Do you have this skill?

There I sat across the table from my son.  He had asked me out on a date, a belated birthday gift.  As he sat looking at the menu I felt my mind racing, kind of like a movie on fast-forward.  Only this wasn’t some blockbuster hit. 

The memories flooding in were from the last ten months:  when he walked out the door, promising to never come back; when I reached out in love only to be harshly accused of ulterior motives; when he wouldn’t answer my calls or texts and I didn’t know where he was or how he was doing; when I heard through the grapevine that he had reached out to other people, but never us; when I “watched” him on the Snapchat map (until Snapchat changed and you had to request permission to follow location); when our plane landed one morning and I had several messages waiting for me that he was in some serious trouble, and he still wouldn’t talk to us; when I found out that he had taken advantage of some dear, kind-hearted friends; when he stopped by unexpectedly one evening to give me an early Mother’s Day card and he looked so broken and his hug was so hollow; when he told us that anywhere was better than home, even his less-than-ideal living conditions.

Tears came to my eyes as I contemplated all we have been through and I almost surprised myself with the amount of gratitude and love that I had in my heart for him, not because nothing bad had happened, not because everything was now wonderful, and not even because I sat there with false hope.  The love and gratitude I felt was because I was so grateful for this time with him and I knew that if I had lived through the last year consumed with fear and anger and hopelessness this date probably wouldn’t have happened.  (Side note:  this isn’t to say I never felt fear, anger, and hopelessness; I just didn’t become consumed by them.)

I used to believe I had to wait for life to be what it should be before I could really start enjoying it.  It was almost as if the part of my life that was good was always tainted by the other part ~ the part that was going all wrong, the part I wished was different.

Even though we know better ~ at least in theory ~ when it comes to our own situation the principle doesn’t seem to really apply.  But, it does.

There’s nothing unique about me that makes it so I can go through these tumultuous times with love and gratitude, and you can’t.  I don’t have a special gene that makes it easier for me than for you.  I’ve simply learned how to separate myself from what’s actually going on so I don’t make every bad thing that happens be my fault.  It’s a skill, and one that anyone can learn.  Even you.  Even in your situation.

To begin the process, ask yourself these questions:

Are you only thinking about the times your son does something “wrong”?  What about all the things he does “right”?  If the “wrong” is all your fault, then so is the “right” ~ proof that you’ve done plenty of things “right” in your parenting.

In any situation would your son know what you would *want* him to do?  Just because he doesn’t choose what you want him to doesn’t mean you haven’t taught him.  Just because your son makes a choice you disagree with ~ it doesn’t mean you didn’t teach him correctly.

If you’re ready to learn how to feel more love and gratitude ~ even though you’re frustrated with the choices your son is making ~ it’s totally possible.  Write down your answers to the questions above and see how they help you to begin to separate yourself from all the choices your son is making.  If you want some help figuring this out set up your free mini-session now and let your own journey towards peace in parenting begin.

How to make the best of an awful situation

Several times in the last few weeks friends have told me, “Wow, your perspective on that situation is incredible,” or they’ve asked, “How can you be so positive in such an awful situation?”  Sometimes I’m surprised because I don’t necessarily realize (until it’s pointed out to me) that I’m not making my experience harder by constantly believing my situation is beyond hope or by thinking I’m obviously doing something wrong otherwise this [horrible situation] wouldn’t be happening.

Sometimes I wonder if my friends just think there’s something special about me and that’s why I can handle difficult experiences from a good place.  Let me set the record straight ~ there’s nothing special about me.  I don’t say that to put myself down.  I say it because if this former perfectionist, people-pleasing, take-responsibility-for-everything-and-everyone woman (me!) can persevere through hard times with peace instead of continual angst, I guarantee anyone can do it.

As I have pondered why I can feel peace when turmoil abounds, I’ve noticed that my shift in perspective (which totally changes my own experience) includes these three ideas:  choice, opportunity, and becoming.

Choice.  When our teenage son abruptly left home one day because “anywhere has to be better than here,” my first instinct was to think I either had to be devastated by this or simply not care.  Neither one of these felt good because, for me, feeling devastated is exhausting, yet not fruitful.  Unlike the exhaustion that comes from hard, productive work (which I love), devastation still leaves me out of control, sad, and not helping myself or the situation.  And no matter how ridiculous I thought my son was being, I couldn’t pretend (and didn’t even want to pretend) that I didn’t care because it’s simply not true.

It’s easy to get stuck in all-or-nothing thinking, in believing there’s only two choices, but oftentimes there are multiple options.  Instead of feeling devastated or not caring, I chose to feel love ~ love for myself and love for my son (even though I don’t always think he deserves it).  While this hasn’t made the situation wonderful and glorious, choosing love has helped me concentrate on the things I can do rather than dwell on the parts out of my control.

Opportunity.  Another key to my more positive outlook on situations beyond my control is to see each experience as an opportunity instead of a tragedy.  And I don’t just mean an opportunity for my son to learn life lessons the hard way.  Rather, I see it as an opportunity for me to honor the gift of agency even when I disagree with how it’s being used, an opportunity for me to learn the difference between unconditional love and condoning, and an opportunity for me to trust my Heavenly Father even when I can’t see how this could possibly ever turn out OK.

It’s true that while I would never have purposely chosen to have a son of mine just up and leave home, seeing this as an opportunity to learn more about myself and things I’ve known and taught for years (agency, unconditional love, trust in Heavenly Father) has given purpose and meaning to what could have otherwise only been a disaster.

Becoming.  The third thing that has helped change my perspective when undesirable experiences are thrust upon me is the idea of “becoming.”  Sometimes in my black-and-white thinking I automatically go to “This is how it’s all going to end.  My son will always make choices we don’t agree with and he’ll always see us as the enemy.”  But what if that just isn’t true?  As much as I like to believe I have a crystal ball, I don’t.  But this I do know:  I am who I am because of the hard things I’ve endured (including the hard things I’ve brought upon myself) and I’m a work in progress.  I’m OK with my own “becoming” and it’s fine for me to be OK with my son’s “becoming.”

Life is rarely a bed of roses for anyone, but your perspective can make all the difference for you, even in situations beyond your control.

Where’s your mask?

You’ve probably heard it lots of times, especially if you’ve ever flown on an airplane:  “In the case of a loss of cabin pressure, an oxygen mask will automatically appear in front of you….  If you are traveling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask first and then assist the other person…”

This advice seemed like common sense every time I heard it until… the first time I flew with my first baby.  Even when the flight attendant came and looked me in the eye to reiterate “put your mask on first, then help your child” I told her yes but, to be honest, I thought she was crazy.  How could I not put my precious baby first?

As ridiculous as it sounds, it took me a long time to realize that if I passed out I couldn’t do anything for my child.  The flight attendant was right ~ my mask had to come first.

It took me probably another decade to realize the principle here had far greater application than just in an airplane emergency.

As moms (especially Latter-Day Saint moms) we give so much of ourselves to our kids, making lots of sacrifices along the way, ensuring everyone and everything is taken care of ~ except for us.  I always believed there would be time for that “later” ~ you know, when the kids are older and don’t need so much from me.  Little did I understand the stresses of parenting older teens and young adult children.  The mental and emotional angst can be just as demanding (or more) as raising young children, especially when our children aren’t following the path we always planned they would.

Where’s your oxygen mask?