Guidebook for the Dysfunctional

Let them teach you

2011-12-30T09:07:00.000-08:00

My journey has been long and is far from over. I had no clue what I was getting into the day I was born. I am thankful that out of all the families, I landed in mine. They have shaped and molded me into the dysfunctional adult I am. How boring my adventure would have been without them. Each family member has contributed to my life in some valuable way.

Family can enlighten you, guide you and ground you. They will instruct you, nurture you and improve you. Let them! Each generation is connected to the previous one. Every decision you make today can leave a lasting impact on those you may never know. Your family is the key that unlocks the past and opens the gate to the future.

If you are fortunate enough to have a family, even a dysfunctional one, cherish it! It will be the most valuable gift you can give yourself. Each member will teach you something unique. They may bring out your good qualities, they may enhance your bad, but you will learn from them. Our families have an uncanny ability to expose our weaknesses. This forces us out of denial and towards change. A few influential family members can teach you in a short period of time what some search for their whole lives. Savor the education!

There have been many times when I was not willing to learn, but life is persistent and will continue to teach even the thick-skulled. My family is responsible for teaching me the lessons, and now it’s my turn to try and master them. I have a long road ahead of me, but I’m in the best of company.

Thank-You for following me this last year. I have plenty more to write about but for now I am taking off the "blogging" hat. I appreciate all the support, especially from my family who so graciously allowed me to write about them.

It will be okay

2011-12-22T10:08:00.000-08:00

“Okay,” according to some etymologists, was an acronym for “oll korrect” (which is slang for “all correct”). Coming from a dysfunctional family has taught me many valuable lessons. But this lesson was one of my dad’s last parting gifts. He would always comfort me with the words, “It’s going to be okay.” I believed he had some ability to know that his statement would come true, but now that he’s gone, I realize exactly what he was trying to teach me.

My dad never pampered or coddled us. He never taught us to believe in fairy tales or miracles. Some people may view this as a disservice. I view it as a gift. My father had his shares of loss, pain and heartache. His experiences in life would never allow him to promise his children bliss. He never said, “It’s going to turn out perfect,” or “magnificent” or “brilliant.” Just “okay.”

So what does “okay” mean to me? “Okay” in no way involves perfection. My life has never been perfect and never will be. If you are alive, you’re guaranteed a few things: you will experience loss, feel grief, have regrets and suffer heartbreak. But you can also look forward to moments of happiness, joy, gratitude and contentment. In life, there are no revisions. If you are fortunate, the amazing moments will outweigh the mistakes, errors and blunders.

Coming from a mild climate in California has always allowed me to be a weather wimp. I dread one season in North Carolina: I hate the stiff Arctic breeze that starts in December and subsides in March. Every fall, I know what’s around the corner: the cold, the darkness, the slumber of winter. But somehow, when we survive this frigid and harsh season, spring is always that much more enjoyable. The sun warms your bones, life is revived, all is correct.

My dad seemed to understand that life can be cold and harsh, the wind unrelenting. He also seemed to know that if you could survive the frigid dark days, then the bright and sunny were sure to follow. So when I am at my lowest, I hear the words my dad uttered so many times: “It’s going to be okay.” These five words give me strength. They give me the courage to proceed, without high expectations but with a realistic view of the future. Life is far from flawless, but no matter what comes my way: It will be okay!

Feelings are real

2011-12-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

It didn’t take me many episodes of Wonder Woman to believe in super-hero’s. My favorite part of the show was when Dr. Don’t Feel That Way would use his emotions-be-gone gun to numb some distraught, sad, angry, villain or victim. With the pull of the trigger all the negative feelings were vaporized. - Okay so Dr. Don’t Feel That Way never existed, but some days I wish he did.

Life would be much simpler if I could compartmentalize my feelings. I would have the -un- category: unworthy, unloved, unattractive, unforgiving, unsuccessful and unthankful. In close second would be the -dis- category: disappointed, disapproving, discontent, disheartened, and distressed. Each day I could stuff them away and around tax time I could give myself an emotional audit to see how good or bad my year was.

Instead my feelings create a life of their own. The easiest choice is to ignore them. If you see them on the street, don’t even glance their direction. If you pretend you never saw them, eventually they’ll disappear, right? Wrong! You may not see them anymore, but everyone else will. They’ll notice the constant irritation, the melancholy spirit, the negative attitude. The other option is to greet them and have a long needed conversation. This may turn into a confrontation: the logical brain and the irrational heart in a heated dispute. Eventually though, they may begin to understand each other.

Feelings are not easy to change, some might say impossible but I have hope that the more I face my negative emotions, the more I understand what they are trying to tell me, the sooner they’ll vaporize. Feelings are the least logical thing on the planet. They don’t involve your brain, they involve your heart. Most of my feelings are not based on reasoning, they’re not always accurate, they may even be delusional, but without a doubt, they are real.

Don’t drive under the influence of emotion

2011-12-09T05:00:00.000-08:00

When you drive under the influence, your vision is blurred, your judgment is impaired, your reflexes are slowed. You may think your brain is in control, but it’s being swayed by the effects of alcohol. The same thing happens when we overreact. In my family tree, there are many branches of over-reactors. And I am no exception.

My overweening reactions waste valuable energy, cost me many tears and cause unneeded heartache.Overreacting is like tossing your brain out the sunroof and letting your heart take the wheel. The heart is a horrible driver. It blurs our vision, slows our reflexes, impairs our nervous system and hinders our judgment.

My sister, who is a nurse, usually has nerves of titanium. But when her heart is involved, all sound logic is tossed out the sunroof. When I was pregnant with my third child, she offered to give me a break by babysitting my two older children. They were at her house enjoying themselves, when my sister frantically called me. My oldest daughter had been hurt. I heard the words: “Ansleigh has been cut and I need your help!” So I grabbed the first aid kit, waddled to our minivan and sped across town. I found my sister and daughter in the bathroom, sobbing. A Band-Aid seemed to calm the situation, and we all laughed about it later. My sister’s love for her niece overpowered her logical nurse’s brain.

When someone we love is injured, treated poorly or facing adversity, our heart will take over and start driving. We can become intoxicated by sentiment. Overreacting will always complicate the situation, impairing our normally sound judgment. So the next time your heart starts reaching for the wheel, tell it: “Absolutely not!” Because no one should drive under the influence of emotion.

Cousins comfort

2011-11-18T13:19:00.000-08:00

As a little girl, I had one elaborate nightly ritual. I would pile dozens of stuffed animals in bed with me. Each evening, my mom would come in to kiss me goodnight, and she’d say, “Aubrey, choose one and put the rest back.” I obeyed, at least while she was in the room. Soon after she left, I would grab my animals one by one and put them back in bed with me. I was sure any left behind would be cold and lonely. This simple routine brought me much comfort. In a world of unknowns, this somehow quieted my fears, allowing me to sleep easier.

As an adult, I have realized there are still people in my life who bring me the same peace of mind. These people share my DNA, they share my family, they have shared my life. They are my cousins. There is no explaining to do when Uncle Joe is ranting and raving in a drunk stupor or when Aunt Betty starts talking crazy from her meds. They have seen your best and they have been there through your worst. I am infinitely grateful for my cousins.

One in particular has lightened my burdens. She sat next to me at my dad’s funeral, she made me laugh, she let me cry. She is bright, kind and quirky. She’s a living reminder of my dad and the innocence of childhood. When I am with her it takes me back to simpler days. The familiar days of being safe and warm at my great-grandmother’s house. Laughing, playing, being the children we were meant to be.

When I have no idea what the future holds, when my life is full of chaos, I crave the familiar. I desire normalcy and I need comfort. My cousins give me all these things. Being with them gives me the same feeling I had when I snuggled in my bed surrounded by dozens of stuffed animals. They are familiar, safe and secure. They quiet my fears and take me back to childhood. I can rest easier knowing I have the comfort of my cousins.

Start a new chapter

2011-11-18T12:21:00.000-08:00

My great-grandmother loved to read. Her house was full of books. Much like her I am an avid reader. As a little girl, I would disappear into a good mystery: the excitement that built as I turned each page. I would usually tell myself, “Just one more chapter.” This would be repeated dozens of times, until my eyes protested and let me know it was time to quit for the day.

Life is not as simple as reading a book, however. Change is good when it’s happening on a piece of paper, but it’s not so easy to accept in real life. Unfortunately, you can’t stay in your favorite chapter and keep reading it indefinitely.

A year and two months after my dad died, my family had to start a new chapter. My dad’s wife and son, as well as my aunt and long-lost cousin, all came to North Carolina for a visit, without my dad. As we picked them up from the airport, it felt like a layer of fog was hanging over us: heavy fog that wouldn’t let the rays of sun shine through. My mind kept telling me, “Dad should be here.” But he wasn’t.

This turning point was hard, but it was what I needed and the story did start to improve. We had a spectacular week together. We reminisced and we cried, but more than anything we laughed. I got to know my aunt, my dad’s wife and my favorite cousin better. My dad, who normally was the connector in our family wasn’t there to connect us, so we had to do it on our own.

While my aunt was with us, she said that the day my great-grandfather died they all worried about my great-grandmother surviving without him. They went into her room to check on her that night and found her snuggled in bed, reading a book. That was the last thing they expected a grief-stricken widow to be doing, but maybe she knew what I am just now understanding: sometimes you just have to turn the page and start a new chapter.

My parents have been abducted

2011-11-11T04:55:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if my real parents have been abducted by aliens. The parents I grew up with could not possibly be the same people who are now my children’s grandparents. Some people reason that with time comes wisdom. Absolutely not true! I think my parents were wiser when I was a child. Now they think feeding children unlimited amounts of sugar, buying them anything they want, never telling them “no” and not offering an ounce of discipline is the best way to raise a child. Who are these people? The worst part is the denial! They will lead my children to believe that they were far and away the best parents in the world, which is why they are such awesome grandparents.

I saw my dad less than a handful of times during my first pregnancy. Most of my family was at the hospital the night my daughter was born. As expected so was my dad. What I never saw coming was his reaction to his first grand baby. He glowed. He beamed. He kept hugging my husband and telling him what an amazing job he had done. The next morning before breakfast was served, my dad was the first to arrive. He was mush! My daughter had abducted his heart, his soul and his reasoning ability.

So what is the best way to deal with grandparents that drive you crazy? Look on the bright side: First, a bad (which is really a good) grandparent is better than no grandparent. Second, there is a small chance they are paying you back for all the things you did to them as a child. And lastly, if you are fortunate, someday you will become a grandparent and before you know it, that new little baby will abduct your heart, your soul and your reasoning ability.

We will recover

2011-11-05T04:43:00.000-07:00

Humans are resilient. We have the ability to recover from illness, change or misfortune. We can be stretched, pulled, compressed and bent in multiple directions and yet retain our original shape. We survive. There is an internal strength that we all have, whether we’ve had to use it or not. It is the lifeboat waiting to carry us to safety when the ship sinks.

I have seen this amazing quality displayed repeatedly. When I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, my grandmother was diagnosed with colon cancer. She was rushed in for emergency surgery and told that if she did not undergo chemotherapy she would not survive more than a few years. She chose not to have further treatment. Somehow, thirteen years later, she is not only surviving, she is thriving.

An adored friend of mine was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. She underwent almost a year of chemotherapy and radiation. All around her (myself included) soon realized just how wimpy we were and how vigorous she was. She handled the ordeal with grace and determination. The last time I saw her, she looked beautiful. She had been stretched and pulled, but bounced back to who she was before.

Some things are not optional. The only way we survive is by trudging through the swamp and not giving up along the way. It may be the most difficult thing we will ever endure, and we may not think we can last another day, but somehow we do. The hard times soon become a distant memory and we look back, amazed that we are still alive. We find strength that had been there all along and it gives us confidence that, whatever the future holds, we will recover.

Tears cleanse the soul

2011-10-28T04:57:00.000-07:00

There is something about an afternoon thunderstorm that is exhilarating. It restores life to the atmosphere. The day starts out still, with heat and humidity as thick as wool. The pressure soon begins to build. You can see the black clouds in the distance, and know it’s time to take cover. The lighting flashes, you hear the thunder and the downpour begins. All the energy is released, and the air is left pure and refreshed.

It can be the same with our tears. We have been given the ability to cry for a reason, it is the overflow valve for when our heart cannot handle the pressure. It may be in times of sadness or times of joy. Tears can bring renewal to our souls.

When my oldest daughter was born, I did not cry, but my sister did. The emotions during the birth of a child can be the most intense you will ever experience. There is nervousness, excitement, tension and anxiety, all climaxing in joy. When the event was over, my sister was sobbing. She cried for the next twelve hours. All the energy of that amazing event had built up, and needed a release.

I, have cried more in the last few years than I have cried my entire life. The tears seem to be waiting for any opportunity to slip out. I use to think being overly emotional was a sign of weakness. That may be true, but now I look at it as restoring the life to my spirit. It has a purifying effect on a heavy, thick heart. Tears were made to cleanse your soul.

A car doesn’t make a person

2011-10-21T05:01:00.000-07:00

If you drive a flashy car, it can mean a few things. First, you may have a large payment; second, you might desire attention; and lastly, it's possible you are overcompensating. I am not talking about a classic car that may be well deserved. I am talking about a flashy car. The big canary-yellow Hummer with chrome wheels and tinted windows (please skip this part if you own that car).

My dad had the opposite philosophy. He would always say, “Any man can get attention driving a flashy car, but only a special few will get noticed in a clunker.” If a woman turns her head to look at you in a dilapidated Dodge Dart, you know she is either taking pity on you or that you got it goin’ on!

My parents tried to teach me this philosophy as a teenager. I was responsible for purchasing my first vehicle, and boy did I find a diamond in the rough. It was a 1976 AMC Matador. She was white with a blue top. I say she, because you have to name a car with this much personality, and her name was “Maddie”. We were born the same year. She had four doors, three of which actually worked. She was incontinent, always leaking some type of fluid. She ate tires and was an excessive drinker of petroleum products. Yet, I was proud she was mine.

As with most first cars, she taught me much. I learned how to drive, how to be responsible and how to be independent. I also realized just how many of my friends cared about appearances. The few who were willing to set aside their pride and ride with me, usually did it out of desperation. And you can be guaranteed they ducked their heads whenever a cute specimen of the opposite sex was nearby. Despite my age, I knew that if you didn’t like me because of the car I drove, I probably wouldn’t want to be your friend anyway.

Even though I am much older now I still prefer the vehicles I can name. The one’s with quirks and defects, much like myself. There are others like me. Those who can afford more, yet they purposely buy the clunker: the rusty, personality-filled hunk of metal. Like my father, they want you to know that they will not fit into the mold. They are rebels. They are confident in themselves, and understand that a car will never make a person.

Change is not impossible

2011-10-15T04:44:00.000-07:00

There are habits so deeply ingrained in each of us that it would be easier to alter the course of the Colorado River than reshape our lives. Unfortunately, these changes must come in order for us to grow and to be true to ourselves.

I have experienced many changes in the last few years, but my biggest battle has been with myself. Adversity brings out weaknesses, and I have realized that I am riddled with inadequacy. Each quality is permanently attached and will require invasive surgery to fully remove. If I survive going under my own knife I will live up to my full potential. I hope it’s worth the risk!

The majority of people, want to change but only accomplish it for a fleeting moment. Some have no desire to change, but often need it the most. And then there are the extraordinary few who are determined and have the tenacity not only to transform themselves, but to hold on to their newfound strength.

Sometimes it is easier to put on a performance. It’s simpler than exposing your most fragile limitations. Change starts with reflection, continues with dedication and persists with diligence. It will be a tedious process, but not an impossible one.

Let them shine

2011-09-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

My dad would always tell me, “You just let him think it was his idea.” He was referring to my husband and the decisions we have made along the way. No matter what our age, we all need to feel that we excel at something. It’s easy to cripple people’s efforts by shooting down their ideas. As my family knows I am a good aim. This attitude has handicapped those around me. It can slowly steal their dignity...

So how do you instill power in others? By letting them emit light! By trusting that they will make the right choice, that they have the ability to succeed. I see in my husband and children more than just good qualities; I see excellence, waiting to shine. The sad part is that I can be a dark shadow that never allows their brightness through. The better choice would be to reflect the rays and allow all to benefit from their glow.

My dad let others shine. He genuinely believed in their chance of success. No matter how crazy the idea was, he led you to believe you could do it. He talked of others’ accomplishments, not his own. He could discern your strengths and help you put them into practice.

It takes a quiet confidence to believe in others. It’s not thinking that others will always make the right decision. It’s trusting that, even if they don’t, it’s a chance worth taking. I don’t succeed at every endeavor, but I learn from my failures. Instead of trying to prevent others from making mistakes or achieving success, help them find their power. Believe in them, trust their instincts and bestow honor upon them. You will soon be warmed by the light that rises on the horizon.

The past should rest in peace

2011-09-19T06:16:00.000-07:00

Just like water flowing downhill, life must travel in a forward direction. It may curve from left to right and dig a few deep holes, but it will keep moving. When it stops it becomes stagnant and loses its appealing attributes. No one wants to drink water from a moss-covered, murky mud hole.

You should never forget where you come from, but living in the past will only cause you to lose your appealing attributes. Remembering your past should be brief and temporary, like stopping in for a spot of tea with your old self, listening to the words of wisdom that you’ve already learned. If we prolong the visit, the past will become like the friend who crashes on our couch. After days of lazing around and never showering, this can become quite offensive.

I know firsthand that it’s easy to have regrets. Maybe it’s for many large, bad choices, or dozens of small ones. But prolonged looking back, and living those regrets every day is a cop-out! It prevents you from experiencing the present. You won't feel today and the emotions it brings. You will never be able to stay in the moment. Your life will become aimless, your direction will be backwards and stagnation will set in. Living in the past allows your heart to be numb to the present. You are so consumed by the should have, could have, would have, that you miss the now.

So if this is your tendency, I recommend having a funeral for the past. Write down all your regrets and mistakes, all the hurts that have been inflicted. Find a box and bury them. Mourn the past, shed as many tears as required, wail and moan about how bad your life has been up until now. From time to time, you may even want to stop by the grave and leave flowers. But whatever you do, don’t dig it back up, because the past should rest in peace.

Wisdom

2011-09-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

Wisdom is not the inability to make mistakes, it’s the ability to learn from them. I make stupid mistakes every day of my life. Sometimes they cost me money, sometimes they cost me time and sometimes they cost me dignity. I am actually proud and willing to tell you how dumb I can be. I recently had to tell my oldest daughter just how good her mother was at making mistakes. She was having a bad day and had gotten into trouble for hurting her little brother. In the course of her discipline she told me that she felt like she was always making mistakes and couldn’t do anything right. At that point, I had to spill the beans about my own inadequacy.

I am not sure if telling her about of all my bad choices made her feel any better, but I wanted her to understand that no one is going to make all the right decisions. Sometimes, because our heart leads us astray or because we have false information or because we have not weighed all the evidence or because emotions get the best of us, we do really dumb things. And unfortunately, we may have to live with the consequences for years to come. If we are not making mistakes, we are not growing, we are not learning, we are not gaining wisdom.

If I gave you a choice of being slapped in the face or living with a lifelong chronic condition, which one would you choose? The slap in the face is painful and embarrassing, but the pain will quickly fade. It’s the same when we make a blunder. No one wants to be told they have done something wrong or wasted time, money or energy. It hurts! It’s embarrassing! But if you feel the pain, if you let it sting and accept the fact that you are NOT perfect, you can learn from it, and the pain will quickly fade. The other choice is to ignore the mistake, pretend it wasn’t your fault and repeat it again in the future. This will provide you with a lifelong condition of chronic suffering.

When you own up to your bad choices or errors in judgment, you are on the road to becoming truly wise. There will be no need to repeat the mistake over and over. Instead, you learn from it: “Wow, that was stupid, but I’m sure glad I got it out of my system. Don’t need to do that ever again.” Choosing to own up is a road less traveled, but one that is much more enjoyable. There is a fine line between wisdom and stupidity, and there is actually only one key difference: a truly wise person will learn from their mistakes; a stupid person will repeat theirs.

Brothers are invaluable

2011-09-05T05:12:00.000-07:00

My brother is the opposite of my sister. We were only fourteen months apart, and from the day I arrived on the scene there was animosity. We have never had the same perspective on life. He was a carefree jokester; I was a serious worrywart. Most of my memories involve us not getting along. He teased, I cried.

Once again, in my perfect world I would have had the best big brother. He would have fought my battles, been a refuge from the storm, and had my best interests at heart. My brother had the opposite view. He would regularly make fun of my many inadequacies. When we were in high school, he liked to tell people that I was a lesbian (not popular at the time), or, better yet, that I had AIDS. He did his brotherly duty and made sure no guy in school would date me.

But despite our conflicts, my brother taught me much. He prepared me for the real world. I learned not to take myself so seriously. He knew how to keep me humble. We compromised to solve our differences and sometimes agreed to disagree. Somehow I always knew he loved me and that his tough exterior was only a facade to protect his tender heart.

He was much like my dad, in that people were naturally drawn to him. He is still charismatic and a carefree jokester, while I remain the serious worrywart. As we aged, we chose different paths and these have led us farther apart. But even now, he is often in my thoughts. The first time I had seen him in many years was for my dad’s funeral. He is a man now, but I see the little boy who shaped my life. His tough exterior is still a façade, and his impact on my life has had far-reaching effects. He is invaluable.

Sisters are a prize

2011-08-29T05:42:00.000-07:00

I have not won much in my life. It’s very rare I will enter a contest because I don’t want to face the disappointment of losing. When I was about eight years old I mustered up the courage to enter a competition sponsored by a cereal company. It entailed writing a commercial. Mine involved cavemen, a time machine and a box of cereal. To my amazement I came in second place. I won money and my very own camera. I was overjoyed. That camera was a treasure. I took it everywhere and held it in the highest esteem.

Without my realization I had already won a prize that exceeded that long forgotten camera: It was my little sister. When I was six years old, my life changed forever. It was the day my sister was born. I can’t remember being very impressed with our first meeting. But my apathy soon turned to affection. This new addition to our family was just what we needed. Much like my youngest daughter, my sister was spirited and stubborn. She was tenacious! You must need these qualities to thrive as the baby in the family.

For the first time, I felt a bond that I would only feel again when my own children were born. It was a protective, maternal love. I worried about her, I tried to discipline her, I watched over her. At the same time she drove me crazy. I felt my parents let her get away with more than my brother and I could even think about.

Then we grew up. I moved out and our relationship changed. I would come to visit and we began enjoying spending time together. We had the same perspective, came from the same background and had inherited the same sense of humor. What more could you ask for in a friend? To this day, my sister is my closest ally. It’s hard to find a better companion than your own flesh and blood.

When I was pregnant with my third child, I hoped that it would be a girl. I wanted my daughter to have a sister. They too are six years apart, and my oldest has taken on the same motherly role. We let our youngest get away with more than my first two could even think about. They fight, they laugh, they cry … in short, they’re sisters. I hope that someday they realize how valuable they are to each other. Because a sister is a prize of the highest esteem.

I wish I was more like my father

2011-08-22T05:27:00.000-07:00

My dad was exceptionally smart: he avoided my teenage years. He was a kid at heart, which made him a much-desired father until I reached the age of about ten and his crazy antics started to embarrass me. We had many good times and imaginary adventures. I only saw the good side of my dad. That can be an advantage of not living with one of your parents.

After I had my first daughter, our relationship changed. Here was a man that I had not seen more than once a month, but who was now at my house almost every day. He adored his first and only grandbaby, and I got to see a side of him I never knew. He was a natural grandparent, fun and silly, despite his silver hair.

A good father will provide their children with strength and security. An excellent father will couple this with tenderness and playfulness. Their children know they have nothing to worry about, they enjoy themselves, they have fun. They experience the true meaning of childhood.

My father may have failed in other areas of his life but being a dad wasn't one of them. He possessed qualities that I will always envy. He had the ability to make others shine. To make them feel as if they were truly special. He was strong, but his strength never overshadowed his tenderness. Despite heartache his playful spirit never evaporated. Laughter was always his antidote. These are gifts not all possess, myself included, which is why I can tell you with all my heart that I wish I was more like my father.

I am just like my mother

2011-08-15T09:29:00.000-07:00

My mother is amazing! She is generous, creative, industrious, loving, determined and independent. I am thankful that she has raised me to have some of these same traits. When we were young, she always stayed at home with us, when most moms were working. She was my world and I adored her.

Then, around the time I became a teenager, my parents divorced. As many of us know, divorce changes our perspective on everything. And that included my mom. I saw that she was not perfect after all. She made mistakes. Yet, despite these trials, I somehow managed to survive puberty with our relationship intact.

I am still unsure of the day it happened, but I know from experience that most woman reach an age when one fact is unavoidable: they are just like their mother! This is not on purpose. It is probably not even conscience. These are the things you do when no one is around, the decisions you make on a day-to-day basis, how you handle stress, how you treat your children, how you talk to your husband. Yep, all learned from good old mom!

Then you have your own daughter, and it starts from the beginning. She learns from you. You are her role model, and all that you know is what your mom taught you. That is when you turn to Motherhood for Dummies, many self-help books and possibly years of counseling.

Unfortunately, it all comes back to this simple fact. You are just like your mother! Go ahead say it: “I am just like my mom.” Cherish it, embrace it. Take all those good and bad qualities she gave you and build on them. They are the foundation, and each mother is a stepping stone for the next generation.

Dysfunctional is the new functional

2011-08-08T12:55:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I was pretty sure that my family was abnormal. I have read the books, and know for a fact that I fall into the dysfunctional category. Denial is pointless. The truth is that even the ones who seemed to have perfect functioning families were only illusionist. They knew how to put on an amazing performance. Those in my family are not entertainers, they are the real thing.

When I was a teenager, a friend encouraged me to go through counseling. She said, “You don’t know how dysfunctional you are until you see a counselor.” For some odd reason, that didn’t sound appealing. I did understand I had some issues, but counseling would not have changed the family I was born into.

What are some characteristics of the dysfunctional person? You’re impatient, you judge yourself and others harshly, you fear failure, sabotage your own success, have low self-esteem, are afraid to trust and unable to let go, play or have fun. You take yourself very seriously, you’re a perfectionist and crave validation from others. As you know by now, these are some of my strongest qualities.

So, to stereotype, I am dysfunctional! My family is dysfunctional! You would see our photos on the recall list at Wal-Mart if it were a possibility. We have impaired function, but we have adapted. As the body will compensate in times of injury, so has my family.

What they lack, they will make for up in other areas. They are far from perfect, but I now realize they are normal. They are just like 99.9% of all other families. There still may be a handful who fall into the “functional” category, but I have never met them. So if you have been given the “dysfunctional” label, pat yourself on the back. It’s a big accomplishment. If you haven’t, you are either a small minority or are in complete denial.

Let them value you

2011-08-01T06:53:00.001-07:00

Many small, life long events led to my loss of value. Because I battle feelings of worthlessness, I manage to sabotage my own efforts. I never feel like I deserve the best. I wonder if I am worthy of the affection I am given. Am I worthy of the many blessings I have received? Feelings of unworthiness are like rust, they slowly and corrosively damage even the best relationships.

These feelings usually start in childhood. From birth, children need to know how valuable they are. If the parent tells a child by word or action that anything is more important than one of the strongest bonds in the universe, it will cause permanent damage, that may take years to show up. All the child will understand is that they have come in second place to a new relationship, work, alcohol, drugs, or any other item the parent chooses over them. They will always feel they are not important enough to be a priority, this makes them incapable of appreciating their own magnificence.

It is extremely difficult for the unworthy to accept that they may be valuable to others, that what they say matters, that they are needed and cherished. If we don’t let others appreciate us, we are limiting them. They want to express their gratitude, but we deny it. They want to show us adoration, but we ignore it. We are cheating everyone involved. We might not feel like a work of art, but to someone else we may be the Mona Lisa. So the next time you are fortunate enough to have someone realize your true value, let them.

Don’t be the other woman

2011-07-25T05:24:00.000-07:00

The brain has an amazing ability to protect itself. Wounds from our childhood can cause us to hemorrhage unless our brain stops the bleeding. It does this by blocking out all traumatic memories. My brain has taken the opposite approach, however. It can recall in the greatest detail good and bad events from my childhood. Even though I was not quite talking, I can recall my favorite dress, the shabby playhouse in our backyard and even the toys I loved. Those were all pleasant memories. But I also remember the not-so-pleasant ones: those are the details my brain will not let me forget.

Around the age of nine, I spent an enjoyable day at the fair with my parents. As we were leaving, a young, beautiful brunette ran up to my dad and threw her arms around him. My dad graciously accepted the hug. He was good-looking, with a bright smile and charming ways; these qualities made him very attractive to women. The woman was flirtatious and wasn’t as excited to meet my mother or my dad’s three children. This seemingly minor event caused a major argument. My parents fought for the full forty-five-minute drive home and well into the night. This was not the first time a woman had been overly friendly with my dad, and not the last time my mom would be jealous.

I know my dad was not innocent in this situation. He loved to add to my mom’s insecurities. She accused him of cheating, though he denied it. This was the same argument, just a new woman. But this one event shaped who I am today. As a young girl, I decided I would never want to be the cause of such intense jealousy, or damage someone else’s marriage. The unknown woman probably never realized the uproar she had caused. I came to understand that when you’re married there is no such thing as “innocent flirting.”

As a wife, I have an even deeper appreciation for women who don’t flirt with my husband, but I also understand that not every woman will be so considerate. Some women crave attention from men, even when they know they’re married. They never give a passing thought to the wife, who has invested her life in this one individual, or the insecurities it may bring to the surface. Some husbands will encourage this behavior which only adds to the cycle of jealousy. Security in a marriage is priceless! I understand the struggles, which is why I respect other wives, and I have made a vow that I will never be the other woman.

PERSEVERE

2011-07-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

This is my mantra: PERSEVERE, PERSEVERE, PERSEVERE! What is perseverance? Adherence to a course of action, belief, or purpose with steadfastness. To stay the course, to hold steady in the wind, to be firm and resolved about your purpose. I would much rather be flighty, restless and squirrelly (as my dad would say). If you have seen a squirrel trying to cross the road in a frantic, confused manner, you can picture how I usually live my life.

Persevering means to continue on a course even when it’s lost its pizzazz, sparkle and newness. It’s looking at the path far ahead and plotting the right direction. This can be difficult in an instant-gratification society. When you don’t like your job, you quit, when your car loses its new smell, it’s time to upgrade, when your spouse seems dull, you trade them in for a new one.

Anyone who is truly successful has learned to master perseverance. They have experienced all the phases: Phase 1) Newness and excitement. Phase 2) Challenges and overcoming difficulty. Phase 3) Mastery and monotony. Phase 4) Persevering.

I love the first stage. The "what if" stage. The possibilities are limitless. A new love, a new job, a new business, a new house, a new town. It's easy to want to stay in this stage, to live only on excitement. When phase two starts and you feel the slight twinge of discomfort from dealing with challenges and difficulties you are ready to abandon ship. But if you do, you will never make it to the crucial stage: the phase of perseverance. Without it, we give up too soon. With it, the rewards are finally realized, and our efforts and endurance are returned with interest.

Life gives you character

2011-07-11T06:29:00.000-07:00

I love to drive down a road full of houses with character. The ones that have stood the test of time, that are unequal. Age only makes them more remarkable. They are not cheap, and are truly unique—they have been built with patience and quality. They have a personality all their own. That is how a home should look, and how it should feel. Unfortunately, most homes today are built in a rush, without thought for excellence.

Based completely on emotion we decided to buy a house that is exactly 100 years old. It is slightly quirky and by no means perfect. Some days I adore it, other days, it's faults drive me crazy. It has a personality all it's own, and it feels like home.

People can also posses this same amount of character. Age only seems to enhance their excellence. They have let time refine them, and they have built their lives with patience and quality. They are not perfect but when you are with them, you feel like you are home. If you have a chance to meet someone like this, savor every moment, be in awe! Learn from them!

We are not born with character; life gives us our flavor. It may be bitter, sweet, sour, spicy, even odd. Someone with character will tell you where you stand. You will be able to trust them with your life. Their trials have enhanced them. They are empathic. They are wise. You are better, because of knowing them. They have stood the test of time, they are unique: life has given them character.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket

2011-07-04T08:26:00.000-07:00

This is one expression both my parents could agree on. I heard it over and over as a child. It is very easy to put all of your energy into one thing. It may be a job, a relationship, money, your mate, your friends. Your identity is based on that one thing. If it fails, you’re a failure; if it succeeds, you’re a success.

My husband was a good example of this. He worked at a winery, where most of his time and energy was spent. He loved it! It gave him value and worth. He had other priorities, but this was his biggest. But this all changed the day we had our daughter. Now the winery didn’t seem as important. He knew he had to make a change. So he did the unthinkable, and quit. When he quit, he lost all his eggs. He lost his identity, his value, his worth.

This was a valuable lesson that he willingly learned. Some people are not given the option. Many don’t realize they have put so much emphasis on one thing until it’s gone. Maybe they have neglected friends and family in order to put all their energy into their marriage. Perhaps they have neglected all of their friends and family to concentrate on their career. The disaster is just waiting to happen. The day the basket breaks. The day the mate leaves, or the job is lost.

Just like the stock market, the safest course is diversification. To have many assets spread evenly across the board. To keep all things balanced and in proper perspective. Develop friendships with a variety of people. Enjoy your mate, but don’t neglect your family. Appreciate your career, but know it’s just one of your assets. Remember that all things in life are transient. A job can be gone tomorrow, a family member lost indefinitely, a friendship severed. Choose the best eggs carefully, treat them delicately and make sure you don’t put them all in one basket.

Struggle transforms

2011-06-27T06:57:00.000-07:00

It seems that things often work out, for a reason beyond our comprehension. The things we fight and deny are the same things we need the most. I have seen a golden thread spun out of many bad situations. Perhaps you would rather avoid the grief; but if you can’t, at least you can let it mold you.

The last time I had dinner with my family, I felt overwhelming gratitude. I was happy and content. Sadly, it has taken me many years and much struggle to reach this point, but I have finally found peace. My husband asked me later, “Would you have believed ten years ago that you would feel this way?” Not a chance!

My dad’s death has opened many doors for his wife. I am sure she would have preferred to avoid the sadness of his loss, but she couldn’t. The choices she has made since his death are probably not the same ones she would have made before his death. She has taken a bad situation and found the golden thread.

Being an awkward child, I fought learning how to ride my bike. I was content running after all the kids on our block as they glided around on their bicycles. Finally my family had enough and I was forced to learn something most children can’t wait to master. It took much patience, and quite a few tears—mostly from those trying to teach me—but I finally got it. After all the struggle, my life improved. Something that had seemed impossible now was effortless.

Life can be the same way. We instinctively recoil when a difficulty is placed in our lap. As if it were a snake, we panic and push it away, pretending it doesn’t exist. We try to get as far away as possible. But this often just prolongs the agony. Struggling is an indicator that we are under construction. It means that we are changing and learning, not only about things around us, but about our own strength. It may require patience and quite a few tears, but after all the struggle, something that seemed impossible will become effortless. We will emerge like butterflies, amazed at our own capacity to transform.