I haven't written in awhile. The kind of stress that is inhabiting my life at the moment has taken all my concentration. I need to meditate daily on the idea of separating from this stress, letting it "pass me by" or letting it "run me over." Neither choice is attractive to my suffering heart. But yet, I attempt the former, every day.
Thanksgiving: and Esme and I were lucky enough to be spending the holiday in sunny Florida, with the elders of our family: My parents, Phyllis and Marvin, 80 and 81 respectively, and my aunt and uncle, Sandy and Jack: 81 on the uncle, undisclosable age on the aunt. The Plan: to eat out, have a family dinner at a place called The Williams Island Club, a lovely Buffet including the traditional holiday fare along with some surprises such as baby lamb chops, blackened salmon, and amazing grilled vegetables. I was somewhat skeptical about eating out, I love Thanksgiving at home, or at least the IDEA of Thanksgiving at home: the prep, the smells, the leftovers, but as the day approached, I was grateful to NOT have to shop, clean, chop, dice, stuff, mash and bake.
We awoke that morning to the annual watching of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Esme was ecstatic about spotting the Diary of a Wimpy Kid float and Santa, of course. Meredith Viera nauseates me but it was fun in be in Florida with palm trees swaying and still see NYC, our home, on TV. I guess all of this doesn't sound very stressful, but it is set against a backdrop of severe financial stress, loss of and illness of loved ones and seismic change for my daughter and I in the very near future. We are healthy, thank God, but it seems that all around us, life itself is being challenged and taken away for some of our nearest and dearest. Especially challenging for me to understand is the illness of my friends young daughter, 24 years old, recently diagnosed with cervical cancer and the recent death of one of my best friends husband's after a long and extremely courageous battle with cancer. I often think of REM's "Life's Rich Pageant" I have always loved that title -- it evokes the vivid imagery of people walking in a parade, displaying the many colors and events of their lives for all to see. I imagine all colors of skin, men in purple velvet capes, carrying colorful birds, women in sparkling long dresses and children throwing flower petals, animals, old people, representing all of the myriad of experiences that life puts before us: the good, the bad, the ugly of it all prancing before us.
The message to me is that life is bittersweet: it is full of romance, passion, intimacy, complications, highs of high, lows of low....As I age, I realize that it isn't what happens TO us that matters, it is how we face the challenge, how we react, that creates the true experience. That miraculous ability to forge ahead, with a positive outlook I am NOT in the gifted class in this subject. I have had to learn this reality the hard way.
My early schooling: I was raised by people who were pretty much split down the middle on this subject, victimization as a reaction to life on one side as in: this is all happening TO me and those who forged ahead with a smile and a prayer on the other, the attitude being: some bad stuff is happening but I am alive so I will be fine.
In some of these people, who have survived well past the age of 70 , they have come to understand that they pretty much survived it all -- a realization that turned them into NON victimized humans and amazing examples to me in the present day of HOW I want to be at that age as well. BUT I do not want to WAIT until I am in my 70's to adopt that attitude. I want to get it NOW so that I enjoy the present, the PRECIOUS PRESENT which brings me back to Thanksgiving.
Esme and I carefully made our way to the buffet, filling our plates--a stop at the turkey carving station, sweet potatos, mashed potatos, stuffing, gravy, green beans. Of course, the minute I went to pick up my fork for the big dig in, my daughter had to go the bathroom, so we left our places at the table, went to the ladies room and when we got back -- OUR PLATES OF DELICIOUS FOOD -- GONE!!!! "What happened?" I asked to the six other people at the table. Blank stares looked back at me. WHAT????
So back to the buffet we go...filled our plates again, same stuff, except this time the young man at the turkey carving station gave us a very approving smile. Sit down, just about to stick a fork in it and my daughter says, "Mommy, we forgot to call Uncle Rich and Aunt Lisa...we have to call NOW!!!" She was right, of course, we had forgotten and I didn't want the day to end and have it be too late to say Happy Turkey to my brother and his crew. So OUT to the lobby we go, but before we went, I looked at everyone at the table and said, "Can you guys kindly ask the waiter NOT to take our plates?" Turkey Torper must have already been setting in because they all looked up and promised they would watch our barely eaten plates. I rushed Esme through the phone call, maybe ten minutes had passed along with some very happy conversations between cousins, we go back to our seats and you guessed it: PLATES OF FOOD: GONE!!!
"Wha' happen? , I ask, bewildered as Esme is looking at her elder relatives with a look that only a six year old can muster...NO ONE KNEW....So back to the buffet we go..., and even though I hadn't had more than one bite of food,
I am now NOT hungry.
We go back to our new best friend at the turkey carving station and now the guy is staring at us with a look of admiration and pure delight. He can barely contain himself. He says, "'Excuse me, ma'am, but I must tell you that I am so pleased with the amount of turkey your daughter is eating, three helpings so far!!! I am so happy that she is enjoying my turkey so much. Very impressive for such a little person!"
We both looked at each other and starting cracking up, took our plates, this time giving any waiter within ten feet a dirty look if they even approached the table and finally, we sat down for a Thanksgiving meal that yes, we were TRULY Thankful for!
I needed this silliness, I prayed for it that morning when I opened my eyes, "Please God, let this day be filled with humor and lightness for me, my daughter and our whole family. We need it as we mourn loss, and illness, process change, look to the future, make our plans..Please, just some humor and lightness for this day." I asked, Universe answered.
As we walked back to my aunt's house after dinner, I was struck with the amount of love that surrounds us, struck how at that very moment, the people that I loved were dealing with such a myriad of different realities. I knew that I was obligated to hold up my end by feeling a sense of happiness, that if I did that, somehow I was easing the burden for my loved ones who couldn't. All I could do was be the one at the front of the parade for THEM, and that doing so insured that when I needed it, they would march in front of me and for me.
The Pageant marches on, we march with it.
** From Life's Rich Pageant, " flowers from Guatemala"
Friday, January 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Kitchen Sink
Let me be clear about this: I LOATHE doing dishes.
The invention of the dishwasher was the single greatest thing that ever happened to kitchens since indoor plumbing. But dishwashers don't do the whole job--pots, pans, etc, things still need to get washed by hand. My inspiration for this disgusting task are my fancy, elbow length rubber gloves with the flowers all over them. Okay laugh, but they are pink with daisy embellishments and they ably protect my precious nails. I find that the task of cleaning pots and pans, elbow deep in soapy water does offer me the dual gift of reflection and inspiration. It is always the same, as I am scrubbing the griddle, the soup pot, the wine glasses that are too delicate for the dishwasher, I inevitably start thinking about where I am in my life.
My mind immediately goes to a line from the classic tome, "Little Women"--"...a temporary poverty" has settled over the Solis house" leading me to lose sleep over the future. This fact, sad but true, stultifies me at times, stopping me from finding the way out, but somehow, when the sink is clean, I can find the strength to get through it all.
I read a magazine article a few years ago about this very thing. The writer was talking about the Saturdays of her idyllic childhood. Her mother would thoroughly deep clean the kitchen on Saturday morning, ending with the ritual of cleaning the sink, cutting a fresh lemon and placing half of it into the sink, allowing the citrus smell to waft through the house. The smell signaled to her little girl psyche that the weekend had officially begun, all was calm, peaceful and right with the world and of course the kitchen was CLEAN.
My childhood memory of kitchen sinks is a little to the right of idyllic...similar but lets just say more on the dysfunctional side. Oh don't have a pity party just yet, its all good now, and honestly the memories are just as inspiring. My parents divorced when I was 8 years old. It wasn't an easy divorce, no mediators, no resolutions, just pure acrimony on both sides. It was after all, the late 60's and the "therapization" of America hadn't yet occurred. So, by the time I was 12, my mothers guilt about the divorce had turned me into a young, redheaded version of Bridezilla -- spoiled, nasty, no responsibilities, no chores, ordering my exhausted mother around mercilessly, taking advantage of any weakness I found in her allowing me to pretty much run the house. As a mother now, and after a few years of my own therapy, I perceive that child as a perfect combination of parental indulgence and neglect and I always give her empathy. No blame to my mother at all, she was doing the best she could with the toolbox she had and that thing was definitely missing a wrench or five.
Around that time, my mom entered into a relationship with a man named Marvin. The relationship developed pretty quickly and he soon moved into our house. Now you have to remember that this was the early 70's. Terms such as "divorce" and "living in sin" were still WHISPERED at cocktail and smart dinner parties. So it was a trauma to me both socially and emotionally when this PERSON moved into our house. I hated him ON sight. Who was this interloper? This non father of mine interfering into this perfect dysfunctional 12 year old world that I controlled? At first, he tread pretty lightly on me, his goal as I know now was to gain my trust, something that I had NONE of for the adults in my life. But after about 3 months, when he knew I somewhat respected him, he began to bring rules and structure into my life. WHAT??? I mean HONESTLY, who WAS HE TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO? He actually wanted my mother to remove the PHONE from my room, disconnecting my private phone number and HORRORS, he wanted me to have A CHORE!!! A chore???? "Yes", he explained to me, patiently, it was important for me to have some responsibility in my house, to earn back the privilege of having my phone in my room.
"Well, what would that entail???" I asked, snidely.
"Doing the dinner dishes--EVERYNIGHT." said Marvin.
"Hell no!", I said to myself.
My plan: I would get my mother alone, cry my eyes out, explain to her how the divorce and Marvin moving in already ruined my life, sealing my social suicide. And that due to all of this being HER FAULT, she would totally lift this RULE thing and we could dispense with life as I knew it.
I guess I dont have to tell you how THAT went.
So the phone came out, my precious phone number (794.6361) was temporarily disconnected and I got busy with that evening's dinner dishes.
Blech...no dishwasher back in those days, and no fancy rubber gloves, just me, the awful dish soap and the cruddy dishes. I remember that first night because I alternately cried and gave my mother the dirtiest looks I could muster.
She IGNORED ME!!
This was powerful stuff to my puberty ridden brain, but I did those dishes, dried them, put them away and then went to my phoneless room and slammed the door.
Many years later, Marvin told me that he looked at my mom and said, "Mission accomplished".
So here I was, every night, doing my thing in the kitchen. We lived in a pretty small house, so when I was at the sink, I could hear my mother and my soon-to-be step-father interacting: Laughing, talking, trying to tame and play with our equally angry poodle, cleaning up, normal house sounds, something I had been UN familiar with for a very long time.
It washed over me, dissipating my anger towards the world and giving me a new sense of myself, I was a daughter, a member of a household, a friend, a student, an almost 13 year old. It was a bit of a transformation for me, similar to that kid in the Exorcist transforming from her demonic possession back into a typical pre-teen.
YES, I was THAT bad!!
I got my phone back pretty quickly and settled into a teenage rebellion that would last until I was almost 16, but something was different: knew I could count on the adults in my life, they were present, they were functioning, they were there for me.
In the present day, my own six year old daughter loves to "help" me when I am doing the dishes. She pulls her Princess step stool up to the sink next to me and I give her some pots to wash. It is always precious to me. I find out stuff that is going on in her little six year old life and even though it takes me a bit longer to get stuff done, I look at it as an opportunity for communication and sharing. I guess you could observe that the chore of doing those dishes when I was 12 has brought me full circle into my adult life and I am forever grateful to my beautiful step-father Marvin Maurer for that ultimate gift.
I know I will figure this career/job/temporary poverty stuff out. I just have to put on the gloves and dig into the soapy water, wash away the crud and place that half a lemon into the clean sink.
Ahh, the smell of calm and peace and everything being right with the world.
The invention of the dishwasher was the single greatest thing that ever happened to kitchens since indoor plumbing. But dishwashers don't do the whole job--pots, pans, etc, things still need to get washed by hand. My inspiration for this disgusting task are my fancy, elbow length rubber gloves with the flowers all over them. Okay laugh, but they are pink with daisy embellishments and they ably protect my precious nails. I find that the task of cleaning pots and pans, elbow deep in soapy water does offer me the dual gift of reflection and inspiration. It is always the same, as I am scrubbing the griddle, the soup pot, the wine glasses that are too delicate for the dishwasher, I inevitably start thinking about where I am in my life.
My mind immediately goes to a line from the classic tome, "Little Women"--"...a temporary poverty" has settled over the Solis house" leading me to lose sleep over the future. This fact, sad but true, stultifies me at times, stopping me from finding the way out, but somehow, when the sink is clean, I can find the strength to get through it all.
I read a magazine article a few years ago about this very thing. The writer was talking about the Saturdays of her idyllic childhood. Her mother would thoroughly deep clean the kitchen on Saturday morning, ending with the ritual of cleaning the sink, cutting a fresh lemon and placing half of it into the sink, allowing the citrus smell to waft through the house. The smell signaled to her little girl psyche that the weekend had officially begun, all was calm, peaceful and right with the world and of course the kitchen was CLEAN.
My childhood memory of kitchen sinks is a little to the right of idyllic...similar but lets just say more on the dysfunctional side. Oh don't have a pity party just yet, its all good now, and honestly the memories are just as inspiring. My parents divorced when I was 8 years old. It wasn't an easy divorce, no mediators, no resolutions, just pure acrimony on both sides. It was after all, the late 60's and the "therapization" of America hadn't yet occurred. So, by the time I was 12, my mothers guilt about the divorce had turned me into a young, redheaded version of Bridezilla -- spoiled, nasty, no responsibilities, no chores, ordering my exhausted mother around mercilessly, taking advantage of any weakness I found in her allowing me to pretty much run the house. As a mother now, and after a few years of my own therapy, I perceive that child as a perfect combination of parental indulgence and neglect and I always give her empathy. No blame to my mother at all, she was doing the best she could with the toolbox she had and that thing was definitely missing a wrench or five.
Around that time, my mom entered into a relationship with a man named Marvin. The relationship developed pretty quickly and he soon moved into our house. Now you have to remember that this was the early 70's. Terms such as "divorce" and "living in sin" were still WHISPERED at cocktail and smart dinner parties. So it was a trauma to me both socially and emotionally when this PERSON moved into our house. I hated him ON sight. Who was this interloper? This non father of mine interfering into this perfect dysfunctional 12 year old world that I controlled? At first, he tread pretty lightly on me, his goal as I know now was to gain my trust, something that I had NONE of for the adults in my life. But after about 3 months, when he knew I somewhat respected him, he began to bring rules and structure into my life. WHAT??? I mean HONESTLY, who WAS HE TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO? He actually wanted my mother to remove the PHONE from my room, disconnecting my private phone number and HORRORS, he wanted me to have A CHORE!!! A chore???? "Yes", he explained to me, patiently, it was important for me to have some responsibility in my house, to earn back the privilege of having my phone in my room.
"Well, what would that entail???" I asked, snidely.
"Doing the dinner dishes--EVERYNIGHT." said Marvin.
"Hell no!", I said to myself.
My plan: I would get my mother alone, cry my eyes out, explain to her how the divorce and Marvin moving in already ruined my life, sealing my social suicide. And that due to all of this being HER FAULT, she would totally lift this RULE thing and we could dispense with life as I knew it.
I guess I dont have to tell you how THAT went.
So the phone came out, my precious phone number (794.6361) was temporarily disconnected and I got busy with that evening's dinner dishes.
Blech...no dishwasher back in those days, and no fancy rubber gloves, just me, the awful dish soap and the cruddy dishes. I remember that first night because I alternately cried and gave my mother the dirtiest looks I could muster.
She IGNORED ME!!
This was powerful stuff to my puberty ridden brain, but I did those dishes, dried them, put them away and then went to my phoneless room and slammed the door.
Many years later, Marvin told me that he looked at my mom and said, "Mission accomplished".
So here I was, every night, doing my thing in the kitchen. We lived in a pretty small house, so when I was at the sink, I could hear my mother and my soon-to-be step-father interacting: Laughing, talking, trying to tame and play with our equally angry poodle, cleaning up, normal house sounds, something I had been UN familiar with for a very long time.
It washed over me, dissipating my anger towards the world and giving me a new sense of myself, I was a daughter, a member of a household, a friend, a student, an almost 13 year old. It was a bit of a transformation for me, similar to that kid in the Exorcist transforming from her demonic possession back into a typical pre-teen.
YES, I was THAT bad!!
I got my phone back pretty quickly and settled into a teenage rebellion that would last until I was almost 16, but something was different: knew I could count on the adults in my life, they were present, they were functioning, they were there for me.
In the present day, my own six year old daughter loves to "help" me when I am doing the dishes. She pulls her Princess step stool up to the sink next to me and I give her some pots to wash. It is always precious to me. I find out stuff that is going on in her little six year old life and even though it takes me a bit longer to get stuff done, I look at it as an opportunity for communication and sharing. I guess you could observe that the chore of doing those dishes when I was 12 has brought me full circle into my adult life and I am forever grateful to my beautiful step-father Marvin Maurer for that ultimate gift.
I know I will figure this career/job/temporary poverty stuff out. I just have to put on the gloves and dig into the soapy water, wash away the crud and place that half a lemon into the clean sink.
Ahh, the smell of calm and peace and everything being right with the world.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
LOST--NOT the Television Series
Okay, I am lost...It takes ALOT for me to admit this as I have always considered myself to be a kind of driven person, making a decision whether it be career, health, family and then just going for it, but I have come to a complete standstill in this department, so I am declaring, yelling, shouting it out: "I AM LOST"....
Look, I know where I am geographically, but by all other markers I am lost -- in the weeds, at a crossroads..In fact, I am stultified in the crosswalk, the proverbial deer in headlights, not knowing if right, left or ahead is the proper route to take and hoping that the car doesn't hit me before I can make the decision. You know that scene in the Wizard of OZ: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q5S4ncU3Dw) Thats me, Dorothy with Toto, lets call her Esme (my six year old) unable at this moment to find my way home. It isn't making me a bad mother, just a psychically, financially challenged mother. I am doing everything that the books tell you to do --
- I am writing (so to speak)
- I am praying
- I am making TO DO lists of all different kinds
- I am trying to be prepared, like the GIRL SCOUTS
Can I admit to a level of exhaustion that I haven't ever felt? Okay, I admit it.
I looked at Esme this morning and envied her innocence. I know that if someone asked her if our family was rich, she would certainly say yes, she is justifiably bathed in that beautiful combination of certain knowledge and complete ignorance. Ahhhh, the bliss of childhood. But the truth is, our life, in the very near future will most certainly contain some upheaval -- a new job for me? A new city? A new career path? A huge MOVE? It is all up in the air for now -- until I choose direction....the dilemma....
I am hoping to keep it all together with my usual positivity, creativity, resourcefulness and streetsmarts, but everyday, I sit here in front of my computer googling new careers: I start with the practical: Medical Billing (a possibility), Dental Hygienist ( No chance, the actual GOOGLING of this career, made my stomach turn), Paralegal (eh, maybe), Administrative Assistant (I was always GREAT at this) and then I advance to higher levels of choices, Spiritual Ordination (I did this and I am now a certified Ordained Minister with the Church of Spiritual Humanism) This online certification worked for me, as all the other ones required me, a Jewish girl, raised in the Catskills, to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior. NOT that there is ANYTHING wrong with that, I just couldnt do it., Teacher (LONG years of schooling), Psychologist (same), Career Coach...don't laugh, I looked it up, I figured who better to help another lost person than a formerly lost person? and the damned list goes on and on....
This year, I let my business go. I say it like that because after the better part of 22 years, being a publicist in the music business, I realized one day that I just didnt care anymore AT ALL. I had been in the trenches for so long, with passion and conviction and I know with all my heart that I gave my all, the way servicemen in the Armed Forces give their all. And with no disrespect meant at all to our brave men and women in the military, my years in the music business sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes did feel like war. The competition is fierce, the rewards are great, you go screaming into battle, all guns blazing and at the end, you have Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Lady GaGa, etc, etc....I was way too exhausted for that kind of battle and truth be told, just didn't have it in me anymore. I adore every minute I spent in that business, even the end, when it wasnt so much fun anymore, it was educating me for my next chapter....Whatever that will be.
And so here I am at that crossroads, extremely financially challenged, standing with my amazing 6 year old daughter, hand in hand, ready for the next thing...What will it be? What can it be?
What is against me: I am entering a sagging economy, an extremely competitive job market that is an Employer's paradise, allowing hiring managers to employ interview practices that are Draconian, allright, that may be a strong word, but ridiculously arduous tasks, no in person interviews, projects, long lists of references etc..you get the picture. I am an older worker, my years of experience are amazing but sometimes held against me and the biggest thing is this: I got my Bachelors Degree along time ago, and that is ALL I Have: a Bachelors Degree in Public Relations....ACK!!! I am basically qualified for NOTHING...unless of course I veer back to PR (please see above for why this is such a horrible choice)
In my favor: I am smart, I am well-traveled, I have a degree in real life experience, a doctorate...lol, I spent more than a decade in corporate America in the greatest city in the world, New York and yet, my resume is almost universally ignored when I send it through that blackhole of applying online.
I have been very dependent recently on the kindness of strangers and while I am grateful for their love and support and funding, I am appalled that I am in this state and long to get out of it.
I wonder to myself: Am I alone here? Am I a member of a larger group of people hard hit by the economy, by their work life, by the end of something? I hope that the answer is yes, but in my darkest hours, I fear I am by myself.
They say: Progress, Not Perfection...so I keep searching
They say: One Day At A Time...so I let the bad days fade and send up gratitude for the health of my daughter and the beauty that is our life.
They say: Love will Find a Way...so I love, alot: My friends, my daughter, our family, always sending out love....
They say, Stick to your Guns...this one stumps me...I don't own a Gun and the virtual Gun I currently have is NOT LOADED
They say, Let Go, Let God...I do this everyday, it led me to starting this blog, it led me to following a passion I have for the spiritual life, it led me to seeing the contribution I have made to pop culture in my career (it was always a goal of mine), it led me to being okay about writing this blog entry, without shame, at all.
They say, Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway...God Knows that I do that everyday.
I am going to Breathe out now.
I hope to find my way through this LOST period of my life and hopefully find the future that has been laid out for my precious daughter and me. Love, Love, Love, ES
Look, I know where I am geographically, but by all other markers I am lost -- in the weeds, at a crossroads..In fact, I am stultified in the crosswalk, the proverbial deer in headlights, not knowing if right, left or ahead is the proper route to take and hoping that the car doesn't hit me before I can make the decision. You know that scene in the Wizard of OZ: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q5S4ncU3Dw) Thats me, Dorothy with Toto, lets call her Esme (my six year old) unable at this moment to find my way home. It isn't making me a bad mother, just a psychically, financially challenged mother. I am doing everything that the books tell you to do --
- I am writing (so to speak)
- I am praying
- I am making TO DO lists of all different kinds
- I am trying to be prepared, like the GIRL SCOUTS
Can I admit to a level of exhaustion that I haven't ever felt? Okay, I admit it.
I looked at Esme this morning and envied her innocence. I know that if someone asked her if our family was rich, she would certainly say yes, she is justifiably bathed in that beautiful combination of certain knowledge and complete ignorance. Ahhhh, the bliss of childhood. But the truth is, our life, in the very near future will most certainly contain some upheaval -- a new job for me? A new city? A new career path? A huge MOVE? It is all up in the air for now -- until I choose direction....the dilemma....
I am hoping to keep it all together with my usual positivity, creativity, resourcefulness and streetsmarts, but everyday, I sit here in front of my computer googling new careers: I start with the practical: Medical Billing (a possibility), Dental Hygienist ( No chance, the actual GOOGLING of this career, made my stomach turn), Paralegal (eh, maybe), Administrative Assistant (I was always GREAT at this) and then I advance to higher levels of choices, Spiritual Ordination (I did this and I am now a certified Ordained Minister with the Church of Spiritual Humanism) This online certification worked for me, as all the other ones required me, a Jewish girl, raised in the Catskills, to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior. NOT that there is ANYTHING wrong with that, I just couldnt do it., Teacher (LONG years of schooling), Psychologist (same), Career Coach...don't laugh, I looked it up, I figured who better to help another lost person than a formerly lost person? and the damned list goes on and on....
This year, I let my business go. I say it like that because after the better part of 22 years, being a publicist in the music business, I realized one day that I just didnt care anymore AT ALL. I had been in the trenches for so long, with passion and conviction and I know with all my heart that I gave my all, the way servicemen in the Armed Forces give their all. And with no disrespect meant at all to our brave men and women in the military, my years in the music business sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes did feel like war. The competition is fierce, the rewards are great, you go screaming into battle, all guns blazing and at the end, you have Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Lady GaGa, etc, etc....I was way too exhausted for that kind of battle and truth be told, just didn't have it in me anymore. I adore every minute I spent in that business, even the end, when it wasnt so much fun anymore, it was educating me for my next chapter....Whatever that will be.
And so here I am at that crossroads, extremely financially challenged, standing with my amazing 6 year old daughter, hand in hand, ready for the next thing...What will it be? What can it be?
What is against me: I am entering a sagging economy, an extremely competitive job market that is an Employer's paradise, allowing hiring managers to employ interview practices that are Draconian, allright, that may be a strong word, but ridiculously arduous tasks, no in person interviews, projects, long lists of references etc..you get the picture. I am an older worker, my years of experience are amazing but sometimes held against me and the biggest thing is this: I got my Bachelors Degree along time ago, and that is ALL I Have: a Bachelors Degree in Public Relations....ACK!!! I am basically qualified for NOTHING...unless of course I veer back to PR (please see above for why this is such a horrible choice)
In my favor: I am smart, I am well-traveled, I have a degree in real life experience, a doctorate...lol, I spent more than a decade in corporate America in the greatest city in the world, New York and yet, my resume is almost universally ignored when I send it through that blackhole of applying online.
I have been very dependent recently on the kindness of strangers and while I am grateful for their love and support and funding, I am appalled that I am in this state and long to get out of it.
I wonder to myself: Am I alone here? Am I a member of a larger group of people hard hit by the economy, by their work life, by the end of something? I hope that the answer is yes, but in my darkest hours, I fear I am by myself.
They say: Progress, Not Perfection...so I keep searching
They say: One Day At A Time...so I let the bad days fade and send up gratitude for the health of my daughter and the beauty that is our life.
They say: Love will Find a Way...so I love, alot: My friends, my daughter, our family, always sending out love....
They say, Stick to your Guns...this one stumps me...I don't own a Gun and the virtual Gun I currently have is NOT LOADED
They say, Let Go, Let God...I do this everyday, it led me to starting this blog, it led me to following a passion I have for the spiritual life, it led me to seeing the contribution I have made to pop culture in my career (it was always a goal of mine), it led me to being okay about writing this blog entry, without shame, at all.
They say, Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway...God Knows that I do that everyday.
I am going to Breathe out now.
I hope to find my way through this LOST period of my life and hopefully find the future that has been laid out for my precious daughter and me. Love, Love, Love, ES
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
TIMELY MUSING: Eat, Pray, Love...yeah, yeah, yeah
As we are on the eve of the new Hollywood Blockbuster/Julia Roberts/Big Screen Adaptation of the bestseller, Eat, Pray, Love, I felt it was my obligation as a woman on this planet to have an opinion about this event. BIG SIGH!
Okay lets change OBLIGATION to I just couldn't help myself.......
Anyway, I know I am supposed to LOVE this book, appreciate it for so many things like Elizabeth's search for true meaning, self esteem, an end to her life long melancholy, etc, etc, etc.......and I do, I do, I get it, okay? I am even happy for her that she found her true love in the Felipe, Ne. Jose dude she is now married to. And I quite enjoy her descriptive writing abilities, I mean the way she describes PIZZA is incredible.
But here's the thing: In reality, Elizabeth Gilbert is a rich, white, blond woman with a boat load of money (earned, lost and earned again).. an amazing education, all the opportunity in the world, so she had the RESOURCES to be able to indulge this melancholy, depression, break down, etc. My issue with this is the following: I know plenty of women who would leave their lives for a year in search of spiritual, emotional, physical serenity, PEACE of mind, if you will, but those same women just cant, 'cuz you know baby, they are way too busy--taking care of the kids, working, paying bills, fretting, trying to be grateful about what they do have and generally exhausting themselves just to live--and by the way, I AM ONE OF THOSE WOMEN.
My total dream (and it will happen one day) is to travel Italy from boot to tip, drinking, eating, loving my way for like 8 weeks. But you know, NOT RIGHT NOW. Right now, the average woman our age...you know who you are....is too involved in their lives to have one.
In fact, the other day, one of my best friends husbands found out I had started a blog and his comment, was something along the lines of "Oh God, SHE is now an expert on Parenting?" Now, I don't hold this man in the highest esteem for reasons that we will not go into on this blog, but never the less, I do view myself as one who can take criticism, so I pondered his comment. Here is what I came up with, NO, I am not an expert on parenting, don't hold an official degree in child psychology although I did work with rock bands for 20 years, so you know, its the same thing, don't hold an official degree in banking, but I have had a checking account going on four decades, so you know, its the same thing, don't have any official degree in emotional intelligence but I have been surrounded by clients who excel in emotional UN-intelligence for 20 years, so you know its the same thing and in this one category, several family members actually DO hold degrees in Psychology and Emotional Intelligence, but I digress. NO, I am not a Priest or a Rabbi, but I recently did become ordained by the Church of Spiritual Humanism to perform weddings, funerals, namings etc and I do believe strongly in a power greater than myself, so its kind of the same thing....
Anyway, I asked myself, WHY are you doing this blog...what have you got to say that could possibly be of ANY interest to anyone out there and the answer was so clear....I don't care.
I mean, this blog is MY version of Eat, Pray, Love....It is self indulgent, it is seeking answers, it is allowing me some freedom from the day to day worries and even after just posting once, I felt a relief from some anxiety I am experiencing about something as small as you know,
-PUTTING FOOD ON THE TABLE (EAT),
-and continue to be positive enough to know that it isn't the love you take, but the love you make that really counts at the end (LOVE).
Do you sense a theme?
So in the end, I love Julia...SHE is truly America's Sweetheart not Sandra Bullock, I won't see the movie until its out on DVD and I will continue to reference the book when I need to fuel my journey with a healthy dose of jealousy that quickly turns to motivation.
Lastly, I hope whomever stumbles upon this blog will get something out of it, be able to relate to it, get some relief from it and maybe even have a laugh over it.
Eat, Pray, Love--Ellyn
Okay lets change OBLIGATION to I just couldn't help myself.......
Anyway, I know I am supposed to LOVE this book, appreciate it for so many things like Elizabeth's search for true meaning, self esteem, an end to her life long melancholy, etc, etc, etc.......and I do, I do, I get it, okay? I am even happy for her that she found her true love in the Felipe, Ne. Jose dude she is now married to. And I quite enjoy her descriptive writing abilities, I mean the way she describes PIZZA is incredible.
But here's the thing: In reality, Elizabeth Gilbert is a rich, white, blond woman with a boat load of money (earned, lost and earned again).. an amazing education, all the opportunity in the world, so she had the RESOURCES to be able to indulge this melancholy, depression, break down, etc. My issue with this is the following: I know plenty of women who would leave their lives for a year in search of spiritual, emotional, physical serenity, PEACE of mind, if you will, but those same women just cant, 'cuz you know baby, they are way too busy--taking care of the kids, working, paying bills, fretting, trying to be grateful about what they do have and generally exhausting themselves just to live--and by the way, I AM ONE OF THOSE WOMEN.
My total dream (and it will happen one day) is to travel Italy from boot to tip, drinking, eating, loving my way for like 8 weeks. But you know, NOT RIGHT NOW. Right now, the average woman our age...you know who you are....is too involved in their lives to have one.
In fact, the other day, one of my best friends husbands found out I had started a blog and his comment, was something along the lines of "Oh God, SHE is now an expert on Parenting?" Now, I don't hold this man in the highest esteem for reasons that we will not go into on this blog, but never the less, I do view myself as one who can take criticism, so I pondered his comment. Here is what I came up with, NO, I am not an expert on parenting, don't hold an official degree in child psychology although I did work with rock bands for 20 years, so you know, its the same thing, don't hold an official degree in banking, but I have had a checking account going on four decades, so you know, its the same thing, don't have any official degree in emotional intelligence but I have been surrounded by clients who excel in emotional UN-intelligence for 20 years, so you know its the same thing and in this one category, several family members actually DO hold degrees in Psychology and Emotional Intelligence, but I digress. NO, I am not a Priest or a Rabbi, but I recently did become ordained by the Church of Spiritual Humanism to perform weddings, funerals, namings etc and I do believe strongly in a power greater than myself, so its kind of the same thing....
Anyway, I asked myself, WHY are you doing this blog...what have you got to say that could possibly be of ANY interest to anyone out there and the answer was so clear....I don't care.
I mean, this blog is MY version of Eat, Pray, Love....It is self indulgent, it is seeking answers, it is allowing me some freedom from the day to day worries and even after just posting once, I felt a relief from some anxiety I am experiencing about something as small as you know,
-PUTTING FOOD ON THE TABLE (EAT),
-Making sure I can indeed send my daughter to her first semester of Hebrew School AND afford the tickets for us to attend High Holy Day Services this year (PRAY)
-and continue to be positive enough to know that it isn't the love you take, but the love you make that really counts at the end (LOVE).
Do you sense a theme?
So in the end, I love Julia...SHE is truly America's Sweetheart not Sandra Bullock, I won't see the movie until its out on DVD and I will continue to reference the book when I need to fuel my journey with a healthy dose of jealousy that quickly turns to motivation.
Lastly, I hope whomever stumbles upon this blog will get something out of it, be able to relate to it, get some relief from it and maybe even have a laugh over it.
Eat, Pray, Love--Ellyn
Monday, July 19, 2010
a Post, my First
Saturday, it was possibly the worst day I have ever spent as a mother. Ever since my daughter was a baby, we have adopted the saying (lifted from one of those kid networks), "Saturday, Make a Mistake and it Doesnt matter day" and well, this Saturday, this was my mantra. The day began easily enough, my daughter and I woke up, we turned on one of those KID NETWORKS that I currently LOATHE and I set about the task of making breakfast. It is a long week for us and Saturday is our Chill Down day, meaning NO activities out of the house until 2pm. This weekend however, we had to be somewhere by 1pm. Okay, it wasnt THAT much of a challenge, just an hour, but I really believe it set us on the road to ruin.
We got to our destination okay, a bridal shower, (my daughter is making her debut as a flower girl in September), great, we were cleaned up, dressed up, smiling pretty...except for the fact that I forgot the gift and had to leave my daughter in the care of the bridesmaids and literally RACE home to get the gift...it was only 90degrees outside, so NO big deal to be sweating and racing home to retrieve a gift. Then, post the shower we go to the pool to cool off, another GREAT decision, all is well, we are having fun, then it was as if my daughter became posessed..YES, similar to THAT OTHER LITTLE POSESSED GIRL, we all know and love. Except for the green vomit and her head spinning around, my daughter ALL of a SUDDEN became something unrecognizable to me, a screaming, spitting, crying, whiny thing. OH MY GOD...What have I DONE WRONG was my first thought...its always my first thought. Therapy taught me that, right? Its ALWAYS MOMS FAULT FIRST....So I tried, I picked her up, we got in the car, I tried to calm her down, are you hungry? Are you tired? Are you hurt? Couldnt get an answer out of her, RIGHT, she was too busy screaming to answer me.....FINALLY, TWO HOURS later after three phone calls to my mother, a walk around the car to calm down, ME, not her, it came to my consciousness that my daughter was having a growth spurt. Dont ask me WHY this info came to me, it just did. I forced her into a restaurant, the closest one I could find and in the midst of calming down, HER not me, she managed to scarf down an entire HUGE bowl of mac and cheese which the good people at the restaurant (RUBY TUESDAYS) were kind enough to bring in a hurry as you might imagine.
My daughter is a beautiful and smart and emotionally gifted six year old and since she was a baby, people respond to her in a very intense way. Saturday was no exception, the waitress, the patrons at the next table, instead of giving me dirty looks, all came over to see if the girl was alright, someone gave her sillybandz, another gave her a new glass of lemonade, etc...ME? nada, bupkus, nothin baby. I had to laugh, yes from happiness that my daughter has the world responding to her this way, but also in an ironic way too, that I clearly DO NOT.
Sunday began with my daugther waking up and saying to me, "I grew yesterday mommy" and "we had a fight, didnt we mommy? but I still love you!"
WHEW! Thank God....and by the way, God?
Thanks for the challenge, every bone in my weary body alternately loved you and hated you on Saturday, but it was Saturday, make a mistake and it doesnt matter day!
We got to our destination okay, a bridal shower, (my daughter is making her debut as a flower girl in September), great, we were cleaned up, dressed up, smiling pretty...except for the fact that I forgot the gift and had to leave my daughter in the care of the bridesmaids and literally RACE home to get the gift...it was only 90degrees outside, so NO big deal to be sweating and racing home to retrieve a gift. Then, post the shower we go to the pool to cool off, another GREAT decision, all is well, we are having fun, then it was as if my daughter became posessed..YES, similar to THAT OTHER LITTLE POSESSED GIRL, we all know and love. Except for the green vomit and her head spinning around, my daughter ALL of a SUDDEN became something unrecognizable to me, a screaming, spitting, crying, whiny thing. OH MY GOD...What have I DONE WRONG was my first thought...its always my first thought. Therapy taught me that, right? Its ALWAYS MOMS FAULT FIRST....So I tried, I picked her up, we got in the car, I tried to calm her down, are you hungry? Are you tired? Are you hurt? Couldnt get an answer out of her, RIGHT, she was too busy screaming to answer me.....FINALLY, TWO HOURS later after three phone calls to my mother, a walk around the car to calm down, ME, not her, it came to my consciousness that my daughter was having a growth spurt. Dont ask me WHY this info came to me, it just did. I forced her into a restaurant, the closest one I could find and in the midst of calming down, HER not me, she managed to scarf down an entire HUGE bowl of mac and cheese which the good people at the restaurant (RUBY TUESDAYS) were kind enough to bring in a hurry as you might imagine.
My daughter is a beautiful and smart and emotionally gifted six year old and since she was a baby, people respond to her in a very intense way. Saturday was no exception, the waitress, the patrons at the next table, instead of giving me dirty looks, all came over to see if the girl was alright, someone gave her sillybandz, another gave her a new glass of lemonade, etc...ME? nada, bupkus, nothin baby. I had to laugh, yes from happiness that my daughter has the world responding to her this way, but also in an ironic way too, that I clearly DO NOT.
Sunday began with my daugther waking up and saying to me, "I grew yesterday mommy" and "we had a fight, didnt we mommy? but I still love you!"
WHEW! Thank God....and by the way, God?
Thanks for the challenge, every bone in my weary body alternately loved you and hated you on Saturday, but it was Saturday, make a mistake and it doesnt matter day!
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ITS JUST ME!
(arti)FACTS
- TRUE CONFESSIONS of a SINGLE MOTHER
- I left the music industry to follow my life which up until the day I left the music industry, WAS my life. Not a smart idea. My life now, single mom of an 8 year old daughter, adopted from Guatemala. How I make my living: Macy's Logistics. One thing: my heart has never left the music business and never will. This Blog connects the dots. Enjoy. Feedback welcome.