Tag Archives: life

The Distance Between True Friends

Mom Yesterday I had coffee with a friend I met at one of my dozen or so jobs I have had in the past decade. We had not seen one another since my long period of sadness, loss and grief. 90 minutes after spending time in Stephanie’s company, I felt like my old self again! The striking similarities between our menopausal experiences and ultimate arrival at the liberating “I do not care anymore” stage of womanhood made me feel more connected to life than I have in months. Literally, Stephanie, you brought me back to life! That’s the wonderful thing about friendship: to find in another person a real sense of comfort and familiarity that lasts over time is the greatest gift.

This morning, still bolstered by the sisterhood of laughing with Stephanie, I am reminded of my special friends in the pediatric rehabilitation program I worked in for a couple of years. “B,” with his sweet and dedicated Occupational Therapist, worked on this drawing depicting the distance between himself and me. The day they gave this to me I knew I would laminate it and keep it forever. Those friendships with children with disabilities and their caregivers/therapists are among the most sacred I have ever known in my life. I think I became delighted with “B” from day one because he looked me soulfully in the eyes and always made it clear he was completely contented just to be near me. No distance between us.

I have realized that I am one of those “Gen X” girls with ADHD who was never diagnosed. I have stumbled through life feeling ashamed of my lack of organizational and time management skills, and have often felt humiliatingly confused by “hidden cues” people give in the social-emotional realm. For example, I had a friend I thought I connected with beautifully, only to discover she had been “growing tired of” me for months and ultimately took to her social media to proudly declare to her followers that she had recently “downgraded someone from friend to acquaintance” without ever speaking to them (ME!). I reeled from confusion, shame, anger and utter disbelief from this experience for more than a year. Because I have ADHD, I do not let go of things as easily as “neurotypicals” so this hurt cut me deeply in ways that surprised me. After practicing a lot of lovingkindness (from the great meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg), I am learning to separate experiences from my feelings about them and thereby release shame I often feel for “not getting the point” as soon as neurotypical people!

Then there is sweet “B” and darling Stephanie who validated every experience we talked about over coffee. I have felt so alone in the middle believing there were no friends who would be willing to meet me there. “B” even graphically depicted his willingness to meet me all the way at my doorstep. And no “complicated cues” or backstabbing social media posts, just presence and contented kinship. “B” could teach a lot of people about friendship, and maybe this is the writing opportunity I have been looking for.

For now, I am grateful for the moments of authentic recognition and respect I share with my friends. As far as my “downgraded acquaintance status,” as stinging as those words were spoken by someone I cared for and trusted, I am happy to report that you can downgrade me, baby, but you will never find me downcast. I am too busy laughing with “B,” Stephanie and the handful of kind souls in my life. Friends are a blessing to enjoy, not a puzzle or conundrum to sort out.

Love, my beautiful little undiagnosed but lovable ADHD heart

Decisions, Devotion and Destiny

Today marks two years since my Mom passed away. I still hear her voice but her singularly calming, practical presence is missing. Her bluntly honest remarks often caught people off guard or made them laugh (if not a little bit uncomfortably). I don’t know too many people who are both blunt and smart. Generally, I just feel disappointed with the world and miss Mom especially because her confidence and clear communication was always one thing I knew I could rely on in this world.

I have become permanently impatient with people who are reluctant to make decisions – or more precisely – accept responsibility for making them, when it seems like such an important time to respond to the urgency in our world. The last 3 jobs I have held all curiously presented the same set of frustrations: people “in charge” who wanted authority but either had no desire, impetus or wisdom to exercise their authority. I would bring important issues to leaders that impacted my day to day (and would result in wasting resources if left spinning indecisively) only to be pushed off for some future date when making a decision would become clearer for them. What? I remember thinking, “Dude, you are literally being PAID to make DECISIONS. Like, that’s your JOB!” as I walked away in frustration. But the universe continued to present this frustrating set of circumstances to me over a period of several years in jobs I grew to strongly dislike – so there must be a good reason, eh?

I have concluded that this lesson repeatedly appeared in my work life because there was something else I needed to be doing. Primarily, listening to my own voice and cultivating the “meaning” that I found so disappointingly missing elsewhere – within myself. As a woman approaching 60, it’s fair to say I have spent two decades devoted to my family. Not just the person who made sure tasks were completed – but real, geniune, from the heart devotion – the kind you feel towards your first love. As an empty nester, I’m still very devoted to children. On this rainy morning of the anniversary of my Mom’s death, I just returned from delivering a birthday package and cake from Birthday Connections to a child in need who currently lives in a domestic violence shelter. I feel really good about having the privilege to be in a place in my life where I can play a small role in uplifting another person and be true to something I feel devoted to in my heart. I think Gen Z’ers would call this “Alignment.”

A new friend of mine surprised me yesterday with a “Yahrzeit” candle – a memorial candle in the Hebrew tradition to light on the date of a loved one’s passing and keep lit for 24 hours of remembering, honoring the deceased, performing acts of charity in their memory, etc. I had already intentionally chosen to volunteer today for Birthday Connections as a way to honor my Mom, who successfully nurtured and raised seven children. But the Universe really wanted me to “get” this lesson, so my friend Shelly, who has experienced much loss, generously opened her heart and gifted me this beautiful and gentle tradition. I am so grateful and deeply comforted by her kind act. In the Christian tradition, lighting a candle is a form of “devotion” – recognizing the sacred in another person and memorializing their goodness through prayer and remembrance. It isn’t even noon yet and already I can say I have fulfilled the mission of this day – and will spend the next several hours in gratitude and restful contemplation.

We are all born to discover our unique gifts. As Ralph Waldo Emerson beautifully writes in an essay:

“Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.”

The gift of intentionally (decisively) honoring my Mom’s memory today and practicing devotion in her memory by supporting a local child in need brings me to my final thought – my destiny. I honestly am starting to believe that my destiny in life is to be a “feeler of big feelings” and conduit for people who may not recognize or articulate their own. In other words, I’m the uninhibited person in the room who will say something awkward that is maybe cringe but also funny – and potentially touches another person’s heart so that healing can begin. So far, I have been fortunate to be able to recognize mostly good things from the painful experiences I have had in life. And without fail, honest and good-hearted people have met me along the way to help me make sense of recent losses and pain.

I will conclude with a thought about recovery. Lately I have been thinking that I have not been very “emotionally sober,” even though I do not drink alcohol anymore to survive big feelings. There have been a couple of major losses in a short period of time in my life and many days, I find myself “growling” at the world instead of living in gratitude and bowing in reverence towards my good fortune. This is why I am considering going back to a 12-step recovery program and actively working the steps of AA. An old friend has recently reappeared in my life and kindly offered to accompany me as I start this journey over – in search of emotional sobriety. Rolf Gates, a brilliant yoga instructor and recovery writer, writes in his “Daily Reflections on Addiction, Yoga, and Getting Well”:

“Much of early recovery was like finding the bodies trapped in the snow after an avalanche. Frozen in their last moments – new boots, worn parkas, bits of scarf. My sadness was overwhelming. My 12-step sponsor, Henry, knew this about me. He was kind to my sorrow. There were no answers for what broke my heart. There was no getting any of it back….

….Henry would look at some broken part of my life, lift an eyebrow, and drawl, “what is was like.” We would laugh until tears came to our eyes at what it was like and would be no more.

Reflection:

Life has put people in your life who have not been afraid of your sadness. Thank them with your heart. Maybe thank them in person. Who has helped you laugh the laugh of freedom?”

The people who are appearing in my life who are not afraid of my sadness are helping me heal and discover new ways to use parts I have previously discarded and labeled “broken.” To me, this is a destiny worth fighting for and enjoying.

I have noticed

There are a lot more wrinkles on my face and I have a lot less motivation to do anything about it;

The months drift along like a river, offering days to be gentle and moments to be determined and focused, either way, doing nothing and doing something – the river roils about its business;

Truly delighting in the company of another is the closest we come to our best, fully human nature, and spending too much time alone causes our hearts, souls and minds to atrophy;

Choosing what not to worry about is possibly the most important distinction we make between living and dying;

Letting go brings multitudes of joy and illumination, if you can withstand the temporary pain of shedding an attachment to an illusion;

Gentleness is the greatest manifestation of strength, if only the mind would allow our heart to lead;

These photos depict 2 days of my life 25 years apart – delighting in the company of my baby daughter and cuddling with my new kitten, both moments weaving together a life of savoring what might otherwise be forgotten;

I was telling friends our parenting challenges and the many ways institutions devised to “track progress” and label your child’s productivity but the best parenting advice we ever received was simply to strive to remain connected to the humans we cared for;

Staying connected and seeking ways to make the puzzle pieces fit seems a much better framework for moving through pain toward oneness to me;

Back to the wrinkles, the subject of nearly daily dread and obsession – shouldn’t I be more focused on the smile and sparkle of the eyes, those seem to be the same and they are the best measure of a life well lived;

Remembering love is a far richer use of the time I have left on this Earth than counting heartaches and insults – why not begin again today?

Quiet Knowing

Until 5 days ago, I thought my children and a select few friends were the only people I knew with the quality I call “quiet knowing.” It’s the rare and beautiful way of showing up in the world for the people you love simply, modestly and matter-of-factly that says “I see you. I support you. I love you.” It stands out to me because there are so many people in the world with needy and inflated egos these days – desperately searching for affirmation and approval for displaying basic human decency. Or “friends” who are ready with empty words and promises that are really lazy traps to just keep giving the relationship a mild pulse for social appearances or some unforeseen future need. I will admit to failing to recognize “fake friends,” even at my ripe age of 59. They rob you of energy and time you will never recover. They confuse you with words that never quite match their actions. And most importantly, they are always unavailable when you need them the most.

My niece’s quiet and simple gesture while visiting family in Chicago that was so like things my own children have done sent my heart soaring. “This is Quiet Knowing!” my intuition screamed. I love quiet knowing because it comes from someone who is sincere, self-assured and gently well intended. I walked into my nephew’s home for an annual family gathering, greeted warmly by children, dogs, laughter and the anticipation of a fun reunion. As I entered the kitchen, my niece, Rhetta, welcomed me and said, “I have this non-alcoholic rose if you’d like,” as she casually nodded toward a lovely tray with beverages and pretty glasses assembled for the gathering. It wasn’t cheap grape-juice based nonalcoholic wine, either, which tells me she respects my taste and maturity. It was also more than just a regular “warm welcome.” It was love, kindness, support and quiet knowing all wrapped in one genteel effort. That’s not just classy it is downright soul-shatteringly beautiful. It says: “Here you are and here I am meeting you where you are.” My niece told me she loved and respected me all in one brief exchange that I have not stopped thinking about since I returned home. So I decided I had to write about it. We must support the Quiet Knowers in our lives because they deserve to be in our innermost circle of cherished people. Rhetta did not mean to be gushed over in this way, for sure. That’s another reason why this act of quiet knowing must be celebrated, honored and remembered. She has now joined the sacred group of quiet knowers in my family – Isa and Mario.

Isa has always been a quiet everything: observer, friend, helper. When Mario’s dear friend Zech passed away in high school, Quiet Knower Isa got in her car and drove from college to surprise her hurting brother and be by his side to support and love him. There was no bravado, no fancy words were exchanged. Isa just solemnly entered the house and hugged her brother – letting him know she wanted to help ease and absorb his sorrow. Quiet Knowing is extraordinary love and strength. We all felt it but Isa did not need praise or recognition. She gave her brother the gift of her presence and that was that. In her wake of quiet knowing, we all felt a little bit less heavy and sad.

Mario showed me his Quiet Knowing earlier this year when we tragically lost our dear friend Caryl. When he learned that Caryl’s friend Kris, both Moms of great friends of his, was struggling to find the strength to speak at the celebration of life, Mario volunteered to speak on her behalf. Quiet Knowing at a time of deep sorrow and helplessness – the child showed us he was now a man. He actually stood at the podium in front of a couple hundred people on a freezing January day with me and opened with, “Hey everybody, I’m Mario” and in that moment of quiet knowing, Mario’s beautiful display of strength and tenderness made us all feel a little bit better.

I know I am extremely lucky to only look as far as my immediate family for this strength and love. Quiet Knowing cannot be taught and somehow these family members with amazing hearts simply share them without being asked or needing praise. Look for the Quiet Knowers in your midst and try to appreciate the enormous strength they have shared with you today. I know I will be spiritually weightless for quite some time.