"I Wanted So Much More For You..."

It's a timeless cri de coeur from parents, coaches and mentors.
A true cry from the heart, from someone who sees talent in another person, and tries their best to nurture and develop that talent...only to have the object of their efforts say,

"No thanks.  That's your dream, not mine."

Those words feel like a gut-punch,
but the truth is...

Do I want to help someone reach their goals? 
Or do I want to help them reach my goals for them?
Should I drop my support and "move on", if the person
isn't sufficiently impressed with my clear grasp of what they "should" do?

I mean...we had a plan, an agreement.
Or did we?

Maybe it was just a temporary convergence of goals.
It's difficult not to interpret this as a betrayal of sorts, and to respond with anger.

"After all I've done for you..."

("...to help you reach the goals I had for you.")

Several years ago, when I was still a school psychologist,
I had a special-education evaluation/eligibility case that dragged
out over the course of two years.

The presenting concern from the parents was their daughter
expending what they saw as extraordinary effort, to get all As
in her middle school classes.

They wanted special education accommodations for their daughter.
Possibly she had a reading disorder.  Possibly she took longer than
usual to get her thoughts on paper.  Possibly not.  But...they wanted
the process of getting straight As to be easier for their daughter. 

The parents were adamant this level of performance was crucial to getting
into a private high school, and then into a specific college, five or six years
down the road. 

To make that happen, they wanted to have their daughter labeled "disabled."

I was furious.
The daughter made it abundantly clear how she felt about being evaluated by me.
I strongly suspected that she was coached by her parents to underperform on
certain portions of the evaluation. 

I declared test after test invalid, because the low scores didn't match the high
classroom performance.  The parents hated me for not helping their dreams
come true, the daughter hated me for repeatedly taking her out of class and
the administration hated me for not kow-towing to the parents.

I very clearly remember the meeting in which I turned to the father of this
straight-A student, and asked him:

"Does [name] know how disappointed you are in her?"

Silence.

I took that as a "yes."

I also taught little ones how to ice skate for a number of years.
Most of the children wanted to be there.  A few didn't.

A few of those who really didn't want to learn to skate arrived
completely togged out in hockey gear, to the point where they
lay on the ice like upside-down turtles when they fell,
encumbered by all the unnecessary gear.

And their wee hockey skates had only an inch or two of blade on the ice.
The fathers of these over-dressed, under-enthused little guys often
hovered at the door onto the ice, encouraging, or even attempting to coach.

I could see it in their eyes...maybe, just maybe, their dream of hockey stardom
would be realized after all.

And that's just parenting!

What about the advisee or mentee who doesn't want
to rise to the mentor's level?

Or simply wants to take another path?

It's terribly difficult to take a deep breath,
let go of one's own goals, dreams and expectations,
and say,
"If that's what you want to do...I'm here to help."

It's terribly difficult, AND a true measure of devotion.

What a wonderful affirmation, to hear, 
"I respect your goals and your dreams,"

WITHOUT also hearing, "But I wanted so much more for you..."

Thinning The Herd

No, this isn't about cleaning out the closets and looking at my shoe collection with a jaundiced eye.
(Ten pairs of black shoes still seems legit).

This is about a more difficult exercise:  Thinning the things that define me.

For many, many years, I've urged anyone who will listen, to not put all their "identity eggs" in one basket.  This following an extremely unfortunate period during college, when I found my self-described identity as "good student" challenged for the first time, with nothing else to fall back on.

And so, I say to the children, do many things (even if they're not all done to perfection).  Think of yourself many ways.  Don't have just one gig, one facet, one identity.

That said, no one can be or do everything forever  Time or circumstances "thin the herd" (a death that terminates care-giving, a job-loss, etc) regardless of personal preference, and one must decide how to manage those changed circumstances.

"Who am I?  What do I do?  How do I make an impression on my little corner of the world?"

That's a tough one. 
I've been many things, most of which get the social stamp of approval. I've either set aside voluntarily or been released from many of them, and what's left is pretty thin.
 
In fact, I think "stay-at-home mom" is the most accurate description, at the moment. 
It doesn't roll easily off the tongue, but right now, that's my biggest contribution to The Greater Good. 

There's a quote...something like "Sometimes you have to give up something good, to make room for something great."

Awesomesauce!  I've given up lots of good things!

But...there's no guarantee "something great" is around the corner, or even down the road at all.

And if there isn't, can a smaller definition of "Who am I? What do I do?" be enough  to make an impression on my little corner of the world?

I hope so.
I think so. 
At the very least, I've made plenty of room for something great...should it come along!
 
And if it doesn't, I'm pretty sure I can still change my little corner. 

Time to get to work.
 

Grace

A month or so ago, I was talking with a family member, one generation up, who was helping a friend pack up and move.  The friend had lost her job, had no family to help her, and was receiving government assistance to put food on her table.  She was packing up and moving across the country, where a new job awaited.

But...
In the middle of all this packing,  "Grace" had a nail appointment.
My relative was horrified.

"She can't pay the rent, and she's getting her nails done?!?"

This family member was born during the Depression.  She remembers the frugal times of World War II.  She prides herself on never (as in never, ever) "needing" help, especially financial help, from anyone.  She's set the bar for judging others equally high.

Clearly, "Grace" fell short.

To be honest, I would have joined this relative in sniffing and "tut-tutting" (even as I helped the less fortunate) in the not-to-distant past.  After all, we bring our circumstances on ourselves, right?  All failings are personal failings in the end, right?   Joy ain't free...you gotta work for it.  No obvious, positive contribution to society...no happiness for you.

Here’s what I said:
“I get it.  If Grace needs $550 for the rent right now, and she doesn’t have $550, or even $450, but she DOES have $25, why shouldn’t she get her nails done?  That $25 isn’t going to make any difference in the time frame she needs it, and if having her nails done is a little pick-me-up during this hard time, why not?”

Pause

“I never thought of it that way.”

Here’s the thing.
I'm not pulling in a steady income at the moment. 
Decisions have to be made.
Big purchases have to wait.
It’s impossible for me not to beat myself up and say "This is my fault."
It’s also hard to shake the feeling I “shouldn’t” be happy…at all...in my current situation.  After all, I brought this on myself and my family, right?

So, I understand Grace in a way I would not have, just a few years ago. 

I understand grace better too.

When the children forget, again, to clean up after themselves; well…I’ve done that too.  I’ve also been late, lost things, not been prepared, not finished what I’ve started, done things the “wrong” way or made more work for other people.

Just like they do.

I can’t completely stop the thought “I’m going to scream” when a ski jacket is missing AGAIN (Really?  In the winter?  Did you not notice you were cold?),  but I’m getting better at replacing that thought with remembering something similar I’ve done…

…when I’ve made an honest mistake, and hoped for a little grace.

As the children get older, they’ll make decisions I don’t agree with.  They’ll do things we didn’t raise them to do.  They’ll get into messes, and hope for a little grace.

Someday, my relative will need a little grace too.  I expect it’ll be an anguishing moment for her, realizing that all the striving to be ONLY a dispenser of largess…and never a receiver…must ultimately fail.

Everyone needs a little grace.
Everyone needs a simple “It’s ok.”

Stepping Up

I've written about this before,

how in Life...

...the most difficult thing is always the most difficult thing.

As a baby, the first difficult thing was rolling over, then sitting up, crawling, walking, etc, etc.

Also known as “developmental milestones.”
No one treated these skills as choices.

Unfortunately, no one remembers these very early "Bring it on"

driven-to-succeed moments.

And, with age, it just gets easier and easier to opt out of challenges. 

There's a lot less "Bring it on" and a lot more "I've never done that before, so...no."

Sometimes, the task or skill itself isn’t objectively all that difficult, but the “conditions” aren't right, so…not today.

(I hear this from the children, regarding long-term homework projects and piano practice).

So, is there ANY value, as an adult, to stepping up to a challenge?

Taking on the new skill or responsibility?  Or even (gasp) performing?

I believe there IS value in stepping up, for two reasons:

First, as already mentioned, the hardest thing is always the hardest thing. 

Taking on challenges has the often-overlooked, salubrious (your word for the day) effect of making other skills, challenges or situations less intimidating by comparison. 

That’s pretty cool: 

Mastering a difficult challenge actually makes other things feel easier.

Second, stepping up to a challenge, no matter the outcome, is a HUGE ego boost (in a good way).  “I did that!  I’ll bet I can do other things!”
Or, at worst, “I tried my best.   I’m a brave person!”

I’m not saying that kicking “the most difficult thing” up a notch
isn’t…difficult.  It takes high-level mental strength and intestinal fortitude to
say “Yes” to something new.

But when you do that…even once, you become a person who can step up.
That’s pretty powerful.   

Cold, Wet & Hungry

"Life is like chess," I keep telling my children.
"You make your best move, then it's the other person's turn.  You can HOPE they'll make a certain move, but you can't control it.  It's totally their move."

It's not something they've embraced...yet.

Which is how the oldest went off to classes-in-multiple buildings clad in T-shirt, pants, socks and shoes, with a cold drizzle and high wind for company.

He had come downstairs in the morning, ostensibly to get ready for the day, only to lay down on the sofa in the darkened family room.  (At least he was closer to where he needed to make his lunch). 
Being his mom, I tossed a blanket over him.

An hour later, when it was time to leave for school, minus breakfast, minus lunch, minus money to buy lunch, minus coat, shoes and socks in hand...the blanket was the problem.

Number One Son had been unable to resist getting re-cozied and falling back asleep.
If only mom hadn't put the blanket over him!

He made his move:  laying down.
I made my move:  covering him up.
He made his move:  not getting back up.
I made my move:  taxi's leaving.

Both children are self-taught lawyers, and pretty good at it, dropping "It wasn't my fault" into the middle of almost any behavioral correction, still believing (or perhaps fervently hoping), that simple excuse cancels out any expectations.

And...because they're advanced self-taught lawyers, countering with "Doesn't matter, the final responsibility is still yours" only leads to black-and-white parsing of all possible extenuating circumstances:

"So, you're saying if you're in an accident that's no excuse for being late."
"So, if the printer isn't working in the morning, you're saying I should get dinged for a late paper."
And...ripped from yesterday's headlines:
"It's not my fault I'm late...(friend's dad) wanted to stop and get something to eat."
"Did you tell him you had to be home right away?"
"No, he said he was hungry."

I worry about this, because I know "I just couldn't, because..." can be a Way of Life. 
I've seen it happen.  Not only do I dread conversations with these people,
I'm convinced their lives are smaller than they need to be.
Life makes its move, they make theirs...or not.

Life (and the people in it) really is a master chess player.
Crazy moves come out of nowhere.

But,

To paraphrase Dean Wormer,
"Cold, wet and hungry is no way to go through life, son."

The Gratitude Thief

I was discussing Christmas traditions with a group of people,
and someone made this interesting observation regarding
children's gifts:

"No matter what it is, the first gift is always the best."

We thought about that for a few seconds and then agreed,
since it seemed to fit each person's personal recollections.

In sixteen years of children, we've had just one Christmas
where, everyone agreed, there were just too many presents.
(I blame the grandparents...)

Since then, we've let the grandparents do the heavy lifting
with gifts, since they seem to enjoy it.  We've contented
ourselves with supplying the "Santa gift", complete with
a note from Santa.

If the children ever noticed there's no gift from Mom and Dad,
they've never said anything.

Which brings me back to the idea that the first gift is the best.
Why is that?
I wonder if it's because the gratitude-tank is full at the beginning
of the gift-opening...and gradually empties as the gifts keep coming.

(If you've ever been to a marathon bridal or baby shower,
you've seen this in action.  The squeals of delight start to take
on a rather forced quality about fifteen minutes in.)

And that means, The Gratitude Thief just might be:

Stuff

Stuff that needs thank you notes, display/storage space
and cleaning or maintenance, if and when it's used.

Obviously, some stuff contributes to quality of life:
I loathe steaming the family-room carpet, but I'm
grateful that we have a steamer so we can do the job
ourselves (less grateful for the carpet...shoulda gone
with tile).

But the twelve these-are-too-large-but-we-need-a-set-
of-plain-ones wine glasses?
They finally went to consignment.
(I'm grateful for that!)

Because the children are well aware of my ongoing
thinning-the-herd mindset, I hope I'm also modeling
for them the value of quality over quantity, with room
for sentimental keepsakes...

...to keep the Gratitude Thief and his overflowing
bag of stuff out of their lives.

The Contentment Thief

After leaving my unionized government job, I was anxious, I admit.

I had some income to make up.
Maintain our two-income lifestyle and the children's activities.

But...I didn't.
Business never took off.  I didn't have the "drive", the "why"
or some other crucial personality trait.

Plus, I just couldn't get excited about the incentive/reward "stuff."
I was happy with the stuff we have.  (And, I'm one of those
always-culling-the-herd types).

We cut back...cut back again...got some help...got more help...

...and something strange began to happen.

I began to believe we would be ok.
Even if Plan A (or B, or C, or...)
never came to fruition.

That said, I HATED (and still do) hearing
how my goals are too small, how I don't want
success "enough", how I'm not worth someone's time
because I don't share their goals:

I didn't want the fancy car.
I don't want the fancy trips...or the jewelry.
I don't want syncophants (spellchecker doesn't know that word either)

Most of all,
I don't want desire for recognition (by whom?)
to steal my contentment.

That's tough, because the Contentment Thief
is literally everywhere.
When the Contentment Thief speaks,
it sounds exactly like people I know:

"Who's running for XXX this month?"
"Will you be on the leader-board?"
"I wanna give a shout out to our amazing leader!"

I'm actually not sure what the
Contentment Thief's M.O. is.

After all, my contentment isn't any good to anyone else.
It wouldn't fit them.
Everyone has their own contentment.

The best defense I've found so far, against the Contentment Thief?
A simple..."Meh."

It makes the Contentment Thief crazy
(as far as I can tell),
but it works like a charm.

Back to my writing....

Regrets...I've Had A Few

With apologies to Frank Sinatra...

I repeatedly "share" with my boys the peril of regret; specifically,
that regrets never go away, especially if they are of the things-not-done
variety.

I tell them, "No one has ever said, 'Rats, I wish I'd never learned to play piano.'"
Or, "I wish I hadn't persisted with martial arts long enough to get my black belt."
Or, "All those skills I learned in Scouts...wish I didn't have those."

My way of saying, "Nope, you're not abandoning this yet."

I don't think fear  motivates their reluctance,
they just don't (yet) see the long-term value of persistence, self-discipline,
time-management, habit-of-mastery.

But, sometimes fear IS there.
It's kept me from doing things in the past; opportunities that won't come back.

I've seen fear in some of the girls I skate with.
So, they decide not to compete, or to test, or to perform.
Whenever I get a chance, I tell them (or anyone),
"Failure sucks, but regret sucks even more."

Plus, most failure is temporary.
Life is extremely generous that way...usually, as long as you're willing to give something another whack, Life allows you to do that.

For years, until a new scoring system came into play,
I would argue with my skating coaches about whether or not I should leave elements out of
my skating programs, if those elements weren't rock-solid.
I usually wanted to give a try.  They didn't want me to be penalized.
I didn't want the regret of an opportunity missed, even if it was a looooong shot!

And I know first-hand...if I decide, in the heat of the moment,
to start leaving elements out of a program, I regret it immediately.

When members of my family have travel opportunities that involve flying
(I'm not a fan...to say the least),  it's really, really difficult to choke back my
own fear and say, "Of course you must go.  It's a wonderful opportunity."
But, I KNOW I would regret trying to hold them back.

Years ago, when I had decided to leave my soul-sucking government job
and work from home, a co-worker and I were discussing health insurance,
which I carried for the family. She was trying to dissuade me from leaving.
"What if one of you has a medical emergency or gets really sick?" she asked.
"But, what if we don't?" I countered.

Five years later, we haven't had any medical emergencies, and the list of family memories
I wouldn't have made, new friends I wouldn't have met and new skills I wouldn't have learned
is too long to list.

Regrets, I've had a few...but I'm working hard to keep that list short!

Being The Messenge, Not The Messenger

I've been hearing a LOT of buzz this past year about
"branding yourself".

Presumably NOT with a hot iron...although
I've (accidentally) done that too.

I thought about going that route also, for awhile.
to build my home business.  I would become
the message, not just the messenger.  People
would be attracted to ME, "like" ME and
want to follow ME.

See where this is headed?

I've watched people take up the Personal Brand
banner...some quite successfully.

And now, those people have to answer the
question, every day:

"How to I, personally, entertain/inform/engage/
keep my followers coming back for more?"

That sounds like a hamster-wheel to me.
"More, more, more!"
Plus, even more insidious...
...is the intoxicating taste of the
brand-name instant fruit-flavored beverage.

(You know the one...trademarked name)

And it's REALLY DIFFICULT not to.
Right?

It's so tempting to believe the hype, the
compliments...to want a sip of that beverage too.
Y'know what though?
It changes people.
Makes them self-centered.
Intent on being the center of attention.

So, what about the message?
Is there something solid, valuable or
uplifting in it, so people would want to
hear it,

no matter who the messenger is?

That sound much more attractive to me.
Thoughts, insights & life lessons don't
HAVE to be original (and mine aren't)
to stand the test of time.
Good stuff is good stuff.

Besides...building a pedestal is just too much work!

Power Up!

You know that old saying that people don't change as they age...they just become "more" themselves?
Seems legit.

On the other hand, I always thought that power actually changed people, so the formerly-fun-n-friendly coworker who morphed into a pitiless whip-cracker had undergone an actual personality change.

"And then, he turned into someone else."

But just recently, I came across the mash-up idea that power doesn't actually change people, but, like age, it just brings out what was already there.

That's a little unnerving, on a couple fronts.
First of all, it might not be possible to get the true measure of a person without exposing them to the sweet, siren-song of power.  But, I'm not sure I WANT to know that, deep down, someone I consider a friend finds me...useful.  Or...not useful. 

Second, turning the mirror inward is unnerving too.  If I had a podium, or a pedestal, or both, would I forget the "little people?"  I hope not...but maybe the seed of scorn IS lurking somewhere inside.

I wonder if just being aware of the possibility of turning into a I-drink-my-own-kool-aid-and-boy-is-it-delicious, I-am-the-Great-and-Powerful-Oz...weenie is enough to keep it from happening. 

On the bright side, with no podium or pedestal on the horizon, I won't have to do any soul-searching any time soon. 

And, there are some other examples too, of how power didn't corrupt:  The late Princess of Wales (love her), evangelist Billy Graham, and, further back in the archive, Wenceslaus, Duke of Bohemia ("Good King Wenceslaus").  So, good people CAN retain their goodness. 

It's pretty well established  by neurologists (and elite athletes) that almost any behavior which initially requires thinking can become "muscle memory".  Like, saying "thank you," or checking over your shoulder before changing lanes.  If kindness, or at least kind behavior, becomes muscle memory, I'm guessing that neither a pedestal nor advancing age would change that.

Something to work on.  That age thing is coming on fast.

In Seach Of...Followers

"Leadership"...the holy grail of work life. Can't succeed without it. All the best people have it.

But...to be a leader, you gotta have followers. Followers want to follow a strong leader. And, a leader isn't a leader without followers. The spectre of the chicken-and-the-egg rears its head.

Where DOES one get that very first follower/team member/groupie/fan/business partner? ("Followers-R-Us" isn't an option...I checked.)

I got a bit of insight this week. I hate to draw a broad, sweeping conclusion from it, so I won't. But, I did get a glimpse of how a person can develop a following, without actively trying to do so.

I was taking off my figure skates in the rink lobby, watching other skaters, including international competitors, warm up. A beautiful young woman walked past...and I was riveted. I literally couldn't look away. It wasn't her fabulous black lycra-and-mesh leotard that held my gaze. It was her posture. She could have been the model for my 1922 Emily Post etiquette book, page 262 "How To Walk Across A Ballroom".

In that instant, this young athlete became a leader, and I became her follower. I don't need or want the rest of her lifestyle or skills (although I'd happily take knees that don't ache), but I want to walk with the same unselfconscious, commanding presence.

Several years ago, another skater, a young man competing at the senior level, watched me do my little program over the course of several days, then asked me: "How do you smile when the program isn't going well?" Surprised, (because I assumed this would have been part of his training) I answered, "Simple. The smile is choreography. It has nothing to do with feeling." He looked thoughtful. For that one very specific thing, I might have been a leader.

Maybe the goal of being a leader gets painted with too broad a brush: You are or you aren't. All or nothing. Maybe leadership has many facets, different ones of which "catch the light" for different people.

Once leadership quality I've beat the drum for is "championship focus" on "the very next thing." My struggle to master the art of performing a skating program in front of an audience, without coming completely unstitched, took fourteen years. You can pack a whole lotta humiliation in that time frame, but I was determined to master performing. Other people did...I could too.

As it turns out, there are elite skaters in the very highest ranks of world competitors, who haven't mastered the art of performing either. It's not hard to spot who they are. One fall, one bobble...and that's it. They mentally abandon their technique and try to muscle through on emotion. It came to me in a flash, one day, that these skaters were leaders for me in a reverse kind of way: I could never, ever hope to have their physical skills, but I could surpass them in focus. And laser-like focus on the very next thing was the key to performing. Now, I can pass that insight along to others. Maybe that's one little facet of leadership.

Got leadership? My guess is...you probably do.