Masks after Halloween

It is the day after Halloween. Yesterday I had an unexpected revelation. I was sitting at the weekly Catholic Mass I attend with my family, singing a familiar hymn, when the lyrics that I had uttered several times before hit me like a bullet. The song was "The Summons" by John L. Bell (c) 1987, and verse 4 starts reads, "Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same? Will you use the faith you've found to re-shape the world around, through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?" I was so instantly choked up, I could not sing another word. My kids glanced my way nervously. I never stop singing - especially in church. The truth of those words singed my very soul. How often I hide the real me to be politically correct, to fit in, to avoid conflict, to be liked and accepted. Wow! And though it was Halloween Day, I realized that this blog which attempts to uncover the real Lauren Dayton has a superhuman task ahead in taking the mask away which I wear every day. So, Dear Readers, I ask you to consider what masks, if any, you wear now that Halloween is over. Have you worn them all of your life or just created them for new circumstances. What masks did you ever wear in the past that you no longer need or use? Maybe it's time to throw out the costume wardrobe and shine from the inside out. It's a task I'm going to take on, and I think I'm going to have a lot to write about from here on. Have a great Monday!!! Posted 11.1.10 1:28 P.M.

Chilling Out

My to-do list grew exponentially before my feet hit even the ground this morning. I must do a heck of a lot of sorting, processing and organizing when I sleep, because the state of my head is never calm, and rested as I wake up. But as I add that to the list of characteristics that make up Lauren, I have doubts as to whether that subconscious activity is really a good thing. I mean, NO WONDER I'm tired all the time! I lack the capacity just to "be". Often my husband will just go out on our porch swing or our deck and sit. Just sit. He just takes in the end of summer, the look of our property and birds and nature around him. And even more importantly, he enjoys it all as he takes it in. Wow! Do I ever slow down enough to enjoy anything? I think the answer is no. I don't enjoy food as I eat, I don't enjoy conversations I engage in, I don't enjoy completing the tasks I'm doing, I don't really enjoy much of anything. And as I lumber along toward the big five-oh!, is it any surprise that I'm feeling panicky and unfullfilled? Again, the answer is no. So, Dear Readers, ask yourself when the last time was that you took a chill pill? Was it just a spontaneous moment during and average day, or did you have to be on vacation in a remote location in a foreign country? And how often do you allow yourself the luxury of just "being"? I think I'm starting to understand why it is that those who meditate are happier in life. Hope your day is "enjoyable". Lauren

Being Verbose...,

My family says that I really didn't start talking till I was four years old. And I haven't stopped since! I have always been a talker. In school, that was the main reason I would get in trouble. As I grew older, that "chattiness" evolved into being what others dubbed as a "great communicator." But now, I think it's just plain annoying. And it's pretty much a waste of effort. I can say in seven paragraphs what my husband can say in seven words. He's concise and direct. I elaborate ad nauseum. Just ask my kids! I see how their eyes glaze over when I'm telling a story. And now that wordiness has also translated into my writing. My gosh, these posts are each like chapters from an epic novel! Time for me to shut up. (This is gonna be HARD!). Lauren

Seperation Anxiety

My ten year old was so excited this morning, he could hardly contain himself. As he packed for his class's overnight trip at this neat local nature camp tonight, he was amazed that he wasn't even hungry for breakfast. Now this kid hates waking up - not because he's tired but because he wakes up so ravenous every morning. As I dropped my two youngest kids off at school, I felt my stomache suddenly lurch. My little man skipped toward his friends loaded down with duffle, sleeping bag, tackle and fishing rod. My daughter turned around suddenly. "Bye, Mom! I love you!" she shouted unashamed. My throat got tight as I waved and tried to smile. Darn this separation stuff! My stomach ached all the way home. Jeeze, I haven't felt like this since,.... two hours ago! That was when the gold '97 clunker zipped away in the rain carrying my high schoolers who took just a millisecond to beep goodbye. I crossed myself as I always do (having a child learn to drive is an exercise in pure faith!), and I slowly trudged in to wake up the little guys. I wondered what Rob was doing in India, and my stomach did it again.
Now, I really didn't realize that I was this bad. When it comes to comparing myself with the "normal parents", I know I am a freak. I feel tugs at my heart and stomach each and every day. This also happens when my husband leaves for work in the morning. But I have gotten better. Most of my friends are in serious party mode on the first day of school. I've learned to just nod silently when they say, "Aren't you ready for school to start?" Why cause an uncomfortable pause in the conversation? After all, they wouldn't know what to do with me if I told them the whole truth.
I think I did great when Rob left for India last Saturday afternoon. I carefully planned for the goodbye all morning. Once he zipped out of sight, I quickly tossed a basketball at one of the kids and the somber mood of the four little Daytons was quickly dissapated. Not bad, I thought. Then Rob suddenly roared back down the driveway, and he sprinted into the house. All five of us stood there silent with our mouths hanging open. He then proudly trounced out of the house holding up a neck tie as if it was a great prize. "Knew I forgot something!" he shouted. "Love you all!" Then he was gone. Then the damn broke. The basketball rolled slowly down the driveway after him along with all five of our hearts. And this time, no one raced after it to pick it up.
Seperation has always been a thing with me. I guess it's from watching my sibs all leave for college when I was 6, 9, 10 and again at 11 years old. I felt so lonely watching them each go. It was hard for me being so young back then. Then when Rob and I were finishing our educations, we actually spent 4 years (actually 46 months, but who's counting?) in a long distance relationship. There were times when we didn't see each other for six weeks at a time. And I always tried not to imagine him getting in a car crash or finding some other girl as he drove out of sight. I think some of that "being left behindness" will always be with me.
Now sad as it is, I still think that this quality is a good thing to realize about oneself. And this year, as my oldest races through her senior year toward college, I know that I will need to brace myself for the biggest challenge yet. I will be extra careful not to hold her back with my personal feelings. Just because I quit full time litgation practice to stay home with the kids doesn't mean they have to be tethered to me forever. On the contrary, I was the one who pushed her to go on that Europe trip last spring break. She's a homebody, and it nearly killed us both when she left, but it really was an awesome adventure for her. Sigh! I really don't think this is going to get any easier as time goes by. And all the teenage moodiness, tantrums and hormones really don't help one bit! Multiply that by four, Laur, and that's the gig you've got.
So in closing, Dear Readers, take a minute to examine how you deal with seperation. Are goodbyes no big deal for you? Or do they bring you to your knees? Are some harder than others? I suspect that is the case for most of us. And I also guess how we deal with seperation will change as we mature and, oh no!, grow up. I would like to quote that great poet Eminem who hit this emotional lyric with precision:
"Life is neverending pain,
so you get the lidocane,
and you watch them leave
out the window
guess that's whey they call it window pane."
Maybe rap is closer to normal, everyday life than we "adults" would ever care to admit. Have a great day, Lauren Posted 10:32 EST

What's Eating at Me?

I just threw down a McDonald's meal in like 30 seconds. Stymied, I put the empty wrappers in the garbage in slow motion. I was actually tempted to see if I had dropped some of the food on the floor of my van. I couldn't have actually eaten that whole thing so fast, could I? Wow, Lauren, did you even chew? Did you taste any of the food? The anwer on both counts is no. And as I take a deep breath to see what's going on, I can feel the hard lump of food in my stomache. Wow, Laur, what's going so wrong in your life that you would actually do that to yourself? Good question. All morning I have been consumed with task achievement. I always seem to maintain this huge list of things to do that I hack away at daily but never seem to conquer. Tick two tasks off the list, and three new ones appear as if by magic. I even woke up with a knot in my stomache because I had forgotten to do two really important ones yesterday. Wow! This sounds familiar. Didn't I write about this before? I searched through prior posts to this blog, and Bingo! It jumped out at me from June 14th. Again, I've slipped into being a Human-Doing. Again, I woke up to thoughts of not being enough, not accomplishing enough, and not having any inherent worth. OK, it's time to re-think this line of rationale - Again! I am not what I DO. I could just sit here all day staring out the window, and though that would be very hard for me, I would be just fine. I am just fine. I am alone now at this moment because the kids are in school and my husband's out of the country. But being alone is not the same a being lonely (thanks for the distinction, Andy!). I don't need to construct this non-ending list and chop away at the items each day relentlessly to convince myself that I am justified for just existing. And while I'm at it, I need a nap. Fair enough. So, Dear Readers, when your life starts going so fast that things get blurred, slow down and see what's really going on. Try being present in your own life (another blog entry from June). Is it just your way of coping? I can testify that inhaling fast food at warp speed is a really lousey way to handle life when the walls are closing in. So may your blood pressure be lowered, and may you taste, feel, see, smell and hear the wonderful life that is around it. You are worth it, and so am I! Take care, Lauren

Organizing you Life

I just realized what control freak I am. I belong to an adult School of Rock class at a local music studio, and all summer we had a date for our final concert during which I will demonstrate my newly acquired Jaggar-like skills as lead singer. Last week, our teacher realized that she also has a gig on that date, and our concert was rescheduled for this Friday. This Friday?!? My husband is in India till Saturday. My two oldest kids are playing in marching band for the biggest annual high school rival football game in the county that same night. None of my other relatives are available either. (Explicative in CAPS!) When we showed up for a practice the day after Labor Day, our teacher forgot she had scheduled it. Disappointed!! Now, our teacher is awesome, and I really like her a lot personally. But screw ups like this drive me nuts! With four kids in school and my husband out of the country, my life is scheduled down the the minute. Stretched this thin, I work hard to do it all, but my best estimate is that I will run at about 90 percent accuracy. There will be forgotten basketball uniforms, lost lunch slips, and unpaid field trips. That's a given. But again, I work hard to get all the accuracy I can. I just don't understand those that don't put any effort into coordinating their life but who expect the world to just "deal" with their mistakes.
Growing up, I had a very disorganized family environment. Organizing things was the one way for me to take control and add some sense to my crazy, confusing existence. And so I did this from a very early age. I really didn't think that this was an important part of my identity, but I guess it is.
Two weeks ago we buried my brother's ashes. My mom scheduled this ceremony with the cemetery and let everyone know when it was. Period. That's it. "Well, what are we going to do at the cemetery?" I asked. She shrugged. Leaving this thing open-ended didn't bother her in the least. But I will tell you it deprived me of sleep! After all, we had relatives traveling in from Arizona for this thing. There was no official or priest or anything set up to guide us along. When I asked her about that little fact, again, my mom shrugged. It was as if to say, "Oh, well. I don't know". But she knew. She knew full well that I would swoop in and organize it all. And just as if it was scripted in a movie, I spent countless hours researching what the heck one does when they bury a loved one's ashes. It took me no less than 4 hours on-line to finally dig up a ceremony on a UK web site. I found out the Roman Catholic Church's take on such things. I found lots of prayers and readings for each and every one of my family members so they could take part in the ceremony. And I had it all printed out neatly for them to deliver orally on the day in question. (Those with longer roles got theirs by e-mail.) Wow, my family said to me, you're really organized. Oh, I guess I am, I said (light bulb going off). Organization. It's one of my best qualities. It helps me sleep at night.
We just had all of my family over our house since everyone was in town. Being unable to host it themselves, one relative wanted to do all the food. I agreed. Then with the writing on the wall (I know this person's history!), I made sure there was plenty of food and drinks available in case their part of the deal fell through. Like clockwork, this person waltzed into my house an hour after everyone else got there with arm fulls of groceries ready to cook. I smiled. I may be compulsive, but in cases like this, it can be handy! That night, I also slept well.
When I chair a school fundraiser, it's organized within an inch of its life. The principal knows this. I will spend hours mulling over lists of volunteers, supplies, food, and tasks. Organization. It's just what I do. The term "co-dependent" also comes to mind. But either way, it's me. And it's undeniable. So, dear readers, take a moment and assess how well organized you are. Now, I'll admit that my house is not so organized. My closets need a major Oprah intervention! But when it comes to organizing events, calendars and communication, I'm your girl (OK, denial working there..,woman!). And that's a good thing to admit about oneself. See ya soon! Lauren

Being Alone

OK, most you know my husband's in India for the week, so I'm doing the solo parent thing. This shouldn't be that big of a deal for me. He travels a lot. And I've spent the vast majority of my life alone. I'm the youngest of five kids, and there's seven years between me and the closest sib. I didn't have a "partner in crime" to buddy up with, beat up, share secrets with or otherwise terrorize when I was growing up. I spent a lot of time all alone in our house when I was little because my mom always worked or was in college. I even wore a key to our house around my neck in elementary school because I often got myself on the bus and came home alone. I was a "latch key" kid before we even knew what that was. So, I often admire and am jealous of the bond my kids have with each other since all four of them are only two years apart from their closest sib. Also, my husband is in the middle of nine kids who were born with in a span of only 12 years. They are all very close, and that is a big part of his personality. So, I guess I've always kind of seen myself as a "loner", and I've been just fine with that. Until now. Working at home these last two days, I'm feeling empty and lonely. There are lots of friends I can call or e-mail or FB. I could set up lunch dates, movie nights or drinks with the girls. But this is a different feeling. It's emptier, and it feels even "lost". Hmmm. I'm not sure what that's really all about, since being alone really is my status quo. Perhaps its the fact that the kids just got back to school and the task of juggling their four schedules already has me exhausted. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't taken the time to look after my own needs for quite some time. Maybe the person I'm really lonely for is... Lauren. Wow! So, Dear Reader, why not take a moment and see how you deal with being alone? Is it a relief? Does it cause you to feel uncomfortable or anxious? Those things are all worth noticing on this journey to find oneself. Hope your "alone" time is wonderful. Calgon, take me away!!! Love, Lauren

FEAR is a four letter word

Last Wednesday, I woke up agitated. I went around the day feeling somewhat cut off from life. I couldn't concentrate on easy tasks that needed to be done. When I snapped at my kids I realized that it was "fear" that had grabbed ahold of me. I was waiting for word about my nephew who was undergoing a kidney transplant. The tension of not knowing got to me. I was scared to death for him and my family because there were thousands of things that could go wrong. When word eventually came that things were going great, I literally felt lighter. A huge weight had been lifted from me. Then I realized that I had thrown away the whole day because I was wrapped up in fear. Now I know, that's natural. When a loved one's life is jeopardized, it's natural to feel fear. But the fact is I still lost that day. Things turned out great. And in the process of dwelling in my fear, I attracted to me a whole host of troubles and aggravations throughout the entire day.
In her books The Secret and The Power, Rhonda Byrne says that fear is merely an absense of love. It's a vaccuum. And that's how I felt - kinda like I had the life and my joy sucked out of me. But what I noticed most is that in my state of fear, I felt strangely comfortable. Like being that way was status quo. Hmmmm. That's a good thing to notice about myself. My family members have undergone three prior transplant operations. Each time it was tense. Was fear an obligation with me? Was it necessary for me to feel like "one of the gang" by being obsessive and worried. After all, my family is a bunch of control freaks and having a sick clan member brings out the worst in all of us. Hmmm again.
And what about faith? I've seen enough to know that worry and fear are of no use to me. Being a Christian, a time of crisis is just the type of thing that stretches and colors our faith. Why didn't I go there instead? Why did I choose fear? That's another good observation to have when one is trying to "find out who I am".
My husband flew out to India yesterday (Saturday) for the week. He's never been there before, and I won't likely hear his voice for days. Again, that old familiar slump set in. What if he doesn't come back? What the hell will I do? What will the kids do? My four kids were all snapping at each other after he left. The house even seemed to slump physically. The sky was a deep gray all day. Fear had once again gripped my being and held on tight. As I went to bed at 1 A.M. I got a text. "Amsterdam. Love you." Then it hit me. I did it again! So today we will wait for word that he got through the second leg of the trip. We will go to church and pray for his safety, but I'm choosing faith instead. I'm going to thank God in advance for his safe trip. I'm going to spend a LOT of time counting my blessings. Because I already threw a good part of this week away in fear. And I don't want to do that anymore. So dear readers, think about a time when you were gripped in fear. What was the eventual outcome? Did it really "matter" that you spent that time so miserable? Wouldn't it have been better just to pray or meditate or go for a run or eat your favorite ice cream? See you soon! Love, Lauren
PS We just got home from church and the communion hymn was "Be Not Afraid". O.K., God, I'm finally listening!!!

Getting My Life Back

It's September 7th and school started today. That means last night there were four sad, crabby, anxious, and stressed out kids in my house. But all went just fine this morning, and though I'm a bit weary from all the mornings events, I'm feeling pretty good. There were those years past when I was reduced to a weepy pile of tears on the first day of school. But I guess I've grown up. That's a good thing to realize about oneself. And I've gotten my life back! No more keeping my eye out for the constant and unending needs of four (five counting the biggest kid in the house!) others 24/7. No more fighting to get computer time. No more constant noise. Ahhh! It's practically a Calgon moment. Now, I don't mean to bitch. I knew what I was signing up for when I ditched my full time litigation career to be a full time mommy. I remember how crabby my own mom was most of the time. I knew loosing my identity was a distinct possibility and practically guaranteed when one works out of the house and dwells in the non-stop housework required of this gig. But as my youngest starts 6th grade, I am reminded of how fast time truly flies. That means that I have really only 6 serious years left of primary mommy hood left. That's not much. And my oldest is now a high school senior. That reminds me that there will be a lot of future adjustments in store for our whole family. But for now, Lauren's here. And I'm grateful for that.
Tomorrow is September 8th, and my 24 year old nephew will receive a new kidney from some stranger who waltzed into U of M Hospital hell bent on making the world a better place by saving someone's life. Amazing. My nephew is also perched on the brink of getting his life back. Dialysis three times a week, constant fatigue, seizures for un-Godly high blood pressure, and comas may certainly be a thing of the past for this young, handsome and talented man.
Last Friday, my whole family gathered to finally bury the ashes of this same nephew's father. He was also a kidney patient. A year ago, he didn't get his life back, but along the way for the past 30 years, he certainly did on many occasions. On Friday, we all realized how much we needed that ceremony. We all felt captive by our grief this past year while my mom made the uncomfortable decision of what to do with his remains. And in a way, we all got our full lives back as we cried, laughed, told stories, shared spripture and were again bonded by our love of him.
Getting your life back feels good. And we all deserve that from time to time regardless of our responsibilities or the challenges that fate deals us. So, Dear Readers, why don't you reflect on a time when you got your life back after it was held captive for awhile. It's bound to bring out the gratefulness in you. Take care! Lauren Sept. 7, 2010 12:50 p.m.

Out of my Comfort Zone

I'm pushing myself. Without reazlizing it, I've gotten soft. Really soft! When I graduated from law school 21 years ago, I decided that I'd never go back to school again. Granted, I was really tired back then. I'd had it with books and reading assignments until 2 am. But I didn't really realize how invigorating the act of learning can be. Now that I'm 48 years old, I regularly experience the same troubling memory issues that I used to make fun of my parents for suffering. I walk in a room and realize I have no idea what I was about to do. I call my kids by the wrong name (a HUGE sin since I was never called by the right name, and swore I would never do that!). I forget the words I want to speak mid-sentence. It's downright embarassing! So I'm taking some leaps of faith to get my mind in motion. One, I started taking acoustic guitar lessons. I always wanted to play, and I think it'll help my songwriting. What I didn't count on was how thick the mud was in my head. I stumble, fall, flail, stand up, and trip again. Then when I'm just about to throw my hands up and shout some obscenities, I get a sudden breakthrough. Learning is really a miracle. It's not linear. It's a flat line that suddenly will peak to a height you didn't anticipate only to flat line again for way to long. And over and over. Two, I joined an adult School of Rock class. We are preparing 9 rock classics to perform in a few weeks to my kids' great embarrassment. I sing tenor (and sometimes bass) and play bad keyboards. It's great fun, and I will likely make a big fool of myself in front of an audience (letting my inner Jaggar loose in Beast of Burden, for instance). Three, I'm seeking new legal work in child advocacy and social security cases. Out of the litigation circle for 17 years and not a lot of legal research at home in the past 5 years, I've needed to exercise this part of my education and identity. It's down right scary! But maybe a big reason I needed to start this blog in the first place was because I'd gotten stale. My mind was stuck in repeat mode with no one in sight to help me push the button for the next track. So I needed to pick up my heavy hand, aim, and push the button myself. So, Dear Readers, look at what you've had to learn recently. Maybe it's just figuring out a new cell phone or programming your new DVR. Learning can be daunting, but I think what we choose to learn tells us a lot about our identities. So, what do you want to learn? I gotta go practice some bad guitar! Have a great Monday!! 8/2/2010 7:39 a.m.

One more thing...,

P.S. I didn't want to leave you with the wrong impression in that last post. This really is a GREAT trip. Wish you could all see how beautiful it is. And despite what I wrote, there is nothing as wonderful - out-house and all!

Negotiating "Tough" Personalities

We are preparing for our annual two week trip to my husband's family's cabin. This is the same trek he has been making since he was 7 years old as the fourth oldest of nine kids. During the trip, there can be as many as 30+ personalities from ages 2 to 80 all coming and going and living together under one roof! It takes a LOT of coordination and organization and patience to make this "communal living" thing workable. Sometimes there are snags, but it usually goes miraculously well. Now I truly adore my husband's family. The truth is, this arrangement wouldn't last a half hour with my family! But like school, work, church and life, there can be some personalities that are, well, more challenging to deal with than others. Oh, and did I mention that there is no electricity or plumbing, we have to take a train to get there that runs only a few times a week, and it's in a foreign country? Like all "in-law" social gatherings, I've come to learn that I have somewhat of a second rate status since I'm not blood. It's not a direct snub. They generally really like me. But I've noticed that a sib or parent can suggest any silly ridiculous thing, and it's taken as the God's truth. While I (with my college and law school degrees) can make a simple, well thought out comment, and it's just plain dismissed. Done. Know your place, Lauren. O.K. That's just family. I'm sure (no, I know) my clan does the same to my husband. But I've noticed something about me lately. I routinely tip toe around certain personalities. I go to great pains to think ahead, anticipate snags and work pretty darn hard to fix problems. And I do all this to make this trip a valuable continuing experience for my husband and kids. So I closely monitor what I say, and I work hard to avoid conflict. And frankly, those "in-the-clan" do not. O.K. Part of this situation is defining "my place" in the whole scheme of this vacation and in this huge family. But I think this contortionist act is really relevant to my identity. Am I really a push-over as was suggested to me recently? Well, maybe. Yet I do know that I have no desire to be like the personalities I'm trying to accommodate - difficult, moody, and with a chip on my shoulder. I like aspiring to be easy-going, helpful and well, NICE. There! I said (wrote) it. I will be the first to admit that I spent my first 20 years on this earth being NOT nice. And as I grew up, somehow I did a 180. Being thoughtful, polite and helpful is a good goal, I think. So sue me. But something big has changed in me lately. In years past, I have invested a lot of time and effort because I really cared what the difficult, thoughtless ones thought about me. Now that's all gone like smoke. Suddenly, I couldn't care less. Wow. Now, I'm not planning on picking fights intentionally or being belligerent just for the sake of planting my emotional stake at my in-laws' camp. But I'm not going to keep quiet when I disagree either. I'm not going to refrain from activities I want to do because it irritates those who are regularly vocal about their demands. I'm not going to waste time anticipating others needs or go out of my way to help make things easier for a couple divas and divos (that really is the masculine of diva!). I'm done tap dancing. And I have a feeling, this is going to be fun! So, Dear Readers, take some time to notice how you deal with the difficult personalities in your life. Do you fire them or ground them? How fast do you tap dance? Or do you just go head to head and let it roll? And do you care what they think about you? Sure, different tactics are needed for different settings. And how and why we negotiate will likely change a lot as we grow up. I love my husband and kids enough to bend a lot to make this a great trip for them. For now, I think this forty-three year tradition is definitely worth preserving. But if you happen to see some fireworks over the Canadian sky this week, don't assume it's the Northern Lights. I just might be Lauren biting back. Hope you have a great day and can take some memorable vacations yourself this summer. Talk to you soon! Lauren

Humble Appreication

A good friend of mine just had her life instantly devastated. While traveling to Michigan two weeks ago to visit relatives, her teenage son lost control of their vehicle. As a result she and her husband suffered very serious injuries. They underwent emergency surgeries out of state and will now spend the rest of the summer in the hospital and then at her parents' house in Michigan which is thousands of miles away from her own home. Now, you need to understand that my friend is a very well put together, organized, confident, gorgeous and charming woman. I have always marveled at her and her beautiful life. But once I knew that she was going to survive this accident, I was truly concerned for her emotional health because I knew that being so uprooted and out of control of her life would literally drive her crazy. But I couldn't have been more wrong. When I visited her for a few moments at the hospital last night, she clutched my hand tightly and through tears simply said she was so grateful to be alive. That's it. She wasn't sorry for herself, though she has a good right to be. Earlier in the day, I visited her room and heard her agonizing screams and moans while nurses moved her slightly and then asked me to return later. My friend will likely have chronic pain for the rest of her life. But still, her tears were from the total relief that she is still here. She has a second shot at life. Now, I'm embarrassed to admit that I've done a fair amount of complaining and whining in this blog. When things are going pretty darn well, we have the luxury of seeing life as a glass half empty. And though I won't, I could start training to run a marathon today while my friend may never fully walk or run again. We all get these JOLTS in life. They are special messages that are sent to us. You can call them wake up calls or life's lessons. But regardless of their labels, they routinely bring me to my knees. That's a pretty nice realization to have when one is questioning their own identity as I am doing here. And it's that same type of gratitude and humility that I want to incorporate even more in my life. You see, I have this fairly flawed, normal, horrible, beautiful sort of life. And at this minute, I am so grateful for it. So, Dear Readers, today I'm asking you to take a quick personal inventory of your life and spend some quiet time appreciating it for what it is, warts and all. After all, we all could be lying in unbearable pain in a hospital right now. Hopefully, you'll have some tears in your eyes as I do right now. Have a great day, and I hope to see you tomorrow. Lauren

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

O.K. Aretha Franklin isn't the only one who can sing it. I've taken a long, hard look at how others (and myself) respect me. And, frankly, it's unsettling. This all came about a few days ago as a result of a knock-down blow out I had with a certain teenager who shall remain nameless here. That punk had the audacity to call me immature! Other degrading insults (like "you're too nice") were hurled at me with lazer like precision. And though my parents and sibs would laugh loudly at these accusations about me, they hurt! And their truth rang loud. The fact is, I often give way to others (including the teenage offender mentioned above). I have found that fighting and arguing just don't work although I was raised with true masters in those arts. Being nice isn't exactly the worst thing I've been accused of in my life! Why stomp on others just to save face or maintain my own self proclaimed dignity? The "higher road" always looked more attractive to me anyhow. So, the fact is, when push comes to shove, I just roll with it. But the impression to others apparently is that I just "roll over". That's where the respect part of this all comes in. At what point do you "let it all go" without also letting go of an important part of yourself? I suspect that not only do we all draw these lines of self-respect differently, but that where we draw them changes constantly as we grow, learn and mature. Also, for me, where I draw the lines of respect changes hourly depending on how tired I am and whether I am in the throes of PMS or menopause. So what's the answer? At this moment, I say let it selfishly lie with what you feel in your heart or in your gut. If you're OK with it, good! If others have a problem with how you draw the line of respect and dignity, TOUGH! They'll just have to deal. Respect for me all originates with how I see myself. And isn't that really where our identity begins? Respect is officially defined as the condition of being esteemed or honored; It's also the sense of the worth of excellence of a person. I'm good with that. I'm also good with rolling over at times when a certain teenager isn't being disrespectful. And when they are, taking away the use of a certain cell phone and car might just be the ticket to returning me to my own healthy level of self respect. So, Dear Readers, today I'm asking you to look at how "respect" operates in your life. Do you have plenty of it yourself? Do you give respect out generously to others? Does hearing Aretha's anthem make you shake your fists? How have you demanded (or failed to demand) respect in the past when it was lacking? I think these are interesting questions that relate directly to our identities. Hope your day is, well, a respectful one. Lauren Posted 2:30 p.m.

The Answer's in the Zzzzzz's

I went to bed last night tired, irritable and with that "what's the use?" feeling when I had an epiphany type realization that hit me like a lightening bolt. Everything seemed horrible because I was sleep deprived. AGAIN! As a result, the day was a wash. I had gone to a midnight movie the night before and was operating on less than 5 hours of sleep. I felt like crap, and it showed in my attitude. Last winter one of my kids did a sleep study for a school science project. What blew us away was that all six of us were severely sleep deprived. Running on empty, the high schoolers never got their 9 hours, the little guys were shy of their 11-10 hours and the adults didn't get 7 to 8. In fact, my husband and I regularly operate on around 6 hours. Five years ago, my husband's commute doubled, so we regularly wake up to the coffee maker chugging away at 4 am. And we rarely get to bed before ten. I grew up in a family where I never slept well. I was also allowed to develop my continuing coffee addiction way back in the first grade. Amazing! But my sleep deprivation didn't really kick in 'till law school. I had flirted with the occasional study motivated all nighters in college and high school, but my three year stint at U of D School of Law rarely offered me more than 4 to 5 hours of sleep. Then there was having our four babies, ... yada, yada, yada. And now, well, menopause regularly has me waking up for the night at 2:30 am. It's amazing that I haven't killed myself with all the vehicle operation I've done while extremely tired. But I guess the point is now I'm addicted to not getting enough sleep. Feeling less than par is my norm. I've never taken amphetamines, but I recall comparing notes about class mates who were stuck on them with my brother who was in med school at same the time I was studying law. In reality, we were no better off because we used (and still use today) caffeine to get the job done. Here's the rub: The obesity, heart disease, high blood pressure and diabetes that all run rampant in my family genetic pool could all be reduced by getting enough sleep. Of course, the quality of my relationships and my work would also improve greatly if I managed to get myself in bed earlier. But the central issue is really in my head. Sleeping always seemed to me to be a huge waste of time. (Remember my Human-Doings post last June 14th?) Why sleep when I could be getting so much done? Was I really retaining anything when I was reading and studying at 3 am? Did the laundry really have to be done and put away before I honored my exhaustion? Of couse not. Wouldn't I be healthier and more effective in virtually everything I do if I let my body and my mind rest? Of course, the answer is yes. So, Dear Readers, if you're cronically sleep deprived like me or just shy of the sleep you need for for today, take that nap. Get to bed one hour earlier. Watching GLEE! isn't worth it (though I never thought I'd admit it.) Sweet dreams! Lauren

Setting Limitis - Such Hard Work!

As I wrote the Vampire post today, I realized that an important part of our identity is formed by the way we set limits with others. Society pushes us to be nice (especially women), but at what point do we become push-overs? And when we are assertive, does it automatically feel "uncomfortable" for us? Or are we just being a big "B"? I was just on the phone with an acquaintance who tends to snag me into little commitments that always end up being huge, tornado-like escapades that I always come to regret later. It's a well established pattern. But I was lucky this time. I knew something was up and instinctively said I'd need to think about the little "favor" she was suggesting. I don't usually preserve myself that well. I normally just agree to whatever tiny thing she thinks "would be a good idea for me" because I wanna be nice! And I always kick myself later for not recognizing the ruse ahead of time. But today, somehow my "Spidey" senses were tingling enough to alert my brain and my mouth. When I am done writing this, I will call her back and firmly decline her "kind" offer. There will no doubt be guilt and a gnawing in my stomach. But I am determined not to get snagged in this one! When setting limits, there are a few guidelines that I recall from my college communication theory classes that are helpful. One, take time to decide what limit you want to set. Define it clearly in your mind until you feel comfortable stating it as your standard for whatever person or situation you want to apply it. You deserve to be happy and to draw healthy lines amongst your relationships with others. Two, be absolutely clear in stating your intent. It's your responsibility to make sure your message is understandable. Don't let vague, overly apologetic, guilt ridden words blur what you need to say. You don't have to make excuses, lie or even apologize. Just state the limit you are setting, and let it sit out there on it's own in the world's ether. Three, you are never responsible for how the person you are communicating with will respond. They may surprise you and respect the limit you set. In that case, you can pat yourself on the back and sleep well tonight. But they might just ignore your limit as if you were just a bit of a wind that kicked up momentarily. In that case, be sure to re-state your limit and stick to it. Finally, they might just unleash the fury of the world on you. The limits you set probably won't make others happy. Just ask my kids! But you don't have to obediently take anther's punishment for the limits you set. Remember, you are doing this for you because their behavior crossed a line. My son had a good friend move out of state a few years back. The problem was, this "friend" would call him up and ramble for over an hour never letting my son get one word in edgewise. Whenever my son tried to end the call, the "friend" would stubbornly refuse to let him off the line. Realizing both that he needed help and had a right to be angry at this "friend's" manipulative tactics, we did some role playing. He practiced politely saying "I don't want to talk to you anymore" and then hanging up the phone. His Vampire friend got the message. One of my bestest friends in the world recently confessed to me that she "unfriended" a few in-laws on FB because they always snipe at all her comments. Bravo! She has ignored their new friend requests and is prepared to honestly level with them if they ask what's up in person. I knew someone who was addicted to porn who couldn't utter a sentence without serious profanity. I kept that person far away from my kids and eventually told them that I didn't feel their conduct was appropriate. After calling me a four letter word that starts with "C", they waltzed out of my life forever. And though I was truly rattled at the time, I am now grateful for that. One final note, one shot deals usually won't do when you are setting limits with those you love. Repeating the limit over and over again may be needed until they get on board (or at least surrender). It's uncomfortable but necessary. I have a family member who gossips shamelessly about other family members and often outright lies in the process. After being burned by them, I now politely refuse to talk with them about any other person. Period. It's ridiculously hard work. But some Vampires are fixtures in our lives, and like many things, this effort it remains a work in progress. So, Dear Readers, take a moment to see if there are some limits you need to set with others in your life. It might feel scary at first, but a world with a few less Vampires and the threat of their fangs is bound to make you happier. Have a great day. I gotta call to make,... Lauren

Vampires

I thought this would be a fun topic on the eve of Eclipse's release . But be warned, I'm not talking about anything nearly as hot as Robert Pattinson or Ashley Greene. The Vampires that I'm talking about today are those persons that will literally (well, OK, figuratively,) suck the blood out of you! Maybe you know someone who will dump every daily problem, crisis, and drama on you as if it is your privilege to wear it as a yoke upon your shoulders. You walk away from them tired, weary and emaciated from the burden of their emotional dump. Or maybe you know people who can (even though you are now a full grown, capable adult) literally cripple you emotionally and shred your self-esteem to ribbons with one little disapproving phrase or look. Or how about those that pour guilt on you like it's a thick, sticky soap and you need a good bath? Maybe you know Vampires that are not so blatant. You could be enjoying a nice conversation with them, and then, BAM!, they suddenly spit out a zinger that brings you to your knees. I imagine that there are literally thousands of Vampires out there, and that they vary in habit and motivation even more than the characters in Twilight, True Blood and Dark Shadows. So, Dear Readers, I have developed a Vampire management strategy for you that doesn't require garlic cloves, wooden stakes or crucifixes (though the latter may certainly come in handy). First of all, identify any Vampires that you may have in your life. You don't have to actually write out a list that someone may read and misinterpret. This is a private, emotional list that you can keep to yourself. And don't feel bad about placing a friend or loved one on your Vampire list. They are who they are, and you can still love them as you do Edward or Barnabas Collins. (And if , by the way, you have no vampires in your life, have a great day, enjoy your wonderful life, and know that I will also be pigging out on popcorn with my daughters and their squealing friends at 12:05 tonight.) Now back to those of us who are not in denial,... Take your list and categorize your Vampires into two groups - those who are necessary in your life and those who are not. Again, this is a very personal choice that need not be shared with others. For those who are not necessary in your life, STAY AWAY! Avoid them at all cost. I'm talking self preservation here! You don't have to identify yourself as someone who has to always endure the unkindness and wrath of the world. Avoid being anemic! If a particular Vampire in your life is an acquaintance, don't make them a best friend or a spouse. Don't set yourself up for guaranteed emotional failure in your life! You ARE NOT going to change them! So don't pick up a Vampire as a pet project for your own self indulgent personality rehabilitation. It won't work , and someone will get hurt. Now, for those Vampires that are necessary in your life, always proceed with caution, forethought and your own personal well being in mind. Set reasonable limits with these Vampires. You don't have to allow them free rein and access to your blood. It's not your duty to fall into a deep depression just so they can vent and feel better. Your self-esteem matters too, and it should be your new goal to protect it at all cost. You were not put on this earth to be their victim! I recently was being dumped on by a Vampire friend right in the middle of a department store. I was in a hurry and politely said, "Sorry, I gotta go," and walked away while they literally continued to talk to the air as if I hadn't left. It occurred to me that this person does NOT have my best interest at heart. Another Vampire in my life recently confided to me because of our talks, they can avoid going back into therapy. Great! Dr. Frankenstein, I have created a monster! Again, I realized that they are so caught up in themselves that they don't have any inkling of the damage that they are doing to me. And that is my problem. So, I am carefully limiting the amount of time I allow my Vampire to feed. This will not be easy, and I suspect that I will likely have to tell them my true feelings soon. But that's a post for another day. So, Dear Readers, hold your Vampires at arm's length, and take time to carefully decide whether they will remain in your life. I can practically guarantee that if you cut off their feeding, they will certainly find another victim to sustain themselves. Vampires put their self preservation first, and you should too. You deserve to live a healthy emotional life out in the sun! Have a great one, and don't eat too much popcorn. Lauren

Missing in Action - Getting Out Of Dodge

I've been gone for the past 11 days. Oh, part of the reason was because I allowed myself to get sleep deprived, and we had a crazy weekend filled with graduation and birthday parties and baby showers. Then the storms took out our ISP's tower and we lost service for the past week. There were more parties, etc this weekend,... Yada, yada, yada. But I admit the break was a relief. I was touching a raw nerve in myself. My own blabbering was cutting too close to the quick. I needed some space from this journey, and I am just realizing that I created it all quite purposefully even though, up until this moment, I totally "B.S.-ed" myself into thinking outside forces were opeating to foil my blog. Nope. It was me all along. This journey of trying to discover who I am has exposed some painful memories and realizations about the choices I have made in the past. Ouch! So I did what every good person in denial does under such circumstances - I left! Best selling author Geneen Roth says, "never underestimate the inclination to bolt." I was operating like lightning during our recent summer storms - Hot, frenetic, and unpredictable. I needed some space and time to collect my thoughts and some courage. But I'm back now. So, Dear Readers, take a minute and try to remember a time when you bolted. Were you getting away from a relationship, a conflict, a family, a community, a church or an issue you weren't ready to face? I've done all of these. Maybe you've never avoided something that made you feel uncomfortable. And I'm not saying that bolting is necessarily a bad thing. It's a defense that can protect you. And it's really helpful to realize when we do it. So, I'll be staying a while for now and writing a lot. As usual, I have a LOT to say. Hope your Monday is awesome! Lauren

For Crying Out Loud

I was at a baseball game yesterday when a disturbing thing happened. It was with the 9 to 10 year old division which is the first age category where the kids pitch (no pitching machines or tees to hit from). This is a dicey proposition, because the pitchers lack control, and the the batters aren't used to such a variety of possible pitches coming at them around 40 to 50 miles per hour. One batter swung too early with all his might only to have the hard ball crack him squarely on the knuckles. Everyone in the stands winced, and the kid's mom yelled "Ouch!" His face screwed up and turned deep red. He angrily took the bat and hit home plate several times to gain composure. But things only got worse as the seconds ticked by and he became accutely aware of everyone staring at him. The coaches came in close to talk in hushed tones. He tried to wrap his hands around the bat but the swollen hand wouldn't cooperate. As he wiped an angry tear, the coach scowled, "Don't! Keep it together! Get over it!" The kid quickly finished his up at bat swinging with only his right hand firmly gripping the bat. It was no surprise that he struck out. What was surprising was that no one, not a coach, not a parent, not an umpire, nor a stranger helped him out. "Don't even think about it, Lauren," I was ordered as I leaned forward anxiously in my chair. I was already planning my strategy if the same ever happened to my kid. I felt deep pangs of guilt for not stepping in for this kid. I was amazed as this kid's angry tears started to form in my eyes. He was expected to take it "like a man". Later, a smaller but rather macho team mate took a pitch right at the top of the thigh. It sounded like raw meat being smacked onto a plate. As he limped to first base, a parent yelled, "Way to take one for the team, buddy! Good man!" No tears this time. I burned. A few batters later, an obviously bigger and older kid took a pitch at the bony top of the shoulder. This one sounded like a 2 by 4 snapping. He went right down on his knees and stayed there until his coach walked over impatiently. "Come on, don't be a baby. Get up!" he snapped obviously perturbed. The kid bit onto the inside of his cheek an took his base as by standers clapped. Again no tears. I learned last month at a high school freshman baseball game that players will, upon instruction, purposely lean into a pitch to get a walk. When I saw it myself, the batter yelped and waddled to first bravely clutching his side. You can bet there were no tears. I'M SORRY, BUT THIS IS SCREWED UP! Why is it that we expect our boys to "man up" when they are injured? Are they wimps for crying when a hard ball traveling as fast as a speeding car connects with their unprotected bodies? And this is America's Great Pastime. On the other side of the spectrum are girls who are "stereotyped" for crying unnecessarily or for ulterior motives. I find that I am uncomfortable with crying. It embarasses me to cry in front of others. What's with that? I grew up in a family where no one was allowed to cry. I was publicly shamed whenever I slipped up on that one! A sib admonished me when I cried as we closed my Dad's casket. I didn't cry at my brother's funeral last summer. When I do cry now, I make it a very private affair behind closed doors and alone if at all possible. I am mortified when I let go of tears in front of others in a dark movie theater or in the privacy of my own home. "Stop!" I can still hear the scalding words showered upon me as a child. "Don't you dare cry!" Why are we so screwed up about crying? Why can't we honestly cry in public when we are hurting physically or emotionally? Is it because we fear we won't stop once we start? And haven't we all had those disappointments in our lives where we truly deserved to cry but didn't? Crying doesn't make us any less of a man or woman or human being. It is a ligitimate emotion. And what about the relief and "cleansed" feeling we have after a good cry? It's sounding better and better to me! So, Dear Readers, I am NOT going to ask you to cry. Just try to remember the last time you did. What were the feelings that you had at that time? How can we get honest with our sadness so that crying is the acceptable emotion that God intended it to be? (Isn't it the first sound we make when we are born?) Because I suspect that whether we show our tears or not, we wear them on our sleeves. They will come out one way or another whether in anger or rage or frustration or depression. I think a good cry is under-rated. And I hope that for today, if you need to cry, you DO it. Lauren

A Body of Thought

This morning, I glanced at a copy of Seventeen Magazine and nearly fell over. Staring back at me was an article called "The Body Peace Project" that outlined tips to feel good about getting into a bathing suit this summer. The sub-headings included Stop Obsessing in the Mirror, Honor Your Body, Focus on the Fun you're going to have, and Know Your Looks Don't Define You. OMG! I sure could have used this advice when I was a senior in high school 31 years ago! While I am really encouraged that my daughter is reading material like this, I am also somewhat daunted by the work that I know I have ahead of me. And even though Dove soap is getting in on the Body Acceptance wagon, it doesn't make my job any easier. Now I "know" I'm not my body. But I have spent literally countless hours dieting, exercising and obsessing about my "flawed" physicality. And that futile lifetime of effort has left me feeling like crap. And as I write those words, I am struck by how superficial this all sounds. How did my ideas about "Lauren" get so whacked? I slip into these patterns and then momentarily catch myself. Oh, yeah. Your body is just your body. It's not you. And I don't for one minute think that this is just a female thing. I know lots of guys who look just fine but are reluctant to get into their swim trunks too. I hope, Dear Readers, that you can truly enjoy this beautiful summer no matter what size you are wearing, what you ate today, whether or not you exercised and regardless of any physical flaws you may (think you) have. I am humbled by Lisa Nichols' words quoted at page 164 of The Secret: "We often get distracted by this thing called our body and our physical being. That just holds your spirit. And your spirit is so big it fills a room. You are eternal life. You are God manifested in human form, made to perfection." Now, that's impressive. I hope you have a quiet moment to yourself today so that you can let that sink in. I'm going to take mine now. Have a great day! Lauren

Being Present

I have a big confession to make. I KNOW what my central issue is. I may fain that this journey is a new discovery in which I'm peeling away thin layers of myself much like an onion. But I know what causes my angst, and I've known about this problem for quite some time now: I am simply not here. Oh, I exist alright. I go through the rigors of my day and appear normal to much of the world. I am good at pretending. But as far as being PRESENT in my life, I simply am not. What do I mean - being present? Well, it's listening, really listening, when someone is talking to me. It's being fully there in the moment. Or how about eating, really tasting food and experiencing it, when I am at a meal? Most of my life is spent "somewhere else". I'm thinking about what I have to do next. I'm obsessing about my kids or my husband or my house or our ridiculous schedules or our money or lack of it. I worrying that my singing voice or the music I write is horrible. I worry that the world won't like me. Yada, yada, yada,... Sometimes I disguise my not being there by the politically correct term "multi-tasking". Now there's a zinger for you! Doing two or more things at once so that I can pretend I'm an expert at saving time. But the reality is I have diluted both experiences to whispers of what they should be by sandwiching them together like a Big Mac. I park my van at my destination and I have NO IDEA how I got there. Scary! Disturbing. Ec khart Tolle has written several books on the premise that we are truly missing the experiences of our own lives by letting our minds take over to such a degree. A very young, wise child once told me, "My biggest problem is that I think too much. I just can't stop thinking." I can relate! The dental hygienist I mentioned in my June 11th post to this blog also acknowledged her habit of being "somewhere else" all the time. So, as an experiment, she decided to brush her teeth - only brush her teeth - for two minutes. She said it was amazing. The taste of her toothpaste was SO intense. Her teeth were SO clean! She was practically giddy about it. So, Dear Readers, I challenge you to do just one small task today, and really be there while you are doing it. I will do the same. And we can compare notes tomorrow. Hope to hear from you soon! Lauren

Human Do-ings

I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach. As the fog of sleep was slowly lifting, I quickly recognized the familiarity of that old, habitual feeling I have greeted each new day with for most of my adult life. It's the gnawing, regretful, numbing, overwhelming and depressing feeling that I am not enough. I was keenly aware of this habit when I stopped working full time nearly 17 years ago. Although I was a very busy new Mom and really caught up in all the heady wonderfulness that came with that huge change in my life, the gnawing in my stomach reminded me that I would somehow viewed as "less" in our society. And there were also those harsh comments to my face that still sting today. "How can you just throw your legal career away?" "What do you DO all day?" "Look at all that work you did for nothing." I can only imagine what others thought but never actually verbalized. But maybe this gnawing in my stomach is not really about what others thought about me becoming a stay-at-home mom. Maybe this is about how "I" viewed myself then and, most importantly, now. As the "never ending" cycles of laundry, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, bill paying, homework helping and chauffeuring for a family of six continue daily, I am somewhat embarrassed that this post sounds like I am whining. I knew full well what I was signing up for when I made this change. I clearly saw all the warning signs, and I still stepped bravely out into the nether lands of "Mommy hood". I always knew this tour had a limited duration, and that I would miss it terribly when it is finished. But when I fall into bed each night totally exhausted from the day's tasks, I still feel like I haven't done a thing. I remember first feeling this way when I was home from college during breaks. The whirl of classes, papers and exams was still muddying my mind, but I felt somehow lost because I didn't have anything to DO. I couldn't just relax. It was as if it wasn't physically or emotionally possible for me to do so. I also felt the same during times in my life when I was unemployed. There was this uncomfortable, inexplicably "lost" feeling in my gut. I had to get a job so I had something to DO. I was ill at ease with me because I had nothing to DO. As long as I was learning, getting grades, earning credit hours, doing tasks for bosses, finishing projects, and ticking off things from my daily list, I was fine. But being me, in and of itself, was not enough. I'm not sure if this came about for me because I'm the youngest of five, and I always tried to do BIG things so I wouldn't be invisible in my family. Getting attention was my main priority as a child "Look at me! Look at me," I was always saying. But today I know that valuing myself based on what I do has never once given me a sense of completeness. It just sends me hurling toward the next task once I have completed the present one. That's a shame. I once heard a speaker (I think it was John Bradshaw) say years ago that our self esteem gets whacked (my term here!) when we see ourselves as "Human-Doings" and not just plain Human Beings. And realizing today that this is only a rationale that I bought into, my stomach feels better. A lot better! Becasue I don't buy into it anymore. I am just fine being me today. So I'm going to just sit for a while and do nothing. I'm not going to plan, or organize, or think. I'm just going to BE. I know this is going to be hard because my house is a wreck and I have tons of stuff to DO. But I know I'll feel better about me than If I folded two baskets of laundry. This is my gift to myself. So, Dear Readers, I encourage you to take a few minutes and look at how you view yourself as a Human Being today. Isn't it better to be a good, honest person than to have a clean house? Have a great Monday, and don't DO too much! Lauren

O Say, Can You See?

I just realized something fun while continuing my list of who I am. I am so excited because this weekend I get the privilege of singing our National Anthem at an IHRA (International Hot Rod Association) event at US 131 Motor Sports Park just north of Kalamazoo, Michigan. Singing is one of my favorite things to do, and it's an absolute rush doing it in front of 20,000 plus appreciative drag racing fans. I've had this gig for the past five summers. It all came about through my husband's car pool buddy who is involved with their employer's sponsorship of some drag race drivers. It's a great deal for us. I get to sing a song I love, and we get a well accommodated and fun weekend for our entire family to enjoy. In trying to figure out who I am, I am reminded of the fact that singing is one of the very first ways I defined myself. As a toddler, I sang church hymns around our house before I was even talking. For show and tell, I often sang for my kindergarten class even though I was too shy to look my teacher or any of the kids in the eye. I come from a family of singers who all had the same awesome high school choir director. I enjoyed performing, competing and being in musical theater as well. It was the one place I felt comfortable with who I was. It was a LOT of work, but I loved it. And when I'm asked why I didn't go into music as a career, I have to admit it was because I was more interested in getting the approval of others than making myself happy. That's a shame. But it's a good thing to admit to myself. So over the past ten years, I've revisited my love of music. Now I write my own music and sing whenever I get the chance. I've been seriously addicted to Americ1an Idol for the past nine seasons. And GLEE! makes me absolutely giddy! I think there should be a reality show for people to perform the National Anthem. I also think all U.S. Olympic atheletes should have to prove that they can at reasonably lip sync our National Anthem before they can represent us at the games. Because it's an honor to represent our country, and it's an honor to sing it's Anthem. And tomorrow when I am waiting patiently to perform, I will be awed in the final minutes as the thick smoke and loud rumbles of the finalists' cars rev loudly behind me. My husband and kids will look anxiously at me as the television cameras zoom in on my personal space like pirahnas, and the show director gives me his final directions. I will be humbled as I walk proudly onto the track behind the military color guard onto the track. And without fail, my shoes will unexpectedly stick to the newly tarred track, and I will just narrowlly miss falling on my face. And with a smirk, I will take a deep breath as they announce my name. I will turn the mic on, face the enormous flag that's waving above, put my right hand on my heart and start to sing. And despite what you may think, I won't be nervous. I will be SO happy and honored and humbled, that the the unnerving reality of thousands of people staring at me won't bother me in the least. It will simply be the best 77 seconds of living that you can imagine. And I know that this crowd will go wild when I'm done because they love drag racing and America and a good National Anthem. So, Dear Readers, I hope your weekend will be filled with high moments such as this. And as I go back to that list I've been compiling of who I am, I will surely list "National Anthem Singer" somewhere near the top. And if you have an iterest that you did not fully persue way back when, examine that. It's a good piece of information to have. And maybe, just maybe, you'll start to sing again too! Lauren

The Job: Defining ourselves through our work

I know someone who has recently been forced to retire for health reasons. You may think that they're lucky. But what if they have loved their work for the past 55 years? What if they personally flourished in their medical practice without one single malpractice claim, and they always thought they would work up until the very day they died? What if they are a "healer" who is now relinquished to hospital beds, speculative procedures and a total loss of control over their entire life? I would say that they indeed were lucky to have had such a direct, clear and satisfying pathway to their vocation for so many years. But at the same time, I also shed tears for this person as I know their identity is truly shattered. Now I don't agree for one minute that our careers or jobs are our identities. Our career or job is what we do. Like our names, they reflect one aspect of our identities. But it's important to look at what degree we allow the job to dominate who we are. I suspect this question can be answered quite differently by everyone. I have lived my whole life in Michigan which has had the highest rate of unemployment in the entire nation for some time now. I also live in the county that has the highest unemployment rate in this state. Everyone I know here is either unemployed, afraid of losing their job, or intimately connected to someone who has lost their job. And it's been that way here for some time now. And though I don't really like to make gender distinctions, I have to admit that it appears that this issue is particularly devastating to men. It likely has to do with seeing themselves as the "family bread winner" or "provider". There's an identity for you! So for a man, losing their career or job is not just losing a paycheck. It's absolutely emasculating. That's a tragedy. I remember when I changed my major from pre-med to communications during my sophomore year in college. My parents were so disappointed. And while I was braced for that, I didn't anticipate the feeling of emptiness that would accompany that very important and crucial change in my education. After all, saying that you're "going to med school" is a pretty heady thing that can be kind of hard to give up. And then after graduation when I decided to apply to law school, I was shaken by the immediate and shallow prestige that was showered on me. People were already saying that I was a lawyer, and I hadn't even taken the LSAT or filled out any applications. I wasn't any better of a person than when I had switched my major two years earlier. But to the world, I was suddenly "somebody". Ouch! Now that I am a stay at home mom of four, I am amazed at how many people think I'm a "nobody". If you only read one sentence from this blog, PLEASE READ THIS: You are SO MUCH MORE than your career or your job. They make up merely one aspect of your choices in activity, education, growth, opportunity and personal taste. Hopefully your work makes you very happy. But if it was stripped away from you this minute, you would STILL be the most valuable, exquisite and unique person ever. And that, Dear Readers, can never be taking away from you. Have a ball today! Enjoy the work you have left to do. I hope you come back tomorrow. Lauren

Naming the Problem.

Now that I've started this Blog, I have to confess that I have absolutely no idea how to begin this journey or how keep it going. Seriously, how do I figure out who I am? Bewildered, I sat myself down last night and attemped to make a simple list of the many ways I see myself. It seemed like good idea. "Number one..., Lauren". BOOM! Issues raced out of my brain at warp speed. I thought my head would explode! Here's why: From the first day I was brought home from the hospital, my family called me "Laurie". They still do today. I always liked Laurie. It felt like a comfortable glove. I guess I always thought it "suited" me. Of course, a name is just a word that's a symbol for a person. It's not their identity. But it does lightly color how we see ourselves. And it's nice to like the name your parents give you. That all changed for me on the first day of kindergarten. I walked in nevously clenching tightly onto my mom's hand when she looked over and said, "By the way, your name is Lauren." What? Lauren!?! What's a Lauren?!? Within a few days, the school called my parents because there was a problem. They thought either I had a hearing impediment or I was just plain stubborn because I didn't respond when the teacher called me. Great. Now I was labled a "problem" and I had a yucky name. The "problem", as we soon found out, was that I was a five year old who didn't know her own name! To be totally honest, my official birth certificate actually lists my first name as "Laurene". But when a much loved uncle of mine married a woman named Laurene who really hated my family, my parents unofficially dropped the "e" on school registration papers. And I have been Lauren, unofficially, ever since. Now to a five year old, this was terrible news! My friends all had nice, cute, girlie names like Cindy or Suzie. or Wendy or Dawn. But Lauren was clunky and awkward and masculine. And I instantly hated it. No one else in my school was named Lauren. In fact, I didn't even meet another Lauren face to face until I was over 20 and attending college on the other side of the state in Kalamazoo. The only other Laurens I had even heard of were actress Lauren BcCall and model Lauren Hutton. No big connections for me there. And maybe the reason I really hated the name so much was because I confused my my parents' anger at their new sister in law with how they felt about me. Ah! That's their issue, not mine. Kids don't straighten all those tangles out. They just feel all the conflict. That's where my identity got a bit skewed! And wouldn't you know it, the popularity of the name Lauren suddenly surged around 1978 when designer Ralph Lauren became famous. Tons of little Laurens instantly sprung up everywhere! I remember being totally stymied when after performing at a solo competition during my senior year in high school, my very pregnant judge told me that she loved my singing and my name. Two days later, she had a daughter and named her Lauren. So things were looking up. And as I continued to grow up, I actually grew into "Lauren"without ever really noticing that I did it. Now I actually like Lauren. A bookmark I bought twenty years ago with my name on it says that Lauren is of Latin origin and means "Honor, fame; Victorious one." Cool. William Shakespeare wrote in Juliet's balcony monologue, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell sweet." True, Lauren really isn't my identity. It's merely a symbol, a word, that represents me. What I do identify with is the fact that those I love most now call me Lauren. And those I've loved since my beginning still call me Laurie. That's fun. Now I think they both suit me just fine. I encourage you, Dear Readers, to think about your own name, or nick name, or sur name, or maiden name or married name. Consider what they say about you. Do you like your name? Whether you do or not, I think it's a good piece of information to know. This business of personal inventory is kinda fun. So,... why not take out a pad and pen yourself and jot down a quick list of the many ways you see yourself? Does anything on list suddenly press your buttons? If they do, I can almost promise you that looking at them more closely won't make your head explode. My didn't. That's a relief. And now, Lauren needs to get back to the business of continuing her own list...., "Item two...," This is going to take a while. Hope you have a good one and that you come back tomoroow! LAUREN

Finding Me (the Big Reveal)

I'm Lauren Dayton - a 48 year old happily married stay at home mom who writes music and lives on 12 wooded acres in rural Michigan. I have a law degree but haven't practiced full time since having my first child 16 1/2 years ago. I spend a lot of time as a secretary, chauffeur, house cleaner and counselor to my family but never once have I regretted leaving my intense litigation career. Still, there have been signs that all is not well with me.

I was recently describing to someone close to me how blessed I am to have such a wonderful life when they commented on the fact that I was frowning and my brows were furled. That's interesting, I thought. My face contradicts my words. All the nonverbal communication theory I'd learned while getting my undergraduate degree came rushing at me like a tidal wave. Actions speak louder than words. Though momentarily rattled, I dove back into the comfort of my blurred life and didn't give the exchange another thought. A few days later that same person actually delivered to my doorstep a copy of Jesus Calling by Sarah Young which she obtained specifically for me with the help of another close mutual friend. The book is a daily devotional dedicated to cultivating the presence of Jesus Christ in one's life. She hugged me and said she hoped the book would help. I was touched. I was stunned. They think I'm losing it, I thought. It took me over a week to find the time to open its pages and start digesting its contents bit by bit. That was also the day I had a seemingly casual conversation with my dental hygienist (tools in my mouth never stopped me from talking!). We were discussing our mutual goal to get our daughters to select their vocation based upon what they loved rather than what they thought was sensible, or likely to get them a good job, or expected of them by those they wanted to please. Wow! Heady stuff. My hygienist and I acknowledged the fact this was not exactly a popular position. After all, didn't most college kids change majors two to five times? Don't most adults change career paths seven to eight times? I was astounded that I had those statistics memorized. America's got a full blown identity crisis! We also chuckled at the irony that we were both in the throes of middle age and had absolutely no idea who we were. We hoped our encouragement would get our daughters the enlightenment they deserved now instead of thirty years from now. Ouch! As I pondered these exchanges, I realized that I was indeed in a personal state of crisis. Oh, I covered it up well and even looked normal to most people on a day to day basis. But make no mistake, I have a lot of work to do! And I'd bet that a lot of other middle agers out there like me are in need of solutions because they are on the brink of falling apart too. This blog is not created to whine and complain. It's dedicated to helping others (and myself) find solutions to the confusion of our complicated adult lives and most of all, to help us find happiness in ourselves and in our lives. I will attempt to blog daily with my findings during this precarious journey. And in closing, I am reminded and inspired by the phrases of Robert Frost's poem The Road Less Traveled which I memorized in high school: "Two roads diverged in the wood, and I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference." May my daily writings and ramblings make a difference in your life. They already are rocking my world! Best to you, Lauren