Grace required: the end of this pandemic winter

Outside, the birds are singing and the plants are budding. 

As we say goodbye to winter and embrace the scents, sounds, and sights of spring, there's light at the end of this pandemic tunnel. Here in the northwest corner of these "united" states, the days are longer, it's light later, and on the horizon is a vaccine for everyone who wants one, even though the rollout—for some of us—is excruciatingly slow.  

Experience shared, but different 

What that means is that many of us are still hunkered down, tucked in at home, keeping ourselves and others safe, with some semblance of a meaningful life, while some venture out more safely. Some of us are exhausted, some are traumatized, some assess their risks and do what they must to stay sane, while the truly introverted relish the quiet and lowered expectations. 

When we finally put this year-long pandemic winter to bed, such as there will be an end, we will have some form of collective PTSD. While many of us have experienced trauma previously, none of us have experienced trauma together, so broadly, collectively; in this case, myriad losses, challenges, and major life changes due to a pandemic.  

Grace, required.  

To expect normalcy now and in the future is expecting too much. And while "normal" has a nice ring to it after what has seemed abnormal for so long now, an important question to ask is, "What do I want now?" Were the 'before times' all that or is there a better tomorrow ahead? 

While we are, generally speaking, a resilient and capable society, priding ourselves on productivity, we'll need time to reflect, regroup, and assign meaning to this experience. We must re-evaluate our expectations, and while I believe the last year had all of us assessing meaning and priorities, this may look different as we step back into "real" life. 

As we emerge, much has changed. Some of our favorite places are gone. Our habits have likely changed, both good and bad. And we may have lost friends or family, whether to the virus, other health conditions, or to personal beliefs we learned were too different from our own. 

Some of us are already working through this, but others will need more time because what's true for many is that dreams were paused, goals revised, priorities re-evaluated. To borrow from my corporate life, what do you want to stop, start, or keep? 

Personally, I feel like I'm coming out of a long hibernation, an endless winter with few interactions. I'm still head down, working deadline-to-deadline, staying home, staying safe until it's my turn for a vaccine, but hope is in the air and not far away. But as I shake off the dregs of winter, I'm thinking about what's next. 

I hope you'll give yourself grace to be, do, and feel different for a while. Take this time as we emerge to learn and experience the world a little more personally, more mindfully. Remember, your point of power is in *this* moment. 

What do you want to take away from this year of change?  

If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

There's something to be said for scrappy and street smart

I'm definitely not a Pollyanna. I learned a lot the hard way. But early on, I developed the skills to do that. Given where I could be right now, I'm grateful to be where I actually am.

I'm right where I should be. Are you? 

I find the Pollyanna's of the world hard to be around. The naivete irritates me. Perhaps it's because I once wished I had an easier upbringing. Perhaps it's because I didn't.

I often lament my earlier years, say, from 12 onward. The years prior to that are all pretty blurry and largely remembered thanks to photos. I've said from the outside looking in, they look pretty good but reality isn't always as it seems.

But from 12 on, things got interesting. My history teacher, Mr. Kimball, once told me I wouldn't amount to anything (although he also said something about wasting my intelligence, so I guess he thought I was smart). Because of my loud mouth and feisty spirit (to be kind to myself), he suggested I join the debate team, but I wasn't interested.

My years in junior and high school were tough, during a tough time. Nearing the end of the cold war... Busing... Post-60s freedoms and all the confusions that went with them, especially for women...

Some of my school mates and I were wont to say after graduation, which I managed albeit barely, "We went to Handle-It School - we can handle anything." Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Maybe...

Some of those early friends are doing well now. Some of my closest friends really aren't... or weren't, as they departed this mortal coil. But a tough beginning doesn't mean there's no hope or possibility. Sometimes it's a great foundation from which to build upon.

Hope, possibility, opportunity

My former step-daughter had a rough beginning. I worried a lot when she came to live with us. But now, she travels the world for work, is happily married, and often lives abroad. From the outside in, she has a good life.

When I left what I consider to be my first "real" job (as in, the start to a career rather than just a job), my boss wrote in my recommendation that I combined intellect with street smarts. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I get it now. It took a while.

Me, December, 2014, Golden Gardens Park, Seattle

Being scrappy and street smart makes me a pretty decent human being, with skills to solve problems, contribute to a meaningful discussion, compromise, and get results. I "get" people and know how to maneuver in the world. I'm pragmatic, a realist, even while holding a lot of ideals about how I think things should be.

There's gold in them thar hills... (or, my 

guess is we're all in the right place, right now). 

If we can find the gold in the hands we're dealt, even if we're playing Cards Against Humanity, we can create something special toward a greater, better world.

Staying together: 18 tips for a thriving relationship

We've come a long way. What I thought would be a summer fling has grown into an 18-year (and counting) relationship.

Forrest and Laura, by artist friend
Teresa Waclawik, after visiting
us in Seattle, 1999.

He was young. A musician. I was divorced. Starting over.

I lived on the Canadian west coast. He was leaving Washington's Olympic Peninsula to return to the deep southeast, where he's from. By motorcycle.

He stayed at my place for Music West, Vancouver's then music conference and festival. We were two ships passing that weekend. But over dinner that last night, something clicked. He ran. I hid.

We saw each other a few more times before he crossed the country. Then we emailed. We hand-wrote letters. We had long conversations. We visited. For a year-and-a-half, we grew closer even in our distance. Then we landed in Seattle.

Forrest and Laura, May 18, 2014
at Willows Inn on Lummi Island.
Celebrating 18 years. 

That fateful dinner was the beginning of an adventure. Because we don't have a wedding date, we attribute May 18 as the day we set our intention to stay together.

I've read countless times that you won't always like or even love your partner, and it's true. While it isn't always easy, if you can weather the storms, the rewards are worth it.

Here's my list of 18 lessons learned - one for every year but in no particular order - to create an enduring relationship.

1. Laugh. Any way you can, as much as you can. Have fun. Be silly. Don't be afraid to look goofy. Then the difficult times become almost funny, as long as you're laughing together.
2. Get over yourself. Sure, we all want to be right. And, we all have filters that get projected onto our partners. Cliche' though it may be, recognize when you point a finger at your partner, there are four pointing back at you. Ask what's more important, being right or the relationship. 
3. Don't make assumptions. We created an "ass check" - a lighthearted way to check in with the other if one of us might be assuming something. The ass check also supports 1 & 2 above.
4. Chill. Another cliche', but don't sweat the small stuff. If 'improperly' squeezing the toothpaste tube is more than a minor annoyance, it might be a sign there's more going on under the surface.
5. Argue. Sometimes it's necessary. I used to think that disaster was upon us if we had a fight. But you're two different people and you're never going to agree on everything. Step away if it gets too heated, but be clear when you'll be back. And see #1 above; nothing diffuses an argument quicker than laughter. Inside jokes help; they both make you laugh and build intimacy.
   
6. Own your stuff. I am responsible for my emotions and actions. How he feels is his responsibility. Period. 
7. Talk. Even when it's uncomfortable. In fact, especially when it's uncomfortable. Be direct. Share feelings. Our partners aren't mind readers, even though they know us better than anyone else.
   
8. Give and take. You can't always have it your way. Know when it's important to compromise or concede. Sometimes doing something because you know it makes your partner happy is enough.
9. Dream. What do you want to create together? What kind of life do you want? Having shared dreams moves you forward, together. Having your own dreams makes you interesting... and helps you grow. 
10. Forgive. We've had some tough times. When we first landed in Seattle, I was depressed - my mom was ill, I had no job, and life looked grim. In 2009, his stress, lack of coping skills and unhealthy habits led to a meltdown. While forgetting isn't essential, forgiveness is. And if trust is broken, we're proof it can be rebuilt.
11. Have compassion. We all go through rough patches. We fumble, we fail, we lose confidence. No one escapes this, so be patient and kind when it happens to your partner. And, have compassion for yourself when it happens to you, and hope they do the same.
12. Trust your instincts. They're almost always right. Act on your hunches, for better or worse. 
13. Be trustworthy. Be who you say you are, do what you say you're going to do. Operate with unflinching integrity.
14. Be grateful and check your baggage. We all have baggage, and it follows us into relationships. So look for the gifts and appreciate the small kindnesses, and be mindful about taking each other for granted. Much like tending a garden, this requires consistent effort and attention. 
15. Ask for help. Sometimes you can't do it on your own. We had a therapist from an earlier time. He made the call, but I came along. We saw her separately, but concurrently. With her help, because of his breakdown, I had major breakthroughs. Painful, yes. We made the choice to stay together. Miraculously, we can even laugh at the breakdown now. It got us where we are. 
16. Make time for each other. And yourselves. Friendship is key. Share meals. Watch a movie. Hold hands. Write notes. Go for a walk and talk about your day. Everything has an opposing side - be sure to give each other enough room, too. Having a life of your own gives you something to talk about.
    
17. Respect each other. We all aim to do the best we can. We make mistakes. There's truth in the saying, "perfect is the enemy of the good." Take time to learn about your partner's life goals and aspirations, and share yours. 
18. Be willing to grow. Don't be afraid of change because nothing stays the same. Giving each other room to grow, as well as growing together, is essential. A solid foundation of shared values, dreams, love and respect helps you grow as an individual and as a couple. We're two individuals on our own paths, and they happen to be parallel. It makes our journey together far more interesting. 

Many of these were hard for me and took plenty of practice. Even laughing. Often serious and sensitive, I've had to let go of some beliefs about who I was, what I thought was important, and maybe more importantly, what I made things mean. Now, it just gets better.

Words matter. I love you... 

thank you.... I'm sorry... I get it... 

 these make a difference... 

PS... For anyone who's read this blog since the beginning, this is evidence of just how far we've really come.  

Speak up: your health, happiness and well-being depend on it

Tybee Island gulls, chatting among themselves.

I have a voice. So do you.

Do you hear me? Good. Because we all need to be heard.

A few nights ago, I woke up in the wee hours, a bit unsettled... dreaming that my partner of 17+ years told me we were getting married on May 23. What??? I'm on the fence about marriage, so that wasn't what nagged me. I believe the dream was a gut reaction to my birthday present: he planned my - our - vacation. Now, don't get me wrong. For the most part, I'm OK with this. He has good ideas, and I know we'll have fun together; that he was so thoughtful and actually took the time to plan this, well, that's awesome. His choice was one of several places we considered; we just hadn't collectively decided yet (and because of some history and my limited vacation time, I wanted to weigh in). Really, it's a small thing, in this context.


However... 

...what this brings up for me are the many times throughout my life where I haven't had a voice - haven't had a say, haven't had a choice. Where choices have been made for me. And I've had a few sleepless nights lately thinking about this. That's where the unsettled feeling came from.

My partner and I have come far in our 17+ years together. We have invested time and energy to learn about ourselves, and each other. A few years ago, we made a concerted effort to learn how to talk with each other, to set aside our filters and assumptions when we're listening, or at least, only assume positive intent. (Why is it so easy to assume the worst, even from those who love us?) To not let our stories about ourselves (e.g., "I can't do anything right...") get in the way of how we hear what the other is saying.

Because when we hear with our filters, we miss the message and the conversation becomes about me, not us, not the person we're engaged with. We're largely conditioned to hear what we want to hear, what we may have expected to hear, if not now, then at some point in our lives. Yes, that's right. We collect evidence for the stories about ourselves we're familiar and comfortable with - even if we don't like them (does "I can't do anything right" translate to "I'm not good enough?" It just might, for some of us; note that these are common interpretations). Maybe we don't recognize those self-sabotaging stories yet. If not, we're more likely to get triggered. Which shuts down any opening for conversation.

So how do we talk with each other, speaking up and honoring ourselves, when we risk triggering someone's stuff? What happens if we shut down and don't say anything?

Staying quiet about what we care about serves no one. Staying quiet is a recipe for disaster. Really, it just prolongs an uncomfortable situation.


So we learn to speak up. 

We speak from a place of love and respect. We pay attention. We check in. We know there might be filters and triggers; we ask questions. And we speak what's true for us, from the inside out. It's not about having the last word, or the first word, but engaging in meaningful conversation.

He and I have worked very hard at this, and it's paid off. (So at some point, he and I are going to talk, but because he's aboard a ship off the coast of Florida, we haven't yet been able to talk about it with any depth. As he is wont to remind me, timing is everything.)

Timing is important, but it's not the be all, end all. Sometimes, there's never a good time. Sometimes, speaking up in the moment is essential for our well-being - and even safety. And sometimes, taking the time to think through the message we want to impart or just being courteous are our best options. But silence rarely is.

Good judgment speaks volumes. Choice of words and tone are also important. Lashing out is not speaking up. Accusing or attacking aren't speaking out.

Speaking up is speaking our truth, sharing our feelings, expressing our opinions, standing up for ourselves, while honoring ourselves and our relationships.


I've had to learn - and unlearn - a lot.

Not being heard goes back to childhood, growing up in an environment where I was frequently dismissed. In my teens, my mouth got me in trouble: Notice me! But by then I had a lot of anger and this didn't help my cause. I didn't speak up; I lashed out. I didn't know how to use my voice; I didn't know it was OK for no to really mean no. I didn't know I had choices. Or that my opinions or what I wanted counted for something. As an adult, I largely shut up and chose not to rock boats, and was occasionally blindsided by the actions of others. Had I the tools I have now, I doubt it could happen.

So what have I learned?

• Communicating in a way that's honoring, respectful and compassionate is vital for healthy relationships - in any environment or circumstance.
• While I can't control anyone's actions or words, I'm no longer a victim of my circumstances. I can choose how I respond to what happens around me and what other people do. 
• Allowing my voice to be silenced was learned behavior that can be unlearned. (Anger is also learned behavior that can be unlearned; while some anger can be healthy and motivating, expressing it appropriately is essential.)
• An argument today beats resentment tomorrow, and arguing doesn't mean the world will end. Nor does disagreement.
• Acceptance and approval need only come from me. Validation from outside sources isn't necessary. I operate from a place of high integrity; if someone doesn't like what I have to say or what I do, I'll welcome a conversation. 
• How someone responds to me is their responsibility. 

A few years ago I made some different choices. I knew I wanted different results in key areas of my life, including work and my relationships. And while I didn't know how to get these results, didn't even know just what I was looking for, I knew it was time for things to change. With some help, deep reflection and actively observing my own behavior, patterns and habits, things changed, and my results were different.

This is a much more powerful place to be. I know that what we internalize has to manifest in some way, and repressed anger, withdrawal, and silence can all lead to illness, crumbling relationships, depression, and so much more. If we keep our true selves, or our true feelings, blocked or invisible, we benefit no one, not even ourselves.

If it's important, speak up. 

It's a new year. What are you ready to speak up for?

Do ethics matter? What about our gaps?

On Monday, we had a speaker on campus to talk with us about ethics at work - oh so important in a work environment and in mine, perhaps more so than some. But what fascinated me was how he opened the conversation by asking us about our personal values. A few key points stood out and I thought I'd share - because it became very clear that it's from our values that our personal and work ethics stem.

Shades of blue and gray: Oregon coast south of
Cannon Beach (April 2013)

Gaps and gray areas

Our speaker, Bill Grace, who founded the Center for Ethical Leadership, noted when he asked us about our values that no matter how saintly we consider ourselves (or not), we all have gaps. All of us. And there are many shades of gray. He also acknowledged that most of us want to close those gaps once we know they exist - but it's the knowing part that's sometimes the hardest. Most of us have a pretty strong sense of what's wrong or right, yet those the gaps can be hard to see because, like it or not, we have our biases based on our backgrounds, experiences, knowledge, and our own moral compass.

One way Bill suggested we assess where we are is to look at our calendars and our checkbooks. Does how we spend our time (and I have to add, who we spend it with...), or how we spend our money, line up with what we say we value? That's a useful benchmark. I know I'm not there yet. At least in a few areas there's room for improvement (ahem... shop therapy, anyone?).

Shared experience

He also explained that we - the collective we - share at least a handful of personal values. His experience shows that, whether in a room of 80 or 8000 people, at least one out of eight common values are shared, with love, family and integrity the top three. He did an exercise to demonstrate this, and our group of 150 shared at least one in seven. Of those three, my top value is integrity - in a sense, an umbrella value for me under which things like honesty, doing what you say you're going to do (or clean it up) and acting ethically fall under.

A particularly fascinating reminder was about the Pledge of Allegiance, something I haven't thought about for a very long time, but it's pertinent given the gay marriage legislation being considered in states around the country. Written in 1892, the closing line reads, "and liberty and justice for all." (By the way, for those of you who don't know, "under God" was added to the pledge in the 1950s). But in 1892, there were many gaps in terms of who 'all' included. Women didn't yet have the vote. It wasn't until the 1960s that the Civil Rights Act was passed. And today, civil liberties are still unavailable to certain segments of the population - and dare I say it, some could be considered threatened.

Doing the right thing

Distinctions in leadership were made: Are you a transactional or a transformational leader? Both are acceptable forms of leadership and have value. But transactional leadership is about doing things the right way, whereas transformational leadership is doing the right thing, even if it isn't the popular thing. Bill challenged us to "stay in deep water and work to resolve" the things that are important - and to do the right thing, even if it isn't the easy answer.

Lastly, we talked about ethical dilemmas and how important it is to remember there's a human being at the other end of a decision. As author Stephen Covey suggests, look for the win-win. Don't necessarily choose justice over mercy, or vice versa, just because a policy dictates something. Policies and laws aren't always right, and as mentioned, there are many gray areas. Instead, what if there's a third possible option that's both just and merciful?

So just what is ethics? 

Our ethics are derived from what we value. It's doing the right thing. Your heart or your gut (whichever one you listen to) usually knows what that is. In coaching, one of the first things we look at when checking in with ourselves or working with a client is what we most value. It's in part how we measure progress. How do these things we say are so important actually line up with what we do?

Celebrating older women

I heard a story on our local NPR station recently that piqued my curiosity enough to explore further. New York photographer Ari Cohen has made it his mission to photograph style mavens over 60 on the streets of New York. Despite their advancing age (many are in their 80s and 90s), they're still very much embracing and celebrating life and themselves, and living out loud with what they wear.

Check it out here.

As a young girl, I was surrounded by interesting older women. Friends of my grandmother - Mary Swift and Mary McKagen (grandmother of Duff) - were stylish, creative, talented, outspoken, and both very prominent figures in my life at different times. A pale yellow skirt made from fine wool with exquisite detailing by Mrs. Swift was my introduction to couture at a very young age. Ms. McKagen's sense of humor stayed with her 'til her final days and my visits with her are unforgettable.

There was Hazel Schultz, a friend of my father who kept his memory alive for me. She was a hat model in the 1920s. The afternoon we spent in her attic opening hat box after hat box was my version of heaven at that moment. Already a hat collector, she sent me home with a couple dozen ranging from 1940s military style, 1950s pillboxes to 1960s mod and so many more. The stories behind those hats! If only I'd written them down...

My neighbors Mrs. Bean, Dorothy, Old Mrs. Wurm and the spinster Miss G (whose German last name was hard to pronounce) each had their own special style and made their contributions to the world and my life. I'm also lucky enough to have hats from each of them except Miss G, who insisted on wearing scarves to cover her thinning hair (one of those many things we potentially have to look forward to...).

My great aunt Vernis was my own Auntie Mame. Her laughter and zest for life were contagious, and she always maintained a positive outlook. When her second husband died after a long illness, she reconnected with her first husband who was still wildly in love with her. They remarried, and spent much of their final years together boating in the San Juan Islands. She drove a Cadillac, wore bright colors, always had her hair done, and never left the house without makeup. With no children of her own, she indulged me in meaningful ways. It was from her that I developed my love for vintage clothes, hats, gloves and handbags, playing dress-up with her lovely castoffs. She was a rare gift - so different than the others in my family.

These are just a few who have inspired me and who I could aspire to be like as I age.

I love it when stereotypes are smashed and cultural myths about aging defied. This becomes more important to me as I age and contemplate what aging means to me. One day I will be considered 'old' by societal standards. What does that look like? I certainly don't want to feel old. And I don't want my style to be dictated by my age - how I dress, the length of my skirt or how I wear my hair. And I really don't want collective expectations to hinder my ability to live as loudly and fully as possible.

What concepts about aging do you want to break?

By the way, I'm excited to note there's an Advanced Style documentary film in the works to be released sometime this year. I don't know any more details but if I hear of any, I'll post them here.

Managing expectations, dealing with disappointment... and the stories they trigger

I should be on a plane to Singapore on Friday. A relatively short trip - just over a week, but an opportunity to see Forrest after six months apart and explore an intriguing destination together - a place I've read about, heard about, thought about, and wanted to visit for a long time. Ideally, a longer trip would encompass travel to other destinations in the area: various parts of Thailand, Vietnam, Bali, Kuala Lumpur... to name just a few. But I was so looking forward to this trip, regardless. To seeing Forrest, to going somewhere I've never been, to vacation time, to play time, hanging out, laughing... something I'm currently in need of.

I bought my ticket on April 1. I waited until Forrest confirmed the ship he's on would be in port on the scheduled dates with no change in plans. But still it wasn't meant to be - the shipping line decided last minute on a cost saving measure, anchoring in international waters with no 'launch' service - meaning the crew can't go ashore. I cancelled my flight on April 9. I don't think I have words that are any better than his, so you can read his blog post here.

This was quite a letdown - one of many since his flight left Seattle October 17, albeit the biggest. Our communication options have been terrible - before he signed on, we thought "modern shipping line - no problem." We expected we'd have internet, Skype, email... Instead, we've had horrible satellite phone conversations - bad connections, delays, disconnections... And email is sent and received from the ship once a day to his crew email address. When he's in port, he has SIM cards that allow him to make and receive calls from his cell phone, and gives him internet access - when they work. We thought we'd be able to meet in a port or two - we planned to meet in Savannah in December before he started his second Atlantic crossing to Gibraltar and points beyond. But the ship's schedule changed.

This last disappointment triggered a lot of old stories and beliefs about my self worth, what I can have, what I deserve, whether my life matters or works, and if I should even be here (I'm really not being dramatic - I grew up with this crap in the recesses of my brain... and there's a bit more to this story: I have guidebook after guidebook of places I've planned to visit and have only managed to get to a minute few over a vast number of years). It feels unfair.

These are all interesting things to notice. The stories don't run me anymore, and they rarely even make an appearance. And when they do, they don't stay very long. Awareness is key. I now know these are stories that were developed from events, experiences, and other people's perspectives - and they aren't true. But they were part of my inner dialogue for so long that at low points, when I'm least prepared, they come back in a flash and nearly blindside me.

What shifts me away and into a better place? After awareness comes acceptance and compassion. Seriously, compassion for myself had to be one of the hardest things I've had to learn, but the choice is really simple. Now that I can see the difference, it's really the only choice.

Because I know the old stories aren't true and I can put perspective around the feelings, I can more quickly see beyond my immediate sadness and disappointment. Practicing compassion helps me move toward self empowerment. Forrest will be home in just over five weeks. One day, I will make travel happen and I will go to the places I've dreamed about for so long because I know how to do things differently now and make different choices (I did actually buy this ticket, didn't I? That's a step closer!). Together, Forrest and I have been laying a foundation to create these opportunities, and this is merely a minor setback. Really.

This too shall pass. And as I have been reminded, all things do seem to happen for a reason and at some point, that reason will likely be apparent. I'll stay open and see what shows up.

Meanwhile, I'm hitting my reset button and giving myself plenty of room. At the beach.


Update 4/12/13: While not particularly relevant, it did make me laugh about 'being triggered.'