Be Gentle

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Why I Love Getting Older – My 40s List

I decided at 27 that I didn’t want to live the rest of my life hating that I was getting older. I remember my mother being 28 for four years when I was a little girl, and I know many people that dread their next birthday and lie about their age (including men!). I did not want to spend the rest of my life fighting against the inevitable. So, at 27, I set an intention that “I will look forward to and celebrate wholeheartedly each and every decade that came my way – no matter what.”

Me loving Santorini

This has worked pretty well so far. As my 30th birthday approached, I felt excited and grateful for my age. I found myself looking forward to what my 30s would bring. What was in store for the next 10 years? How would my life change? What new friends would I make and where was my career going? What volunteer opportunities would I become involved in? What new countries would I visit?  (All good things by the way and a marriage to the love of my life.)

As my 40th birthday was approaching, I received quite a few concerning stares and pitying head shakes when people found out how old I was going to be. Seriously! I once shared in a circle of colleagues that I really loved aging and was looking forward to getting older and, I tell you, the moans were audible! Out of about 35 people, only one said that she agreed with me (she’s in her 70s now and fierce af). One lovely woman actually said to me, “Well, it’s all downhill from here I’m afraid.” And sometimes I heard, “You’re only 40? I wish I could be 40 again. I hate getting old.”

Why do we do this to ourselves and each other?? Why do we lament with such sorrow when someone else ages one more year and then prophesize the worst for them? I promise, if we meet, I’m not going to look at you and dump all of my age-shame on you and tell you that you have nothing to look forward to anymore. Life is just too amazing for that bullshit, so stop it.

It’s clear I was hearing other people’s fear of aging, and I also know that my beliefs about aging will have a significant impact on my future. I’ve kept the promise I made to myself. I don’t carry fear about getting older, and I don’t feel shame when someone asks my age. I’ve earned these 46 years on this planet, and I’m going to enjoy them.

Here’s my list of why I love my 40s (in no particular order), and why I’m pretty sure I’ll love being 50 and beyond:

1. I continue to get better with age. I find with each year that passes, I become a better person, a better version of myself. Dare I say even a more truer version of myself. I’m more thoughtful, more kind, more patient, more confident. I’m not saying I don’t make mistakes! I certainly do and am far from being the perfect human being, whatever that is. But I learn from my mistakes more quickly and judge myself less and less for the things I do that are off track. I’m not so hard on myself anymore and the wisdom inside (and that does in fact come with age by the way) encourages me to challenge myself in greater ways, to keep pushing my edge. After years of personal work, I can see that I’ll always be a work in progress, and I enjoy seeing how my life is unfolding and who I’m becoming.

2. Things bug me less. I’m not the person you’ll hear say, “This world is going to hell” or “This country sucks.” (I admit, it’s been hard since you now what but I’m trying.) This doesn’t mean that I bury my head in the sand; I take the view of, “Ok, so what can I do about this that actually helps and doesn’t add to it?”

3. My family rocks, and I have made and kept amazing friends! One of the benefits of maturity and experience is that I recognize pretty quickly people who don’t add loving to my life. My fam is just right for me and I couldn’t ask for a better husband or kiddo. And friends come and go. Some people are in our lives to add something to it for a certain period of time and then they leave. At times this is sad and other times it’s a relief. I am truly blessed to have such a core group of soul friends and my heart is full. I surround myself with low-drama folks that love me. Quite a difference from when I was in my 20s . . .

4. I really like me and getting to know myself is a fun process. This wasn’t always so, and I struggled for years with self-loathing and making poor choices with my life. Time and a lot of personal work (yay therapy!) has given me a different perspective of who I am. I can’t do everything that I admire in others, but I have strengths that make me unique. I don’t have to live with labels that I believed when I was younger. I can always reinvent who I want to be, try new things, change my mind, start a new habit – you get the idea.

5. I’m now loving my body. I’m not what you’d call traditionally beautiful, and I love the way I am. I may have some aches and pains now and then and instead of thinking, “Getting older sucks” I thank my body for how hard it works for me, and I try to take care of it better. The past year in particular has been challenging for many reasons. My intention is to do what I can without judgment. Taking care of my body has an immediate effect on how I’m feeling.

6. It’s ok if not everyone likes me. Not much else to say about this – I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m good with that.

7. I used to say that I wasn’t born with the “girly” gene – for example, I don’t wear make up much and hate shopping, can’t stand Grey’s Anatomy . . . (I know). And please don’t invite me to a goddess group. Other women have made fun of me in the past for this. But now I love my nerdy, well-balanced masculine and feminine me.

8. I’ve forgiven myself for a lot of the bullshit that I’ve done and the pain I invited into my life. Does anyone else say a silent thank you that they didn’t grow up with cell phone cameras? I’ve had a lot to make peace with and will continue to do so.

9. I don’t look back. I don’t think about past relationships. I don’t pine for the 80s, nor do I wish I was 25 again. I have no regrets. (ok, maybe not holding onto bitcoin)

10. I’m less afraid to speak up and speak my mind. I used to worried about what others would think of me. My 40s have given me permission to say what I’m thinking with honesty, kindness, and consideration.

And this is only 46! Can’t wait to see what else awaits. How are you feeling about your age? Tell me what’s good about getting older for you.

The Privilege of Seeing Pain
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The Privilege of Seeing Pain

“I started sharing my pain with everyone,” is what one of my teenage clients said to me recently. What an interesting way to say this. Her words hung in the air.

They are simple and poetic. Significant.

Her words gave me a new context for what it means to “act out.”

When the pain inside became too much for her to bear, she started sharing it with others as a way of saying, “I’m here, and I need someone to care. I can’t handle this on my own.” She had a rough childhood, and she started doing all of the harmful things one can imagine a teenage girl doing to herself, including stealing and harming others.

Adults do this as well – share their pain. The person who abuses their spouse, the dad who can’t stop yelling at his children, the woman who drinks excessively and physically abuses.

We all have these moments of sharing our pain, everyone one of us. Our prisons are filled with people who were sharing a pain too great to hold in.

Is there anyone you can think of in your life that has been sharing their pain with you? Is there anyone in your life that you’ve been unconsciously sharing your pain with? Ask yourself if there’s anything that you can do or want to do about this to help. There may not be . . . and there may be.

I’m reminded of this tale that I read a long time ago. I don’t know if it’s true, but I like the essence of it. The piece that sticks out to me: “If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behaviour is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity.”

This teenager in front of me had forgotten who she was. That she had a well of good inside. After years of being given someone else’s misbeliefs and someone else’s pain, her real identity was buried.

What if we took the time to listen, care for, and show kindness to the people in front of us who share their pain instead of shame them, punish them, or incarcerate them? Might we be able to remind them of their goodness and their deep capacity for love?

Not easy, but worth a try.

Honesty & Vulnerability
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Honesty & Vulnerability

One of the issues I see frequently in therapy with my clients is an overwhelming fear of being vulnerable – with me and with others. This can make moving forward in therapy tricky.

I’ve struggled with being vulnerable as well. In the past, it’s felt unsafe.

We live in a culture where we are afraid of our fear and our feelings, and vulnerability is mistakenly associated with weakness. It can feel uncomfortable, because we are afraid of what others will think of us or afraid of being hurt.

One of the best ways to connect with those we love and the only way that true healing can happen is if we are brave enough to be honest with ourselves and vulnerable with others.

This requires not hiding behind anger (which can feel powerful) or not hiding behind a wall of perceived strength built by the ego.

Brené Brown says is best in Daring Greatly: vulnerability is life’s greatest dare.

 

Being Good Enough
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Being Good Enough

Several years ago my daughter played the cello when she was in elementary school and it thrilled me to no end. The sound of the cello resonates deep in my body. It’s melancholy, and I hear it sing a sad song of yearning and longing for the beloved.

It is truly my favorite instrument – and she was damn good.

So when the kiddo switched to the clarinet, well . . . that was a sad day for me. And when I was required to complete a heartfelt project in the second year of my Master’s Program, I decided that it was time for me to give it shot and learn to play.

I was pretty nervous about this undertaking. I’d not played any instrument since I took piano lessons as a child and over the years had developed a misbelief that I was not creative enough to play anything.

And not only would I be learning to play the cello in a few short months, but there were rumors that I just might possibly perform in front of my 200-person class at the end of the year . . .

So off I went. I hired an amazing cello instructor named Emily at Baxter Northrup, rented a beautiful cello that I named Neda, and met with my Project Team mates (Alycia Schlesinger and Jenny Caruso) twice a month for mutual support.

I practiced in hiding at first because I was embarrassed about my playing but with my husband’s encouragement, I quickly learned to ignore the negative self-talk and moved from the bedroom to the living room for my evening routine.

During our Project Team meetings, I shared with Alycia and Jenny all of the fears and judgments that surfaced about myself while pushing my edge this way. They all boiled down to “I wasn’t good enough.”

The final criteria to fulfill my project was to perform in front of my Project Team – easy – they loved me and cheered me on the entire time. As we neared the end of the year though, I started to wonder what it might be like to actually perform in front of my large class.

When the time came, I signed up to perform for the class on the final day (with everyone else who opted to present their completed project). I was terrified. I couldn’t sleep well the night before. I asked myself, “Who are you and why in the world are you doing this??”

I somehow managed to make it to class, walk up on stage with my heart pounding, coherently say some kind of introduction to the class, and play.

And here’s the thing: I was pretty bad. I didn’t practice enough as I probably should have and I sat up there squeaking away. I knew when I decided to perform that my playing wasn’t going to sound that great and some of my notes were going to be off. But I wanted to challenge myself anyway. Could I get up there and let others see me unpolished and imperfect?

As I played the last note, I looked up and saw my fellow classmates erupt into a standing ovation. It went on for a long while as I bowed in gratitude. I remember looking over at my husband, Alycia, and Jenny and seeing all three of them crying. I could see on their faces how proud they were of me. It was a pretty special moment.

I left the stage thinking, “Wow! I just did that!” and I was high the rest of the day. This was a significant stretch for the introvert who prefers to be in the background. Students congratulated me all weekend and several thanked me. One person said, “I realized when I saw you up there that I didn’t have to be perfect and that was freeing.”

I’ve become a fan of being good enough, of ignoring the whispers of ego-perfection, of letting whoever I am in the moment be just fine.

What’s On Your Not To Do List?
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What’s On Your Not To Do List?

Some of us have To Do lists that we love and live by. I happen to be one of those people. There’s a lot that I want to accomplish during my day and a list supports me in keeping focused – usually. (I do allow myself some flexibility.)

But I recently considered what might be on my Not To Do List.

Here’s what I came up with for today:

Not To Do:
1. Judge myself for making mistakes.
2. Replay conversations in my head thinking I should’ve said something different.
3. Speak harshly to myself and others.
4. Believe negative thoughts about myself or others.
5. Let fear hold me back.

NOTE: This is NOT an opportunity to add more self-judgment and shame onto the day. This is an opportunity to identify what energy-draining patterns I can shift in my consciousness. I won’t add things onto this list that I can’t possibly live up to and then feel even worse about later. Get the idea?

I made a downloadable version that can be printed to keep handy. You can get it by clicking here: Not To Do List.

I wonder, what will you not do today?

 

Slowing Down
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Slowing Down

On the radio the other day, I heard someone say, “Information in real-time is the future.”

Hmmm…Why I wonder? Our culture is speeding up obviously, but I’ve often contemplated about the need (or, more accurately, want) for information right now. The obsession in our culture for late-breaking news and being the first to know about – anything.

Do we, as a public, really want info right now all the time? Why? And what does that exactly mean? What are the consequences?

I’d like to say here that I’m a total tech nerd, and I love all that technology has allowed us to accomplish.

And like me, you may know people that constantly check their phones when at dinner with others and in the middle of active conversations are distracted by their push notifications. All because of a false idea that we need to know what’s happening instantly and as it’s happening.

Might we be losing our impulse control and patience? Why does this even matter?

What happens if we turn off the push notifications and let things wait?

There’s a palpable difference between being with someone distractedly and really being with that person fully.

I’ve thought about this for a long time and decided to write a little about this now because my husband and I recently returned from a trip where we were almost virtually unplugged. We had very spotty access to internet so checking email sporadically was the best we could manage. And that was a welcome change from our hectic LA lives.

We were able to slow down, take our time, and enjoy ourselves. Dinners lasted 3-4 hours with no one rushing us out of the restaurant. We walked miles each day with no where to really be other than the next site on our list. The quality of our time spent felt much more rich with no thought about what was happening online.

I don’t need information in real-time, which is often superficial. I actually don’t want information in real-time. I want connection, authenticity, thoughtfulness, depthful discussion and conversation, and most of all a conscious awareness of how I live my life and how I chose to spend my time.

You Don’t Know How Wonderful You Are
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You Don’t Know How Wonderful You Are

A colleague that I look up to as a mentor, named Alissa, said this to me recently. I had a project to complete over the weekend with a group of amazing people. It was a challenging weekend but really sacred work. After we completed the project, I expressed my insecurities about my performance to her.

She looked at me for a moment and with so much tenderness in her eyes she said, “You don’t know how wonderful you are.” I couldn’t help but take it into my heart.

I’ve actually heard this before. I lived with a woman who stepped in as a substitute mother when I needed one many years ago. Her name was Carrie and we were very close. In our long conversations she would often say to me, “You just don’t know how special you are, do you?”

That phrase has stayed with me all of these years, and I often think about what she said to me. It still warms my heart today thinking about her.

I think it’s taken me a while to really let her words sink in. I’ve been playing small for a long time because of an irrational lack of self-confidence. An unproven thought I was not good enough for (fill in the blank).

My experience this past weekend was an eye-opener. I received really positive prizing and feedback from the leaders of our project and still felt that I wanted to push their kind words away. It reminded me of this video that I saw on Upworthy.  If you’re a woman, it’s worth watching and watch until the end. It’s pretty funny.

Today I declare this limiting pattern in my consciousness done with.

I forgive myself for ever judging that I wasn’t good enough for anything.

What would my life be like without this silly insecurity and without that old “not good enough” story? What wonderful things would I be able to accomplish knowing that I’m good enough for whatever it is I want to tackle?

I’m excited to find out.

So, dear reader, do you know – really know –  how wonderful you are?