A Trip Outside of My Comfort Zone

I dream of going away to a spa -- in the mountains, in the desert on on a beach -- where I take long hikes amidst natural beauty, practice sunrise Yoga, get massages and facials, eat fresh and colorful healthy food, and spend time on some kind of creative pursuit -- pottery, painting, photography, writing. This dream vacation would also include some kind of challenge, or something to force me out of my comfort zone, something to make me grow. I'm thinking of primitive camping for a night or two, rock climbing, cooking lessons, hang gliding, something like that. I would stay for a week or two and return home thinner, stronger, healthier, more relaxed and inspired. A girl can dream.

What I dream about having served to me during a spa vacation - Pad Thai with raw zucchini "noodles".

The reality is unless I get a huge raise, find buried treasure or win the lottery, the chances I will ever afford a dream get-away like that is slim to nothing. However, I did recently take a trip and returned home more relaxed and inspired, and if not thinner and stronger I was at least not heavier and weaker -- or poorer! 

Vacationing with a friend instead of my husband really helps reduce the cost of travel (I'll write about how I saved for the trip and how we cut costs, in a future blog). All the saving and scrounging was totally worth it because I came home a renewed and inspired woman.  Most importantly I reconnected with two old friends -- my old friend Marcie and the "old me" -- and I faced a few healthy challenges that made the vacation even more memorable (I wrote about one of them in my previous blog). I also did quite a few things I wanted to do during a vacation - I walked on the beach, swam in the gulf, visited art galleries and antique shops, explored old historic neighborhoods, and ate really, really well.

But by eating really, really well I don't just mean a lot of food.  I mean fresh, healthy, colorful and flavorful foods.

When I arrived at my friend Marcie's house, where I stayed the first and fifth night of my vacation (we stayed on the gulf beach during nights two-four), she told me she had been eating mostly raw, organic, vegan foods for the last three months and had lost almost 20 pounds.  She looked great and said she felt great. She said I didn't need to worry, she wouldn't make me eat those foods too, especially considering it was my vacation.  However, since eating healthy foods was a component of my "spa dream vacation", and I desperately wanted to get back to a healthier lifestyle and lose the weight I had gained during the winter, I eagerly took on the challenge of eating like Marcie. She was thrilled to have someone to share her new food passion with. She was also eager to have someone to try out interesting, locally owned restaurants with her.

Seared tuna steak with field greens and pickled sea weed.

For five days we ate a lot of fabulous food. It was a taste adventure in mostly raw, fresh, whole or "clean" foods -- fresh vegetables, fresh and dried fruit, whole grains, beans and nuts - whole and ground, eggs, fresh fish and seafood, healthy fats such as olive and coconut oils -- foods at their freshest and least processed. We also limited sugar, dairy and red meats, and we didn't drink soda (yet we had a few drinks and ate a few dessert items -- we were on vacation, after all).

 We drank smoothies, juices, infused water and teas; we ate hummus and guacamole, oatmeal with walnuts and fruit (with almond milk), "raw" pizza and tacos (with ground nuts in the crust and as replacements for meat), omelets, crab cakes, tuna, shrimp, sweet potato fries, fresh herbs and spices, amazing salads and even chocolate pie -- which was vegan. The food was fabulous looking and tasting. It was all made fresh and much of it grown locally. I would lie if I said I never craved a Coke or candy, because I did, especially the first few days, but I made it through.

Raw pizza and taco.

I returned home having gained not a pound.  Amazing considering I ate my way through vacation and never went hungry! I felt so good and loved the food so much I decided to continue eating mostly fresh, mostly unprocessed foods, when possible. I am proud to say I have done just that -- and have loved ALMOST every bite.

The biggest change in my diet is that I eat hardly any cheese, bread or sugar, and almost no processed/packaged junk food. I've quit drinking my one per day Coke (I'll have one per week, maybe) and I'm drinking at least 80 ounces of infused water per day (with slices of oranges, lemons and lime). Since I'm limiting dairy I use almond milk in my morning smoothies, along with spinach and fresh fruits and sometimes raw oatmeal. I also eat 2-egg omelets with spinach, mushrooms and tomatoes for breakfast, or sometimes oatmeal with nuts and fruit (with honey or organic coconut palm sugar). I bring fresh veggies and hummus or guacamole, a huge green salad (with olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing), or left over cooked veggies and quinoa -- and sometimes a little grilled chicken or packaged tuna -- for lunch. I fix greens and a grilled, fresh low-fat meat for dinner, with squash, sweet potatoes or beans for dinner. For snacks I'll eat fresh or dried fruit, or nuts, or sometimes whole wheat pretzels or corn tortilla chips.  I am down to one cup of coffee per day and to be perfectly honest I don't crave the coffee like I used to, but I don't want to cut it out of my diet completely because coffee has a lot of health benefits (and I don't want to get withdraw headaches). 

As of today -- a month after returning from vacation -- I have lost 8 pounds.  It's not a lot but it's a start. I feel so much healthier and I have more energy.  I don't have acid reflux like I used to and my digestion has improved noticeably.  I have also noticed I haven't had as many headaches and I have much less sinus pressure and allergy symptoms.  Also I have less joint pain and my ankles aren't swollen. My skin looks brighter and my wrinkles less noticeable. 

It's not easy to always eat "clean", whole foods, especially when one works full time and has to cook for and accommodate a family (which doesn't have an interest in eating "clean"). Also it's difficult to find a variety of fresh foods in a small town. When I do eat something that doesn't follow the fresh, clean or whole foods criteria, like pizza or grilled cheese, I feel really bad -- sluggish from head to toe, inside and outside.

Eating healthy foods has become a challenge for me -- a good one -- and I look forward to experimenting with foods, tasting new recipes, and feeling better and better every day.  I have forced myself out of my comfort zone, or at least to the edge of my comfort zone, where there is space for me to develop and experiment.  It's a good feeling.      



    

Deep Water and Shallow Fears

On our third and last morning of vacation on beautiful St. Pete's Beach, my friend Marcie and I stood looking out at the deeper water, just yards from the beach (yes I know, that's not really deep), catching sight of the sandy bottom, tiny shells and schools of teeny silvery fish between gentle waves and dapples of sunlight. We didn't want to say goodbye to the beach.

A lone man wearing goggles swam slowly, parallel to the beach, unaware of anything around him. We watched to see what would happen if he collided with a solitary couple standing shoulder deep in the smooth water. It was pretty early for anyone to be playing in the water so he probably didn't anticipate many obstacles during his morning swim. At the last moment they saw him and moved slightly out of his way -- he was completely unaware of the near miss and glided on. We wondered how long he had been swimming, how far he planned to go and if he did it often.  I thought how brave he is to swim like that and wished I could be so brave. 

Beautiful St. Pete's Beach, where we walked each morning of our vacation.

We had been wading calf-deep during our morning walks, but neither of us had ventured any further out. It wasn't just my irrational fear of deep water -- water where I can't see my feet or anything around my feet -- that kept me from going in deeper. My even more irrational fear of exposing my white, flabby body on a beach full of toned, tanned people -- young and old -- kept me from taking off the yoga pants that I wore over my bathing suit, rolled to my knees, wet and sandy from wading. I have always been modest and self conscious but even more so now as an overweight 52 year old. I wished I had one of those old type bathing suits or I was thinner. "Then I would swim", I thought. 

Now, though, I felt the deeper water calling me.  I longed to feel the softly rippled sand under my feet and gentle waves on my arms. I hadn't felt those sensations in years and years.  The last time I had been in the Gulf (or ocean or lake) any deeper than my knees had been over 10 years ago -- and it was not my choice to do so.  My daughters and I were at Point Estero in Florida and had just gone parasailing.  We got off the parasailing boat onto a  life-boat type raft that was supposed to take us back to the shore, but because the waves were too high for the raft to safely make it to the beach, we had to jump out into the pounding waves, almost chest deep (it probably wasn't that deep).  I was scared out of my wits, but the adrenaline rush from parasailing pushed me quickly through the water and onto the beach.

The feeling of being in the water was a lot like water skiing on Lake Erie with my aunt and uncle when I was a teenager.  I was at the far end of a tow rope, the people in the boat looking ahead, not at me, as I fell, letting go of the rope.  I was alone in very deep, dark water, as the boat sped away from me.  I hoped they would see that I had fallen, sooner than later, and come quickly back to pick me up. I grabbed desperately for the skis which had blown off my feet and put them back on, tucked my legs up, floated and tried not to think about what was swimming around and right under me. Or 10 feet under me.  Or 30 feet under me. I was scared an eight foot sturgeon would rub against me. "And what else is down there?" I thought. "I shouldn't have read "Jaws" this summer. I know there are no sharks in this lake, but what if...?"

The pier at Rye Beach, Huron, Ohio, on Lake Erie.  

Or it felt like jumping off the end of the pier at Rye Beach when I was a kid. I did it only once at the strong urging of my sister Karen and my cousins-cousins, Rick and Jeff, our summer playmates, who did it over and over and over.  The brown-green water, the slimy seaweed covering the rocks and sides of the pier where I had to climb out, the snakes and fish that swam below (I assumed), the fabled, supposedly extinct lamprey of the Great Lakes (they aren't extinct!). I just couldn't do it and my sister and cousins-cousins teased me when I wouldn't jump again.  I sat on the pier and watched them laugh and swim in the lake I loved but feared. I even feared swimming near the shore because globs of smelly seaweed and dead fish tangled with my feet much too often.

Nothing was forcing me into the water this third and final day of our vacation but I kept feeling the pull -- in a good way. I wanted to go in. Marcie heard the water calling too because she said "Let's go in".

"Really?" I said, like a kid. "You want to go too? But I don't have my water shoes (the ones that keep me from feeling slimy bottoms and seaweed) and my swim shorts (the ones that cover the stretch marks and bulges on my upper thighs)". 

"No one will care" Marcie assured me.  "No one will even notice us. And look how smooth the sand looks out there".

I took off my yoga pants and sunglasses, she took off her cover up and straw hat, and we lay them safely on one of the hotel's cabana chairs (which we didn't pay for, which made me feel guilty, and I worried someone would steal everything), along with our cell phones (for pictures, not calls) and my coffee cup from the hotel room (will they be mad at me for taking it to the beach?), then walked quickly back down to the water. I felt very exposed but quickly entered the warm water to my knees, then my hips, then my waist -- worried more about covering my exposed skin than what was in the water. Marcie held back a little, getting used to the feel of the water around her waist. I felt frightened but very brave to be out further than her -- even just a few feet -- alone. Should I shuffle my feet in case there are sting rays?  Were those tiny fish baby sharks or just tiny fish? Is there something larger chasing them like in "Finding Nemo"?

Soon we were both chest deep and began treading water, then floating, then gliding on our backs.  The warm, salty water felt incredible. Floating felt incredible -- relaxing yet exhilarating at the same time. Marcie marveled at my ability to float; I couldn't sink if I tried (another one of my super powers, I guess -- my other is predicting what size container will hold left-overs). A long river of tiny fish swam past us, between us, around us, but I never felt a thing, even though I both hoped and dreaded that I might feel them tickle my legs.

"I'm going to swim along the shore, just a short distance, just to say I actually swam in the Gulf of Mexico, along the shore, just like that guy". And I did.  Kind of. Head up. Face out of the water. Awkward strokes for only about 15 feet.  It wasn't like "that guy" but I did it.  I did it.  I faced my fear of "deep" water and got in.  I faced my fear of exposing my body in public, on a beach where we had just previously seen a very toned, very tanned, very fit, very good looking probable Tampa Bay Buccaneer (I'm sure it was Luke Stoker and now I'm afraid I'm a "Stoker Stalker") jogging in only shorts, sunglasses, a ball cap and running shoes. Oh my.

Sorry, I got distracted for a moment.  Anyway, I did it and it felt wonderful, relaxing, brave, long overdue. As we were in the water we noticed how far we had drifted from our entry point, which we had identified by our hijacked beach chair with all our stuff (yay, it was still there!), and it was okay. We simply swam back -- we swam back! -- got out, and excitedly talked about what we had just done as we gathered our belongings. I wondered if anyone looked out and thought we were brave and adventurous.  Or did they think the two middle-aged women coming out of the water were really silly? And then I didn't care what anyone thought.  I did it and I loved it.  I shared it with my friend Marcie and we will always have that memory, like I have my memories of parasailing with my daughters, skiing with my uncle, playing at Rye Beach with my cousin's-cousin Jeff, who passed away a few years ago. My friend and I swam together in the Gulf of Mexico, on the last morning of a beautiful adventure.


We're already talking about where we'll go next.

Seeing "Me Time" From a Different Perspective

I had a difficult time bouncing back from the brutal winter. Job stress also wore me thin. No, actually it wore me thick, unfortunately.  Inactivity and stress-induced eating caused me to gain weight and I have felt awful. Although warmer weather and a less stressful summer work schedule have kicked in, I've still had difficulty getting inspired to do anything other than eat, browse Pinterest and Facebook, take long baths, read fiction, flip through magazines, and watch the History channel. I've not been depressed or even in a funk, just uninspired and unmoved.

I think back to how good I felt and looked just over five years ago, when I was walking and working out every day, eating healthy foods, going on adventures with friends, doing design work, blogging and looking forward to personal and family projects. People told me I looked 10 years younger than I was; now I feel like I have aged 10 years in the last five.

Here is a photo of me on my last trip with my travel buddy Marcie, in January 2009, ready to turn 47. I was newly divorced and out of work at the time, but positive, hopeful, happy and very active -- and 25 pounds lighter.

I have tried my old standbys -- think positive, get outside, read inspirational books, do Yoga, create something -- but all my efforts have failed, especially when it comes to getting regular activity, eating healthier, and getting some of this weight off. But also I've not been inspired to make improvements in the house or yard, create artwork, spend time with friends, go out to listen to music, attend events in the community: things that need to be done and things that usually "feed my soul".
 
I've been telling my husband what I really need to get me out of this rut and back on track is to go away to a spa resort for a week or two. One where I eat only healthy food (that's made for me or where I cook it in an amazing kitchen), take long walks and go hiking/biking/kayaking or horseback riding among beautiful scenery (an ocean, red rocks, mountains), do Yoga (by the water of course), have massages (on the beach or in a beautifully equipped spa room) and paint or write or do something else creative. He laughs as if I'm teasing him -- but I'm serious. I have desperately needed to do something to pull me up and out of my lethargy and that sounds like the perfect cure to me. 

That's not going to happen any time soon (or in the future).  It's too expensive and I don't have that much vacation time. It also seems pretentious -- "That's for rich people and we're not rich people", Craig would say (did say, actually).

"But I need to do something", I told him.  "If you want me to continue to be the woman you fell in love with, I have to do the things I was doing five years ago that made me that woman."

So, after several delays for various reasons in and out of my control, I took a trip to Florida to visit an old friend who is also my favorite travel buddy.  Marcie and I haven't traveled together for over five years, and we've visited briefly only a few times in the last several years, so the visit with her (and her partner who I like to call our Cabana Boy) was way over due.

At first I felt guilty about spending the money and taking time away from my husband and pre-teen daughter, but then I remembered they were able to go on a spring break trip without me when I couldn't get away from my job during the busy college visit season. Also I felt like I deserved it because I had been working so hard at home and the office and had saved some of the money I earned working overtime.  Also, I don't spend a lot of money on "entertainment" -- or anything else for that matter.  I'm pretty frugal and practical with my spending.

I took the trip and it was amazing.  Maybe it's the healing qualities of the sea water, maybe it's the sunshine, maybe its the healthy food, maybe it's spending time with an old friend, maybe it's facing a personal fear and challenging myself (more about that later), maybe it's the change of scenery...maybe it's all of that combined.  Who knows for sure what helped me but I feel like a renewed, inspired person.  I plan to write about the trip in more detail in future blogs, but I can say now it was totally worth the time and money.

Here is a humorous picture of me on my recent trip, feeling quite frumpy and lumpy on the beach. My size horrifies me but not because of how it looks as much as how it feels and keeps me from doing things I love.  Marcie assures me I look like the 50 foot woman only because of the perspective and angle of the shot. I know better, however. This is not how I want to look and feel on a beach or at home in Indiana. This photo and my trip have inspired me to make changes.

Why do women have to rationalize spending money and time on themselves? Why do we feel guilty about taking care of ourselves and doing something just for us? When I ponder these questions I'm lead in many directions and I realize I have so much more to write about in the near future: general topics such as self-care, working mothers, saving for vacations, work/life balance, friendship, creating, living a purposeful life; but also more personal topics such as what I did on my trip, how it inspired me in many ways, how I faced a major fear (and survived), and how I'm making personal life-changes. 

I Can't Help It

I envy my husband's passion for football.  There is nothing he would rather do than watch an NFL game.  He can't wait until football season officially starts and he actually becomes depressed when it's over.  He proudly wears his team's colors and he talks about the players with anyone who will listen.  You can see his face light up when someone asks him about his team; you can see it darken when he realizes they love another team.

I have wanted that same kind of passion.  I've wanted something I can't wait to do each day or each week, something that excites me so much I can barely sit still. Most of all I've wanted something to do when my husband is preoccupied with his first love -- football.

"Get a hobby" he says, when I am bored while he watches football.   Yes, I will get a hobby! But what?  Decorating my home is fun but expensive.  I've tried collecting things but I really don't want more "stuff" to dust or worry about.  I like to paint but I don't love doing it and it zaps me of energy.  I love to travel but I don't have enough free time or money to make it a hobby.  I'm a magazine junky and a Pinterest fan but I consider that a past time, not really a true hobby or a passion.

So I thought about it and I realized there is something I can't keep myself from doing -- taking pictures. I once had a big, bulky, expensive digital camera and took lots of pictures during vacations, family gatherings, and even during walks. Once I got my first cell phone with a camera, I quickly realized it was a waste of effort to carry both a phone and a camera, so I put down my much used digital camera, which was already outdated, and used my small slide phone to take photos. I think it was a little too easy for me to take pictures with my phone. Last year my iPhone 4 started to slow down and I realized I had over 3,000 photos on it!   

Okay, so I'm an amateur photographer, perhaps? I guess I should get a nice, new digital camera so I can take "real" photos"?  But I don't want to carry my camera with me everywhere.  I don't want to have to use my computer to download my photos from the data card, or whatever it's called now.  I just want to use my phone and take pictures when the mood hits or when I see a good shot. And my iPhone 4 takes pretty good photos, I must say. Also it's so easy to upload my photos to Facebook or e-mail, then edit them.

I got online to see if there were any good hints or tips for using an iPhone as a camera and I found a lot of great advice.  I even found an iPhone Photography "school", or an online resource for those who are passionate about taking good pictures with their iPhone.  In the last few weeks I've had a blast learning about taking better pictures and sharing those photos with others.  One evening I spent hours looking at my old photos on my phone, editing them on my iPad and uploading them to EyeEm.com.

I spent hours researching something.  I spent time learning something new.  I was truly interested and curious about something.  I found others who share this new interest and I connected with them.  I felt a creative energy I have been missing in my life lately.  I felt a passion for something. 

I think I have found my creative outlet and my hobby.  I don't intend to make it a profession or even make money on it.  It's something I can't keep myself from doing, even when someone tells me I take too many pictures.  I like to take pictures.  No, I love to take pictures.  It's nice if someone else tells me they like my pictures, but really I am doing it for me.  Finally, something for me!

Here are some of the photos I've taken with my iPhone 4 or slide phone in the last few years.

The places I have been, oh the places I will go...

As I approach the big 5-0 I can't help but take stock of where I have been and what I have done in my life so far. I also can't help think about what I want to do in the next several years as I anticipate retirement. It still seems really strange for me to be thinking of that word - retirement - and realize I really only have about 15 more good years to work and accomplish my career goals.

Also I have a daughter in the midst of a job search as she completes her college degree, and a step daughter choosing a major and considering career choices while she completes her high school education. In the meantime my husband is talking about retiring in 4 or 5 years. All this talk about careers, jobs and retirement has gotten me more than a little anxious about my own career goals, or lack of.

Looking back and looking forward I realize I am further from my career goals than I was 10 years ago. At age 40 I was a professional and an expert in my field of Career Development. It’s one of the only times in my life I felt like I was an expert at something. I loved my job, I loved my workplace, I loved the people I worked with. I was a natural. I thought it would be my forever career, my Vocation. But things don’t always work out, no matter how much you love something or how hard you try to keep it in your life, no matter how much it seems like the perfect fit. So that leaves me at age 50 in a part-time job, making half of what I made at age 40, in a field that is still pretty new to me. I love my work and the people I work with but I worry about the future, the day my husband retires and I become the main bread winner, especially since I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up!

But that’s a topic for another day. Right now my thoughts are about all the experiences I have had in the many, many jobs I’ve held. I wonder if there are other women my age who have held so many. Some were seasonal or temporary but they offered me lots of experience in learning how to adapt to new work environments and co-workers. I also gained a general knowledge about a lot of different fields, which makes me really good at playing trivia!

 Here's my long, long list:

• Babysitter - age 11-21 (Craig is shocked I was left alone with babies at such a young age)
• Strawberry Picker - age 14 (this lasted only 2 weeks because I got sun poisoning. I couldn't eat strawberries for years)
• Concession Stand “Manager” at the Splash Club in Hagerstown - age 17 (I had a really deep tan on the front of me but my back was snow white)
• Painted lettering on McCoy’s Refuse trucks - age 17 (a smelly summer job but I was kept company by local “celebrity“ Bud Deitzer)
• Waited tables - Bob’s Restaurant, Hartley Hills Country Club, Richard’s Restaurant (Richmond & Muncie), Greeks Restaurant - age 18-20 (I have a lot of respect for restaurant workers, but little patience for bad ones)
• Hostess - Richard’s Restaurant, Muncie - age 20 (the only time I ever went to work early in the morning with a buzz from partying the night before)
• Cleaned offices and homes - age 20-21 (a great college job)
• Sales Associate/Display Artist at Pier 1 Imports, Muncie, age 21-22 (I loved working with older women who taught me about life, marriage and divorce - this came in handy later)
• Display Artist at Kline’s Department Store, Goshen - age 22-23 (I learned to use fishing line and to make something out of nothing. Also, the Amish are offended by mannequins wearing underwear)
• Sales Associate at Kline’s Department Store, Warsaw - age 23 (I learned to hate Christmas and the day after Christmas)
• Attendant for Mentally & Physically Handicapped Adults, Cardinal Center, Warsaw - age 24 (after I had a miscarriage and was told by the doctor something was probably wrong with the fetus, I wanted to know if I could handle having a child with challenges. I learned I could and learned to be thankful I don’t have to).
• Office Assistant at Sherwin Williams, Castleton - age 24 (loved the discount on paint and wallpaper)
• Assistant Manager of Famous Footwear in Castleton, age 24-25 (don’t look down if a man wearing a mini skirt sits and asks you to help him put on a size 11 shoe)
• Customer Service at a Boat Accessory Distributor, Richmond - age 25-28 (how many women know what hole shot and spun hub mean...and it has nothing to do with the above experience)
• Office Assistant/PR at Webb’s Antique Mall - age 29-33 (one of the original American Pickers!)
• Secretary of Career Services, Earlham College - age 33-38 (networking, networking, networking)
• Assistant Director of Career Services, Earlham College - age 39-41 (got my BA, got a promotion)
• Director of Career Services, Earlham College - age 42 (the hardest job I ever loved)
• Peace Studies Coordinator, Earlham College - age 43-45 (Peace studies faculty are not always peaceful)
• Graduate Assistant, Peace Studies, Ball State - age 45 (they have no idea what peace studies means)
• Substitute Teacher in Hagerstown- age 45-46 (seniors are great, 8 graders are the Devil’s spawn)
• Administrative Assistant, Nettle Creek Color - age 45 (think twice about working in a small family business)
• Customer Service/Administrative Asst., Manchester Industries (paper slitters) - age 46 (the hardest job I ever hated…the first place I’ve ever worked that it didn’t come natural to me. I loved my coworkers though)
• Temporary Front Desk Coordinator at Earlham Admissions - age 46 (the perfect job for that time in my life)
• Administrative Assistant/PR, Center City Development - age 47-48 (I loved working downtown - I will always have fond memories, especially since I started dating Craig the week I started there)
• Communications/Social Media Specialist, Tourism Bureau - age 48-present (love the work, love the people, love the workplace, don’t love the pay)

I know I’ve done other things in between all these jobs, like fold Exponents, stuff envelopes for my uncle's publishing business, answer phones for my grandfather's printing business, and other odds and ends, but I can‘t remember the specifics. I have learned so much about different types of businesses and fields, but I’m not sure how to apply all that random knowledge to my current life and future career goals. In the last 5 years I have used all the knowledge I gained as a Career Deveopment Professional - doing the job search, networking, writing cover letters and resumes, interviewing, follow up etc. -- yet I sometimes feel I've gone backwards in my career instead of forwards and that doesn't do much for my confidence.  I keep thinking that if I just keep working hard, with integrity, doing the best job I can, no matter where I am, I will be justly rewarded someday. A girl can dream, can’t she?

A follow up note: I wrote this in the spring of 2012.  In the winter of 2012 I was offered the position of  Assistant Director of the Center for Career Education, at Earlham College, to start in mid-January 2013. However, that job offer was rescinded when the college let go of the person who hired me.  I have been in an administrative assistant position in Admissions at Earlham since then.  

When WOW took on a whole new meaning

My friend Mandy recently shared a humorous blog post about the difficulties of parenting and I found I could really relate to the blogger's feelings about her parenting experiences - both negative and positive. One of Mandy's other friends commented on the blog with "Isn't it amazing how just reading that someone else has the same struggles as you makes those struggles just a little bit easier?" Oh how true that is. That's why I have been devouring books about step-parenting and being the wife of a widower in the last two years!

Writing about our experiences also helps us make our struggles just a little bit easier. Journaling and blogging is therapeutic because it helps us pull our anxieties, worries, feelings and confused thoughts out of our heads so we can make space for other things. It helps us process our experiences -- frustrations and joys -- and work through them. It's like a dialogue with ourselves, which is really helpful when we don't have other people to talk to who understand or who we can trust.

Having trusting friends during our life-changing or transitional periods is crucial to our mental well-being. I am fortunate to have many good friends, a great mom and a sister who are good listeners, and caring daughters whom I can trust and who understand, to a point, what it's like to be a divorced woman, a mother to a young child later in life, a step-mom to kids of several ages (child, teenager, young-adult), to live in another woman's home, and to have their own children leave for college and miss them terribly. However, I don't have close friends who are WOWs -- Wives of Widowers as my books tell me -- so I'm kind of alone there and have to depend on books and the internet to get guidance on that part of my life when I'm feeling alone or frustrated.

I often want to blog about my experiences here on Dishman Hill -- as a therapy for myself, to help others understand what life as a WOW is like, and as a resource for other woman who are grasping for supportive stories about others who feel like me -- those who feel they've been dropped out of an airplane into someone else's life, who have been expected to hit the ground running and who are not allowed to stumble. But in a small community where everyone knows everyone I feel like it's an invasion of my family members' privacy to do so with complete candor. I wear my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see but Craig is much more private. He often tells me I should write a book about our romance but that romantic, almost fairy tale-like story, was preceded by and has been followed by a reality that includes many joys, but even more struggles, and I would feel dishonest by not including the whole story, not just the pretty parts, in my writing. I don't think he would be as comfortable as I am with sharing the whole story.

One of the "Stepping" books I'm reading now states, very clearly, something that really resonates with me and something I wish I would have read before joining the family. Other women I know might benefit from it too. But I wonder how others -- Craig and his kids, and his late-wife's family & friends (especially those who seem to judge me/us frequently) -- might feel about it.

"We are stepmothers for one reason and one reason only: we love the father of these children. In the fullness of time, we may also grow to love the children, but that is not our first priority. Next to caring for ourselves, loving our man and strengthening our marriage are of the primary importance because both increase our happiness and create a secure foundation for the children involved. As the poet Rilke emphasizes, love is not easy. And love that comes with a ready-made family is even more difficult. Therefore, we need to faithfully make time to rekindle our love and remember why we married."

"We all want our marriages to thrive. To insure that they do, we need to make a conscious commitment to the challenge of nurturing our union. While children can bring us closer, they can also create divisive chasms. It is in the best interest of all to first build a joyful and stable relationship with our husbands and then invite the children to join in. Children crave the security and modeling of a companionable and cohesive partnership. Your unity as a couple, as well as your commitment to yourself as an individual, will be a tremendous boon in helping the kids develop into caring and self-confident adults."

With the above statements in mind I want to honestly relate them to my own life and ask others who can also relate to comment if they feel comfortable. Adjusting to living in a home full of children who are not mine, especially with one whom I feel should be living on his own by now, has been my second greatest challenge and frustration. Living in a house built, furnished, decorated and organized by another woman has been my third greatest challenge. These two combined have a huge impact on my first greatest challenge -- building a solid relationship with Craig -- because they affect my whole being. They put a huge burden on my schedule, my energy, my comfort, my efficiency, my mood, my creative spirit - and most of all time to take care of myself, nourish my relationship with my husband, and meet the needs of my own daughters.

Life has changed drastically for me since I moved from my beautiful, quiet, roomy old home on West Madison Street 2 1/2 years ago. But life changed drastically for me a year before that, and a few years before that, and I survived: A career I loved vanished, a daughter left the nest, a young person I loved died, another job was lost, my husband chose to leave our family unit to love another, I had freedom to find myself, another job was lost, I met my true love, another daughter left the nest, then I abandoned the nest to help rebuild one, but found other birds there resisted rebuilding, I lost myself and I struggle daily to find me again. It's been wonderful, it's been horrible, it's been fun, it's been exhausting, I've grown, I've regressed, I've laughed and I've cried. I know there is a lot of work ahead but I know I'm up for it and I know in the end I will look back and know it was the greatest experience of my life.

I invite other women who have had similar experiences to share, either as a comment on this blog or privately to me at julie.dishman@gmail.com. We might be a help to each other.

Mamas, don't let your cowboys grow up to be babies.

In case you are too young to understand the reference in my title, it's a spin on the old country song, "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" which warns mothers of letting their boys grow up to be tough, stubborn, lonely cowboys who like smoky pool rooms, old trucks and guitars. Through the years I have noticed it seems that many well-meaning moms have taken this song to heart and have instead pampered the dickens out of their little cowboys and cowgirls and have let them grow up to be, well, babies.

We all look at our new babies, girls and boys, those beautiful little faces, those miniature helpless bodies, and we vow to love and protect them, hug them and hold them, as long as they'll let us. We want them to feel safe, secure and loved so we show them our love and protection through our acts of service, gifts and affection. Because we love them so much we want to make life easier and more comfortable for them. We don't want them to feel physical pain and emotional hurt and we don't want them to suffer. We don't want them to do without the things they desire. As they grow we continue to see the faces of our sweet babies - in their toddler, child, teenager and young adult faces - and we continue to shower them with our acts of motherly love.

But sometimes we go overboard and continue to give and do, even when they can get and do on their own. Instead of protecting and loving them we coddle them. We do everything for them, we give everything to them, we protect them from everything. We cook, clean, pick up after them, run them around town, indulge their every whim, buy or give them everything they want, need and ask for.

And guess what? Most kids who are coddled grow up to be adults who expect to be coddled. They are often spoiled, lazy, self-centered and rude. They make bad roommates, spouses, coworkers and adult children. They don't know how to take care of themselves, let alone another person, or cook, clean, find jobs, or pay their bills. They don't know how to take responsibility for their own actions and they don't know how to do for others. They expect the world to be handed to them instead of working for it...because that's all they know.

In my experience as a parent, step-parent and college academic/career advisor I have seen evidence that parents who provide the opportunities for their children to learn how to take care of themselves, to struggle a bit, to get frustrated, to work hard, to feel loss, etc., create the most well-adjusted, responsible and productive young adults. On the other hand, those who attempt to make life less difficult for their kids actually make life more difficult for them, and themselves, in the long run. While we are doing everything for them, giving them everything, we aren't letting them learn how to do it themselves. Then when they can't do it for themselves we have to continue to do it for them. We basically disable them with our misguided love.

Don't get me wrong, everyone deserves a little pampering or a reward every once in a while, but when we constantly pamper our kids, or constantly over reward them, we teach them to expect that kind of life without working for it. Unfortunately what they get from us has little meaning to them because they get it all the time, or too easily, without any effort on their part.

Kids need to learn to take care of themselves and not to expect others to take care of their every want, and they need to learn the skills it takes to fulfill their own needs. They need to know what it feels like to struggle and sacrifice something in order to obtain something they want. They need to learn how to solve problems on their own and pull themselves out of a hole. They need the room to make mistakes, feel the consequences of their mistakes, and figure out how to correct what ever it is they did wrong. That's how they learn and grow to be responsible adults. I think we, as parents, do them a disservice when we try to make life too easy for them or when we try to protect them from pain -- pain of not having, pain of losing something, pain of trying hard but still not getting it.

We should always give our babies, then children, then teens, then young adults what they need, but not everything they want. They need love, they need security, they need shelter and food, they need access to an academic and social education, etc. At different ages and stages of development they will need different things from us and the larger world. As they grow their ability to meet those needs on their own should gradually develop and our response to their needs should diminish. As responsible parents we should learn what they are capable of doing on their own at a given age and adjust what we give and do for them appropriately. We should also teach them the difference between their wants and needs and who is responsible for meeting both at different stages of their lives.

Our children will always need our love. We can best show our love by allowing them to grow up to be independent, responsible, productive adults, and we can only do that if we quit treating them like babies. Believe me, their partners will thank you someday.