Second grade super tooth

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

So, following the tooth fairy story, I have to give equal time to Alex.

He was ever my unconventional child. If Stephanie is the type-A firstborn, Alex is an out-of-the-box free spirit. He marched to his own drummer as a child, and still does to this day.

His early tooth adventures were uneventful, as I recall. Or rather, don’t recall; the point being that they must have been pretty ordinary, or I would still be slightly twitching. (That’s what repeated childhood dental trauma does, causes the mom to twitch.)

It was second grade that marked me.

He was in a new school, we had just moved, and we were in that phase when we wanted to make a great impression. You know, when you hope your shining parenting skills are showing every day, hoping your little cherub is fitting in and doing well.

I knew he had a loose tooth, knew it was just a matter of time till it was out. We were going through the familiar routine…

“Just let me check it…how loose is it? Let me help you pull it.” “No!” “Let your dad look at it.” “No!” “Let Stephanie look at it.” “No!” “OK, just keep wiggling it,”

Every day, the same conversation after school. “Let me see, still got it?” “Yep!”

Finally, one morning, a few minutes before time for school, Alex came running into the kitchen. I was deep in lunch boxes, not looking at him, just listening. I heard the escalating tone of voice.

“Mommy, look!”

“Mommy, look!!”

I turned around and saw this horrifying sight…his loose front tooth was turned around backward. It was still attached, and it was backward in his head.

My little guy, cute as he could be, was suddenly slightly frightening. Have you ever seen a tooth facing backward? Made me feel queasy just looking at it.

I didn’t even know such a thing was possible, and now here it was in my second grader. And it was almost time for school.

The only thing I could think was, he was not going to school with a backward tooth in his head. That just wasn’t right. I remember feeling indignant. How could he do this?! What was he thinking?

Of course he wasn’t thinking, he was just being a second-grader. I’m sure he was just as shocked as I was. Neither of us expected this turn of events…literally, this turn of events.

I must have sounded like someone out of a comedy show. I think I said something like “You can pull that tooth or turn it around, but you’re not going to school like that!”

I have to admit, I don’t know why it seemed so unacceptable to me that he would show up with a backward facing tooth. I’m sure no one at school would have thought we planned this, or thought we thought this was the new style for loose tooth management. But in that moment it seemed unthinkable. Nor did I see myself keeping him home from school for a loose tooth, much less a backward facing loose tooth.

I briefly rehearsed explaining the reason for his absence to the intimidating woman who answered the school attendance line…no, unthinkable. I was not going to find myself explaining this to her. I could almost feel disapproval as I imagined the scene in my mind.

“You allowed your son to turn his tooth backward?!”

I hadn’t allowed him to do it, and I was pretty sure he was surprised as well.

I hadn’t read about this in my parenting books! Now what?

Such are the thoughts that race through a mom’s mind when confronted with a backward-facing-toothed second-grader.

It was traumatic, I tell you!

He seemed to accept that he had to make a choice with the tooth and he ran out of the kitchen. I thought the answer was obvious, and as I hurriedly wrapped up lunch prep, I confidently expected to see him come back, new gap in his smile, tooth in hand.

But Alex was rarely predictable. Imagine my surprise when he ran back in, all smiles, ready to go, tooth turned around and facing the right way again.

I couldn’t believe he could have turned it backward and it still hung on, and now he’d managed to turn it back around, and it was still there. Was this super tooth or something?!

Well, he got to go to school. And the tooth came out in due time. Not much more time, but not that morning either. It was a resilient loose tooth!

Wish I’d  made a photo!

 

Little milestones

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

Riley girl, princess extraordinaire, favorite six-year-old, lost her first tooth last night.

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My baby’s baby is getting big.

She was eating dinner and out it came. Just like that! No tears, no trauma. No drama.

I was afraid a door and a string might be in her future.

Loosing baby teeth wasn’t easy for her mom.

She lost the first one eating a bowl of cereal. Never did find that tooth!

The second one came out with a fall when she was skiing. There was a little blood on the snow, but no tooth. Never did find it…well, white tooth, white snow…

The next few teeth came out in the dentist’s chair. The baby teeth were slow to loosen, and the permanent teeth were pushing their way in. The dentist said it would be best to pull them. I think he pulled four at once. The teeth, our first to present to the tooth fairy, were placed in a little plastic tooth holder on a little plastic necklace. Stephanie wanted to wear it home, she was so proud.

We stopped by the grocery to pick up something soft and appetizing for her…ice cream or yogurt…I can’t remember now, it’s been too long. But I vividly remember the next scene. Alex in the seat of the cart, food in the front of the cart, and Stephanie, suddenly in tears and inconsolable…the little cover on her plastic tooth had opened while we strolled through the store. It was a big store.

And now, no teeth. Again!

I back-tracked, trying to assure her we would find a tooth or two, at least, I was sure of that! We paraded back through the aisles, walking slow, trying to look for tiny white  baby teeth along the way. A kind clerk tried to help us, joining in the hunt.

We did find a couple of teeth…not quite the bounty we expected to present to the tooth fairy, but something.

Finally, after checking out, full cart, consoled child, I realized: no car keys.

Somehow, in all the uproar, I’d lost my keys as well.

I had to call Rob for rescue. He had to leave the hospital and bring his keys so we could get home before ice cream melted and the remaining teeth escaped.

I left word with the grocery customer service desk: if they found any baby teeth, or a set of car keys, please call this frantic mom.

Oh it was traumatic! But the tooth fairy did find her way to us that night, and paid on all the teeth. (As she had on the others that were lost. Tooth fairies understand: these things happen.)

I did eventually get my keys back.

Never did find those teeth!

So it’s with pleasure that I learn Riley’s first tooth adventure was simple, quick, painless, and she has a tooth to show for it.

Lucky girl! 🙂

 

Mother’s Day: thank you!

/ Sheila / 2 Comments

This week Riley and Jack got a new cousin. Seeing them hold the new little one was a sharp reminder of how quickly they’re growing. Already they’re big: in size, in abilities, in age.

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Like my two, Riley and Jack are precious to me, children of my daughter and my heart.

Though I know etiquette dictates a mother’s day gift is in order, to be honest, I’ve already had all the gifts, and more, I could desire.

I’m the one who’s thankful.

Mothering has been mostly joyful. And if I’ve tried hard to be a good at it, I’ve had good material to work with.

For that I’m grateful.

I had a good teacher. My mother has been an unfailing source of support and encouragement. She has hoped for me and mine, and she has listened with her heart.

No life is perfect, mine is no exception. But when I count my blessings, the thread of mothering that runs through the generations is one of the gifts most precious. I’ve had the gift of a good mother, and I’ve found joy in my own experience of mothering.

And who could ask for more, on Mother’s Day?

“I’m blessed and I couldn’t be more grateful. Do you want to know why? Because I’m a mother, but that’s only half of it. I’m blessed because, when I need to, I can still just be a daughter. I get the feeling that there is nothing more precious than to have both of these roles, simultaneously.”
― Adrianna Stepiano

 

Happy #6!

/ Sheila / Leave a comment

This little is six years old today! Six! I couldn’t believe it when it was my girl growing up so fast, and now I watch Riley.

To say I love her is an understatement. She seems to embody all the best of little girls…the princess, the silly, the funny, the sweet, the cute.

 

She makes us laugh. Sometimes with her, sometimes at her. She’s a joy, and full of surprises. She’s oddly wise for her years. She’s tall for her age. She’s a blend of her dad and mom, daddy’s girl and mommy’s helper.

She loves doughnuts, dolls, and crafts. She alternately nurtures and tolerates her little brother. She’s picky about her clothes, loves to wear skirts and frilly things.

She’s a kindergartner, reading, learning, swimming, getting big. She has a loose tooth…how did that happen so fast? I have to remember: it’s time. Soon her baby teeth will make way for the new.

She’s made a home in my heart.

Riley girl, the one and only. Happy birthday, little!

 

Homeless by design

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We’ve entered a new era, a new adventure. We’re officially homeless, with no new address in sight.

The transition began in the fall of 2014 when we sold our last house and moved our remaining belongings to storage. We’ve lived since then out of a combination of roller bags, back packs, temporary work housing, camping, visiting with family, and the occasional VRBO (vacation rental by owner).

Now we’ve removed the camping element, turning the travel trailer over for consignment sale. We sold my car in December, and Rob’s truck last weekend. They were mostly living in storage.

Between us we have keys for our mailbox, and keys to temporary duty housing in Alaska.

We have no idea how long this will last, or where our next permanent landing place will be. For now, it’s enough that we know the schedule for the next few months. We’ll connect with family, work a bit, travel, experience, and manage the routines of life. All without a home, or vehicles.

You wouldn’t know, to look at me, that this would be a choice I would make. I remind myself that life is about seasons, and this is just a different season than I’ve experienced before. If much of my life has been about nesting and the pleasures of making a home, this chapter is about living, literally, outside the box, stretching myself in ways I could only imagine before, improvising, serendipity, the pleasures of the moment.

Some of this we’ve chosen, other pieces have just evolved.

In many ways the living is easy.

The benefits?

I don’t have to schedule maintenance on anything or keep up with a yard. I don’t have to do much cleaning these days. We have no house payment, no car payment. (To be honest, we were done with those payments before we sold the cars or the house, but it’s still good to know.) We keep an non-owner auto policy that gives us insurance coverage for rental cars, and we maintain a mailing address so we can receive the few pieces of actual mail that come our way. We have a monthly storage fee on a one-car garage size unit, which we occasionally access to switch out clothes or seasonal items.

When we travel, we’re not locked into a specific destination…no returning to an RV or one location. We plan to use this time to explore and check off places on our must-see lists.

We get to try a variety of vehicles on for size. We did the math. We can rent a car for about three months of the year before we cross the line of spending more than we would spend annually on insurance and vehicle maintenance and storage fees. When we work, transportation is provided, so we don’t need to rent during that time. Depending on where we’re staying when we’re not working, we may or may not need a vehicle. And even if we end up spending more in rental / shuttle / cab fees than we would typically spend to own, there’s still tremendous flexibility.

Making these choices helped us purge, clean out, and really consider which possessions are important, necessary, and worth keeping. In particular, I, lover of my stuff, have done a lot of soul searching as I think about what I need to hold, and what I need to release.

It’s not always easy, but the freedom is amazing.

The drawbacks?

I sometimes miss a sense of home that is familiar and inviting. Clinic housing tends to be functional and comfortable, but it isn’t homey. It isn’t beautiful. And it isn’t mine. Hotel or vacation rentals are generally comfortable and even inviting, but of course they don’t feel like “home.” Family spaces are certainly familiar and homey, but that’s a different experience as well.

None of this is bad, as much as it is different.

Our littles won’t know what it’s like to visit our home, at least for a while. It’s already been too long since we were settled for them to remember visiting us in the last house we had. We see them at their house, or when we connect elsewhere. That’s fun, but different too.

I miss my things, sometimes. I mostly miss my kitchen. I know everything is safely stored away, awaiting the next nest. But I don’t know the date of “next.” There’s no move-in date on my calendar to plan toward, yet.

The cautions?

You must be good at planning ahead to live like this. We can be spontaneous with our time off, but when we’re working, (we work about half the year) we have to commit to that schedule far enough in advance to arrange travel. Usually we’re planning two to three months out. There are a lot of logistics issues to keep up with.

We’re thoughtful about how much and how often we land on family. We don’t want anyone to get tired of seeing us, and we don’t want to be a burden or take advantage of family because we’re choosing to live like this. This is our choice, not our family’s. That means when we visit, we pay for a lot of things…meals, or gas, or help with whatever we can, and we don’t stay too long. A few days is usually about right.

There are some oddities about living this way. It’s hard to give a short answer when someone asks where we live. It’s challenging to schedule some things…dental cleanings and haircuts, health care, tax prep…sometimes we’re in the right place when one of these services is due, and sometimes not. Just another area of life that makes careful planning essential.

So far I’ve been able to keep up with the right clothes for the right season / climate, haven’t found myself in a summer location with winter clothes in my suitcase. But it’s only a matter of time, I’m sure. So far, our luggage has kept up with us, every step of the way, every flight. Nothing lost or damaged. But it’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.

Of course we’re not the only people on the planet living an unconventional lifestyle. A lot of people are nomads, my husband’s term of choice. I sometimes think about trying to chronicle all the stories, the lessons I’ve learned from living like this. Maybe I’ll do it. Right now I’m busy juggling work and new site, new book in final pre-print phase, personal travel, work travel, the occasional blog post, staying connected to family and friends.

One of these days we’ll land again, unpack, get into a routine. One of these days..

“Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” Robert Frost

 

 

 

 

Grace-filled

/ Sheila / Leave a comment

Easter Sunday, spending the day with the littles, spending the morning reflecting on the meaning of this day, and surrounded by family…well, it’s grace-filled for sure. Nothing better than to know I’m in the right place, at the right time, and that it’s all a gift of life, and a gift of God.

The grace that fills my days, even when the days aren’t pretty, or what I’d like them to be, is the grace that sustains. This is the gift of the Giver, that says no matter how life looks at any given moment, it’s all going to be good in the end. The end is already determined, known, won.

Thank God for the day, for the victory of life, and for the grace that makes the moments beautiful, even in the mess of life.

Thank God for family, for my partner, for the joy of the good things.

It’s a grace-filled place I’m in today.

Thank God, the Giver.

Slow learner, late bloomer

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

I often refer to myself as “a slow learner and a late bloomer.” I say it a bit tongue in cheek, with self-deprecating humor.

It’s not completely true. But sadly, it’s more true than not.

I like to see myself as thoughtful, cautious, mindful.

How is it then, that some of my past decisions I look back on with the familiar, “what was I thinking?!” question?

Just this week I had a chance to make a choice, a big choice, about direction in life.

There was a need, and I could be part of the solution.

It was tempting, so tempting, to say yes. To rise to the occasion.

But the opportunity wasn’t one I wanted, not the direction I wanted to head in, not by a long shot.

But I also couldn’t completely walk away. I have some commitment to this work already, and it’s not really possible to break it off cold. Nor do I think that would be the ethical choice.

Instead of accepting the opportunity offered, taking the all or nothing approach, I found a third way. I found a way to honor myself, and the need that is before me.

The specifics of the situation aren’t relevant to anyone else. What is important is that I’ve learned to listen to myself, to recognize that giving in to a need on someone else’s part, even if the task is something I could do, isn’t the right answer, if everything inside me says that “yes” is the wrong answer.

I’ve finally realized an honest “no” is better than a grudging “yes.”

For someone like me, programmed, it seems, with a “yes” policy, this is big.

I was brought up to put others before myself, and to do what I can to contribute, to help, to do my best.

Somewhere along the way, I let those attitudes become a default for better judgment, at times, and quieted the voice in my head that I should have listened to, more than once, when I’ve been at a life crossroads. I defaulted to saying “yes,” when “no” was the real answer.

Opportunities aren’t necessarily right for your life, just because they appear in front of you, because they’re the path of least resistance at the moment. Or because someone else thinks you’d be perfect for the job.

It’s taken years to ask the question, “what do I really want?” and not see that as a selfish position, in the face of the needs of others. I’m speaking mostly of professional life choices here, but in any context, I think it’s important to honestly confront personal desires. I can’t make a real choice if I don’t even recognize the options.

This self-blindness hurt me, my marriage, and created a lot of angst, as I tried to whole-heartedly honor commitments my heart was never in, in the first place.

So finally, I see…being honest with myself, first, is the best way to be honest with others. If I’ve committed to work because I feel pressured, rather than inspired; if I feel on the spot to be the solution, rather than feeling a desire to rise to the occasion, I need to heed those feelings. I am not the right person for the job.

I’ve tried to honor the commitments I’ve made, as I moved through life. But some I shouldn’t have made, and it took me a long time to acknowledge that reality. I owe it to myself, to my marriage, and to others I interact with to be honest rather than hiding behind a veil of being nice.

The word “no” doesn’t make me a bad person. How did I confuse the two…”no” and “nice?” This sounds like I’m just spineless, but really I’m not…I just haven’t recognized my patterns in this area until recently.

Hindsight is 20/20, and finally, finally, I can bring that clarity of vision to the present. I can say “no” when that’s the right answer, and know I made the right choice.

 

 

Fighting fear

/ Sheila / 4 Comments

Fear is the great paralyzing force of life. For me that’s certainly been true.

Let me count the ways I fear:

I fear death, illness, or injury to people I love.

I fear catastrophe…the unforeseen and unstoppable forces that assault life.

I fear loss…loss of relationships, loss of security, loss of order.

I fear uncertainty. I fear choosing poorly.

I fear my own inadequacies and failings.

Out of all of these, what do I control?

The reality is: not much.

I can do my best to be prepared, to be the person I want to be in any given circumstance.

But so much is beyond me, beyond my reach.

When I accept that, the next step is to look at what I can control.

Fear is never going to completely go away. But I can divide fear into the category of “what can I do about it?” and “I can’t do anything about it.”

Thinking about fear this way helps. Helps me focus on what I can manage, prepare for, guard against. One thing I’ve learned to do: I ask what’s behind the obvious fear. For example, if I’m afraid of losing my job, what’s that really about? The job, or what the job represents? Is it the specific job I want to hold, or the security for my family that the job provides?

If I can break fear down, know what’s really behind it, I know what’s critical. I can plan for the possible loss I see on the horizon, do what I can to brace myself.

The other kind of fear? Well, that I have to set aside. No worrying or planning can prevent natural disasters, accidents, life-threatening disease. I don’t want to lose the best of life worrying about the worst of life. That would be a tragedy in every way.

Fear can be a good thing, a motivating thing, when I know how to manage it. It can be a cautionary response to something dangerous.

I won’t say fear is a friend. But it doesn’t have to be the enemy either.

Fear is just an emotion that can give me information. ~ Ed McClune

When I think of it this way, it’s manageable. Fear no longer controls me. I won’t say I control fear. But at least I’m no longer paralyzed by it.

And that’s a good beginning.

When I’m not paralyzed, I can move, and when I move, I progress.

It’s never going to be easy to beat back fear. It is doable. But you have to be fierce about it…fight it. Grow strong. Become resolved. That only happens with time, and proving to yourself that it’s actually possible to outlive your fears.

Yes, sometimes the worst happens. This is life, and there’s no escaping the realities that cause fear. But somehow, somehow, survival may be possible. And if you can survive, you can find your way through fear. One baby step at a time.

What information is fear giving you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Political discourse

/ Sheila / 4 Comments

I’ve never used my blog to express political opinion. That isn’t my focus here, and I don’t want it to become my focus.

But I must say, this year: I’m disheartened, saddened, disappointed, by both major parties, and the candidates.

What has happened to our process? How have we allowed candidates to become so coarse, so small and petty? Where is the dignity the highest office in the land should inspire, and demand?

How can we have candidates for the office of president who are there as much for who they’re related to as for their own achievements? We’re not a country founded on political dynasties. I don’t think that’s what we should seek or allow now. Political dynasties are bad for the country: too much influence peddling, too much opportunity for unfair advantage and cronyism.

What is wrong with our political process when the major parties can manipulate the use of party delegates, “super delegates,” to offset the voice of individual voters? And why is the process so convoluted and complex it seems few can really understand it, much less navigate it?

Why do we need more than a year for our election process? Other countries seem to be able to have an election within a few weeks or months. And why do we need to pour massive sums of money into whole thing? Isn’t there a better way to spend money? It’s so expensive to campaign for office. Have we allowed the Presidency to be reduced to a prize that can be bought? Or to become an office that only the wealthiest and best connected can aspire to?

I enjoy political theater, and it’s interesting when the unexpected happens or a dark horse candidate suddenly breaks free from the pack.

But I’m appalled to see our political process has become just one more reality TV show, full of immature and narcissistic egos, insults, false statements, and bluster. Such conduct belittles us all. How can we as a country expect to be taken seriously by other countries and leaders when our politicians act as they do? When what they say in the setting of national debates sounds like talk from middle schoolers? And they expect voters to believe in them? To believe in their wisdom, their insight, their ability to be calm and collected in times of stress and threat? Do we want these people directing our military?

In election seasons, people often refer to the Founding Fathers, going back to the vision they had for government and the structure they put in place. When I think of the leaders of that time and compare what we have now, the people we look to as leaders, I’m shocked by how far we’ve fallen.

Those people weren’t perfect. They had flaws too, often obscured by the veil of time and the romantic haze of sentiment that colors our view of that era.

But…

They were articulate, educated, thoughtful, far-seeing, and principled. They cared about more than personal gain or risk. And for whatever faults they had, they accomplished a Herculean feat. They designed and built a new country.

They had honor.

Maybe we expect too much from our leaders…we expect them to please all of us, to have the right background, the right education, to be attractive, personable, charming, witty, good in front of the camera. Maybe honesty and integrity are dispensable characteristics, but they must be entertaining to watch, able to generate ratings. That’s the message we seem to send to the candidates we approve by vote tallies.

At the very least, I would like my leaders, specifically the leader in the role of President, to be an honest person, someone of integrity.

I don’t expect to agree with the President on every front. That would be impossible, and even unfair. This person has to lead a huge body of people, and we’re all going to be on the losing side of decisions from time to time. No one can please us all.

I don’t even have to like the person who is President. That would be nice, but what I really want is to look at this person and believe they’re doing the best they can, acting out of principle, and conscience, and strength.

I don’t care if we have a male or female as President. Other countries have had women leaders, decades ago, and they did very well representing their countries and their parties. But I don’t want this office to be a prize given for the sake of historic gesture. I don’t care about color or gender, spouse or no spouse, career achievements or alma mater. I care about choosing the best person for the job. Period.

I do care, very much, about the character of the person we elect. For those who say character doesn’t matter, I say, it is almost the only thing that matters to me. I don’t expect perfection. How could I? No one could meet that standard. I don’t expect that candidates have mistake-free personal lives…in fact, I don’t want to know all that much about their personal lives. I think they have a right to some privacy. But I do expect people who aspire to the office to have integrity, to do their best, to lead with dignity. Is that too much to ask?

Maybe it is, at least this year.

Maybe this will be the cycle that helps us to reset…to pull back from the abyss, to say, “what have we done?” Maybe this election season will open the door to serious election reform, to significant and intelligent change.

If that happens, good. We need to give up our addiction to political drama, and reclaim a political system that functions in the interests of the citizens; we need leaders who are serious, who respect the office and the responsibility entrusted to them; and we need to be able to trust our elected officials. We may not agree with every decision, but it would be encouraging to believe the person in the Oval Office acts out of principle, courage, and conviction, rather than playing to the polls, or political posturing. This is not a game.

Or maybe the whole thing has become a game . But it shouldn’t be.

Maybe this is the year to write in “none of the above,” and ask our parties to go back to the starting line, give us better choices. In a land of 300 million plus, surely that’s possible? What does it say of us, the citizen-voters, that we don’t demand better?

We need change at many levels of the process. We need informed voters, and a better way to express our opinions than going through antiquated and convoluted systems, controlled by party elites who have hidden motives and agendas. We need to allow voices to be heard that we disagree with. But we also need to assure everyone that each vote matters…that votes aren’t nullified by party rules and back room deals.

God help us all. It’s a scary world out there, and we need someone we can believe in…someone worthy of trust, worthy of sitting behind the Resolute Desk.

 

Authentic me

/ Sheila / Leave a comment

I love the real thing. I like to think I know it when I see it. And I certainly want to be real, to live with integrity, to be authentic, as a person.

I hear a lot of talk about being authentic; people saying, just like me, that this behavior or that behavior is “authentic” to them. They’re being true to themselves.

But “authentic” is no gold standard of behavior or character. I sometimes think we’ve forgotten that.

Here’s the thing. Sometimes I’m authentically disappointing. My authentic flaws appear, and there’s no doubt the real me is shining through.

That’s one of the drawbacks to being myself. Sometimes I’m not a me I like, or want to be.

What to do, what to do?!

This is what I’ve learned: when people talk about being “authentic,” they may be referencing behavior they’re proud of and genuinely feel good about. OR, they’re excusing behavior they know is questionable, but by saying that (fill in the blank) is authentic to them, they give themselves a pass, and others usually do as well. “Authentic” becomes a seal of approval to hide behind.

When we confuse the meaning of the term “authentic”…genuine and original article…with the belief that because a character trait or behavior is authentic, it is automatically something to be honored, we’ve mixed two very different standards.

I’m ready to give up a few pieces of my authentic self in exchange for others…traits I choose for their excellence, integrity, courage.

I want to cultivate behavior that reflects who I choose to be, rather than the person I sometimes am.

I’ll never be perfect, never get it all right, no one does. But honest effort to change has to start with the acknowledgement: there’s some of the authentic me I don’t want any more. Maybe in time, with thoughtful choice and discipline, I’ll be more courageous, more productive, stronger, and wiser.

But if I become a better person, a bigger person, it won’t be because it comes naturally to me…the changes will happen out of choice and hard work.

Because I believe we’re never done growing, that life is a teacher giving us lessons until we die, I’m not on a timeline. I am always a work in progress. But I don’t want to hide behind language, or ideas that don’t hold up. I don’t want to choose being authentic over becoming a better version of myself. Isn’t this the work of maturing? Of becoming the best me I can be?

This is an inside job. No one can do this for me. And I can’t determine for someone else what pieces of self to keep and nurture, and what to change. That would be arrogant thinking. No one can see into the heart of another.

So, authentic me or improved me? I know which one I choose. How about you?