our lives, we must do these hard things–living in the ambivalence and uncertainties and failures of life. It’s easy to take the hard line and be fiercely independent, like I used to be. I took pride in doing everything myself, being an over-achiever, never asking for help. It’s also easy to rely on everyone to help you, like my mother. Then you abdicate any responsibility in your life and easily fall into a victim role.

The hard work is in the balance. There’s a sweet spot of being afraid of failure, but not to the point of shutting down in stoicism. Instead, it’s opening yourself enough to be vulnerable to ask for help. This is the authentic seeking of assistance. It’s working hard at doing and learning and trying. Of being scared and brave to take a risk. To risk trying something new. To risk asking for help. To risk writing your own role in this one life of yours.

I’m trying to teach La Chica that other’s opinions do not define a person. That failures do not define a person. She has difficulty with word-finding on a good day. I’m trying to teach her to use her words to write her own story and define her role in her life story. Which is mostly why I loathe the obsession with princesses. Why strive to be the #2 lady of the land  waiting for a prince to save you when you can be the Queen and call the shots? Let them eat cake, I say. Pancakes, that is.

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I Hereby Resolve: No More New Year’s Resolutions!

Posted on December 31, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

 

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Have you created your list of New Year’s resolutions yet? I haven’t, and I won’t. I’ve never been one to wait once a year to decide to change something. Throughout the year, I decide to change my behaviors or life situation when I feel the time is right. I feel like waiting for January 1 is a bit manufactured, and not very authentic. I may be a bit opinionated.

But for me, I like the process of things. I like the rituals and traditions of things. So a few years ago, I created new daily rituals for my family. When the children and I sit down for dinner, instead of simply saying grace, we each reflect on our days with specific reflections.

We each identify:
-One thing we’re grateful for that day
-One thing we’ve failed at that day
-One kind deed of that day
-How we’re feeling
-The best part of the day
-The worst part of the day

Why am I such a task-master and force my poor children to delay satisfying their hunger? Because I think these reflections remind us of several things. It’s important to remember there’s something to be grateful for in every situation. I don’t want my kids to forget this, or to take things for granted. I’d like to hope I’m helping them with this practice of gratitudes and mindfulness.

I think it’s important to also note what our failures are. This reminder forces us to remember what we didn’t do well, and the discussion turns into how we can improve in the future. I find value in processing what didn’t go as planned or intended, or what we just simply decided not to put our best effort into. I find value in identifying our weaknesses or flaws or mistakes. Not to ruminate on them, but to really examine them and decide what we’re going to do with them–accept them or improve them, and how.

A core value in my life is kindness. I believe firmly that we can’t have too much kindness in this world, and that in fact, we don’t have enough of it. I believe we are each responsible for adding to this kindness deficit. I believe no act of kindness can be too small, or too large. This daily reminder is self-explanatory. And if the kids cannot identify an act of kindness by dinnertime, there’s still time to work on that.

Feelings. I also firmly believe we need to be able to identify our feelings, and use our words to cope with them. Feeling angry is different than disappointed. Feeling anxious is different than feeling scared. How we cope with each of those is very different, so it’s important to really know our feelings. I also like this one because our feelings change throughout the day. My kids need to learn that nothing lasts forever–good or bad. If they had a craptastic day, they can still feel very happy at dinnertime. If they had a great day, it can all go to hell in a heartbeat. There’s value in accepting things wax and wane, there’s value in learning how to be flexible, there’s value in accepting things.

I think reflecting on your day to determine what the best part and worst part of the day helps not only start conversations to share our days, but it promotes mindfulness and gratitude and perspective. Identifying the worst part of the day alongside the best helps to combat catastrophizing or generalizing into a negative world view. Perspective is everything. It’s important to remember each day contains both wonderful and horrible things.

I find these mindful reflections help with the overall and lifelong process of improvement. Reciting daily gratitudes teaches us how to be mindful of gratitudes in every moment big and small. Identifying our failures reminds us of our messy selves and who we want to be, and how to be that person. Remembering our acts of kindness every day reminds us simply to be kind. Recognizing our feelings keeps us in touch with ourselves. Perspective and remembering the good and bad in life helps us stay grounded.

This is our grace as we thank the world and count our blessings. These are our rituals. Our traditions. These help center us. Grounds us. Keeps us in the moment. I’ve found these reflections are in fact like resolutions, but they’re daily and necessary so that we can consider a different tomorrow. It is in these daily moments and reflections that we forge our lives, and the direction of where we go.

I’m learning to act like the person I want to be. I’d like to think these daily reflections and rituals help us to get to who we want to be. Who needs once-a-year new year’s resolutions when we have an opportunity every day to reflect and be who we want to be? Not me. Now please pass the peas.

 

Friends: As we end 2014 and move into 2015, I’m thrilled to announce I’ve made it to HuffPost! Truly, a dream come true. This is my first post as a contributor for Huffington Post. One of hopefully many more. Please see me there as well and follow me there as well! I Hereby Resolve: No More New Year’s Resolutions! Thank you always for your support!

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Family: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Posted on December 28, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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The holiday season is a special time. For eating too much, drinking too much, stressing out over gifts and sending out Christmas cards. In short, an ambivalent time for people. There’s a lot of pressure to have Hallmark-perfect family gatherings full of love and fellowship and merry memory making. The reality however oftentimes involves one or more of the following: a critical mother, deadbeat dad, alcoholic older brother, a vindictive ex-wife, spoiled children who feel entitled, and siblings whose rivalry matches that between the Steelers and Ravens.

Granted, my family is only mildly dysfunctional in the grand scheme of things. We’re more annoying and mean and quirky than fit for a reality television series. It’s just enough batshit crazy to drive me crazy though.

The last few years I’ve repeated a helpful mantra in my head, reminding myself I need not attend every argument I’m invited to. That reminder has saved me a great deal of grief in all realms of my life. Yet a part of me still dreaded long visits with my immediate family. Don’t get me wrong, I love them. I’m also deeply ambivalent about them. Because we’re all messy, and family dynamics are messy and complicated and wrought with deep emotions and wrongs from years past.

I never know what to expect. I’m the black sheep of the family for several reasons. I’d like to think it’s because I’m the healthiest, non-crazy person in the family. They would likely beg to differ. Regardless, sometimes the visits are lovely and kind and gentle. Other times the hostility and unmet expectations and judgments are felt from the first hello.

The last few years I’ve tried to break old family dynamics and re-create my role in the family. At first, I tried to kindly point out the mean-spirited comments, the judgments, the scapegoating. Let me tell you, that did not go over well. I was reminded that no one takes advantage of therapeutic services if they did not seek those services in the first place.

Then I learned to take better care of myself by not engaging as much in the old family dynamics. The intent is good. The execution, however, only successful half the time. But even when I was able to not engage, I still felt cut off from the family. Because well, I wasn’t engaging. I would walk away or stay away to avoid falling into old dynamics.

So both of those tactics are successful in my self-care. But I realized I was still left feeling not fulfilled with the situation. This Christmas season, a light bulb went off. I realized I wasn’t engaging so I wasn’t connecting. And really, isn’t that what fulfilling relationships are about–the connecting? The validating of who you are as a person. The sharing of thoughts and beliefs and opinions that form conversations. The experiencing of activities and events. Isn’t that what fills our souls?

So this year I made a concerted effort, difficult as it was, to remain in rooms and with conversations I did not agree with. My family is very good with flinging judgments about, complaining about things they have no control over, discussing plans they will never act on. They’re very good at critiquing and blaming and passive-aggressive acts and backhanded compliments. They’re masters of creating competitions about well, everything. Those things drive me to drink.

So I learned to stop trying to point out logic or other ways to view the world. I learned instead to sit side-by-side with them. And listen. And bite my tongue until it bled. I smiled and nodded. Not because I agreed with them. But because I love them and see who they are in their messiness and still love them. Because at this ripe old age of 41, I value the connections with my family more than trying to improve their messy selves.

I’ve realized it’s better for me to be kind than right. I realized it’s not about me. I didn’t need to point out more constructive ways to cope with their problems. I didn’t need to argue their judgments. I also don’t need to agree with them in order for me to sit with them. To be with them. To share space with them. To share my life with them. To connect with them. I’ve realized that simply put, my brand of messy is different than their brand of messy. And that’s OK. It doesn’t have to be the same. It’s enough that we connect with our different brands of messy.

Because really, isn’t that we want for ourselves? For connecting with people. For people to see who we are in our judgments and failures and flaws, and still love us? For people to value being kind to us over being right and us wrong?

And I’ve found that in these moments of connection, mutual kindness blossoms. Sometimes. Before one of us opens our big mouths and proves to be human once again.

Let me be clear also that I”ve learned that certain people earn their right to hear my story, my whole story. I’ve learned good boundaries, and what to share with whom. I may not be able to share my entire story to my family for self-preservation, but that doesn’t negate the love we feel for each other. Love is different than like. Some moments I like them. Others, not so much. But I’ve learned to stop expecting them to be who they are not. I’ve stopped hoping for a different childhood. I’ve stopped hoping for their agreement on how I view life. In such, I’ve found peace.

In taking the extra step of taking the initiative to engage with them, where they’re at in their own lives, I’ve found a renewed connection. Is it perfect? No. And none of us are. I may be the black sheep of the family, but none of the white sheep are snow white either.

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