A few words about Grief...

I have received so much support and words of compassion through this time following the death of my mother. This loss is so unexpectedly monumental for me. While I knew it was coming, in fact so intuitive that it would happen very soon, I still, three weeks later feel like I have been taken out at the knees. I was having my nails done yesterday and fell apart. I can only imagine they were saying "the poor lady with fat toes crying" in Vietnamese while they continued to gouge my cuticles. Wow. So completely unexpected.

I am so incredibly fortunate to have a bank of long term leave from which to draw my pay so I am moving through this time completely financed by the very job that I am so afraid of returning to...Fear of having someone "need" me or place demands on my time is terrifying. My sojourns out of my apartment have consisted of going to my brother's house, sorting through my mother's things, and aimless errands to the grocery. The trip to the nail salon was just a test to see if I could get through something without falling apart...failed.

My mother's ashes sit on my table in my living room and the thought of giving them to the military cemetery for burial makes me frantic. It was my job to take care of my mother and while I know that job is ended, it is with a sense of irrational protection that I feel I must keep her together in my care. Other family members desire some of her ashes and I am unable to part with even one flake. They will have to wait until I am ready. I still have my dog that was cremated 17 years ago in a hatbox on my nightstand. That is kind of creepy, however during this time of grieving, I am not judging one single feeling or thought and I assume no responsibility for my actions. Additionally I reserve the right to change my mind with the breeze. I have been able to move my mother's ashes around my apartment and they no longer sit where I can easily pat her on the way in or out. I've not yet placed her on the couch to watch Jeopardy, although the thought did occur to me. Again, I am not judging any thought that passes through my consciousness, but even I can realize that one is a little far out. I've moved her to a spot that requires a specific trip to touch the curve of her container and must I raise my voice if I'm leaving the apartment to say goodbye. When I finally move her into a closet, I will know it is time. But the container is beautiful and suits my decorating style...perhaps I could fill the black plastic box in which she was delivered to me with sand and the cemetery will never know the difference as they slip it into the 4x5x8 inch hole they so lovingly dug. As for other family members who desire some of her ashes I was thinking I could just burn something else and place those ashes in those little remembrance urns that cost somewhere in the ridiculous neighborhood of around $300 each, but I'm afraid they will peek under the hood as it were. I have been so adamant in my desire to keep her I think they all believe that they won't be getting the real thing anyway.

My grief partner is moving on...my brother is going back to work today. Not that I am divulging his career, but it might be in your best interest to stay out of the Denver area for the next month or so. Just sayin'. He believes it is time to step back into his life. I do, too, I am just afraid of what my life looks like without my mother in it. What if I have a bad day? Who do I call? Where will I be getting my free advice? I'm sure there is a help line out there for motherless daughters or if not I'll start one. There are so many women my age that have lost their mothers and when I randomly blurt out "my mother just died" to strangers in the elevators who are just minding their own business and when I get on are uttering the obligatory "how are you?", burst into tears when they hear my news and tell me I will never get over losing my mother. One woman who started crying told me her mother had been dead for 15 years and when she got out of the elevator, sobbing, frankly I was pretty freaked out. Really? 15 years? Not that it is all about me, but I was seriously disturbed by the fact that I could be that woman.

So the clock keeps on ticking, everyone is returning to work, picking up their lives and moving on. Yet I still feel like I'm frozen in time. I picked up a piece of fruit in the grocery store for my mother and it was nearly in the basket before I realized she probably wouldn't be needing it. I wonder just how long it takes before I stop reaching instinctively for the phone, or picking up something that reminds me I need to get one for my mother.

Yesterday I was running some errands, doing a little retail therapy. I tried to avoid looking at the department where my mother would always hold something up and ask if I thought it made her look like an old lady, but it was impossible not to glance over and look for her face to let her know I was checking out. Perhaps I am. If only temporarily. I've gone from losing my mother just yesterday, to losing her last week, and now it has been three weeks and it still feels so fresh and raw. Soon, it will be "I lost my mother recently" then before I can turn around twice, I will be the lady in the elevator telling some poor woman that it has been 15 years and she will never get over the loss of her mother. Yikes.

I am immensely happy I had my mother for as long as I did, with not one single portion of unfinished business. I knew where she stood as did she know about me in our lives. But frankly, this part is really painful and right now I just want my mommy to stroke me on the head and tell me everything is going to be alright. Perhaps that part comes later...Today the only message I have for you is that I love my body more than depriving myself of my grief. It is mine and I will let go when I'm ready...

XO,
Karen

A few words about Mourning

I'm grieving the loss of my mother right now and believe me it is a full time job. The emotion hits as a tsunami and I feel like I can't breathe. Then a memory pops up and I'm laughing, then I'm crying, then I'm running. Wow, this is really the ultimate all inclusive ticket in life. Losing someone is so difficult, but for me losing my mother is kind of an out of body experience. I intuitively knew she was going, and I knew she was ready to be free from what her life had become. When I dropped her off from having breakfast the other day and she turned to wave goodbye, I instinctively knew it would be the last time. Oh, I saw her the next day but something was different. She hugged me a little longer when I left. We talked over the next few days and she told me she didn't feel right. I listened and told her I would come over and she said "Oh Honey, just wait and come on Friday", believing this would pass. She never wanted to be any trouble and when she didn't answer her phone on Thursday I knew in my heart she was gone. How do we know those things? I never go see her after a work day, but that day I knew I had to get to her. My little mother. She recently bought her tickets for the concert season this winter. Ready to go on to the next phase of her life's journey, but figuring if she might just be sticking around she would enjoy herself.

As I embark on this part of my life without my mother I am filled with wondering about how it will be to be the older generation. My grandchildren have always had a great grandmother. I was insulated from being the oldest one in the family. Do I know how to do this? She always had the answer or an ear or a piece of loving advice. I am wondering if I know how to do that. My mother had confidence in me and always knew I would handle any situation with grace and dignity. What is it that has me wondering if I am capable of moving through this without her? Personally I think it is just the steamroller of loss that is smashing through me right now. It is just the feeling of being gutted like the fish on tonight's menu. This will pass.

So, I am surrendering. I am being gentle with myself. I have reached my maximum capacity. I am exhausted and brittle and haven't slept or eaten in substantial amounts since finding her tucked into her bed last Thursday. Fortunately for me, no one is asking any questions right now. But when they do, I will have the answers. Or I will have an ear, or free advice. I know I will surface and I will be wiser and richer for the experience. The message for today is I am surrendering to this tsunami of emotion. I will stop fighting it and let it wash over me and take me out to the sea of the unknown. Today, I love my body more than the grief which is swallowing me whole.
XO,
Karen

On Letting my Ego Go

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about the life of my ego. Examining how it has served me, and how at this point in my life, my ego plays such a small role. Freud describes the ego as being a function of the mind and not a neurological function, therefore isn't it something that can be released with conscious effort? My ego has been the part that has gotten in the way of feeling deeply, dancing like a maniac, or wearing a bikini believing that others will certainly sit in judgment of the little bulges on my thighs. My ego allows my feelings to be hurt when my logical mind believes that everyone makes choices and while I might not agree with the choices they have made I do agree it is their right to make them. So where are you going with this, you ask...

I realize that at this point in my life I have more years behind me than I do in front of me and I know that to live a joy filled life it has required a shift in my thinking. I have placed what I think of myself before what others think. And it has changed my life completely. My ego kept me sheltered, kept me reined in and prevented me from doing something that I might have enjoyed but others might have perceived as "acting foolish."

I recently met a man that was so tightly wound in his ego that he just couldn't let go of the identity it provided for him. He was so tied up in his career and the "expected" and "socially appropriate" behavior that he was completely missing the boat of letting go and having fun. Certainly not a dance break in his future. Through that meeting, I was profoundly grateful that I am the person I am, that I move well in any circle but I am genuine and transparent in my life and if I feel a little dancing going on in my head, I let it move into my body. Appropriately so, or maybe not, but I live my life in my body and out of my head. I no longer ask a million questions in my head like "is anyone going to see me?" or "what if they do and think I look like an idiot?" Seriously, does it matter? No. I don't think someone is going to think less of me professionally or personally if they witness an act of joy emanating from me. I have been released from the idea that EGO stands for Everything Good Outside according to Dr. Northrup. Things from the outside don't fill me up, I add to the outside by spilling over from the inside. Life is just one big adventure, and whatever I choose to add to my life comes from a true desire for me, not what another will think of me should this be added. Letting go of my ego has been a work in progress, but the rewards have been incredible. So the lesson for today is I love my body more than what my ego dictates...
XO,
Karen

On the Need for Oxygen

I was on a flight a couple of weeks ago watching the safety video and it got to the part where the oxygen masks were falling from the ceiling of the cabin. Even though I have seen the video so many times, it struck me differently and I was immediately aware of why they instruct you to do that. If you don't have the oxygen you need, you will not have the ability to help another because your own source of oxygen will be depleted. I was also immediately aware of how often I have taken care of another's needs without making sure I was taken care of first. I have accepted second place many times in my life, at the expense of my own well being. What I have given to others has sometimes come from a place of resentment, guilt, or obligation because I was running on fumes in my own life. Over the last few years I have come to learn that if I'm not happy, I have no means by which to genuinely and unconditionally give to another. So I decided to see how it would work if I put the importance of my own joy first. Frankly, it works rather well.

It doesn't come from a place of narcissism it comes from a place of realization that keeping myself in a good place makes everything else incredibly easy. It is my job to take care of me. Since I have been doing that, my relationships have improved, I enjoy myself more, I have more fun. I laugh easily and often. I have even had people tell me I am a role model for living a joyful life. Wow, could I have said that 5 years ago? No.

In my profession I am a natural caregiver. I help to manage an illness, speak with family members, have difficult conversations regarding end of life issues. If my own cup is empty, I end my day feeling drained. If I take breaks during my day, like doing a little dance, or playing my air guitar, I rev right back up to a level where I have excess to give. Pleasure is as necessary as water to me.

So the message for today is put on your own mask first. It gives you the vital oxygen you need to propel your own life. Fill your own cup with pleasure first, then you have the fuel to give freely to another. Today, I love my body more than second place.

XO,
Karen

On Living a Topless Life

I was recently in Miami on a girlfriends only weekend. I go a couple of times a year and it never disappoints. It provides me with a connection to sisterhood that I have not experienced in my own family of origin and challenges me to continually expand my life. These incredible friends have become family to me and it is a joy to spend time with each of them. I come home feeling energized and full of contentment, celebrating the absolute joy I have every day waking up just being me.

On the first trip nearly two years ago, my friends and I were approaching the beach and noticed several women were topless. My girlfriend told me she didn't think she would ever be able to bare her breasts and I agreed. We settled into our chairs and were having a little conversation when we noticed a tattoo artist drawing henna tattoos on the breasts of the topless sunbathers. In an instant my friend, who had said not ten minutes earlier that she would never be able to take her top off, had not only removed it but was now discussing the design she wanted painted on her breasts with the artist. Wow. The look on her face was priceless. She was in total bliss at her courage. I was in awe. There was a couple getting married on the beach facing the ocean who might not have anticipated partially clad women with tattooed breasts dancing on the sand in their forever after pictures. In her new found liberation from not only her top, my girlfriend suggested a fertility dance around the bride. It was hysterically funny and while I laughed, I still had my top on, feeling like I was on the outside looking in at all of the fun. Why?

I think the thought of going topless on the beach was too radical for me and I knew I would have the feeling of being so completely exposed. Someone would be able to look into my soul just by seeing my breasts. While everyone was having so much fun I was hesitant to join in. I could hide behind my swimsuit keeping all of my secrets, as well as my breasts, covered. And just what did I think I was hiding? Something? Nothing? It was an interesting thought to take out of my head and examine.

Over the last several years learning to love me exactly as I am has had so many twists and unexpected turns. Realizing that I don't really have secrets that are so incredibly shocking or shameful has been liberating. Getting into agreement with my life and the experiences I have had has been priceless. It has enabled me to shoot forward into a life bigger than I would have imagined even five years ago. I can take my top off on the beach because I want to and I like the feeling of freedom it gives me.

Learning to completely step into the light in my life, fearlessly and without shame has been so incredible. Today I stand for the woman that I am, the woman that I have been and the woman I have yet to become. It is a journey and I am so digging the life I live. It is richer, juicier, and more rewarding than I could have dreamed. I no longer live my life on the outside looking in. I live my life from the inside out, joyfully, transparently and confidently. I live my life without tan lines. So the message for today is I love my body more than hiding...

Here's to blowing the top off of your life!
XO,
Karen

On the Juxtaposition of Growing Older and Me...

I was listening to a much younger coworker talking about her upcoming trip to Italy and that she and her group would be staying in hostels, riding buses and taking trains, backpacking and hiking and I was reminded that my parents used to travel and stay in hostels, only they were Elderhostels. Then, the thought came to me, moving into my consciousness as slowly as a gentle breeze on a hot summer day, that I am old enough to be eligible to stay in an Elderhostel. Wow. At first I smiled at the thought, then laughed out loud. The ridiculousness of being fifty five years old is staggering. I don't feel like it, I don't look like it, and I certainly don't buy into the idea that I am on the downhill slide of my life. In fact I bought a pair of skinny jeans in the junior department yesterday. They have really cool rhinestones studs on the back pockets and belt loops and an even bigger rhinestone button on the fly. And I look pretty good in them if I do say so myself. I even bought a cute top to go with them. It is one that my granddaughter would love to have. Last night I was in the audience at the Roller Derby wearing pink glitter false eyelashes, a black miniskirt and hot pink tights. Age inappropriate? I don't think so, and who defines that anyway? My life swings from one side to the other of the over/under middle age measure and sometimes it makes me laugh out loud. The night before that I was enthralled at the symphony listening to a 20 something prodigy with my mouth agape, stunned at her ability to feel the music through her fingertips and on to the strings of her violin. She was astounding, thrilling to watch, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I remember thinking the symphony was for old people, yet there I was, completely enjoying the experience.

I love my ability to embrace both sides of my life in numbers, free of the encumbrances of worrying that someone will be looking at me, or judging me, labeling me, or even worse that I could possibly make a fool of myself. I wonder how my life would have been had I discovered earlier that it really wasn’t all about me. Seriously, people were not watching me all the time, laughing at me as much as I thought they were. As I was watching the emcee at the Roller Derby last night wearing nothing but lime green lace panties, black Doc Martins and a muscle shirt, I was envious of his ability to own his appearance. Who cares if he wore green panties? Maybe his mother, but he didn’t. He pranced, danced and totally owned the look. And I smiled while watching his confidence.

I think there are two camps when it comes to growing older. Those that look at it as an inevitability and make decisions based on “I’m too old for that” verses the other side that embraces growing older as an opportunity to try something they haven’t before, stretch out of a comfort zone, or learn that really age is just a number. Young at heart is a way of life, whether you are 9 or 90. My little old lady mother and her girlfriend wanted ice cream the other day and excitedly pulled out coupons for free cones from McDonald’s. As they approached the counter, they noticed the coupons were for ages 12 and younger. They stepped up to the counter confidently and asked the attendant, who was somewhere in the neighborhood of 16, if the coupon could apply if they were experiencing a second childhood. He consulted his 17 year old supervisor and with all seriousness they were awarded their free ice cream cones. They walked away giggling, licking their prize.

Me? Thinking of myself as older? Can't see how that goes together. I guess feeling young is just in my DNA, and for that I am grateful. So the message for today is I love my body more than thinking I'm too old for anything...

I’m off to skip through the park,
XO,
Karen

On Being my Own Party

I was at an exercise class earlier this week and talk turned to the weather and yet another approaching storm. I swore to the class if there was snow on the ground in the morning, I would wear my bikini under my clothes to work. It was pretty funny when I got up, looked out of the window and saw we had the beginnings of what looked to be another blizzard. So, true to my promise, when I got dressed I put on my bikini first in official protest of the snow, but mostly because it was fun, then put on my black dress and boots and left to start my day with a huge smile on my face. I got to work and told a friend who thought it was hilariously funny, another told me she was so sick of winter she went to VS and bought every pair of sunshine yellow underwear she could find. It was a little mini riot of fun at my own hands. When I got home from work, the snow was so beautiful on my balcony that I took off my shoes and did a little barefoot dance just to see my footprints. It was fun, and it was my idea.

I realize that through my life I have expected the job of making me happy belonged to someone else. A husband, a boyfriend, an employer, friends or a family member. It is interesting how my journey of seeking to live my life through fun and pleasure has given me more joy than anyone else could ever give me. See, I am my own party. I wear a bikini under my work clothes because it makes ME happy. I dance barefoot in the snow because it is joy of my own creation. I turn on my iPod and dance in my living room because it moves my energy and makes me feel good.

How many times have I complained because I wasn't having a good time or failed to come through for myself to stand in my own pleasure? Too many to count. I have blamed others for my lack of happiness. And knowing what I have learned about creating my own fun, I sincerely apologize to them for the expectation that they were responsible for me. I am responsible for me, in every respect. And it is liberating, exhilarating, and most of all completely fun. So, today I love my body more than expecting someone else to create my happiness...

I'm off to run errands, flirt with every man, woman and child within my reach and smile my way through this gorgeous day.

With joy in my heart,
XO,
Karen