For the past few weeks, people who I perceive as having wronged or wounded me have been floating around in my head. I knew that it was past time to do a little house cleaning; I just wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Prior Efforts

Several years ago I tried two different methods of getting rid of these squatters. One was to burn the two biggest intruders in effigy. A good idea in principle, a bit harder in practice unless you choose your materials carefully. I chose two boiled wool Christmas ornaments that looked a lot like the two women who had to go. Boiled wool does not burn easily. Twenty minutes and half a box of matches later, they were gone. And they stayed gone.

The second method was to repeat a particularly frightening and hurtful line over and over until I started to laugh at an undercurrent of courtliness in a vile threat. Once I started laughing, I was able to turn the whole experience into a puff ball and blow it off into nothingness. This also stayed gone.

Today’s Effort

In the midst of a massive cleaning, straightening and dumping, I found a pad of Thank You Post-its. Perfect! Over the years, I’ve written letters to parts of my younger self whose opinions and protective actions were no longer needed and this gave me an idea. Everyone comes into your life for a reason. For what might I thank each of these people? As I wrote names on each Post-it, I thought about the lessons learned: not everyone will (or should be expected to) reciprocate kindness; create clear boundaries; have a written contract for all work; someone’s negative opinion has nothing to do with what you think of yourself. I wrote out all of my thank you notes and added a sweet goodbye note, then sent them all ablaze.

Next?

My head feels very clear now. I can keep the lessons learned and even smile at them without giving in to resentment, anger and grief. It’s a good feeling. My goal is to remember that forgiveness isn’t really forgiveness unless I’m ready to forget. And to simply shake my head and move on in the future.

Are there days when you just plain don’t feel cheerful? When possibly no sane person would have reason for a big smile? I say own it! There’s a lot of pressure to present an optimistic, cheerful outlook no matter what is going on in your life. “Don’t worry, be happy” seems to be the mantra. The problem with this, for me, is that when you need every ounce of energy to keep moving forward, using some of that energy to create a bright and shiny facade just seems like a bad idea.

Now, I’m not advocating sinking into a morass of despair, curling up under a quilt and crying through old movies while eating chocolates. (Although sometimes that’s a really good temporary measure.) No, I’m simply saying that it’s important to own your emotions, to feel whatever it is you’re feeling.

Message From the Universe

As I was pondering this notion of feeling what you’re feeling, this message from The Universe popped into my inbox:

“Don’t wait for those feelings of excitement, confidence and clarity before you take action.

Take action first, without them, and they will follow.”

Take action. there’s the key. Take a break to have a hissy fit or a bout of the weepies when you need to. Don’t feel forced to smile all the time. Allow quiet moments when you want – or need – them. Feel discouraged, just don’t let that stop you. I’ve cried my way through enough projects that turned out wonderfully well to know this works.

There’s a Difference Between Cheerful and Optimistic

And that difference has everything to do with persistence and resilience. I have a close friend who is dealing with her second bout of cancer and another who is dealing with her third. Both lead busy, productive lives. One is a basically happy woman; the other is a chronic worrier. Each keep her cancer in perspective. Neither walks around with a perpetually sad countenance. Neither, though, feels obliged to put on a happy face just to please others.

Many of the women in my circle are entrepreneurs; primarily coaches and consultants. We’ve all seen economic upturns and downturns. A few have declared bankruptcy along the way. As a group, we’re pragmatic. And honest. The response to, “How’s it going?” to others within the circle is likely to be flat out honest. When I lost a big contract, I didn’t lie and say everything was wonderful. It wasn’t. I said, “Not so great right now, but I’m working on it.” Others have said, “Could be better.” Nothing wrong with a little truth. In fact, this kind of response has often brought offers of help, leads, joint ventures and all kinds of wonderful things.

One of the women in Fifty Over Fifty, Sharon, reached a point where she needed public assistance for six months. Was she all smiley and cheerful? Nope. She was too busy getting out there and making things happen. It was grit and determination that got her a million dollar plus business, not bouncing up and down and grinning. She put on her most optimistic attitude and kept knocking on doors until she got her first “YES!” and kept trudging up that hill.

So What’s The Plan?

Really, it’s pretty simple. There is a book called The Managed Heart that talks about industries where employees must be permanently cheerful. The author describes the negative impact – increased stress levels, burn-out, poor health – caused by being forced to be cheerful. Every so often, there’s a story of a flight attendant loosing it, and I’m always surprised that this doesn’t happen more often. I wonder what happens to customer service reps after a day of unrelenting good cheer. (Well, maybe not all of them.)

1. Own your emotions.
2. Feel what you’re feeling. Express it when appropriate; keep it to yourself – and maybe even stay home – when it’s not.
3. Listen to what sadness may be telling you. Have you made a choice that needs rethinking.
4. Take your anger out in the gym or on an inanimate object, never on other people. Shredding mail by hand works – that great feeling of ripping things up can be cathartic.
5. If you can’t concentrate on work, take a break and do something else. This is often how most of my cleaning gets done.
6. Take a walk.
7. Put on some music that matches either your current mood or the one you’d like to shift into.
8. Call someone. Talk it out.
9. Journal.
10. Cuddle up with a pet or a partner.

This is my go-to list. Yours may look different. Go create one now – and sing a new song, “Don’t Worry, Be Whatever.”

I know, I know – personal development coaches are supposed to be upbeat and write motivational posts, right? But we’re ordinary people, and sometimes our lives aren’t going all that well either. The past couple of months have been a roller coaster. Just as my biggest client disappeared into the sunset, I was offered my absolute dream opportunity. I love the project, the students and my colleagues. Of course, there’s a little glitch in the payment process, but, oh well.

I found the perfect jacket last week. The zipper broke immediately.

The four and a half trip home from a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend turned into seven hours of bad traffic. I slept through the dinner ordering part of the trip. I had the perfect turkey sandwich in my bag.

Everything seems to have slowed down or gotten stalled of late. After three attempts, I’ve still not been able to finalize two meetings. Even my cat litter delivery is mysteriously delayed.

What’s going on here? I’m torn between feeling like I’m trapped on a roller coaster and feeling like I’m slogging in the mud. And slogging. And slogging.

What’s Next?

Well, as the old saying goes, there’s got to be a pony in here someplace.

I’m feeling less than cheery now, but I remain optimistic. I know that, with a little patience, a lot of hard work, and a lot of faith, everything will turn around. I have the resources to hold on. I have friends to listen to my weep and gnash my teeth and kick and scream. Each morning, I set an agenda and do at least a little bit to reach my goals. No, life is not always wonderful – I don’t care what anyone says. Sometimes life just isn’t much fun. But there’s always room to change or create something new or wait something out. Persistence. Perseverance. Grit. I have friends who have gone through multiple rounds of cancer and still have wonderful lives. Some have lost loved ones. Some have gone bankrupt. It seems to me that, deep inside, they knew that somewhere in that pile of manure there really was a pony. And they were right. And so am I.

And What Does This Have To Do With You and With Coaching?

Everything. When I look for a coach, I want someone who doesn’t think everything is wonderful all the time. I like working with a coach who has had some hard times. Why? Because they’ve survived. Because they know how I’m feeling when things aren’t going well. Because they know how to help me turn things around. That’s what makes them good. That’s what makes me good.

I know as sure as I’m writing these words that when I feel like one foot is over the cliff and the other is on a banana peel, something magical is about to happen. I know how to wait out any sense of impending doom – and I help my clients do the same.

So, yes – I believe in positive thinking and intentions and affirmations. And I also believe that sometimes compassion, common sense, support, and a good plan are better. So, if you’re feeling down, find a good partner and a couple of shovels. I promise – there’s a pony in your future.

Blondell is our first permanent loss and she’ll be missed. You can read elsewhere about Blondell’s public life as an internationally-celebrated dancer and choreographer. From time to time, she shared stories about dancing, living in Paris, leading workshops. But most of our conversation was about everyday things. And Blondell’s everyday life was always fascinating. She was always busy. She was part of several TTN groups, evaluated arts companies for grant funding and worked to regain control of her family’s Harlem brownstone, with the dream of creating a community arts center.

What I’ll remember most about Blondell is her energy. She’d sweep into the meeting, usually a little late, carrying a large bottle of water for herself and a bag of popcorn to share. She was funny and she was deep. We spent as many hours, as a group, laughing at ourselves and the foibles of everyday life as discussing the problems of the world.

We didn’t know that Blondell was ill. She was a very private woman. In retrospect, we may wonder if her illness was what pushed her to finally work on getting her papers and performance tapes in order. As proud as she was of  her body of work, though, we’ll also remember how proud she was of logging enough hours in her community pool to get an award and a tee shirt every year.

The rest of the group will go on. I hope that we’ll hold each other a bit more closely. All of us are over sixty; some over seventy. Even as the circle gets smaller, we’ll continue to celebrate and support each other.

This loss taught me to spend more time connecting and reconnecting with my larger circle. I’m being more intentional in making time for nurturing friendships. I’m experimenting with meeting and engaging a few new people as well. The new faces won’t replace those who are now out of reach; they’ll add something different. And I’ll add to their lives as well.

The next circle is made up of people who you see on a regular basis socially or professionally. Perhaps they are part of your religious group or an organization. Many people have church friends who they’ve known for decades. They are supportive and active in each other’s life without quite becoming part of the inner circle. Transition Network Peer Groups, for example, may meet for years, supporting each other between meetings but rarely seeing each other outside of that setting. Members of professional groups like the Financial Women’s Association or the Committee of 200 creates strong bonds of mutual support.

The outer circle is acquaintances. You enjoy their company even though you may not have strong bonds. You are likely to come through for each other in crisis, but otherwise may not be deeply involved in each other’s lives. Our connections at all these levels are a bit like a flower garden. We need to weed, feed, prune and replant if we expect to keep our circle full, strong and healthy. How are your gardening skills?

Weed or Treat

Twice a year, it’s worthwhile to review your circles of friends. Sometimes, the circles have simply gotten too large. Are these people still important to you? Have you maintained an active relationship? If not, is this because you are no longer as interested as you once were?  Are these relationships still vibrant and supportive or have they somehow grown toxic. Look around. Some relationships will be fine left on their own – a sort of benign neglect, and others need to go. You may have some weeding to do. Consider toxic relationships first. Some clearly need to be pulled up by the roots and tossed. Some may require treatment – a deep conversation to see if the relationship can be repaired (treated) or simply must go.

Feed

If you don’t feed – nurture – your relationships, they will probably fade away. Do a quick review. Who haven’t you seen in a while? Make plans to get together or set aside time for a long call. Put together a small group of friends who will get along – or perhaps are acquainted – and have a meal or an adventure. Think about mixing circles. No matter how you do it, connections that you can’t find time for at least quarterly are in danger of withering and dying.

Prune

It’s likely that we all have a couple of very needy friends. they may need to speak with you or even see you daily. Is this what you want? if yes, then there’s nothing that you need to do. Sometimes, though, you may feel choked by a relationship that has wrapped its tendrils around your life. This is when you need to do some judicious pruning. Cut back on those tendrils. Clear out space for you. Pruning relationships is really setting boundaries. It’s letting the other person know that you don’t have time right now, then suggesting another time that works for you. Or being clear about exactly how much time you have. Or letting your voicemail work for you.

Replant

Sometimes, there’s a relationship that you value that no longer fits in the same place. I’ve had friends with whom I spent most – if not all – of my free time (and theirs) for a number of years. Then something changed. Sometimes, it was geography. Sometimes, their interests changed. Sometimes their availability. People move away or go back to work and spend more time with work friends or get involved with projects groups. Don’t give up – just replant. Redefine the relationship. Move it to a different part of your garden.

Part of replanting is finding seedlings or cuttings or new plants. Can you expand your circles to include the children or spouses or relatives of your friends? Can you add new people to your circles to reflect your new interests?

If you take the time to care for your friendship garden, you can be like friends of mine who are all well past 50, cherishing their chronological peers as well as those a decade or three younger. After all, variety makes a garden interesting, isn’t it?

And then when I had our third child, my son, I kind of decided that I was going to kind of step off the career track a bit, always intending that I would go back fairly soon.

And instead what happened was, when my son was a year old, I was diagnosed with this terminal lung disease that you’ve probably read about and so that kind of was the start of a totally different chapter in my life.

Q. So, tell me about that.

Sure. So, at first, what was difficult was that I was pregnant. And often when you’re pregnant, you’re short of breath. And so, at first my doctors assured me I’ll get better. But after my son was born, I continued to get worse and I was hoping that it would be a case of exercise-induced asthma. And that, in fact, was not the diagnosis. And after lots of testing, they finally diagnosed this disease that is very hard to pronounce called Lymphangioleomyomatosis. And it’s a disease where, basically, lung tissue grows uncontrollably in your lungs and eventually you suffocate to death. And it’s something that is virtually limited to–there’s a few cases, but 99.7% are women. And it often presents during your childbearing years. So it hits people at a very, very hard time just when your life is really ramping up. And all of a sudden, this kind of comes out of nowhere and really takes over your life.

Q. I was going to say, you were a young woman faced with this catastrophe.

Yes. Kind of horrible. And, of course, blindsides you away. Any disease of this sort will blindside you. And, I guess, looking back, too, I went through all of those typical stages, you know: denial, anger…but it wasn’t going to get me. And eventually it did, in the sense that it’s a progressive lung disease. And so over time my lung capacity dropped significantly to the point where I definitely needed a lung transplant. And I also needed huge doses of oxygen, really, just to survive. The idea was to try and keep me alive until I could get a lung transplant. And the thinking was, they were getting better with that technology. 

Q. How did you manage to keep your spirits up through all of this? I mean, it sounds like you fought really hard.

Yeah. I did. And I fought really hard because of my kids. And there was a reason that I tried for… I tried as hard as I could, and for as long as I could, to keep life normal for them. And it was a balance–how much do you tell them and when? We made every effort to the point where we would go on skiing weekends. And we would pack up my concentrator which provided oxygen, which I needed at night and throw that in the van. And away we would go. And I’d sit in the ski lodge all day, but my family would ski. It meant a lot to me that they were able to continue to do that. 

She spoke of the tremendous shift – and new set of fears – that occurred after her transplant:

there was also kind of a mental switch because as long as you were waiting for a transplant, it was always…you were always waiting for something. And in your mind, everything would be fine once you got it. And now it was…now you have it. And if something goes wrong, you have to deal with it. So it was kind of a mental switch. For example, rejection is something that’s—well, the enemy of all transplants. So the reality of, OK, if I do, I’ve got this now and if it rejects right away, I’m really in trouble. So it was kind of a different shift. But I was very blessed. And I did have a couple of challenges, but I did… I was well enough to come home after about 3 months. And slowly start to build my life again. And let me tell you, it was so great to wash dishes again. It’s going to sound so corny, but the first time I went to Costco and was standing in line, I had tears in my eyes. This is great, you know. Just that semblance of everyday life that had been so closed off to you. It was great. I certainly loved every second being with my children again. And you know, really took every moment I could to revel in that. 

I celebrate Trish in this season of renewal. And Ann. And Loretta. And Sunny. And Lynn. And all the women we know who have come through potentially lethal health crises and are here to celebrate today.

Persistence is what kept Sharon cold calling local businesses until she got an order that was the first step in creating a very successful construction company. Persistence is what led Herta to decide to attempt to summit Kilimanjaro a second time, leading to not only summiting but creating a video, raising money for a charity and writing a best-selling leadership book based on her experience. Who could argue with the value of persistence?

But there’s a downside to persistence. Sometimes giving up is exactly the right thing to do. Optimism is a major component of persistence. It’s what keeps us pushing that rock uphill or going to yet another networking event or replanting the strawberries. And optimism is, in general, a good thing. It turns out, though, that there’s realistic optimism and foolish optimism. Realistic optimism should be the driver of persistence. The task is doable; the goal is realistic. Expanding additional effort and adapting based on what was learned from earlier attempts has every chance of yielding the desired results.

Sharon, for example, didn’t give up when potential clients weren’t buying the product she was trying to sell. She figured out that, even if they didn’t need windows, they must need something – so she asked what they needed, said she could do that and went out and made it happen. Herta figured out that bad weather, poor leadership and a lack of team spirit thwarted her first attempt to summit, so she put together a team, assumed joint leadership and started off in better weather.

Buying lottery tickets is most likely foolish optimism. As a possible supplement to other income streams, it may not be a terrible idea, but persisting in relying on lottery tickets as a sole source of income just isn’t going to work out well for most people. Neither is persisting in activities that shouldn’t be done at all. I think about my father and the strawberry bed. He wanted to grow strawberries. He knew that he could grow strawberries. He was going to grow strawberries. He planted them and fussed over them and weeded them and loosened the soil around them and watered them. He gave those strawberries every ounce of energy he had. And they wouldn’t grow. Finally, after a season or two, he just gave up. We had enough strawberries to feed the entire neighborhood after he gave up. Turned out, all that persistence was stopping the berries from growing. They needed to be left alone.

So, is persistence holding you back? Are you being foolishly optimistic or overprotective or trying the same thing without variation? Maybe it’s time to step back and reassess.

P.S. If you need a nostalgic moment, here’s the Old Philosopher on YouTube.

What’s the protocol? What memories are stirred up? How do you mourn someone you no longer love, may not even be in contact with? Another woman refers to her husband as her “late ex” as a way to acknowledge that he was once in her life – they had four children together – and was not by the time he died.

For one friend, this was a matter-of-fact transaction. Her ex had been out of contact for many years. His last contact with his daughter was unsuccessful. She came home early from the visit and never reached out to her father again. Still, she’s suffered another level of loss. With no clear path, how will she deal with this? Old feelings of abandonment, resentment, anger must be bubbling up, even if she doesn’t acknowledge them. How will my friend comfort her daughter in this morass of the unspoken?

The other friend’s son had some connection with his father. He will be part of the rituals of death and of settling all that needs settling. Here’s a clearer path with opportunities to mourn. Still, how much is below the surface for this son whose ties were severed? If he’s able to surface his emotions, his mother and wife will support him through a complicated maze of feelings.

Who supports the ex-spouse in grief? What does this semi-mourning look like? “Semi” is a poor attempt to capture this hazy state. Both friends no longer loved their ex, but both felt a sense of loss and both had memories of better times. Will they want to sit and tell stories, as they might if widowed within a marriage? Will the good memories be sifted out from the bad? Will their loss be simply dismissed or acknowledged people in their lives?

The third ex in this trio had the most complicated relationship of all. Her late ex had been in a relationship for years before his death. This woman helped him get his life in order and reunite with his children. She was very involved in the lives of two of them and was invited to family events that also included the (adult) children’s mother. She facilitated reestablishing ties between the father and his now-grown children. For this woman, mourning has been long and public. Her facebook posts often mark anniversaries in the life of the departed. She comments on how he would love his grandchildren.  The ex is remarkably accepting of this. It makes her happy to know that her late ex found some measure of happiness and her children had closure.

So, I wonder where the closure is for the estranged ex. When a relationship ends in “thank God that’s over,” what happens to all the other feelings? If divorce involves mourning, is there something left to mourn? How can I support my friends? I’ll listen. And listen. And listen. Hallmark just doesn’t have a card for this.

This was one of the worst weeks ever. I am s-o-o-o sick and tired of trudging through snow and slush and drudging (Is that a word?) through work.

on the same day Deb Roth posted pictures of cross-country skiing in Riverside Park.

Clearly, there’s been a wide range of reactions to all this winterness. I enjoy snow, and at least three times this winter have enjoyed walking in the snow, admiring the sizes and shapes of the snowflakes. I’m less excited about needing mountain climbing and ice skating skills to negotiate intersections.

I’ve just started to come down with a cold and am fending it off with naps, tea, chicken soup, and an herbal remedy called Umka, all with a backdrop of TMC’s month of Oscar-winning movies and a few good books.

The blah-rometer?  I made a supermarket run today and found myself strangely attracted to the frozen food aisle. The number of pre-prepared options is now truly mind-boggling. Normally, I just keep walking – I’d rather do it myself, thank you. My cart is generally full of fresh fruit and vegetables. Today, though, the veggies were looking kinda dismal and Marie Callender was singing in my ear. Yes, some of these made it into my cart. And they’ll sit in my freezer – maybe for months – until I give or throw them away.

A cheerier winter would have me at the stove. In fact, my freezer attests to happy hours of cooking during the first several storms. Today I will nap some more and drink more tea and cry during The Way We Were and quite possibly eat frozen stuffed shells. Sometimes, it’s good to just give in and hunker down. Just a little restorative break to cure the blahs. Tomorrow, homemade vegetable soup and baked apples.

Much has been written about what an inspiration Shirley Temple movies were during the Depression. This little girl had grit. She had a can-do attitude. If she could get back on her feet, so could the country. Perhaps less is written about Shirley Temple as an inspiration to young girls who were feeling lost or desperate. In contrast to fairy tale princesses, Shirley never waited to be rescued. She went out and did something. She sang and danced to raise money. She cheered people up. She went out and searched for – and found – her father. Her determination stuck with me. If Shirley Temple could be cheerful, could pick herself up and carry on, could find a way out of the worst circumstances, well then, so could I. She was a great role model.

I inherited a set of books that had been my mother’s when she was growing up. Written by Jane Abbott, they all featured a young girl who had lost or was separated from her parents. Like Shirley Temple, these girls went out and solved problems, coped with vanished income, and reunited families. Like Shirley Temple movies, the books all had happy endings – created by a strong female character. They aren’t all that well written, but I imagine they helped my mother through the loss of her mother, who died before my mother was nine, and helped her become a strong women.

In real life, Shirley outgrew her early roles, married and moved on. For decades, her movies still were around Saturday mornings, until, finally, a wide range of strong little girls began to appear in cartoon form. That charming personality served Shirley well as she went on to serve in the US Diplomatic Corps.

So, I’m proud to say that Shirley Temple is one of my heroes. And an influence on my attitude towards life. Who influenced you? Who are your heroes?