Sowing The Seeds of Doubt, OR, Do The Voices In Your Head Pay Rent?

5-Ways-to-Stop-Self-Doubt-in-its-Tracks

 

What is it about self doubt?

It takes on familiar voices, faces and attacks the very fibers of your self esteem, grinding away until it’s all threadbare and full of holes.  They talk when we need to hear our own thoughts and stomp on any small confidence we might have. Now, if you’re a really healthy,  self contained unit when it comes to this stuff,  I admire you.  I’m of the other variety – where my confidence is fragile and my ego is so delicate it almost doesn’t exist.

I did say ALMOST….. Continue reading

In Anger, Infinite. In Rage, Eternal Or Yes, I’m annoyed, why?

It’s funny how people can read the same things and get completely different things from the text.

For example, one of my favorite modern books is a short novel called The Dogs of Babel,  written by Carolyn Parkhurst. The novel addresses  the thoughts and behavior of a grief stricken linguistics professor after his artist wife’s death. The main character, Paul, travels some fairly hellacious ground before finally realizing the way out of his grief is to just feel it.

Dark? Yes, very.

Continue reading

Father of Mine – What a Paternally Outsourced Daughter Learns From Men She Meets Later In Life

I want to preface this post with a completely unsentimental, but absolutely apropos quote from Anne Lamott:

2cd14cc097854fd6e645171ce05b6357This isn’t going to start out well. The warm, fuzzy appreciative part comes at the end.

My parents were young when I was born, barely into their twenties and living on the cusp of the 1970’s.  On the surface, they had a lot in common, both bright, intelligent and from large, close knit Roman Catholic families. It was the underneath of their relationship that held all the cracks and flaws that would eventually pull them apart.  If I had to guess now, as an adult, what finally did break things, I’d have to say it a matter of priorities.  My mother’s were to her young family and her marriage. My father’s were simply not. I was three and my sister was newly born when things finally hit critical mass between my mother and father. It’s funny the things you remember: Continue reading

IT’S MY LIFE – An Open Letter To My Teenaged Son About Really Being Grown Up.

First, thank you oh so much, Billy Joel, you monster, for the song that now haunts my subconscious whenever my 14 year old restates his teenage mission statement.  Just to show my appreciation, I’m posting your classic song in it’s less happy incarnation: the theme song to to the television show, “Bosom Buddies”.   Take THAT, Billy Joel.

While it definitely seems like my son has memorized this song, because I hear most of the lyrics daily, I’m told this is part of the deal when it comes to raising teenagers. I’d probably feel better about it if I hadn’t been dealing with mini insurrections for years already.  I’m very keenly aware of it being his life that he’s so desperate to lead without my guidance and instruction, thank you very much. I could be philosophical and be sentimental about how beautiful it is to watch my child grow into a man,how honored I am that I’m part of this experience for him. I should be maybe, but….

…blah blah blah blah blah…

So, this is me, most of the time lately: (Yes, I even do the hand gesture.. such a bad mother…) Continue reading

What Would Jackie O Do? – Choosing A Role Model for the Glide Through Mid Life

There’s a lot in my life that I could probably handle better. A lot better.

I’m not perfect, which is good or bad news, depending on what side you fall where perfection is concerned.

What I do know is that with the arrival of my 47th birthday, I’ve spent a lot of time like this:

I feel like this

I feel like this

I realize that it’s much better to feel like this: (watch the video, please…it’s the best)

 In sorting through the emotional state I’m in, two things occurred to me. Continue reading