.SOMETIMES RAW.

First, I want to say how grateful I am for my family. My family means home base, security, and safety. I want my son to feel the same and give him a similar experience on how I grew up. My parents are the best and, of course the best grand-parents a child could ask for. I love them so much.

Second, I am not a helicopter mom by any means. I am “normal” trying to get through this parenting business as easy as somehow possible. Keep all this in mind while you read on.

Today at Joel’s school:

As soon as I walked in the door at Joel’s school I just knew. I can immediately tell if he had a rough day. We are one – it is just insane sometimes. I can read him like an open book. He will walk up, say “Mommy” and slump onto me. His stressed little face breaks my heart, and for years, my first instinct was to try to make it better. You had a problem with a friend? It will be fine tomorrow, I am sure! Tough time on something else? You will figure it out! The teacher gave you a time out? You are still an awesome kid!

But, over time, I have realized what my son really wants: for me just to be there. Nothing else! I recently read a great article in the Washington Post, on how to teach a child do reset after a bad day without fixing their problems for them. Here’s what it said:

“Parents are taking so much responsibility for their children’s mood and spirit that it feels like it’s your job to reset as soon as possible,” says Wendy Mogel, a clinical psychologist and the author of The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Raising Self-Reliant Children. “It deprives them of the opportunity to be crabby and cross when they finish school or at the end of a day camp.” Part of the reason kids may be upset when they get home is that home is “the soft landing,” Mogel says. It’s the place they feel comfortable enough to get it all out. “They followed all those rules all day. They were polite to all the teachers. It’s exhausting”…

She suggests parents practice “reflective listening.” So, for instance, a child comes home and is frustrated after a tough day at school. The parent then should say, “Wow, it sounds like school was really overwhelming today.” Then the child says something else, and the parent reflects their feelings back to them. “Each time they feel heard, it brings the emotion down and they can see it for what it is,” she says.

Doesn’t that ring true? It works for us. Sometimes. Now, if my son is upset after a long day, I let him vent in a calm space and hide in the bathroom with my phone. And a glass of wine. Or two. I’ll repeat back his emotions and validate his feelings. I’ve been surprised by how well that simple approach has worked. After getting things off his chest, he almost always feels better. Unless he doesn’t. THen I will stay in the bathroom.

Happy parenting. I know it sucks sometimes. A lot.

Do you know what a capsule wardrobe is? Several years ago, I was first introduced to this concept with the basic idea to clean out my closet of all the items I neither wear nor love and to pair it down to items that feel nothing less than awesome on me. This way, whenever I open my closet to choose an outfit, it is no longer overwhelming and discouraging but easy and delightful. Cutting down my closet and creating seasonal “uniforms” also began to save me loads of time. I used to rummage through what seemed like an endless pile of clothes I didn’t even feel good in and now, it is easy to find something to wear because 1) my closet is so slimmed down and 2) I love everything in it.

I have always been somewhat of a minimalist. I love to own and live with less. I love things simple because life is challenging enough. I do not hold on to things because I may “eventually need it”. Of course, there is always something that piles up: books but I have gotten a lot better about his one, too. As Mari Kondo would say: Keep everything that sparks joy.

My recent move to Vienna helped me to clear out more space in my home and consequently my life. Moving from one country to another does that. You should try it. Whenever I have visitors, they usually compliment the tasteful style and cleanliness of my home, especially since I live with my 6-year-old. My final and most indefatigable challenge to date has been letting go of relationships and commitments that clutter my life. You see, I love(d) pleasing people. I had the opposite belief that the more I said “yes” to every commitment that was offered to me and every person that came into my life, the happier and more lovable I would be. It turned out, that this is not a good thing to do because extreme people-pleasing lead me to burnout, where I wouldn’t have the energy to do anything for myself anymore.

And then…. I had a child.

I was no longer able to sustain my level of commitment to other activities and relationships that were clearly not aligned with my authentic code, meaning, activities and relationships that drained instead of energized me. I took mothering to a different level. I wanted to be perfect. Better than all the helicopter moms. I said yes to all the playdates because doing so, I believed, is a moral imperative. This was so useless and isn’t it true that energy flows where attention goes?

I have been unraveling myself from this false and destructive belief the past few years and especially this past year, trying to figure out where it comes from and why I am so beholden to it. I realized through self-reflection that it was not just a people-pleasing tendency and a desire to be loved. It also derives from the cultural values I was raised with. This guilt would even keep me in romantic relationships/marriage way past their prime. A lot of work was required to overturn and reroute my entrenched beliefs and invite me to a completely alternative way of living which is to receive my life as a gift to experience joy instead of as a test to see if I will pass.

These past months have been momentous for me and a true testament to how far I have come. When I clear space, any kind of space, in my home or in my internal life, I then create space for my authentic self to shine; to finally pursue that which is truly aligned with my desires. And, unless commitment is made, there are only promises and hopes; but no plans. As soon as I let go of those items, people and commitments that are not aligned with my true desires, gifts, and personhood, I not only clear more space for that which I truly do want to come through, my “trash” usually end up becoming somebody else’s gold. I had this feeling that I need to maintain this commitment to please others but the truth is, it is a disservice. Others can sense when your heart isn’t invested. I began living according to my authentic self, instead of settling for so much less than I am worth.

This helped me: 1) Breathe. 2) Follow the impulse. 3)Tell myself the truth of my experience. 4) Stay in the tough conversations. 5)Be willing to stand alone. 6)Shape my world the way I want it to be.

The challenge is to have an intimate and caring relationship with every part of yourself, not just those parts you like. My emotions usually move me in the direction in which I need to go. They direct me toward health and fulfilment or they move me aways from the wrong track. Stress and burnout feeling does not come from outside sources. It is created from my incorrect beliefs and my misinterpretations. Where love dwells, fear cannot.

 If you are not ready to let go of a commitment you know does not serve you or clean out your entire closet, just start small. Clean out your sock drawer. Well, you can do that.

“People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive.”– Joseph Campbell

The big New York Marathon is over and a good friend of mine ran and finished it. Years ago, my goal was to at least attempt it. Things changed when I ran my first full marathon in Berlin. I have never been super big into running but I did it because it made me feel good afterward. I thought, “I did something for myself!” There are times when I just plod along like a sad turtle but this is fine, too because I will get there, in the end.

When I joined the German Federal Police I thought it is a good idea to stop smoking (kinda was!), get in shape and start to train for a marathon. Initially, I trained on my own with a Runners World Book Guide. This all went pretty well and I thought I am ready for the marathon after my longest training-run of 17k. I signed up for the Berlin Marathon. Of course, I had a big breakfast before; an omelet just because. I was super excited. Months of training will pay off. I was all glucosed up and my mental game was on point.

The big day arrived. I thought about ways to distract myself with my iPod (yes, this marathon was a while ago) and all the gadgets that nobody really needs. I wore extra layers of clothing because it could be cold. I took squeeze power gels and lotions and potions. With a water-bottle-belt and room for energy drinks, I started the 42.195 kilometers. In the beginning, everything was fine. I was super motivated. After about 17K (remember my longest training run?) I didn’t like running that much anymore. But hey, just a couple of kilometers left, I thought. Can’t be that bad. At around 27 kilometers in I started going through the Five Stages of Grief.

Stage 1: Denial. 27 kilometers in. When my world became meaningless and overwhelming. Life made no sense. I was in a state of shock and denial. I almost went numb. I wondered how I could go on if I can go on and why I should go on. I tried to find a way to simply go through this. I guess denial and shock helped me to cope and make the survival of this marathon possible. Isn’t there grace in denial? Isn’t it nature’s natural way of letting in only as much as I can handle? “I am becoming stronger, and the denial is beginning to fade”, I said to myself as I ran on. As I proceeded, more feelings began to surface and I realized that I am talking to myself out loud. Then the cursing started.

Stage 2: Anger. 33 kilometers in. I have to confront my inner demons. I reminded myself: I hate this f**** marathon. Why is it that bad? On my iPod playing: The soundtrack of System of a Down masked my labor-breathing and tricked me into thinking that I can do this. I shouted: “If I’m in need of catharsis, I go for something that will make me Capital F “Feel” good, now “FUCK THIS SHIT”. I wore sunglasses which is always a f***** good idea, should an errant tear or sadness creep in. MY BATTERIES ARE EMPTY ALREADY? But music will get me through this.

Stage 3: Bargaining. 35 kilometers in. I ran along in a daze. Is there a way out of this? Can I pay someone to drag or carry me to the finish line? At this point, the cursing stopped for some time. My thoughts shifted: If there is one thing I hate more than running, it is racing. In bad racing, you do not aim to win. I set out my two goals: 1) Run; 2) Don’t die. When I run a race, I am given a number. I stared at mine and shook my head while I kept running. At this point, I felt like a horse, perhaps, or a very competitive salmon. I am one with the herd, a GPS dot, a mote of dust in the grand scheme of things. But I am a glorious mote. And that is everything. Did I hallucinate? I realized that I said all this out loud when I got passed by someone who was around 80 years old. Maybe it was a child, I didn’t have my damn glasses. It did not matter.

Stage 4: Depression. 37 kilometers in. I screamed again and cursed: “I am going to die. Why am I doing this? My thighs are raw and I think all of my toenails fell off. What else could possibly go f***** wrong? Oh, everything!” I hit rock bottom. I had never been so tired in my entire life. Even my teeth were tired. “STOP PASSING ME, YOU JERKS!” I am full of empty feelings and grief entered my life. I felt like crying. “I AM SO DONE WITH THIS! I WANT TO SNAP OUT OF THIS! I AM SOOOOOOO SAD! Everyone had to know this and be sad with me so I made sure I was extra loud expressing my anger. There was this 80-year-old someone again. He told me to remove all my gadgets and I will feel better. He added: “I regret to inform you that your petition to die has been denied. There is no such thing as a bad runner.” He seemed to know what he was talking about.

Stage 5: Acceptance. 40 kilometers in. Final stage. I told myself all the affirmations I know. I accepted the situation. Conversation with myself again: “Time to dig deep. Remember that runner who finished a marathon with a broken leg? Pffff, this is nothing. If he can do it, so can I. To finish this marathon is the goal. I will live with all these blisters, and pain in my body for another 2 kilometers. I changed, I grew, I evolved”. I threw away my iPod and all the spare batteries – just because. I felt light(er) instantly. I was okay with all this now while I shuffled along. There was a tiny light at the end of the tunnel. “Btw, where is everybody? Am I still on course? I guess it is just me and myself and the road”.

At some point, I stumbled across the finish line, where I had been decorated in a crinkly foil cape and a medal. I felt so awesome and strutted about (everyone always struts) even though I limped and felt like an aluminum-wrapped rotisserie chicken. Would I run a full marathon again? NEVER, half is okay, though. But looking back, I am pretty proud of myself. Also, nipple chafing is real. Use tape.

As Haruki Murakami puts it, “When running I don’t have to talk to anybody and I don’t have to listen to anybody… All I do is keep on running on my own cozy, homemade void, my own nostalgic silence. And this is a pretty wonderful thing.”

Dedicated to K.L. “the truffle shuffle”.