Skip navigation

Tag Archives: Caring

empathic-listening-photo
I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen.

Just Listen.

Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. And especially if it’s given from the heart. When people are talking, there’s no need to do anything but receive them.

Just take them in. Listen to what they are saying. Care about it.

Most times, caring about it is even more important than understanding it. Most of us don’t value ourselves or our love enough to know this. It has taken me a long time to believe in the power of simply saying, “I’m so sorry,” when someone is in pain. And meaning it.

– – Rachel Naomi Remen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for stopping by.  I hope that you enjoy your visit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Advertisements

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In a Crisis.”

lemons empathy card

Maybe it is a dire need of humor that caused me to read the above and get a good laugh. A crisis is not a laughing matter, but it does not call for a one-size-fits-all homogenized generic rhetorical answer either.

Crisis, like pain, is individual. Whether it is a massive panic attack, an incurable disease, a car accident, or leaving your wallet on a plane, it is your experience. Yours. Fully individual and unique as you and your reaction to the situation. It does not matter how good, or bad, someone else has it.  Your pain is not a measurement to anything other than your own ability to keep going.

Crises occur millions of times, all over the world, and no two experiences are the same.

If you want to talk, I am here to listen and empathize. If you want me to hold your hand, and sit quietly with you as you cry, I will do that too. But, most of all, I will let you feel your own your pain.

Together, we will figure out a way to cope, for a minute at a time, but how you respond to a personal crisis has nothing to do with someone else’s history. This is a story all your own and you determine how to turn the page.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading my posts. It means more than you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

knowing when to walk away

Those people that tell you to listen to their negativity because it is for your own good?

It is not. It is for their own good. The better to manipulate with, my dear.

Those people who tell you that constructive criticism is important for self-growth? When was the last time you saw them accepting such necessary need for self-growth?  Also, if there was nothing positive in the message then it was not constructive, it was destructive.

Our most basic understanding of life forms tells us that roots need room to run deep and flowers need to face the sun.  They require nurturing, the necessity of water, the life force, time, and the right environment to flourish and thrive.

That person in your life that says it is all your fault and that if you speak again, you will be treated in some punitive way, is not giving you even the barest of conditions for growth.

It is scary; most people have doubts, questions, and insecurities.  The ones that admit it, make room for others to express themselves, and seek to create a better environment for all.  Those that don’t admit it, and repeatedly tell you that you deserve such treatment, are manipulative.  Those people are not honest or looking at their own need for improvement or acceptance of how the person they became today was formed yesterday.

Consider ~ are the messages that you are receiving benefiting you, or someone else?

If it was coming from love, or compassion, you would feel comforted and peaceful. But, you realize that your interal discomfort and distrust is because it reminds you of another false message. Trust your instincts and your brain when you realize it is a message that has been relayed and replayed before. Know that you deserve better than that, and being on your own, is preferable to living in someone else’s isolation. Behave with integrity and dignity. Be sincere in your compliments and seek to raise someone else up rather than only yourself. Real dignity means extending it to someone else, or to yourself, when you realize it is time for a change. Change is not easy, but it is critical to step out of the shade.

Consider this – those that make fun of such type of thoughts are showing their true character. Their lack of trust, suspicion and arrogance has nothing to do with you. You did not make them behave that way. It is their behavior, not yours, that creates a lack of balance.

Suspicion and anger create a lack; Faith and belief know that abundance is never limited.

You have the opportunity to improve the level of the world in a group, or one-to-one, but at least you are making the effort and room for all who want to strengthen their roots. You are taking a step to face the sun.

Bravo!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you so much for visiting. I would love to hear your positive comments (there is too much negativity already). 🙂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To all the remarkable women who are mothers, or who deserve the respect and adulation that Mommies deserve, I wish you much compassion, wellness, and humor.  After all, that macaroni frame is not going to hang itself!

things our mothers taught us

With Mother’s Day approaching, I am getting so much mail about gifts to buy, how to celebrate, and things to do with Mom. As we are in the transitions with my mother and grandmother, I empathize with others that are unable to celebrate on this day.  Ultimately, through good and bad, no one loves you like your mother.

I come from a long line of very strong women; I have even given birth to a couple.  The stories and memories that we share of our lineage bring smiles, tears, and laughter – especially to others who don’t have to deal with all of the other baggage! But the inventive sense of humor, creativity, and independence that each lived gives us strength when we need it.  It reminds us that they have not really left us, but remain alive in our hearts and minds with each memory.

Men may be the hunters and gatherers, but it is the mothers who cut the crusts off the sandwiches and make sure that everyone has exactly the same number of cookies.  Mothers can spend 12 hours in the warzone with toddlers, but when Dad walks in, he gets all of the attention. Motherhood is not always fair, sometimes fierce, often fractured, but it is an elemental love so deep and strong, that we persevere.

My mother gave each of us the legacy of family through stories, journals and photographs that she has researched, collected and created for us to acknowledge and remember family members that we did not get to meet face-to-face.  She grew up without grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins and therefore worked very hard to make memories, create family occasions, and document them with pictures and souvenirs.  We grew up with developing fluid in our veins. We knew that if it happened, Mom had a photo of it.  We have had more “natural” posed photographs than some, but we knew it was, and still is, done with love.

The oral history that passes from mother to child brings our ancestors to life. It creates memories and journeys to share with our own children. It is a reminder that mothers will do what they have to do in order to care for their families, and others, in a world that does not always stop to notice.

My great grandparents had to move from one country in Europe to another in order to find work and financially support their growing family.  My great grandfather went ahead to seek work, while my great grandmother waited in another country with my grandmother and her brother.  She waited until my great grandfather was settled and he was ready for them to reunite.  Each European country was tied up in its own borders, paperwork and bureaucracy.  It might be necessary to move families, but they did not make it easy and did not want to take in immigrants to swell the ranks of the social services.  My great grandmother did not let one such border crossing officer utilize his power to keep her from entering the country and beginning a new life with her family.  She was told that the paperwork was not cleared and that she could not enter the country. So, like the clever, strong woman that she was, she told her children to sit down and wait at the crossing, with the nice border patrol, while she went to find her husband and clear up any misunderstanding with the necessary documentation.

My great grandmother was allowed to enter with her family and belongings.

My grandmother was very frugal, as was my grandfather, who carefully measured each portion and calculated every penny of their combined paychecks. In the 1950’s, my grandparents traveled to Europe, by ship, with my mother and her brother to see what was left of the lives that they had been forced to flee.  There simply was not enough disposable income for lavish meals after the expense of the tickets and the limited income they were careful to protect.  Grandma traveled with a large black purse, a seemingly bottomless trapezoid, which opened and closed with a clicking snap.  She carefully planned for their modest needs and traveled with cans of tuna.  At each restaurant where they were able to eat, the bread basket was placed on the table along with the cutlery and linens.  Each time that the waiter turned around, Grandma would swoop the entire contents of the bread basket into her large black purse, and pleasantly request more rolls.  The family dined on tuna sandwiches throughout their journey.

My mother, undaunted by her own strict and occasionally domineering mother, was unfazed at times when she sought independence.  As a teenager living in New York, my mother dreamed of cozy cottages and country climes.  She had seen a wooden rocking chair and wanted to purchase it for her room.  My grandmother felt it was unnecessary and impractical in their modest-sized apartment.  My mother was told that she could not get it. Those are fighting words for my mother.  She purchased that chair and brought it home, remarkably, on the New York subway system.  Through many incarnations, and paint colors, that rocking chair has traveled through several moves across the country and today sits in her home office.

My mother does things on her own timetable and doesn’t let the seemingly impossible stop her. Where I am punctual, my mother found the concept of time to be more fluid. If we were supposed to be somewhere in five minutes, that was enough time for her to put on nail polish before we headed into the car.

When I was a teenager, my family moved to New Orleans for a number of years. Mom and Dad had to acclimate to the weather, so hot and humid compared to our New England winters, and become accustomed to a brand new way of life.  Both of my parents worked and had to figure out how to maneuver in their new environment while trying to find their way around the city.  In the days before Mapquest, and the difficulty in driving in the city while holding a large paper map, it was necessary to remember the minimum number of routes to arrive at your destination. On one shopping excursion, my mother had missed her turn and did not know another way to get back to the Mall.  As I was a teenager, fresh from driving lessons and my license still warm, I told my mother that the sign said “No Left Turns.”  My mother’s steely reply:  “Wanna Bet?”

How can we turn out any other way than strong, determined, caring, and possessing a wit and absurd sense of humor?

We are teachers, doctors, cooks, and personal shoppers. We are chauffeurs, social planners, bankers, and the butt of jokes.  We are tired, despairing, frustrated, elated and proud. We can be examples or warnings.  We are mental health counselors on call 24 hours a day. But wherever we are, and wherever they are, we are forever Mothers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for stopping by! It means more than you know.  I miss you Mom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

%d bloggers like this: