Death in the Work Family

Last week my boss lost his father, who was in his 80s and sick for several months.  People at work were sharing stories about death - remembering co-workers and family members who've passed away.  We lamented about how shocking death is, how nothing prepares us for it no matter how much it is expected.  It made us think of our own parents, our inevitable mortality, our shared humanity.

A friend was telling me that she doesn't do funerals well.  (It's such a strange, overused phrase.  Who does do them well?)  She meant it in a very concrete way.  After the death of her brother, both of her parents had heart attacks at the funeral service.  They had to be rushed to the hospital; they survived.  And at another service, seeing a grieving son grabbing at his mother's coffin, she couldn't help but wail along with him.  People rushed to her this time.  She doesn't go to funerals.

I shared with her why I do.  Last July, a good friend of mine from work lost his mother.  I knew she wasn't well.  My friend told me she was ailing.  That was the first time I attended a funeral service for someone I have never met.  After giving our grieving friend awkward hugs and mumbles of sympathy, my coworkers and I shuffled uncomfortably towards the back end of the synagogue.  The rabbi said that it was his birthday, but he agreed to perform the service when asked by the family.  He knew the lady well and loved the family.  My friend read his eulogy, sharing memories of his mom through tears.  I listened with every fiber of my being.  That was the only thing I could do; it also felt like the most meaningful thing to do for my friend.  Later, he told me that he saw me during his speech and that it comforted him that I was there.  I was so glad to have been able to help.  

I attended the funeral services for my boss's father last Monday with my colleagues and friends.  His family was there, including his wife and ten-year old daughter.  I met the daughter a few months back.  During the Catholic mass, my thoughts turned to the grand kids - it's likely their first brush with the heavy burden of grief for a loved one.  All my grand parents are dead now, but I lost the first one, my grandpa when I was ten.  I couldn't help but feel for my boss's daughter, who was burying her grandfather that day.  On the way out of the church, I lined up with the others to give a hug and a hand shake to our boss - it felt good to tell him something, even if it was a grunt and a heavy pat on the back.  I then turned to the wife and introduced myself, and then to the girl "oh, I met you before".  I saw the tears in her eyes, the grief on the child's face and I wanted to help her somehow.  She saw my sympathy and it made her tears flow and I rubbed her shoulder and said, "oh, honey, you will be ok" and, unsure if I helped or made things worse, I moved away.  This scene was re-playing in my mind the whole day.  Perhaps I was given a chance to help this little girl in some way.  I don't know; I hope so.

  

Smokin'

I brought up smoking as an example in the previous post - and I realize that it's a charged subject.  There is an element of physical addition to nicotine, but the psychological piece is much larger.  Physical addiction can last up to two weeks; psychological addiction lasts for years.  I know.  I've smoked for five years, having quit seven years ago.  I still wake up dreaming of smoking cigarettes sometimes.  The overwhelming feeling of these dreams is disappointment - I gave in.  And then a relief - it was just a dream.

I started when I was 18, through a friend.  Isn't there always a friend who 'starts' us?  It was a lazy hazy summer and I kept bumming cigarettes until I got the idea that she was fed up with my bumming, so I started buying my own packs.  We'd quit when we're done with college, we'd tell ourselves.  We bought patches.  Once I put a patch on that had way more nicotine in it than I consumed at the time.  That was a great day.

Then I graduated.  I went back home and smoked "only when I drank".  That happened often enough to keep me a regular smoker.  I went back to school.  Again, I'll quit pretty soon.  Then, one day I caught myself thinking - I will get home, have a drink and a cigarette.  Since I smoked only when I drank, I needed a drink so that I could have my cigarette.  Engage Emergency Breaks.  A path to alcoholism was clear in front of me.  That was also around my 23d birthday.  It seemed like it was such a significant number at the time.  So I decided to quit cold turkey.  I broke down once (again, while drinking) and through the haze, I remember one of my best friends trying to dissuade me.  She gave me the cigarette, but I remember her tone and concern.  She really wanted me to succeed in this quitting smoking business.  That was the last time I had a cigarette.

A part of me did it for her too.

Change - the only constant

Each post - these are early days - I find myself describing my reasons for writing this blog.  I guess they want to get onto the screen.  At the bottom of it all, is my desire to share my experiences in hope of helping others who may be dealing with similar issues.  I am creating a space to express and solidify new ideas that I am discovering.  It is also a space to push past barriers of fear that foster inaction.  The most immobilizing fear, I found, is the one in my mind.  And the mind can be a lonely place.

Today I'd like to discuss the concept of change.  How do we change a behavior, a habit?  There are books and blogs and probably industries dedicated to this topic.  I am very much a book person.  Whenever there is an issue in my life, I go to books.  Recently (after my epiphany about barriers) I've been going through books on overcoming fears.  A very powerful tool that came into my hands is a book called "Aikido in Everyday Life" by Terry Dobson and Victor Miller.

The first step to change is the realization that one is necessary.  If you think all is hunky dory, you're not inclined to change anything.  Going on the assumption that a person isn't happy with something in their life, Dobson and Miller ask - well, why not just change it?  Why can't we just quit smoking, or start exercising, or go to bed early for once!?  What's stopping us? The authors of "Aikido" suggest that there is a part of us that prefers and likes things just as they are.  There is a piece of us that enjoys the rebellion against society (or parents) that may be associated with smoking or staying up late.  Maybe it's how we give ourselves a break in the middle of the mad dash of life.  Maybe the smoking is a social glue that helps to establish and retain a connection with friends we love.  At the end - it's all about acceptance and love.  Look, Ma, I am smoking, I am a rebell - you still love me, right?  Well, even if you don't, I've got buddies who accept me just as I am - smoking and all!  And, at any rate, I indulge in smoking because I'm cool and I love myself!  But the trade off here is health and future and time with our kids and maybe even grand kids.

Once we are conscious of the trade off, we can directly deal with the issue of change.  We can ask ourselves - is feeling rebellious or 'relaxed' or socially accepted a good enough reason to light up a cigarette and smoke it? The answer may be no and that can help in the change process.  The key is that it's conscious   We might also decide - the hell with health and future - my twenties are forever, pass the lighter.  I believe that's ok too because I believe in freedom of choice.  The problem is when people aren't aware of the choice they're making.  For me that's been the source of self-flagellating internal monologues.  If the goal (and it is certainly my goal) is to be confident and at peace with one self, then being aware of choices we make is paramount.  I hope that by writing about it here I can take a step towards internal peace and perhaps even nudge somebody else towards it.

Thank you for reading!

Irena

Barriers to change

Initially, I started this entry with the following:

I noticed that after a period of lethargy and feeling guilty about being too lazy to even wipe the sink in the bathroom, I spring into action.  (This tends to happen on Saturdays.)  Dust mites beware!  I clean everything, I  cook, I take the baby to the park, I even manage to arrange all my office outfits for the week ahead.  During the scrubbing and the grocery runs, my head twirls with ideas of writing short stories and sketching with my husband's artist quality paints and crayons.  Everything is under control.  I am a supermom and a superwoman.  I am an artist in the making.  Then, fast forward to Sunday night.  I am spent and too tired to move.  The house is almost (almost) sparkling, the family had a wholesome meal and spent (generally) good time together, but all my creative impulses remain unexpressed.  I then fall into the work-home-play/eat with the kiddo-relax-sleep routine.  I am back to the lethargic and too lazy to throw an apple core into the garbage bin state.  Argh!  Disappointed!  And then the cycle repeats with no iterations.My husband puts in his fair share of cooking and cleaning and playing with the child.  My mother also helps us  tremendously (she watches our kid while we work - we are extremely lucky!)  It's just that there is enough for three people and more!  I am not saying that the time I spend on housework or with my family is not worth it.  If I couldn't play with my husband and daughter, I would be heartbroken and if our apartment was a mess I would be annoyed.  These are top priorities; that's why I do them first.  But what's missing is the stuff that makes my heart sing from joy of creativity.  Stuff like creative writing and drawing and painting.  It's been years since I've done these.

Then I stopped and knew that it was not the point I wanted to make - but it illustrates one of the reasons for my starting this blog.  About a month ago I had an epiphany.  It was a realization about barriers.  I have a friend who recently graduated and is in between further schooling and a real job.  He'd asked me to help him with a job search - he wanted to get an entry level office job - a foot in the door. I was eager to help.  It started out promisingly - we scheduled times to share ideas about the job search.  He sent me a rough draft of a resume and a job posting.  A week into it, he dropped the subject. When I brought it up, he said that it's a tough market and that his current job isn't really that bad and he's making money and supporting himself.  An entry level office job would mean a pay cut he couldn't afford.  He gave me all these reasons for not pursuing the job search aggressively.  That, of course, meant stopping the job search altogether.

The shortsightedness of this approach was evident.  My friend was hiding behind barriers of his own creation.  His reasons were logical and sound and made sense in the short term.  I saw them as excuses for inaction.  Then I felt bad.  Here I was judging .  And then another thought occurred to me - if my friend (who is really smart) is creating obstacles and buying into them, what obstacles am I creating and buying into?  I started this post with them.  My friend's reasons for keeping the status quo are really excuses - so apparent.  My reasons are really good.  Or are they?  Could they also be shortsighted excuses?  Too little time for 'creative pursuits', too much cleaning, a family, omigod - poor me!  I put up a lot of barriers and bought into them.  I am fearful of a lot of things that changes bring.  This second post is a baby step through the fear and past my really good barriers.  In the following posts, I will discuss a plan I have to bring about the changes that are necessary for me to feel like a creative being.  Without them, life seems incomplete.  Perhaps it can aid others in creating changes they seek.

Thank you for reading,

Irena






  

The First Entry

I have given myself until Friday, April 12, 2013, to write my blog entry.  It is now April 11, 2013.  My self-imposed deadline is coming up.  I am working against a little voice in my head is insisting that this will not be nearly as perfect as a first blog entry needs to be.  I am feeling the fear and doing it anyway.  (Go Susan Jeffers!)  The little voice is also telling me that I need to eloquently explain myself and justify all the reasons for putting something out in the Internet.  ('Cause, you know, the rest of the Web content is so refined and polished.)  What I am also feeling is that I need to start.  Perhaps I may find an audience, perhaps not, but I feel that what I have to say matters.  That feeling is stronger than the nagging voice of insecurity.

I am calling this blog 'Work and Be' because that is what I am interested in discussing.

I am a wife and a mother.  I am also a professional with untapped potential.  I stayed home with my daughter for a year after she was born and I was very happy to go back to work.  I knew then that I could not be a stay-at-home mom.  I crave interaction with adults (with jokes and timely expletives, if necessary).  I also want to grow professionally.  That realization occurred a year and a half ago.  What I see myself doing now is holding out on advancing my career.  My work is interesting at times, but I am overqualified and know that I can do a lot more.  At the same time, I am hesitant to look for challenging opportunities because I am wary of the time commitment.  I do not want to be a Worker Bee.  I want to Work and Be. I want to Be there for my husband and my daughter.  I want to Be there during the formative years of my child when she needs me so much.  I also want to Work and contribute to society.  I want to use my big brains - my two masters degrees should not be getting dusty.  I want to Be what Sheryl Sandberg calls "competent professional and happy mother - or even happy professional and competent mother".  I believe it is possible.  I believe I can do that.  This blog is one of the vehicles to get me there.

Here I want to talk about ideas in Sandberg's awesome Lean In and in other empowering books that I'm discovering.  I want to talk about insecurities that are trying to drag me into inaction.  I think I'm not alone.  I want to talk about ideas that matter to working mothers.  I want to discuss exactly what lead to my decision to start writing.  I think it's interesting and I want to share it. (This is also an exercise in exorcising my perfectionism demon.  It's lurking over my shoulder as I type, just so you know.)

So here it is - first blog post.  I did it.  Thank you for reading.  Let's see where this goes - I am excited!

My warmest regards,
Irena