The Best and Worst of the Girl Friend Thing

Best girlfriends - nothing rivals that bond. It’s strong and loving and powerful. And no surprise here, it’s even healthy for you.

With a best girlfriend, everything’s up front and on the table. Nothing is hidden.  You get to trade insecurities, fears, information, joys, and secrets with complete and unabandoned truthfulness. Trust is never a question, vulnerability not a blip on the radar. Always, you have each other’s back. 

And then there’s the joyful part. I don’t care how old you are - laughing with a girlfriend is the best and most freeing experience ever. One minute you’re giggling like little girls, and the next you can be as deliciously outrageous and bawdy as teens. Totally soul-filling.

Sadly, though, we’re also known to for relationships akin to walking through mine fields.  For as much as we have this incredible capacity to love so fully, we also have the potential for unmatched hatefulness.

As a kid, many of my own “friendships”  were mired in petty squabbles and sometimes, downright cruelty. Even then I never understood it. What was behind the need for all the hurtfulness and backstabbing? Envy? Insecurity? Jealousy? Defensiveness? Probably all of the above. It wasn’t long before I learned to seek out and nurture those few friendships I expected to be true.

It makes me wonder. Are all girls wired with this way?  Is there some innate, primal need  to compete with each other?  Recently I witnessed a situation in which fully grown women engaged in ridiculously vicious behavior toward one another.  It totally threw me. We’re beyond 50 years old, for God’s sake!  What a sad waste of time and emotions. 

I also wonder if it’s even worse for today’s young girls. Online social networks are increasingly used as weapons in girl-to-girl psychological warfare. There’s also apparently a trend toward greater physical aggression on girls’ parts, too. Okay, so we have the capacity to eat each other alive. But why would we want to?

Girl Power. We’re thinkers, feelers, nurturers, doers. We live at a time and place in which most of us can create whatever world we choose. So why wouldn’t we choose to enrich our lives by weaving colorful, deep tapestries of friendship? That one will always be a mystery to me.

What are your friendships like? What’s the best of the best of them?  Sure hope you’ll share.

Photo by Gwen's GwennyPics at Flickr.com

Bringing Up Baby

Parenting - not an easy job. Naturally, the priority is to make sure your kids have a better life than you did. “Better” though, has been defined differently over the generations.

When I was growing up, many parents had lived through the depression, or at the very least, been affected by it. They strove for their kids to struggle less and have greater opportunities. They believed their kids could achieve that through education, strength of character and a sense of responsibility towards self and others.

Unfortunately, many of us who grew up with these goals were also “victims” of no-nonsense parenting techniques we now consider cruel and ineffective. Spanking, guilting, and emotional restraint were repressive. By throwing these things out, we thought we could grow happier and emotionally healthier kids.

Out of that came what I call “feel-good” parenting. The goal then was for kids to experience the least amount of negativity possible, and to be their friend. Listen to them, reason with them, praise them. Let them know they’ve got a right to their emotions. Make sure they feel like number one in your world. 

So how’d that work out for us?  With all those positive feelings, you’d think we’d have a rosier, kinder and gentler “Whoville” kind of world. But I don’t see that we’re any happier. In fact, I’d say we’re more insecure than ever. No, not on the outside. We’ve got attitude. Confidence to say and do what they feel. But happier? I doubt it.

I think things went wrong when some parents took things to the extreme.  

“Listen to them” turned into accept and approve of everything they say. And worse, give up your responsibility to make the child listen to you.   

“Reason with them” turned into a farce when tried out on 2 year olds, and an even bigger one when kids learned how easily it was to manipulate their parents through "reasonable" words back.

“Praise them” became nothing short of ridiculous, even in schools. Kids know when they haven’t done their best. And when they get praised indiscriminately, all they learn is that eveything they do must have equal - and therefore possibly little - value.

And, that “right to your anger” turned into some pretty ugly, irresponsible ways of expressing it.

How great would it be to combine the old and new-fashioned parenting techniques for something that really works - Parenting Through Love and Limits? I know it’s nothing new - just not as common. Most well-adjusted, happy people come from just that. Their parents were parents first, friends after. Their lives weren’t free of hurt and challenges, but they'd been given the gift of learning how to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.  They learned that they’re not perfect, and neither is anyone else. Respect. Love. Character. Wow, what concepts. Come on world, let’s start a new trend. 

How were you raised? How did you raise your children? What advice would you give toward more successful parenting, and hence, truly successful kids?


Photo by Lou and Magoo at Flickr.com

Honey, I'm Hooome!

One of my favorite books to read to the kids when I was a teacher was Eric Carle’s “A House For Hermit Crab”. Hermit Crab loves to get nestled into a nice new shell of a home, but as soon as he does, he undergoes another growth spurt that forces him out. Disrupted again, he laments at having to move on to find a new one. In the end of course, he realizes that it hasn't been so bad at all - with each new venture he's gained many new friends. And just as importantly, he learns that he's  happy anywhere as long as he’s got them and a comfy home that suits him.

I can relate to Hermit Crab. I sat down this morning to figure out how many times I’ve moved in my life and all told, I came up with 18. Eighteen different apartments and houses to live in throughout adolescence, college, career, and marriages. I can see every one of them in my mind’s eye, and look back fondly at each one. They, and the memories that went along with them, have served me well.

For as much as moving is a pain, it's always represented new beginnings to me. I love walking into different places - trying them on to find just the right one with the just-right feel. And ironically, though a bit of a nomad, I’m also a nester. I get right in there, determined to make it cozy and comfy no matter how long I’ll get to enjoy it for. And when it’s outgrown like Hermit Crab’s,  I feel no need to hold on. Just pick up and go - looking for the next just-right shell. Eventually I find it, and begin nesting anew. New ventures, new friends, new beginnings and a home. A real home.

What does home mean to you? Is it a place to hang your hat, or is it more than that? 

And how many times have you moved? Have you been a nomad, or have you settled into your just-right home for the better part of your life?

Talking Heads

Politics. What does that word conjure up for you? Change? Possibility? Excitement?  If only that word evoked something positive for me. Instead it smacks of some beastly netherworld that shares my world, affects my world, but isn’t at all a welcome part of it.

One of my readers commented the other day on how the only “news” station is Fox down here in Costa Rica. On the rare occasion that I do turn it on, hoping to get some glimpse of my “back home”, I end up being brought straight into that freakish netherworld. Republicans vs. Democrats, Conservatives vs. Liberals, Tea Party’ers and Independents, politicians and elections -  a convoluted world so self-important and so far removed from mainstream America you wonder how any of their dealings even end up touching people’s everyday lives. Like marionettes on strings, politicians, no matter what their party, are all too willing to be manipulated by powerful, outrageously backed lobbyists. And when politicians are manipulated, so in turn is the public. Resulting legislation, for good or absurd, is beyond anyone’s control if you're not part of the game. 


Ironically, the runaway system seems to have jumped tracks, and I’m not even sure if those in that netherworld even know it, let alone want to fix it. They’re too busy holding the country hostage by refusing to make any decisions that might affect their precious elections. The ones I used to feel proud to be part of before I knew any better. The ones that they seem to think people will switch parties for out of dissatisfaction. I’m convinced now that no party can, or will, make the difference. That would mean giving up the power.

Okay, I got deep again - sorry. So please, someone out there, talk me down. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m just becoming a negative old bitty instead of a wise sparked woman. Tell me what’s right about our political system. Help me believe there’s still hope for that wonderful country born out of values that matter like freedom, equality and respect. The one that  built itself up into a thriving, vibrant land. Help me believe it still exists, or at the very least, that it can be made whole again.




photo by Truthout.org 

You Can Run But You Cannot Hide

It  took about two years for the novelty to wear off. I wake up every morning to heaven, and still I managed to find a reason to be unsatisfied. 

It’s not that I don’t appreciate sitting out on the terrace with coffee in hand, watching the surf roar and pour itself gently onto the beach below. Sit mesmerized by the daily wave of raucous parrots screeching excitedly overhead on their way north, knowing they’d be back in late afternoon heading south again to who-knows-where they sleep. Reveling in the thousand green depths of the jungle carpet leading up the soft angular mountain peaks that envelop the house. And once in awhile, being treated to the howler monkeys barking in the distance to announce the day. Not too shabby.

All this, and not having to be anywhere. No morning pressure of having to get going to work. No Sunday blues about the upcoming week. Just sitting, watching the world awaken.

Most people would call this a vacation - even paradise - and I did.  But suddenly it wasn’t enough.  I needed goals. I needed purpose. I needed accomplishment. Most would say I needed a lobotomy. 

For the most part, the ex-pat community here consists of mostly of people in their 50’s and 60’s who have chucked it all for a simpler life. Many had really intense professions in their countries. Did they adjust better than I?

Truth be told, we all fit into one of three categories. There are the Putzers, those who’ve adapted just fine by doing nothing much, day in and day out. The read, they putz, they go online. They have no need or desire to accomplish anything more than that.

Then there are the Gotta-Doers. They need to be busy, maybe make an income, but not necessarily be too busy. Some have found hobbies, others small side jobs. And some like me, are trying to figure how to do both simultaneously.

And finally, of course, there are the Crunchers. No matter what, they cannot stay still. Even here, they don’t know what to do with themselves if they’re not going full tilt. Most of them have built businesses or careers down here. Yikes.

Personally, I’d like to be a Putzer, but I guess I just don’t have it in me. Which one would you rather be, or are you?

Imagine All The People, Living In A World...

Extreme poverty. Poor education. Children growing up in pain with domestic violence and abuse. Drugs. Alcoholism. All the horrors of a world unbalanced.

All that exists right here in Costa Rica, too, and yet, I’ve never heard of a mass murder. And that goes for many other countries. So why is it so commonplace in the States? Do we just accept it as part of our world?

Every time I hear of insane events like the one that happened in Connecticut yesterday, I'm truly dumbfounded. Call me naive, but I simply just don’t get why people hurt each other. When I started delving for answers in college, I learned that rapists are mostly about sick power and control. I learned that serial killers get the psychological thrill of cat and mouse power, and most especially, the reward of notoriety. They want to live to see the whole world looking at them. But mass murderers in the workplace? What’s behind their actions? What do they get out of taking innocent people’s lives before their own?

For this, I Googled “profile of a mass murderer”. On deathreference. com they generally described it like this:
Although many people experience job loss without becoming mass murders, they (sic) have frequently experienced chronic or social isolation. The only factor in their lives that is meaningful to them is their job or career... Typically many years of frustration have occurred before this fatal event... They are incapable of coping with their problems in adaptive ways by changing their behavior...

An inability to cope in adaptive ways by changing one’s behavior. Years of frustration, meaning those around them could probably see it, or at least something, coming. I’d say that’s the key to all criminals.  When I was teaching, I could see that potential in the few profoundly behaviorally disordered children I encountered. Not even the minefield of ever-stretched and dysfunctional social services could help. A futile battle. All I could do was pray that I wouldn't be reading about them in the paper. Multiply that by a whole country.

So, how do we prevent any child from growing up to be a murderer? Here are my "what-if’s" for the day:

What if the country made a pact to glamorize do-gooders? Make real-life, authentic goodness cool?


What if we made a pact not to subject our children and ourselves of the daily onslaught of sex, violence, and stupidity every day? Media jams it down our throats and says that’s what the public wants. Is it really? What if we railed against it and let them know that it isn’t? What if we just turned them off?


What if we all took some social responsibility to nurture all children into a secure and nurturing world? What if our government actually threw some money at that for a change?

Our country used to pride itself on pride. Now we seem to pride ourselves on not having any. Rights without responsibility. Bad guys win, victims are schmucks. A government no longer for the people.  Is our empire falling?

And yet, the fact remains, we still have hope. We voraciously eat up good news stories - especially of every day heroes like the Captain Sully’s of the world. So why don’t we demand more? Why don’t we put money and media into investing in goodness for a change? Let's make it cool - on Facebook, Twitter and everywhere else. I just might want to return to my country again.

Okay, enough of my railing.  What do YOU think?

The Ever Greater Uphill Battle

I thought I could get away with it. Here I was, in relatively decent shape for fifty. And then, in just a few short weeks - okay, I'll admit it, more like a month plus - I lost my edge. Gone. Kaput. Vanished.

It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. The rainy season was the perfect excuse not to jump into the pool for my morning workout. I hate frigid water. But then, reality soon came a-knocking. The thigh muscles actually started talking to me. I swear they had this freakish Oz-thing going on. “We’re melting!” they taunted. I could feel them giving up, slackening and losing control. And if I kept ignoring them, I knew what would happen.

And yet, ignore them I did. Freezing pool aside, we also started having workers at the house by 6:00am. Call it Excuse Number Two. No way would I be parading around in a swimsuit in front of them. That's when those two weeks turned into four (plus). When my entire body started taking on this disgusting pudding-y thing. Worse than ever. Thighs, belly, arms, face. Yikes. They were all screaming, “I’m melting!” in unison. I had to get this sick cacophony out of my head.

The problem is, I know what my problem is. All my life, exercise has been a fairweather thing to me. I go in fits and spurts. And just when I get to the point of being relatively “buff”, I reward myself by letting go. Smart, ha? But I can see this menopausal body’s not going to let me get away with it anymore. One slip and it’s a quick slide off to pudding land. Dang!

I finally broke down this morning and got into the pool. I froze at first, but have to admit it felt great. Tomorrow I start walking with a friend. And maybe, if I really get my act together, I may just get to the gym for some weight lifting. Those happen to be the only forms of exercise I actually like, so I’m sticking to them. I have to. So cheer me on, will you? I’m gonna need it. Big time.

How does exercise fit into your life? Are you a natural, or is it something you have to put your mind to like me? What kinds of workouts do you prefer? And, if you have any move or routine that keeps away this pudding-y thing, (especially for midlife belly and thighs), I beg you to share!