Living in Free Fall

 

Free Fall A recurrent theme in my life is that you grow the most when you step outside your comfort zone. It is a heady feeling to realize that a painful experience that had you in free fall for a time has made you stronger and wiser … to realize that, using Bradbury’s metaphor, you have indeed grown new wings.

What’s easy to forget, once those new wings have grown and set, is just how rough it is when you are in free fall … when you don’t know where you’re trying to get to … when you don’t trust your own judgment … when you have no idea quite what to do next.

It’s all the harder when you are in free fall off a cliff you didn’t even see coming.

To put this in perspective, I will take you back to 2008. Depending on how you count, I had changed careers half a dozen times over the previous 38 years, including several times when I dropped off the corporate ladder for a period of years. Some transitions were harder than others, some more successful than others, but there seemed to be a consistent pattern, one in which my skills in one arena provided a temporary branch to hang on to while I grew new wings in another.

When I decided to give up finance to be a creative writer, I expected this transition would go smoothly. After all, I was an experienced business writer. I’d taken university-level courses on creative writing. I’d published a memoir about sailing around the world at age 40.

Friday, I was a financial consultant.  Monday, I would be a writer.  How hard could it be?

Pretty hard, as it turned out.

What I overlooked, as I launched myself into the writerly world, was the common thread that stitched my earlier transitions into a satisfying quilt … the opportunity to work with smart people who were big thinkers. My success lay, to a very large extent, in my ability to carry out complex projects that these big thinkers—whether mentor, client or husband—believed were important.

In 2008, however, there was no client or mentor or husband. I had lots of ideas, but no way to set priorities or assess whether they were worth pursuing.

And then, one morning, as I waited for the first edition of Sailing Down the Moonbeam to be delivered, I recalled one of those wing-growing experiences as we sailed across the Pacific Ocean. Most of the time, my husband and I were vulnerable to unpredictable winds and currents. Setting goals was an exercise in frustration, since we could not control our progress on any given day. The best we could do was set a course that took us in the right general direction. All too often, we revised our course several times. More than once, we had to change our destination.

The metaphor seemed obvious.  If I wanted to I be a writer, I needed to write and hope my words would cumulate to a writer’s persona. Write something. A blog. A book review.  An essay.  Anything. Now, today.

It was a eureka moment.

I’d like to be able to tell you that I grew my writer’s wings that day.  I didn’t. Those simple goals got me out of bed every morning, but it was months before I did so with any enthusiasm.  It was several long and painful months before my wings started to grow.

Now, six years later, I have a writer’s wings. A novel and a memoir. A regular blog. A steady stream of freelance work. Invitations to speak to book clubs, libraries and community groups.

But once again, I seem to be in free fall. How can I be a writer if I don’t have a meaningful story I feel compelled to tell, or an idea I feel compelled to write about? Having just turned 70, I’m intrigued by the personal and societal challenges as the boomer cohort ages.  But how much of my thinking is unique enough to be worth writing about?

Once again, I seem to be grasping frantically for a branch to retard my free fall … give me a few extra moments to develop the wings I’ll need for my next act?  But what’s that next act? A writer in her 70’s with temporary writer’s block. Or a humanist for whom aging IS the next act, whether you write about it or not? Or maybe something else I haven’t even thought about?

What do you think? Can we still sprout wings at 70??

The Ineffability of Aging

 

IMG_9068No so long ago, I viewed 70 as the beginning of “old age.”

Trouble is that today—my 70th birthday—I don’t feel old.  Yes, I have grey hair, along with wrinkles in some places I would never mention in polite society. I do get annoying muscle cramps more often than I would like.  But I can climb six flights of stairs several times a day, and the body that I see in the mirror looks a whole lot better than it did when I was 18. I have fewer aches and pains today than I did at age 50, a combination of eating better and getting more exercise. And good genes certainly don’t hurt.

Statistics tell me that I could live another 10-15 years; given my health and genes, it could be easily be another 30 (my mother lived to 90; I have countless friends with parents approaching 100).  I’ve been encouraged by several articles I read of late, including a recent editorial in the New York Times by David Brooks, that report on the “U-Curve,”–the pattern of changing levels of emotional satisfaction over the course of life.  Statistics on the U-curve suggest that happiness/ contentment declines from childhood to about age 50, and then trends upward more or less steadily. Given my own emotional pattern over the decades, I should be bordering on ecstasy by 100.

But do I really want to live another 30 years?

An interesting approach to the question of aging comes from physician, academician and bio-ethicist Ezekiel Emmanuel. In a recent article in the Atlantic Monthly, he coined the term “American immortal”—what he calls the obsession “with exercising, doing mental puzzles, consuming various juice and protein concoctions, sticking to strict diets, and popping vitamins and supplements, all in a valiant effort to cheat death and prolong life as long as possible.”  You can add to his list, of course, all of the various medical interventions—mechanical, surgical and pharmaceutical—that we use to mask the reality of our inevitable aging and mortality.

Emmanuel has concluded that he would prefer to die at age 75. In his view, that is plenty long enough to have lived a full and rich life with a satisfying career, a good marriage and a thriving family, including grandchildren.

It seems at first, to be a curious position for someone who opposes suicide, assisted or otherwise. But his argument is not that he refuses to live beyond 75.  Rather, he has decided that as he approaches 75, he will cease taking pro-active steps to retard aging or prolong his life. No flu shots, vitamins, or anti-biotics. No screening exams. No surgical or mechanical (e.g., a pacemaker) interventions. No chemotherapy.  No drugs (e.g., statins or blood pressure meds) to keep his bodily functions performing as if he was still young.

The only medical treatment he will consider is palliative care, if he needs it to keep him comfortable toward the end. In his words, “I will die when whatever comes first takes me.” This is, of course, what mankind has done for thousands of years … until medical technology took over the management of aging and death in the mid-1900’s.

I find his argument compelling, although I’m not sure 75 is the age I’d choose.  Perhaps 80 or 85.

And I also find myself pondering the boundaries of palliative care. Shouldn’t it include the repair—surgical, pharmaceutical or mechanical— of traumatic events that diminish the quality of life but will not kill you? A broken arm or leg?  A case of poison ivy. A hernia. And what about diet and exercise? Eating properly is own reward, just in how you feel, regardless of its long-term benefits for your health.  Similarly, exercise stimulates brain chemicals that make you feel better, mentally and physically. Should I stop doing it simply because it has the age defying-ability to preserve muscle tone and bone density?

What would you do?

P.S. Emmanuel explicitly reserves the right to change his mind at any point along the way!

Respect – My Lai in Black and White

 

respectThe worst moment for me, in a string of horrible moments, was the sight of Lesley McSpadden standing out on the street on in front of the Municipal Court in Ferguson.  Like most of America, she was waiting to hear the result of the Grand Jury investigation.

But Lesley McSpadden wasn’t most of America. Lesley McSpadden was the mother of an unarmed young black man shot to death by the white policeman who was the subject of the Grand Jury investigation.

How is it that no one in authority in Ferguson had the decency to invite her into the Municipal Court where it was warm, to provide her with a place where she could sit down when she heard the news?

This is not so preposterous a thought.  Had Wilson’s guilt or innocence been determined through a public trial, McSpadden would have had a seat in the courtroom. She would have had been able to observe the faces of Wilson, McCullough and the jury when the verdict was delivered. Wilson, McCullough, and the jury would have had to observe her grief and shock. McSpadden would have been a participant in our (however flawed) democratic and judicial system.

But that Monday night, standing in the street, she was outside the democratic and judicial system.  She was an anonymous woman of no relevance to the stage show being performed by Robert McCullough inside the courthouse.

This small act—or non-act—of disrespect was not the first in the months since Michael Brown’s death. McSpadden was not allowed to approach him as he lay in blazing sunshine in a public street for four hours. Once his body was removed from the street, she was not allowed to see it for two weeks. Based on comments in a recent CBS interview with McSpadden, no one in Ferguson officialdom has yet found the time—or the empathy—to offer “personal condolences” to her or her family.

To all intents and purposes, the mother of Michael Brown—an unarmed teenager killed by a white policeman—was not seen by the authorities in Ferguson as a human being worthy of respect or empathy.

And that most un-human response–small gestures that would have be so easy for a compassionate person to do—reinforces my fear that Ferguson’s officialdom, in the secret dark recesses of their minds and souls, think that Officer Wilson did exactly what he was trained to do. The fact that Michael Brown was an unarmed teenager who appeared to be wounded is an incidental. What counted was that he had been behaving aggressively towards a white policeman.

The scene in Ferguson brings to mind My Lai, the 1968 tragedy in which the members of Charlie Company, an American infantry group, murdered hundreds of women and children in a small Vietnamese hamlet named Son My. While there are many differences between Son My and Ferguson, the soldiers—like Wilson—were trained to respond to potential threats. Told that the village was under control of the Vietcong, the Charlie Company responded to the threat by killing everyone in the village.

Years later, when the Son My investigation was completed, we learned that no one in the village ever fired a shot at anyone in Charlie Company.

Decades later, we know that Michael Brown did not fire a shot at Darren Wilson.

Who is guilty here?  Is it Darren Wilson? Or is it a system that trains a white police officer in a black community, when confronted by what appears to be an angry or aggressive black man, to shoot first and ask questions later?

Or is it those of us who sit by comfortably, with our evening glass of wine and our holiday reunions, as the Ferguson authorities sanction “official” violence based on old tropes about race … as those same authorities are allowed to be rude and disrespectful to a grieving mother because of the color of her skin?

What we should do?  What would you do?

Legacy: What Will Your Verse Be?

 

In keeping with my recent focus on issues of aging, my blog this week comes from change management consultant, Jann Freed, whose most recent book looks at aging with wisdom, or “sage-ing.”

 

legacyWe often think of a legacy as something that emerges at the end—the end of our lives, the end of a job, the end of a career.  But in reality, we leave our legacy daily with what we say, how we say it, and what we do.

I like to ask:  Are we living our lives in ways we want to be remembered?

After the death of Robin Williams, people reflected on his many movies.  While I loved Good Will Hunting, my favorite movie was Dead Poet’s Society.  As someone whose first career of 30 years was that of a college professor, I was enamored by the way in which his character, John Keating, engaged the students in learning.  Here is one of my favorite lines from that movie:

“We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer: that you are here; that life exists, that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

 

What is your verse now?  

We often think of legacies as positive—people who have made a positive difference.  But legacies can also be negative and it can happen fast, as we witnessed with Coach Joe Paterno and even more recently with Bill Cosby, whose legacy went from great to bad almost overnight.

Yet, legacy thinking is forward thinking.  When we are intentional about our words and actions, we are anticipating how we affect others.  Many of us do not have the money and influence to have our name on a building, an endowment, or a stadium named after us.  But are we leaving the world a better place?

When talking about legacy, I advocate writing an ethical will, which is more than a legal document that describes how we want to allocate our financial and physical assets.  An ethical will (www.ethicalwill.com) is a document that communicates our values, beliefs, and other stories that we want to pass onto others.  Sometimes this document is referred to as a legacy letter, but the intent is the same—to share with others what matters most to us.  An excellent book on ethical wills is titled So the Tree Grows—Creating an Ethical Will—The Legacy of Your Beliefs and Values, Life Lessons, and Hopes for the Future by Jo Kline Cebuhar.

Since many families are scattered and most of us are not sitting around the kitchen table every week sharing stories, being intentional about what you want people to know is important.  When I realized that my sons kept the notes, letters, and cards I sent them at camp, during college, and beyond, I have started writing them “legacy letters” on their birthdays.  While I don’t call them that, I write the letter with the mindset that I am sharing what I want them to know and remember right now.  As they have gotten older and grown in maturity, the subject matter changes.  This has been a nice tradition—whether they realize what I am doing or not.

As Barry Baines, the founder of “EthicalWill.com” says:  “We all want to be remembered and everyone leaves something behind.”  It is the little things that can make a big difference.  Being intentional and thoughtful helps give purpose, meaning, and direction to our life.

So rather than drift with the wind, I challenge you to think about how you want to be remembered.

What will your verse be?  

 

Jann Head ShotIn Jann’s first career as a college professor of business management, she held the Mark and Kay De Cook Endowed chair in leadership and character development at Central College in Pella, Iowa.  She retired in 2011 as professor emerita and is now a leadership development and change management consultant with The Genysys Group.  She calls herself “The Transitionist” because her focus is on helping organizations and individuals get from where they are to where they want to be.

She is the author of five books and the latest is titled Leading with Wisdom:  Sage Advice from 100 Experts. If you want to explore how some of our great leaders have created a legacy, you might enjoy Chapter 9, which is titled “Leaders Live Their Legacy.”

Thoughts on the “End of Life”

 

What is your definition of death? Is it the same as “the end of life”?

End of LifeBased on survey responses from the participants in my seminars on the Bio-Ethics of Aging, the answer depends on whom you ask. What stands out, from their responses, is that discussions of end-of-life issues are fraught with potential for misunderstanding, as the same words mean different things to different people.

For example, most participants defined death in terms that pointed to the cessation of lung and heart function.  A few defined it as the cessation of brain function. Both are accepted medical criteria, but they can result in very different conclusions in different circumstances. Moreover, under current medical practice, policies and procedures to establish the time and fact of death may vary from state to state and from hospital to hospital within each state.

What counts, when you are facing the actual or imminent death of a family member is not your definition of death, but the opinions of your doctor and/or the policies of your hospital. Do you know what they are?

By contrast, the respondents offered definitions for “end of life” that covered a much broader spectrum.  A few individuals defined it in medical terms, often based on religious beliefs.  What I had not expected was that so many participants would define it in terms of the ability to engage in everyday activities—and that there were almost as many definitions as there were respondents to the questionnaire.

For example, some defined it in terms of the end of “useful life”—the inability to contribute in some way, be it financial, emotional, or simply helping with the grandkids. Others defined it in terms of loss of dignity, e.g., the point at which you can no longer take care of yourself. Some defined it in terms of the mental or physical capacity to participate in everyday activities at some—for the most part, undefined—level.

What was clear, from these responses, was that not being dead was not the same as being alive. But these definitions left many questions unanswered, and offered little guidance for someone having to make a decision about a medical treatment that would prevent biological death, but would not return your parent or spouse to the kind of life they wanted.

The issue matters.  I know from painful, personal experience that it is so easy, when you’re struggling to cope with a traumatic situation, to let your physician make all the decisions. When my mother fell and broke her hip, her Alzheimers had already advanced to the point where she could not reliably dress, bathe or get herself to the bathroom. She was not dead, but neither was she alive by her definition; her wish to be dead in that situation was very clear.

Even so, she was sent automatically to the hospital, where I seemed to have no choice but to authorize surgery to repair her hip, an operation from which she never recovered enough to even use a walker. She was even less alive than before the surgery.

The incident prompted my brother and I to research our options in the event of additional trauma.  Our decision, with which many may disagree, was that we’d keep her comfortable but would not authorize any treatment that required hospitalization or would delay the death she so clearly wanted.

When my mother’s physician disagreed, we found a new physician who shared our point of view.  To this day, however, I cringe to think of how it difficult it would have been for my brother and me if the first we learned of our doctor’s definition of “end of life” was when my mother was a candidate for treatment of cancer or a urinary infection … and when we did not yet know what our legal and medical options were.

If you’ve never talked about this with your family or your physician, maybe it’s time.  What most of us want, when an end-of-life occasion arises, is the ability to deal with an already difficult situation with love, compassion and the certainty that you are doing the “right thing.”  Are you prepared?

The Right to Decide

 

medical_heartMuch of the focus of the seminar I teach on the Bio-Ethics of Aging relates to the distribution of health care in a world of finite resources.  An equally important issue, based on the responses of the participants during the three sessions, is the nature and scope of one’s right to decide how to die.

In this context, I would note that the initial impetus for my interest in bio-ethics was the prolonged and painful process of dying suffered by both of my parents.  My father, a devout Catholic, was bedridden and in pain at age 54 with the gruesome complications of diabetes. While his faith made it impossible for him to “hasten” his death, he repeatedly expressed the desire to be allowed to die. The last and most tragic chapter of his illness was that four of the five times his heart failed, his doctor took extraordinary measures to get it pumping again.  When resuscitation failed the fifth time, I mourned loss of his life, but celebrated his death. Legally, he had the right to decide to die a year earlier, but he did not have the stamina to overcome his doctor’s refusal to let nature take its course.

The situation was quite different with my mother who hung in there until a week before her 90th birthday. A talented, capable, vibrant woman who romped through eight decades with élan, she made her end-of-life wishes known when she was 70 and still outrageously sound of mind.  She handed my brother and me each a packet containing detailed instructions from the Hemlock Society, a guidebook for “hastening” her death if she was terminally ill and could not manage for herself.

Her wishes were excruciatingly clear. But in 1985, who knew about Alzheimers?  Her advance directive did not include brain plaques as a “terminal” disease that would trigger her living will.  And even if it had, the laws of the U.S. made it impossible for us to honor her wishes and preserve her dignity during her last decade. No longer of sound mind and increasingly unable to take care of herself—the essence of what she wanted to avoid—she did not meet the requirements of those few states that provide for physician-assisted suicide. The tragedy of her illness was that her occasional flashes of coherence—when she begged to have us end it for her—were far too fleeting to meet the legal requirements in even the most compassionate of states.

And so, a decade after my mother’s death, I’m doing my small bit to prevent others from having to endure the painful and prolonged process of dying that my parents went through. In theory, each one of us has the legal right to decide whether to accept or reject health care. Unfortunately, many do not realize that this legally enshrined principle of “patient autonomy” gets short shrift in far too many cases.

One of the prime offenders of patient autonomy, as I saw with my father, is the medical profession. As Atul Gawande observed in his recently released and not-to-be-missed book, Being Mortal, “the way our professors saw it, the purpose of medical schooling was to teach how to save lives, not how to tend to their demise.”  But death is an inevitable part of life.  Medical advances can make our lives longer, but they cannot “fix” the fact of our mortality. What is to be hoped is that more and more members of the medical profession will learn to help us live a good life and then die a good death.

State laws also conflict with the concept of patient autonomy and the ostensibly legal standing of an advance directive. The five states that allow “physician-assisted” suicide do so only for patients who have the mental capacity to articulate their desire to die in the presence of two separate physicians, as well as the physical capacity to self-administer the medicine of choice. The mental capacity without the physical ability is not sufficient. An advance directive that explicitly documents the desire for death in the case of mental incapacity is not sufficient.

As I contemplate my next novel, I know that end-of-life issues will be a key plot thread, and the source of a broad range of conflicts between my characters.  Over the next year, I anticipate doing a series of blogs on health care issues, blogs that raise critical questions for which there are, at present, not very many answers.

I hope you will find the questions helpful in finding your own answers, in exercising your own right to decide.

 

Modern Medicine-A Curse or a Cure

 

Bio-Ethics of AgingFor the second time in two months, I am teaching a three-week class on the Bio-Ethics of Aging. For the second time in two months, I am struck by how little thought otherwise knowledgeable and well-read people have given to the health care and end-of-life issues the baby boomers have to come to grips with as they age.

One of the key questions that we deal with is whether end-of-life decisions should be made by you or by the medical community.

I was thrilled when my one of my favorite bloggers and writers, Joan Z. Rough, asked me to do a guest blog for her on aging and end-of-life issues. The timing of my blog for coincided with the very public death of Brittany Maynard, the very public discussion of end-of-life issues for a young Iowa woman suffering from brain cancer, and the rather more private but intentional death of an older woman I have admired for years.

It is a blog I would have put here if I had not already committed to publishing it on her site.  I hope that you will visit Joan’s website to read my comments.

Here is an excerpt from that blog to tempt you …

As recently as 200 years ago, if you stopped breathing, you were considered to have died, whatever the cause. There were few scientifically based options to prevent or delay death.

A watershed moment in the history of medicine came with the invention of the stethoscope in 1816 and the ability to register a heartbeat. But there were still no science-based treatment protocols.  For the next century, death continued to be, as it had been for much of the history of mankind, a part of “God’s plan” or—if you were of the atheistic or pagan persuasion—a matter of fate.

Until 1928, that is, when Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin. Suddenly, man no longer had to rely on God or fate to determine the outcome of an injury or an infection. Over the last 90 years, our ability to triumph over illness has expanded exponentially.  Today, we can prevent most infectious diseases (Ebola being a notable exception), repair a faulty heart, excise a malignant tumor, or replace a failing kidney.

For much of the 20th century, these medical advances focused on preventing “premature” death from infection, disease or trauma. But these often seemingly miraculous discoveries had a number of unintended consequences.  For one, the medical advances that keep young and middle aged Americans healthy have played a major role in the explosion of health care costs for the elderly. By preventing or curing acute illness, we have expanded the population vulnerable to chronic illnesses such as diabetes or COPD, many of which cannot be cured at all and are treated at great cost.

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Do Labels Inform or Conceal?

 

labelsOne definition of a “label” according to the Oxford Dictionary is “a classifying phrase or name applied to a person or thing, especially one that is inaccurate or restrictive.”

I was reminded of this definition as I read David Brook’s editorial today on “partyism,” a word coined by Cass Sunstein at Harvard to describe discrimination based on political affiliation.  Brooks’s comments were prompted by surveys that indicate that discrimination based on political affiliation is now greater than discrimination based on race.  He noted, for example, a comparison of polling data from 1960 with 2010. In 1960, the percentage of people who indicated they would “be ‘displeased’ if their child married someone from the other party” was about 5 percent for both Republicans and Democrats. By 2010, it has risen to 49 percent for Republicans and 33 percent for Democrats.

Much of Brooks’s article focused on the destructive impact of what he called hyper-moralization (the automatic association of moral and ethical values with party labels) on the political process.  His conclusion, on a higher philosophical plane, is worth repeating:

“This mentality [of hyper-moralization] also ruins human interaction. There is a tremendous variety of human beings within each political party. To judge human beings on political labels is to deny and ignore what is most important about them. It is to profoundly devalue them. That is the core sin of prejudice, whether it is racism or partyism.”

Or, I might add, sexism.

The subject of labels and the damage they do has been a recurrent theme in discussions with book clubs and women’s groups about sexual fluidity as it relates to the same-sex relationship that occurs in my novel, A Fitting Place. I’ve been surprised at the number of women—a relatively small percentage of my audiences, but more than I expected—who flatly reject the notion of sexual fluidity, and insist that any woman who has had a same-sex relationship at some point in her life must be lesbian (or at least bi-sexual) because “a straight woman would never do that.”

When pressed for why they insist on these labels, the typical response boils down to: “Well, I’m straight, and I’d never do it. I just don’t get why any one else would—unless they were gay.”  A few will add that they simply aren’t interested in learning any more about the subject of sexual fluidity or same-sex relationships.

I never cease to be amazed when people assume they can speak for the world at large, based on their own individual experience. But the more disturbing aspect of these responses is that words that seemed descriptive in my college days—words that opened up a discussion about a different approach to sexuality—have become labels that all but eliminate the possibility of talking about diversity of human experience.

In Brooks’s words, these labels—lesbian, bi-sexual and even straight—have the effect of devaluing what is important about one of the most significant lifestyle decision that most of us have to make.

Notwithstanding my comments above, I have to keep reminding myself of the difference between a description that starts a conversation and a label that closes conversation off.

How often do you use “labels” in a way that shuts down the possibility of a conversation?

Girlfriends Matter

 

Welcome to Kathleen Pooler, who has joined us today to discuss the nature of friendship.  It is a subject of considerable interest to me, as the protagonist of my novel has never had the kind of girl friends that Kathy describes here and in her novel.

 

Some women pray for their daughters to marry good husbands. I pray that my girls will find girlfriends half as loyal and true as the Ya-Yas.”                               Rebecca Wells, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

I have plenty of awesome male friends whom I respect and admire but there is something unique and special about girlfriend relationships.

IMG_8893

Carol Bodensteiner, Kathy Pooler, and Mary Gottschalk in Osceola, Iowa

I have always valued my girlfriends from every phase of my life. Together, we have experienced the joys and sorrows, the frustrations and challenges, the ruts and growth spurts of our lives. As I age, I find that I value them even more—both the old and new friends.

In the words of a popular Beatles’ tune: “I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.”

Martha tried to convince me not to marry when she listened to my doubts. Sharon coaxed me up the stairs and out the door the day I left my first husband because of his drinking. Judy supported me before, during and after both my divorces. Eileen opened my eyes to God’s presence in my life. Mary Sue and her family became my family away from my family. Meredith and Denise rallied around me when I escaped from my second husband for fear of physical abuse…

These are a few of many who stood by me—steady and true—through my life challenges. I had to find my own way in my own time but their presence in my life made a positive difference in helping me move forward.

Therefore, it came to no surprise to me when I read this UCLA Study On Friendship Among Women posted by Gale Berkowitz in 2002:

“This landmark study suggests friendships between women are special. They shape who we are and who we are yet to be. They soothe our tumultuous inner world, fill the emotional gaps in our marriage and help us remember who we really are”

And the friendship phenomenon is research-based.

As stated in the article, this study came about when two women scientists, Dr. Laura Klein and fellow researcher Shelley Taylor discovered in a casual conversation over coffee in a lab at UCLA one day that “when men get stressed, they hole up; when women get stressed, they make coffee, clean the office and bond, ‘tend and befriend’.” This spearheaded a movement to include women in stress research and the results confirm what we already know:

 “Women live longer than men and friends help us live longer.”

In the same article, The Nurses’ Health Study from Harvard Medical School found that

The more friends women had, the less likely they were to develop physical impairments as they aged, and the more likely they were to be leading a joyful life.”

I am fascinated by this study even though it confirms what I have already experienced throughout my entire life—girlfriends matter. And the older I get, the more they matter. As we age and face more hardships—physical decline, loss of family and friends—we need each other more than ever.

In my memoir, Ever Faithful to His Lead: My Journey Away From Emotional Abuse, I show how my girlfriends give me strength and help me to move forward in my life. When I sat down to write this story, I had no conscious intent to include them. They showed up in my writing as they had shown up in my life to counsel and guide me.

And the many friends—YOU– (girls and guys) I have had the pleasure of bonding with on my writing journey are on the top of my list of people who matter and have made a positive difference in my life.

I will admit to being partial to girlfriend time—to bond in ways only girlfriends can bond. Who else can I go shopping with, spend hours on the phone or over coffee, get honest opinions about fashion trends, giggle over silly memories or whine over minutia with without getting a glazed-over look?  Just saying….

How about you? How have you experience girlfriend relationships?

KathyPoolerBrighterAbout the Author: Kathleen Pooler is an author and a retired Family Nurse Practitioner whose memoir, Ever Faithful to His Lead: My Journey Away From Emotional Abuse, published on July 28.2014 and work-in-progress sequel, Hope Matters: A Memoir are about how the power of hope through her faith in God helped her to transform, heal and transcend life’s obstacles and disappointments:  domestic abuse, divorce, single parenting, loving and letting go of an alcoholic son, cancer and heart failure to live a life of joy and contentment. She believes that hope matters and that we are all strengthened and enlightened when we share our stories.

She lives with her husband Wayne in eastern New York.

She blogs weekly at her Memoir Writer’s Journey blog: http://krpooler.com

You can reach Kathy at:

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Kathleen Pooler/Memoir Writer’s Journey (Facebook)

One Lovely Blog Award

 

blog awardI have had the great honor to have been given the One Lovely Blog Award not once, not twice, but THREE times in the past few weeks. My thanks go to Cate Russell-Cole, who is tireless in her efforts to support writers, Carol Bodensteiner, whose commentaries on the small moments of every day life are beyond inspirational, and Kathleen Pooler, who has been a thoughtful contributor to this blog on several occasions.

One of the rules of the Award is that you must share 7 things about yourself that your readers may not know. So here are mine:

  1. I attended a convent boarding school in high school (Catholic). If any of the nuns are still alive, they may be relieved to know that the scoundrels who raided the kitchen on a regular basis were my roommate Janie and me.
  2. The shock of my young life came when I left the convent world (at age 16) for the University of Chicago, at the time considered to be a hotbed of communism and sexual experimentation.
  3. My birthday present to myself for my 70th birthday was to get Invisilign braces. The good news is that they are virtually invisible.  The bad news is that I can’t snack (well, maybe that’s good news) and I have to brush my teeth half a dozen times a day.
  4. I hate exercise, and do it only under duress. Fortunately, I have picked my friends—and my partner Kent—wisely. They are all exercise freaks and force me to do it regularly.
  5. I collect crosses that are also works of art. It began as a compromise for a household in which one member is religiously inclined and the other is not. It’s now become an active interest for both of us.
  6. I love orchids. All three of my bathrooms are always decorated with gorgeous specimens that I find at—of all places—Lowe’s. They are beautiful, relatively inexpensive, and seem to last forever!
  7. On the socio-political spectrum, my brain runs red (all those years working in Wall Street) and my blood runs blue (growing up in a world of social workers.) So I almost never find a political candidate that satisfies both my economic and social goals.

Another rule is that a winner has to pass on the award to other worthy bloggers.   Here are my favorites, all of them writers who blog about the business of life rather than the business of writing. (Given the fact that I have always abhorred anything resembling chain mail letters, I absolve them from the obligation of passing the award on unless they choose to.)

If you click on the individual’s name, it will take you to the website.

Jo Kline Cebuhar – So Grows the Tree

Gwen Plano — From Sorrow to Joy — Perfect Love

Janet Givens — And So It Goes

David Lawlor — History With a Twist

Marian Beaman – Plain and Fancy

Susan Weidener – Women’s Writing Circle

Richard Sutton — Saille Tales

Maria Popova – Brain Pickings

Sonia Marsh — My Gutsy Story

Joan Rough — One Rich Life

Check out each and every one of them … they will all brighten your day.