Content versus Happy

I once had a boyfriend who told me “I’m happy, but I’m not content in this relationship.”

Huh? “Isn’t happy better than content?” I asked him. I forget what he said, but I didn’t understand it. We broke up. (Not, in case you are wondering, just because of that comment.)

Today, I finally got it. I’d had one of those days with both highs and lows in it. I realized I was content with the day. To me, “content” stems from an internal sense of balance. Whatever the world throws at me, I get to choose how to respond. “Happy” seems to be more externally or situationally driven. It can be more fleeting, depending on what is happening in my life.

Then it hit me…I’d rather be content than happy. I finally understand.

Thank you, Darrick, for planting that seed all those years ago.

Realization #1927

The more tightly I try to hold onto something I believe is mine, the more fragile my possession becomes.

What I Learned from my Curling Iron

Yep, my curling iron.

I recently bought a curling iron. I think the last time I used one was in college. I will spare you the details of how I made this momentous decision.

This morning, as I was happily transforming my hair from flat and slightly annoying to bouncy and fun, I realized that I was creating beauty through damaging my hair. I reflected on other ways we become more beautiful as a result of damage or pain. There are many.

Have you heard of the term “the wounded healer?” It basically refers to the wounds that are created through life, that later become the pathway to helping others heal from similar hurts.

Ask any good therapist about this.

I had a friend in grad school, Diane, who had a daughter with Cerebral Palsy. Diane declared she would not change her daughter even if she could. I must admit, I was surprised and asked her why. She told me her daughter had taught Diane and her family what was important and beautiful in life. A wounded healer.

There are others who lose a limb, or their vision, or some other precious thing, who end up living life more fully as a result. Think of the campaigns to end drunk driving, or find lost children, or raise money for cancer, that were started by people who faced painful losses. Most of us will not face losses so momentous, or create such wide-ranging works of goodness.

However, we each face our own hurts in life, small and large. It is our choice of whether to take the pain and use it to make us stronger and more beautiful. I know it helps me, when I am faced with a setback or a failure, to figure out how I can use the situation to become wiser, or something…anything to keep me from feeling sorry for myself. It helps me to live with less regret.

Geez, I wonder what thoughts I’d have if I had bought electric curlers instead…

Missed Opportunities

In the past month, I learned that two people I greatly respect but don’t know very well, are moving out of town. Both of them I have wanted to get to know better, but I put off doing anything about it until I had more time.

Time’s up.

I am very good at putting things off. I was in graduate school for ten years. I honed putting things off until I had more time, more money, I graduated, etc., into a fine art. “Delayed gratification” became my middle name.

I have made great strides in breaking that pattern. The paperwork on my desk attests to that.

And two fine people moving out of town before I get a chance to know them, makes me realize I have some more striding to do.

I remember years ago when I was taking off in an airplane I thought “If I died today, what would I regret not doing?” It was getting in touch with a friend with whom I’d lost contact. That surprised me; I thought it would be about countries I hadn’t visited, or not having children, or something else really big. Calling an old friend is easy.

You can bet your boots I called her when I got home. (This was before cell phones became common.)

I invite you, dear reader, to look at where in your life you put things off that could enrich your life. They might be simpler than you think.

Living Outside Assumptions

Most of the time I am totally fine not living the life of 2.5 kids, a husband, and a picket fence. But every once in awhile I get a bit peeved that people assume I have those things.

This time it occurred as I was answering security questions for my on-line banking. The majority of questions were about children and spouses. The problem is, I don’t have kids or a spouse. I was a bit stumped as to how I was going to choose five questions to answer unless I made up the answers.

That didn’t seem like a wise plan.

Luckily, as I scrolled down I could answer questions about my parents and grandparents, or where I was born. I was not doomed to a life without on-line banking.

A couple of years ago, a woman said to me “You have children right?” I said “no.” She smiled and replied “Well, it’s not too late.” I wish I would have had the presence of mind to answer “That statement assumes several things, none of which are true” then smile graciously.

The Gift of Wrinkles

Today I realized I was furious that I am getting older. To be more precise, I was furious that my body shows the signs of getting older. I also realized I was jealous of younger women and of women my age who look younger than I look. Ick.

Those are not pleasant feelings, my friends. Yet I have them.

As I sat there, trying not to quash my feelings, but to simply hold them, a question came to my mind—“What do I do with these feelings?” I can’t act on them. What would I do, go around to all the women I perceive as more beautiful than I and tell them to stop their beauty? The mere thought makes me laugh. Besides, they are likely having the same feelings about other women. I can’t pretend I don’t have the feelings and the fear behind them. The farther I get into this work the more I see how futile that is.

The question remains, what do I do? Then came the answer.

I live.

I live knowing that this lifetime is not endless; my aging body shows me that. I live knowing how precious life is, because one day I will die. I live the absolute beauty of life.

I recognized all the signs of aging I hate—the thinning skin, the circles under my eyes, the graying hair, the various joint and muscles ailments—all are signs of my amazing life—the life with which I have already been gifted, and the life I have yet to explore.

Now, instead of looking at my wrinkles in disgust and fear, I have the choice to see them as reminders of my cherished life, and have my eyes, and heart, fill with gratitude.

Ok, I’m writing a book

Those of you who don’t know me are probably not picking your jaw off the floor, as my friends likely are. After all, my motto in college was “writing is the bane of my life.”

Then I went on to get a Master’s (with a dissertation-length thesis.) Apparently, not yet having had enough of my bane, I pursued a PhD. I even published research articles after I got out of school, bitterly complaining about how much I don’t like to write the entire time I was doing all this writing. Just wacky.

So you may ask, “Jane, why then, are you writing a book?” That is a fabulous question!

Because I am excited about it. Because people keep saying “you should write a book.” Because the women in each group I run continue to inspire me with ideas. Because it is time to let more women know and benefit from the work I do.

So, periodically I will post blogs asking questions, soliciting stories, and checking out ideas. I may even gripe about my wacky decision to write a book.

Just giving you a heads-up, dear reader.