Toxic Relationships

Your doctor. Your  neighbor. Your high school friend.  Your previous roommate.  Your hairdresser.  Hopefully NOT your spouse or partner. Hopefully NOT your family members.

We all have a few toxic relationships in our lives.  Those people we cannot let go, despite the negative energy that surrounds us when together, the chase to freshen the air. And when does the relationship change from fruitful or comfortable to toxic? Sometimes we can pinpoint one specific event, sometimes it is a path we journey on together.

Why do we maintain these relationships?  Why not sever them?  Maybe it is because it’s easier to just say YES than explain why NO should be the new answer.  Maybe it is because of the history of two players—or three-or four—who we think know more of our history than others do.  Maybe it is because we think we can move backwards, before the toxicity moved in between us, if we work hard enough.   Maybe we HOPE that by working hard enough, we can remove the toxicity, re-create the past.

It might be a combination of any of the above, changing by the person in question.

This question has been in my mind for a couple of years now, on and off.  And I still do not have an answer.  Any suggestions, my readers?  And suddenly I wonder if I might be the cause of any toxic relationships, of which I am unaware.  I certainly hope not.

P.S.  In case you wonder, I doubt any of my readers are in danger of falling  into the toxic category.

and an after thought on 5/22/12–I am thinking that some relationships simply “run the course”  and are fading, but not yet disappeared.

Legacy of Friendship

This weekend I was fortunate to spend time with two incredible groups of friends.   After two evenings of celebration, laughter, dancing, a few tears, discussing family old and young, life-changes, film, books, and a rainbow of other topics,   I have spent a lot of time thinking about my friendships.

I think that for many women—myself included—our friends are the cement we need to hold our lives together, to fill in the empty spaces, to help us when life challenges us,  to send us a text or call that makes us smile, to rejuvenate us,  to make a meal, to carpool, to walk with, to hold our hands and say nothing, to hope.

We all have friends who have faded away, as we move into different phases of life.  Memories and photos with those friends may make us wistful for the lost connections, but we can remember those times with fondness. We can hug and laugh when we run into these former friends, in person or online.

But, an unexpected, angry break with a friend can cause a popping crack in our foundation.  A purposeful, seemingly hateful act can be visceral so long after it’s initial impact, it is heartbreaking. Whether we are 15, 25, 45, or 65 a long-time friend can use words and actions against us, steal our boyfriends/husbands/other girlfriends, backstab, ignore, lie, forget.

What will be your legacy of friendship?  I hope that I will be the friend who can comfort you, support you when you are hurt, angry, sad. I hope that I can make you laugh today. I hope that I never intentionally harm a friend to hurt their psyche, their smiling eyes, their heart.   I hope that I listen carefully, keep your secrets. I hope that if we are close enough we can be honest with the stories in our hearts and to tell each other if there is spinach in our teeth.

There are so many clichés about friendship, but I truly believe that we should be the friends we hope to have.  And pass these lessons to our girls, so they may surround themselves with inspirational, trustworthy, loving friends who can make them laugh, watch them cry.  For without my circles of  friends, my life would be barren.

C

Remembering Tim

The earthquake that rocked the east coast yesterday was far overshadowed in my life by the unexpected death of my high school friend Tim last weekend.

Tim was the guy in high school who was larger than life, ready with a hug, an infectious laugh, a true smile, welcoming all into his circle…unless you were against him on the opposing football team. Then be afraid.  His friendships extended the clique boundaries,  as he spoke his mind, celebrated life since I have known him.

Tim was instrumental in keeping our friendships alive since high school days, as he planned mini-reunions and holiday gatherings for us. Still there with his hug, a toast, asking about our lives, joyous about his family, his children, memories of high school coming forth.

Facebook expanded his circle further, reconnecting him with fellow alumni who he might not have known very well during high school.  His political views were opposite mine, but it was fun to bait him after his 50th political cartoon of the day. He posted well wishes to many people I knew.

Monday morning I logged into Facebook and began to see a trickle of comments about Tim’s shocking death last weekend, which became a pouring of well-wishes  and memories as the word so quickly spread around the internet.  There were phone calls and internet hugs and a vicious bike ride as I let this horrible, stunning news sink in, followed by tears in the shower, salt mixing with water and shampoo sluicing down the drain.

Tim: father, husband, son, friend, brother, neighbor was clearly loved by many people, based on the outpouring of emails I have seen this week.  We lost a great person, an honest man, a social leader for our group.  Heaven became a happier place this week, as  Tim joined some of our other friends there: Bill and Scott coming to mind first.

I feel the most loss for his wife and children, trying to accept their new reality. We will connect with our high school friends this week at his wake, his funeral–tears and hugs abound.  Not the annual social outing we look forward to repeating again in the near future.

Friends, hug your children today and tell them each day how special they are, how loved, how important. Tell your friends how they bring joy into your lives, don’t let your spouse stand forgotten. Sadly, Tim’s death is a reminder of the brevity of life, and how we need to live and love each day to the fullest.

Tim, rest in peace.  We wil celebrate your life and miss you greatly.  More tears as I write this.  We miss you already. C

Death Amongst Us

It’s been a hellish couple of months, with moments of joy sprinkled in to make it bearable.  Work is overwhelming,  chronic pain slowing me  down further, my horse was injured for several weeks, kids and parents’ health see-sawing, my good friend and trainer now moving to another barn, the kids have had highs and lows in school and friendships, as they make their way through teen-age-dom.

And we have lost an inordinate number of people in the last two months.  None directly related to me, but so close to my friend and neighbors–a sister, a best friend, two fathers, a 100-year old grandmother, a neighbor.  Most were ill, but one went to sleep and simply didn’t wake up. Plans changed, vacations scrapped, hospice called  in, then ordering of flowers, visitations, good-byes (and hellos, since we didn’t know some who died until their services).

I realize that death is a part of life, but it has walloped our neighborhood, our friends.  Our kids are so acutely aware of death right now, it’s amazing they remain unafraid, happy.  We talk to our friends, hold their hands, their hearts, listen to their stories, their heartache, their tears as they struggle to move onward.

I am waiting for the April rains to eventually sweep away the grey skies, the brown grass and awaken the tiny flowers, the birds, the deep breathes of calming air. Wash the sad times elsewhere, for awhile.  C

View from the Back

Wow–Monday is tough.  Not only are we back to work on a cold, snowy morning, the economy worsens, another of my friends has lost a job, another house in the hood has not sold, and I have to pay bills with a knot inside as the  dow drops yet again.

I try to move forward, keep my spirits up, knowing that today I have my family, my work, my home, my friends, my health, my hobbies–albeit much scaled back, potential for another project. But I will keep my world close, hold it tight, watch it carefully, and wait cautiously for the sun to rise again, the air to warm, the ground to bloom in tiny swells and hope, hope, hope. 

Sometimes the view from the rear of the boat is more glorious than the front.  We move unknowingly to the back, then sometimes we huddle there–dance amongst friends, laugh with strangers, sing with ourselves, and wait watching, together, as the changes abound. 

We will hope for the mundane, maybe see the wonderous.  But we will see it together, smiles and tears blended into the waters below.

C

Miniscule and Massive, Simultaneously

Riding on a ship with no land in sight, surrounded by the turquoise blue then steel-grey waves, a watchful warming sun and swiftly moving breezes, we saw no land for twenty-four hours. 

Gazing over the endless waters, an occasional ship in the far off distance, that ride made me think about  how truly small we physically are.  A speck. Of no significance.  Flick this boat like a fly and we disappear.

But I turn away from the waters, towards my group of friends, for the final day of the trip still laughing, joking, dancing, swimming, sitting, reading, sharing, sleeping. Truly joyful, as we live  in each moment, strangers picking up our energy and  sharing it with their groups, passing it around. 

And I realize that while we may be miniscule in the view from the clouds, in our small sectors, with our friends and family and fears and lusts and mysteries and goals and wonders, we do have an impact, we do love, we do have a reason to be, to laugh, to cry.  Our spirits, when we share them, are wider than the oceans, taller than the clouds.

And we should be so thankful, and are so lucky when we can experience freedom with the ones we love most.  Thanks girls, for another amazing holiday.  C

The Usual

Usual.  What a typical, boring word.  No surprises, no adrenaline.  But, walk in to your favorite restaurant–be it fancy with lacy tablecoths and low lit candles or in my case be it the corner grill, when the waitress Eileen glances over before you sit down and says “you want the usual today?”  you just feel comforted, known, thankful to be sitting, sharing.

Even if it is the local tavern where the bartender pours your drink when you approach, or the local cashier who smiles and says “hi”, it just feels real, lightens you inside.

My friend Collette, a psychologist, my partner who eats “the usual” with me every couple of weeks says that she finds that people feel greatly empowered when they feel known—really known.

There is a truth in that.  There are precious few we show our real selves, always wearing some persona, being who we are but also who we are supposed to be wearing the hat of mother-student-wife-business owner-dog walker.  But, people who we see at regular intervals, when we are going about our normal routines, when we are calm, relaxed,  even angry, they also know us and some invite us into their space, honestly and openly. 

Grasp on to those offerings;  they come with no pretenses, and let yourself open for people and experiences.  You just might make a friend or learn about others or yourself along the way.

So,  “yes, I will have the usual” ,with a smile.  C

A Separate Life

I have long thought of my children as a part of me, an extension of me-my husband-my parents-our upbringing-our beliefs-their friends–where we live-their hobbies and interests-but always a part of me.  While they head off to school each morning, then to their activities and other outings , I have long felt they were an integral part of who I am.  As they are growing older, I am becoming more aware of them choosing what to claim as their own.

This becomes abundantly clear as I peruse the daily online camp photos, searching for pictures of them in new activities, giggling with people I do not know, and involved in camp rituals of which I will never be a part.  I miss their laughing faces, I yearn to know what they are becoming as they test the waters (literally) around them. 

It becomes a more separate life, as our children grow and reach and develop into who they will become, as we did. They will have their private codes, things hidden from me, secrets they keep from their friends, and thoughts they will even hide from themselves.

I realize that I can only guide them on their journey as they create new paths, follow some already lain, get lost and hopefully found, in a quest to Be.  May the voyages never end; I am still searching and wandering my own paths, not knowing where they will lead.  Camp is a short stop in their trek, but one where they will hopefully learn to fend without their parents and usual cohorts. C

Belated Happy Hour

You know the day–it is fabulous outside, summer blue skies with white painted clouds and the perfect breeze. But, everything you do is slightly off. The bike ride you planned takes you on 3 different detours as you hit busy roads and construction, the kids say/scream “MOM” 1023 times, the dog throws up on the carpet, the phone rings with all the  wrong people, the computer doesn’t save your big project.  What would ease the stress, take away the strain?

A short outing with fun friends to laugh, forget, remember, plan, unburden, learn, enjoy, taste.  Back to the real world short enough, but the intermission is needed, wanted, Heaven, beauty, so simple. C

The Perfect 4th of July Party

It was the perfect 4th of July party, on the most quintessential Chicago weather weekend I can remember.  People arrived at our neighbor’s home on bikes, foot, and in cars carrying their beachbags and food and games to share.  Other than the start time, there was no schedule to follow, just the mood of the guests. 

After a long dunk in the pool, my highlight of both this and last year was the rag-tag baseball game in the empty field (with the perfectly mowed diamond) with players ranging from ages 4 to 50.  The dads “bobbled” the balls so the young ones would be sure to make it to base–even the one who hit and ran directly to second base, newcomers hitting next to practiced players, only the 8 year old-boys keeping score, even the newest neighbors joining in.  It reminds me of the way we used to play pick-up-games when I was a kid.

After calling quits the long game of few innings when we all needed refreshments, people moved to volleyball, a neighbor’s trampoline, and athe kids spent a good hour throwing each other into the pool before dinner.  The fluidity of the day kept it so relaxed, no kids’ tempers flared, no adults disagreed, no cliques formed of any age and the mood was jovial and true.

After the traditional and delicious bar-be-que was complete, the football was tossed in the yard and baggo played until the misquitoes decided their party should begin, feasting on human limbs. We re-grouped by a poolside fire.  Several people ran and got marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers to make some impromptu s’mores on a many-pronged tree branch.  Stars brightened the skies, while we laughed and told stories until the children and perhaps some adults simply ran out of steam.

Families departed like fireflies, flickering off in the distance, after neighboring towns’ fireworks ended.  A simple, great day had by all, gently guided by outdoor pleasures, our whims and wonderful hosts.  Thanks for more fine memories, Urs and Tom. C