Ramblings of a Creative Mind

Thoughts on Work and the World from an Executive Mom

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DP Weekly Writing Challenge

As I mentioned before, inspiration can be a little hard to come by right now, but I really like the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge.  They have Haiku fever this week.

Check it out here for a little fun: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/25/challenge-haiku/

So while writing a 17 syllable (5/7/5) poem this may be a little off topic for a work / home life blog like mine, I had to accept the challenge.  Here you go:

 

Warm bed, morning light

peeks inside.  Sleepy child rolls

deep into my arms.

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No better feeling…


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At a Loss for Words

imageI have been struggling to write the last few weeks – a cardinal sin for a blogger. I’d actually had some posts lined up to go automatically but pulled them down two weeks ago. Why?

There’s been a lot happening on the personal front. A family member is facing a serious illness, and while she is fighting it like a warrior princess, it takes a toll emotionally. When something like this is going on in the background, it makes the minutiae of every day life seem silly to talk (or blog) about. Time stops. Your energy is completely focused on the battle. You’re afraid. Angry. Scared. Spent.

It’s been just over two weeks now since everything started. Eventually, you find a place for the fear and uncertainty. You are stronger. You move through the days: the sparks of hope and the setbacks. While the ache is still fresh, there is a sense of distance as well. You still wonder, still scream, why is this happening? What lesson are you supposed to learn from this?

Balancing work and home life as a parent becomes complicated, especially for A-type, faux Superwomen.  It’s exhausting.  When you are weary, little things start to bother you. The house is a mess. The volume is too loud. Politics on TV, or annoyances at the office. Someone hurts your feelings. So you hold your anger in or let it out. You’re frustrated and complaining. You feel justified, vindicated, righteous in your fury. The minutiae becomes a mountain. And each one is a mountain you are willing to die on.

Why?

If there is one thing that I have learned over the past two weeks, it’s that these small things will pass.

Ultimately, it’s about perspective. So, the house is a mess. The commute is long. You’re not getting along with someone.

These small things will pass.

Money is tight.  Things are frustrating. The future, uncertain.

These small things will pass.

All that matters is the energy you give to the world, the people you love, your health and the time you spend together. Everything else… those are the small things.  The important ones – family, love, health – they need to be protected.  Treasured.

Life isn’t predictable, and it isn’t easy. Things won’t always go your way. It will get hard. Yet, life can’t – and doesn’t – stop when things are rough. Life keeps going. We become stronger. I hope we become wiser.  I hope I do.

I’m amazed by the strength I see in my family members.  I hope they find the same strength in me.


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1989

The End of the InnocenceIn January of 1989, my brother died.

Cancer is an evil thing.  It sneaks up on you, striking when you least expect it.  No matter how strong or young you are, cancer is often stronger.  My brother was very young and very strong.  He fought the disease for four years.  I thought he’d beaten it.  But it surprised us all, and we said goodbye very suddenly.

His death affected our family deeply, and everyone coped in different ways.

As for me, I was lost for a while.  I was in a dark place.  I was very insecure back then, and never was comfortable with myself… hating what I saw when I looked in the mirror.  I couldn’t deal with the reality of his death.  So I practiced being someone I wasn’t.

Now, I always loved the arts, and I threw myself into it even more.  It was a way to run away from the pain of his loss, the pain my family was feeling… frankly, the pain of everything.  I NEEDED to run away.

So, I did.  I was beyond excited when I got cast in a show out of town.  At that time, I lived in California, and my summer gig was up in Michigan at a beautiful place called Boyne Highlands.  This would be my first time moving away from home.  My first great adventure.  My first escape.  I packed up my Mom’s minivan and set out across the country.

I spent the summer of 1989 living in a bubble of sorts.  There we were, sixteen young adults living in paradise.  It would have been easy – even natural – to get lost in all of the beauty of Northern Michigan.  Life at a golf resort.  Learning to bartend.  The music.

Instead, in the summer of 1989, I dealt with the after effects of my brother’s death.  I met someone who helped me believe for the first time that I was beautiful.  I learned to forgive people who had hurt me long ago.  And as I laid on the greens at the 7th hole and looked at the stars, I learned to be brave.  1989 taught me that the world is not always kind, but that’s a part of life. And in the background, always on the radio, was Don Henley’s “The End of the Innocence.”

The song and I met at the intersection of my youth and my adulthood.

Written by Bruce Hornsby and Henley, it went to #8 on the charts.  It is #1 in my heart.

“Remember when the days were long
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky
Didn’t have a care in the world
With mommy and daddy standin’ by
But “happily ever after” fails
And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers dwell on small details
Since daddy had to fly

But I know a place where we can go
That’s still untouched by men
We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
You can lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence…”

Whenever I hear that song, I am again lying on the cool grass in Northern Michigan… letting go of illusions, remembering my brother, remembering those people, remembering the joy.  Knowing life will never be the same again and knowing that’s okay.

In 2013, almost 25 years later, I attended a leadership event.

Who played that night?  Bruce Hornsby.

He sang “The End of the Innocence.”

I sat in the audience with tears streaming down my face, missing those I’d lost, loving them.  I gave thanks for the blessings in my life today, and knew just how fragile they are.

Here’s a link to the video from that night: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151365340347478&l=872927215193903441

These moments are fleeting.  Don’t miss them.

This blog post is part of the weekly DPChallenge.  Check it out here: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/04/weekly-writing-challenge-music/


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Behind the Mask

SuperheroesDo you dress up at your office for Halloween?  While most companies have special events on that day – sweet treats, pot luck days or contests – not that many people seem to dress in costume for a day at the office.  Now, I’m a geek and always get into the spirit.  I think it’s fun to walk around the hallways in some kooky get up, and even more fun to conduct meetings and watch other folks try to keep a straight face and take you seriously.  Dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a day is a blast.  It’s about the thrill of it.

When I became a parent, Halloween was new again.  Then, it was about choosing the cutest costume for the boys: Tigger, a giraffe, a blue googly-eyed monster… basically, choose anything that made your heart melt.  It was about spoiling them a little… about joy.  This year was different though.

This was the first year that both boys chose their own costumes.  Mom didn’t make an executive decision.  So, I went hunting for superhero stuff, expecting this to be another year of cuteness.  It was something more though.

When the boys put on their costumes, Captain America and Spiderman began tearing around the house in heroics.  They didn’t just act like superheroes though.  They BECAME them.  Now, my youngest son is full of bravado and wants to try everything on the way to any party or activity.  But as soon as we arrive, he instantly gets shy, doesn’t want to go in or is scared to try.  But when he was Spiderman, he was bolder.  Braver.  He tried new food, led the charge when we went out trick-or-treating, and led the parade at school.   My son was brave all night long, instead of just in those fleeting moments before life happens.

And as I watched him, it occurred to be that Halloween is not about pretending to be someone else for a day.  Instead, perhaps it is about giving yourself permission to bring out a part of yourself that you keep hidden, are a little unsure of or are afraid that you’ll be judged for.

Is the costume your Captain America shield, deflecting that fear and uncertainty?

What is it about yourself that you are afraid to embrace 364 days of the year, but will gladly celebrate on that 365th day?

Who do you think will really judge you?

This year, I dressed as a powerful historic figure – a woman who took great risks, enjoyed great adventures and changed the world as we know it.  I wore that costume proudly.  So, why do I doubt myself other days?  Should I be afraid of going out on a limb, being empowered or leading forward through uncharted territory?  Facing considerable odds?  Making tough decisions?  No.

Should I only be bold when wearing a disguise?  No.

Should you?  No.


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What Your Shopping Cart Says About You

Cart_ResponsibilityI’m convinced that there are two types of people in this world: those who leave shopping carts in the parking lot, and those who put them in the “return your cart here” section.  At least, that’s how I see it now that airports don’t let you past security anymore.  Back then, there were people who met you at the curb, and those who met you at the gate.

I’m all about the cart section/gate people.

Returning the cart is inconvenient.  You have to go out of your way to do it.  You load your car then close your door.  You navigate around the oncoming traffic to push that cart into a tidy line, giving up a few minutes of your time when you probably have somewhere else to go.  But you do it anyway.  Why?  Shared responsibility.  You’re working together as part of a larger community.  It’s being considerate of other people.  Helping protect someone else’s property.  It’s about more than just you.

Same thing goes for the gate people.  You had to park your car, pay a bit out of pocket and walk a ways to bring a smile to someone you loved.  It’s bigger than you.

So many people today don’t return the cart.  They’re caught up in their lives.  They’re so busy!  Many important things to do.  Can’t possibly spare a few minutes to walk 50 feet to help someone else.  So they leave the cart tucked up on a curb, or precariously balanced between two other cars… An accident waiting to happen.

They are not part of a larger community.  They do not share in the responsibility.  It’s just about them.

Returning a cart seems like a small thing, and perhaps it is.  I think it is a symptom of something more though.  We demonstrate who we truly are in the small moments… the little things we do when we think no one is looking.   Are we looking in or looking around?

We inspire our employees when we model that which we ask of others.  Do we ask for urgency and good work, yet provide no feedback or take days to respond instead of hours?  Do they stay late while we leave early?

We teach our children responsibility in our day to day actions.  Do we tell the truth?  Do we follow through?  Do we tell our children to pick up after themselves, and yet leave carts lying around parking lots… too self involved to follow our own advice?  What will our children learn from us in the little moments?  What do we want them to learn?


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Requiem for Words

Sooner or later, death comes to visit us all. No matter how much we deny it, we can’t escape it. Hopefully, it is patient – waiting quietly in the wings as we live life brilliantly. But often, it is an impatient companion… touching us too soon and demanding that we feel its presence.

Death and I first met in 8th grade over Easter vacation. It announced itself when my choir director called. I remember Miki as a quiet, bright young girl who sent me 10 candy grams that Valentines Day, as she knew I had not received many the year before. She left suddenly and too soon. And since that day, I’ve met Death too many times. Generally, it’s been unwelcome but expected.

But tonight, my heart aches for a friend of mine. He’s lost a brother.

Last night, a young man laid down to rest. He didn’t get up this morning.

There is no reason. No cause. Just a few words to his loved one, and then silence.

Perhaps in the coming days or weeks, there will be an answer. Why? There will still be pain, and there will still be those last words.

Death expected allows us to prepare. Something like this though is a visceral reminder of how fragile life is. How brief. How words matter.

When I became a parent, I “prepared”. I wrote wills, established trusts – documenting the who, what and how of the days and months after I am gone. But what about the days before? Am I ready? Are you?

We take life for granted. Our routines are comfortable. We wander through the days and years of our lives, going through the motions. Enjoying things. Wasting things. Wasting time. Wasting words.

Words have great power.
The last words I said to Miki years ago were “see you in a week.” That never happened.
The last words I typed to a friend of mine who died in a car crash were “Love ya.” Those were good.
The last words I said to my Gramma were an apology, and “I’ll come next weekend instead.” I will regret those forever.

Last night, someone said words that were final. I hurt for the people who love him.

They say that actions speak louder than words. But words matter. Yours matter. Share them. Don’t regret them.

We say in my home lately, “practice being kind, not always being right.” But share your kind words too. Be generous. Give more. Give back. Time may be great or it may be scarce. I’m reminded again. When your journey on this earth is through, there will be many people who love you that are left behind. Many miles they would travel to be where you are then, but tonight, they are only a breath away.


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KleenexI was having a conversation the other day with a teammate of mine.  As we talked through a problem we wanted to solve, he said something interesting to me that got me thinking.  He casually mentioned that I had the “EQ” in our team….the emotional intelligence.

I’ve always been a sentimental person… frankly, a very emotional one.  And while I believe everyone feels things deeply, I think there are some people in the world that seem to feel “more”.  It’s the tender hearted among us: those of us who find our eyes welling up with tears during AT&T commercials or who know during any Disney movie about that one moment – that one song – that you dread because you know the waterworks are on the way.

Being emotional is a blessing and a curse.  In your personal relationships, it bonds to closer to your family.  You don’t leave anything unsaid as your heart speaks for your mind.  In professional situations, those emotions can be perceived as a barrier to advancement.  You may get frustrated easily.  Your disappointment is tangible.  So, you have to spend time learning to mask those emotions… hiding your true nature.  With your emotions in check, you project an aura of confidence.   Of strength.

But when did genuine emotion become a sign of weakness?  When did it become a drawback as opposed to a mark of bravery?

It’s brave to be genuine.  It’s brave to be vulnerable.

It’s brave to open your heart to others, risking pain and rejection on the hope that you can make something better.  It takes true grit, true strength of will to be the one who may take the bullet for someone else.

So many people mask their vulnerability. They mask their fear.  Safe in their cocoon, they take no risks… peering only far enough to see what they want to see and no more.

It reminds me of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave.”  Those among us who hide our emotions stare only at our own shadows, reasoning that we know the world we see, yet seeing no more than our own reflection.  Understanding no more than we allow ourselves to feel.

Then, there are those brave souls among us who embrace our emotions in work and in life.  We are freed from the cave and begin to walk into the light.  It is painful.  It hurts.  It’s confusing.  And it gets easier.  Will we like what we see or feel?  Perhaps.  But regardless of whether we’re bruised along the way, we see more clearly.  We are enlightened.   We no longer live in a thin veil of reality, but instead are bathed in the sun.   Living in the world of what is and what can be, we lead with hope and possibility.

Being an emotional person hurts.  We are often let down.   And yet, we are free.  Free to learn.  Free to love.  And free to lead.

I believe in freedom.  I’m just bringing a box of Kleenex along with me.

How about you?


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Genetics in Action

20131002-220336.jpg

Do you have a scar? I do. It slices through my left eyebrow – a leftover of a time I bulldozed my poor brother into playing a game that was downright dumb. I got my payback: a concussion and 36 stitches to mend skin and muscle. It’s subtle now, but if I lift my bangs, it’s still there.

What about a scar you can’t see? Where is yours? We all have them… something we did, something done to us or something passed down by people who were once as innocent as we were when we were kids.

I’m one of too many kids to count. Both of my parents worked hard to provide for the family, especially Dad. He is a doctor, and pulled a lot of overnighters. It was pretty common for us not to see him at all from Monday through Friday, with weekends being our special time. Now, kids compete for attention from their parents as it is. When time is limited though, that competition gets especially fierce. Everyone picks a “role,” digs in and tries to out-do everyone else.

For me, I was going to be the “perfect” child. I was going to get excellent grades, be a massive overachiever, win every award and never get in trouble. That’s a lot to aspire to when you are 10 years old. Plus, my dad is a genius, so you’re trying to live up to that as well. I worked hard and did pretty well, but it came with consequences. Since I was always striving for perfection, which is frankly unachievable, nothing I did was ever quite good enough. So I took on more and more, and lived in that constant cycle of fear that I was letting someone down. I was not good enough. Now, you can’t see this scar, but it’s long, deep and self-inflicted.

When I first started my career, I packed those bags and took them along with me. In the arts, there was always a better singer, a better dancer, a better anything. And as I transitioned into business and began to rise through the ranks, I continued to take on more and more… making myself “indispensable” because it was just easier for me to handle something. That way, it would be “right” the first time. It would be as close to “perfect” as I could get it.

That’s a recipe for unhappiness though. You become completely overloaded, overwhelmed and stressed out. Nothing is ever good enough, and you can’t truly move on in life because you haven’t fully invested in someone. You haven’t trusted someone enough to learn to let go.

While the quest to create something truly great is admirable, perfectionism comes down to issues of trust and control. You have to learn how to trust someone enough to let go of the reins and release control, providing guidance so they too have the opportunity to learn and evolve. It’s a basic tenet of leadership, and probably the hardest lesson I continue to learn every day. I’m getting a lot better, but there’s always another mountain to climb.

I’m a parent now, and my kids are great. But here’s where the genetics kick in. While my oldest son looks like my husband, his personality is all me. He is quirky, inquisitive and wants to try everything. He also has a major perfectionistic streak… one that already causes him undue stress at the age of 5. While there are many things I want to pass down to him, this is not one of them. I want to set him free as I work to do every day in my professional life. I want him to know that our imperfections are what makes each of us so special… So perfect. He may have a scar on the outside, on his chin, but I don’t want him to carry the scars inside that so many of us already have today.

What scars are your carrying around inside? What will you do today to help them fade away?

 

For the cool weekly writing challenge, check this out: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/30/writing-challenge-dna/


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Proud to be Mrs. G.

Happy to be the Mrs.

Happy to be the Mrs.

I never thought I was the marrying type.   I always had serious relationships, but I also had serious commitment issues.  It was a running joke with my older brothers that the “Francisco sisters had commitment issues.”  We were too independent.  No man was ever going to tell us what to do.  My Mom wanted a lot for all of us kids: to grow up and be liberated men and women – go to school, graduate from college, get your Masters then Doctorate, get a great job so we never needed to depend on anyone.  Then, we could fall in love, get married and have that great part of life.  I think I listened too well to some of the story, but missed that “happy ending” part.  So I waited a long time, loved some really great people but didn’t think that wedding ring was in my future.

Then, to my great fortune, my best friend became my great love.  I was so incredibly humbled that he would love me, convinced he was a much better person than I ever would be, and in awe that he would want to spend his life with me.

And you get married… the greatest day of your life.  Your emotions are so big that your heart feels like it is about to explode.  You walk down the aisle, and see your husband standing there… the sunlight radiant.  He is radiant.  He is brilliant.  He is strong and kind, smart and giving.  You are the luckiest person on earth.

And years go by.  No matter how much you love your husband or wife, time mellows that brilliance.  You become accustomed to it.  It is familiar and comfortable.  That bright summer sun is more of an autumn gold.  Sometimes you are short with him or her.  He cleans the kitchen for you, and you notice it and are grateful, but you don’t mention it to him.  You expect that he knows.  He works hard, picks up the toys, and still you grumble if he leaves his socks on the table.  You sit a cushion away on the couch, instead of next to each other.  And sometimes, you forget a good night kiss.  You love him deeply, but can’t remember if you said it when you walked out the door in the morning.

Then one of those times comes when you see him new again.  Tonight was one of those times.  My husband has been working hard on a project for almost two months now, and while I’ve supported him, I’ve also grumbled when he has to take a call late at night and spends all evening sending emails, making arrangements, doing what he needed to do for a charity event he’s putting on.  I still grumbled when I drove up, cranky that he was not with me while he was running around doing “more important” things.

And suddenly, I found myself nervous for him.  Tonight had to be a success.  All the maddening things over the last few weeks, I saw them in another way.  As he went from person to person, calm, smiling, organized and passionate – taking care of them, taking care of arrangements, taking care of everyone – he was new again.  Those curtains of routine fall back, and you can see what is right in front of your eyes.  I fell in love with a man who gives more of himself than most people on this earth, who would be (and was for me many years ago) the only person show up to help you move mountains of boxes in a tough time – even though he had only met you two days ago.  I fell in love with a man who is often unappreciated… who’s gruff surface covers one of the softest hearts and gentlest spirits.   I fell in love with a man who believes in justice, in black and white, with an unwavering commitment to that which he loves.

As for me, who hovers around in shades of grey, I am yet again humbled that he loves me and wants to spend his life with me.  He is a much better person than I will ever be, and I am proud to be Mrs. G.

I was reminded tonight that you can never say “I love you” often enough, that you should always sit next to each other on the couch, and that a sock is just a little bit of cotton and your spouse is your life.

Is there anyone in your life that you need to say “I love you” to?  Is there anyone in your life that you need to say “thanks” to?  Years may go by, but they may not.  Don’t delay.


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Something Old and Something New

Image   My brain is officially Friday fried – left and right hemisphere.  I still wanted to share some great content with you… it’s just not my own today.  So, here’s something old (a fave) and something new (deep as all get out).

First, I have followed Anthony Demangone’s “Musings from the CU Suite” blog for years now.  He has great management tips, things to think about in your personal development and cute pics of his kids.  Plus, he is a credit union industry rockstar.  Side note: If you aren’t a credit union member or haven’t heard of them, you need to find out about them.  Join now!  They are awesome.

Back to Anthony, it’s worth your time.  Here is his post from yesterday, about taking a look at what you should NOT be doing:

http://www.cusuitemusings.com/musings-from-the-nafcu-cu/2013/09/negative-self-audit-1298.html

Second, if you haven’t heard of Lori Duron’s Raising My Rainbow blog, don’t miss this.  I found it recently and was so moved that I had to run out and get her book.  Whatever your views may be on the subject, she writes a brutally honest account of parents learning how to parent, and raising their kids in the best way they know how.  There’s a lot of love in this blog.

http://raisingmyrainbow.com/

I’d love to know what you think about them both, and happy reading!