The Resume I Never Wanted To Build

I am a 51-year-old woman who entered the workforce in the 80’s. Big hair, pantyhose and teal eye liner were part of my professional look. “Working Girl” was a popular movie when I was a young professional, the story of how an attractive young woman rose through the ranks of corporate America without using her sexuality. Because, ladies who are much younger than me, sexual harassment was the norm instead of the exception for many women – from secretaries to lawyers – during my coming of age years.

 

For me, it started when I was still in High School, I worked a few hours at my sister’s office to earn extra money one hot summer week. My responsibility was to answer the phone and take messages. I was excited to have a “professional” opportunity and wanted to do my best for my sister and her boss. One afternoon when the office was empty except for me, one of the boss’s friends stopped by and we started chatting. He was in his 30’s, which to a 19-year-old is a very scary “old man.” He started talking to me about my eyes and how nice it would be for us to be alone together without anyone knowing. Terrified, I became quiet because I had no idea how a “professional woman” was supposed to respond to this. He warned me not to “tell anybody” that he had asked me out, there was no need to “upset anybody” because of our age difference. It would just be fun between the 2 of us. Our secret. Ick ick ick ick ick!! Repulsion and shame washed over me as this loser/predator departed from his friend’s office with confidence. Who knows, I may have given him my phone number because he was an adult and I was completely caught off guard. I told my sister a couple of days later but begged her not to “make a big deal” out of it because I was ashamed. I had been wondering what I might have done to cause this man to behave badly and I did not want to get either of us in trouble by exposing the incident. Clearly, looking back on this as a middle-aged woman with a teenaged daughter, I am angry and appalled by the casual way this man was able to dismantle my self-confidence and enthusiasm about doing good work and getting paid for it. He made it feel despicable. I took on the responsibility for both of our behavior that day, because, being a good Catholic girl, I must have done or said something to deserve it. I had just finished Driver’s Ed, for God’s Sake!!!! Finding my bearings in a large city and getting parked in a busy downtown parking lot were my major concerns – but then I had to listen to that creep? I was starting to dislike being a “professional” at the tender age of 19.

 

Moving forward from that big week in the grown-up office setting, I at least was aware that it was always possible to be caught off guard and mistaken for a Bimbo instead of a real professional.

 

Time went by and I encountered creepy professors in college who wanted to “take me to breakfast” (on a Sunday morning!) to discuss life or “have a cup of margarita” (yes, someone actually called it that) instead of giving me the grade I had earned in his class. Again, these guys got by with it because I did not know any better and there were no University guidelines protecting students from sexual harassment.

 

I want to end with the BIG one and sadly admit that, after all these weeks of “#ME TOO” posts on social media, my experience never once occurred to me until TODAY. That’s how long it has been buried within the vault of shame hidden inside of me for 25 years. I was working over a several-month period with a man I considered a friend, from whom I was learning a great deal and whose company I enjoyed. After work one Saturday afternoon, this man, whose wife and child I knew, invited me to Dim Sum – I was hungry, we had worked hard, it was daylight out, etc. – no concerns, right? During Dim Sum he casually mentioned that his family was gone for the weekend and there was another restaurant he really wanted to take me to that evening. STUNNED. I felt embarrassed and ashamed and immediately made up an excuse for not being able to go. We said an awkward goodbye. Several months later, when this man was soon to be leaving town for a job across the country – a package arrived at my home with his name and return address. I opened it and found a VHS (it was the 90’s!) tape with no label. We used VHS tapes in the classes we were teaching, so I thought maybe he had hastily returned one he thought belonged to me. WRONG. It was the most disgusting pornography I have ever seen! And my MOTHER was visiting me the weekend it arrived so she was sitting in my apartment with me when I put the video in!!! Immediately, I was hot with anger, fear, shame and embarrassment. We discussed it for a few minutes and I threw it in the dumpster. She had never had a job before so certainly her advice was not, “take this immediately to your work and report the SOB.” This ass NEVER paid a price for humiliating and frightening me.

 

In the wake of all the recent accusations leveled against powerful men in Hollywood, my “# ME TOO” may seem irrelevant or self-pitying. I am astonished and saddened that the incidents I have described (and a few more I am not recounting) took place as I was trying to build a professional career and reputation for myself yet the fear of being blamed for causing these things to happen on purpose kept me silent all these years. I have been reading the wonderful Glennon Doyle’s memoir this week, “Love Warrior,” and she writes passionately about the importance of being bold, brave and true to our stories and experiences. Otherwise, as women, our silence diminishes us as human beings and hurts others in ways we cannot predict – for instance, my children on the brink of adulthood. They need to know the world does not always treat you fairly or respectfully and it is up to us to make things matter in a time where people in positions of power can no longer bully and shame the less powerful in the comfort of darkness.

 

So the next time you think to yourself, “Gee, middle aged women sure are bitter and angry,” think about the things women my age have endured just to have the privilege to earn a living. I’m so glad my children will enter the professional world understanding that there are limits to the kind of power and authority their superiors may wield.

I Wanted My Son to Be Happy But on MY Terms

Oh how very much we have learned in the past two years about our beautiful son and what motivates him.  This article is practically verbatim what we have gone through.  And how happy I am to say our son is THRIVING.

 

 

We want our kids to be happy more than we ever wanted it for ourselves. With all the planning, supporting, and goal-setting, how could it not be working?

Source: I Wanted My Son to Be Happy But on MY Terms

Paychecks and Blueberries for Sal

 

“She will call less and less,” my husband casually remarked last night about our College Freshman whose nightly calls warm my heart.  I bit his head off.  “DON’T SAY THAT!,” I yelled back.  Silence.  What was that about, I began thinking.  Everything is off kilter these days because it’s all new:  our first child recently left the nest for college and at 51, I am in a new job, earning more than I have in eight difficult years.  I call them “difficult” because I have never fully embraced my value as a stay-at-home-mother, even though this is what I always wanted to do.

The sacrifices you make when you decide to earn less in exchange for being more present feel mostly unnoticed and under appreciated most of the time.

But that’s the kind of Momma I wanted to be!  ALWAYS available, no matter what.  So when my biggest paycheck of eight years hit the bank account last night, I found myself weighing the value of the money versus the value of being physically present for the household.  Here’s how it feels to me:  in the short term, putting a hefty-ish paycheck in the household account feels better than making sure there is a roast in the oven but in the long term, knowing we raised a young woman who wants to touch base with us often is the greatest payoff possible.  

We are all conditioned to thinking of our investments – financial, emotional, intellectual – in terms of returns.  That’s why I count the number of days I maintain long-term sobriety, because as the days add up, I figure the greater the “return.”  But not if I’m not emotionally sober.  To maintain emotional sobriety, you better be invested in pouring every type of energy and asset you have into living a life worth living.  After all, what’s the point of removing something as pleasurable as drinking red wine if I’m not going to enjoy the benefit of sobriety and that enjoyment isn’t going to spill over into other people’s lives and well-being?  Huh?  In other words, it’s just as important to replenish and nourish your emotional, spiritual and physical coffers as it is to earn money and spend it wisely.  Now I get to do both:  earn money to help support our family and reap the benefits of staying emotionally invested and close to my children as they were growing up.

These days, I think alot about special times with my children when they were young, especially bedtime story reading.  My daughter and I had many favorite books, among them, a 1950’s Caldecott Award winner, “Blueberries for Sal.”

1-Sample-Blueberries-for-Sal

Little Sal was so much like my Isa:  precocious, daring, full of life and love for new experiences.  Together we would read the story about the Momma Bear and her Cub on the same mountain – but the other side and out of view – as the Momma Human and little Sal – picking blueberries to sustain their bodies through the winter.

My paycheck from the new job felt like a pail of blueberries from the book.  Very gratifying and fun but also a worthwhile investment for lean, cold days in the future.  It felt good and associating it with something so precious from my daughter’s childhood gives me peace of mind that our sacrifices have been worth it.  Especially when she texted back, “Yes I do” this morning when I asked her if she remembered reading “Blueberries for Sal” with me.

“Why can’t a paycheck just be a paycheck and not turned into a dumb pail of blueberries, you weirdo?,” you may be asking yourself.  Because I am committed to living a life worth living.  This is what it means to understand a woman in midlife experiencing an emptying nest and working to maintain sobriety:  a cherished moment of understanding in a three-word text from your beautiful daughter away at college puts everything in perspective.  And all is well with my world.

Cicada

Cicadas remind me of the starry summer nights of my childhood!

The Impatient Gardener

While working in the yard, my girls found this Cicada nymph hatching. What a great find.

Cicada Songs

They say your songs
portend the end of summer
just as chirping robins
usher in the spring air.

Listen to the sound
whirring, buzzing through
leaves of trees that shelter
the thrumming brood.

Insect monks chant
hymns of nature
for us and for
their silent females: “mate her.”

More musical than electric currents
that hum along power lines,
your symphony hovers,
guarding the sultry night like armored palatines.

Constant and pervasive,
we humans sometimes hear
sometimes ban your frequencies,
lulled to sleep by drums so dear.

Air conditioners and headphones
drown out your beautiful noise
but others sing with you
till Fall’s frost steals these little joys.

~David Granville




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Getting Sober Is Like Starting A New Job …. Everyday

Next week I will celebrate my 2nd consecutive year living in long-term recovery from alcohol use disorder.  Notice my language.  It is very specific for a reason:  I believe that I will spend the rest of my life working to develop deeper understanding of my need to numb feelings and, hopefully, will be granted the Grace and inspiration to pursue ever-deeper practices for managing and maintaining a healthy, well-rounded life without relying on alcohol.

I am so proud of this achievement yet I know that I could “slip” at any time if I begin to neglect the positive practices that keep me humble and eager for continued sobriety.  Just like a person who has changed jobs, my openness about my struggles is just one of many facts about my life – in other words, sobriety will never define me as a person.  Yet, surprisingly, maybe because of tv shows like “celebrity rehab” or the heavy infiltration of 12-step type phrases in popular culture, it has been my experience that people automatically have their own sets of expectations of what your recovery should look and feel like.

It is impossible to convey to a person who does not have addiction controlling their life the excitement and liberation you feel once you decide to change, accept your limitations, and work everyday to seek newer and better ways to live “a normal life” without obsessing over wanting to numb.  That’s why I write about it.  But it makes people feel “awkward,” it seems.  So I am supposed to confine and limit my experience to groups of other “users.”  This does not make sense to me.  You wouldn’t avoid talking to a person about their new “job,” so why would the topic of pursuing a life without addiction be any different?  This is why maintaining sobriety can be difficult – it is more “polite” to ignore the addiction monster in casual conversation.  This kind of sweeping under the rug behavior is bad for our children.  They need to hear us talking about and showing them what a life built on zero reliance on alcohol looks and feels like.  Just like we introduce our children to the concept of work by taking them to work  with us, we should not be afraid to declare our commitment to sobriety to our friends, family and community.

The reality is that the younger a person is when they first experience alcohol, the more likely it will cause an addiction problem later in life.  We don’t perpetuate self-sabotaging cycles in other health-related concerns (for instance, heart disease), so why are we reluctant to openly discuss and support addiction and sobriety?

I have a suspicion it is because many of us believe one of two things:  that we are already slipping into bad habits of relying on alcohol to “numb” difficult emotional situations or we mistakenly believe we are immune to addiction.  Those are highly dangerous beliefs.  I think another reason people don’t want to talk about their feelings related to numbing and alcohol is because there is a widespread misunderstanding of what a sober life looks and feels like.  I will definitely admit (if you have not already ascertained this fact!) that I am a much more sensitive person sober than drinking.  I have to work hard to process my thoughts, feelings and responses to everyone and everything around me to avoid falling into old patterns of numbing.  But that doesn’t mean my life is no longer fun or that I will not tolerate others’ drinking around me (everybody has their own barometer of tolerance about this, so it is always thoughtful to ask).

Over the weekend, I felt so many “feels” as we celebrated our first-born child’s Graduation from High School.  At once sentimental and fearful, the onslaught of well-wishing from people in  your life you may still be reconciling with, the entire weekend was challenging and tiring for me to navigate.  And the past two nights, my poorly trained brain with only 2 years of sober thinking under its belt, even began telling me “You should go ahead and enjoy a drink or 2 or 10.  You don’t really have a problem.”  This is proof to me that I will spend every waking moment for the rest of my life “managing” this enormous force that lives inside of me that wants to numb everything.

Finally, some thoughts about people in Recovery that might help others better understand this journey:

Sober people are fun people;

Getting sober means the party is just beginning, not ending.

Sober People do  not intend to make you feel uncomfortable ;

Sober People would rather you throw out all your old ideas about Recovery and learn by engaging with them rather than avoiding the topic altogether;

Just like becoming confident about one’s performance in a new job, living comfortably in your own skin as a sober person takes time, and you should not have any unrealistic expectations about what this should look like – every sober person is unique.

It has been an honor and a pleasure sharing the past 24 months with Readers. I have received so much love, grace and appreciation from the many people who want to understand addiction.  This propels me forward, especially after my 99th cup of coffee during absolutely perfect cold Heineken or margarita weather!

the Contentment Delusion – BayArt

Cheeky Friends,

I share with you some wisdom from another author today! Love, Joan

 

 

Many of the clients I work with have a desire to be content with life, yet struggle to experience it at any significant level. To live a content life would be amazing wouldn’t it? To not feel anxious about tomorrow, to feel satisfied and at peace with today and to be free from any guilt…

Source: the Contentment Delusion – BayArt

This Is What Gratitude Feels Like

Modern Mommy Madness

I am 25 days sober, and I feel amazing.

For a full 3 weeks, I felt almost debilitated. I was depressed, lethargic, and miserable. I had nausea, night sweats, and diarrhea. Some days I literally had to talk myself through putting pants on, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep going.

Are you asking yourself what I mean by “talking myself through putting pants on?” Here’s an example of how I shuffled through my days:

What’s the next right thing?

Putting on pants. I have to get some pants and put them on.

My pants are on. What’s the next right thing?

I need to get my purse. Okay, I have my purse.

What’s the next right thing? I need to find my kids.

Where are my kids?

Shit.

***

That’s what happens when a person suddenly stops drinking after her body becomes accustomed to metabolizing a bottle of…

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