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