​“Oh look. Superwoman is back.”

I could barely make out the sound over the workout music blasting in my headphones but as I turned to find the source of the muffled words, I realized they had been directed at me.

I locked eyes with the elderly woman beside me and reached up to click the headphone sound off so I could clarify what she had said.

I could feel the defensiveness starting to rise in my chest.

She motioned to the weight stack on the leg machine I was using and said “you’re like a superwoman. How can you do weights that heavy?”

She sat down at the machine beside me, adjusted the weights, and pointed at her own weight stack sighing “I can barely do this little bit and you did all that the other day.”

Suddenly everything shifted into focus.

I realized that I had misread this woman a few days earlier when she had been waiting for one of the machines I was using. Her exasperated sighs that day hadn’t been about me taking too long or being too sweaty or using a machine she wanted. They were because she felt badly about her limitations.

She had been in her own head, beating herself up with negative self talk.

She had no way of knowing that just a few minutes earlier I was feeling exasperated with my own limitations too and was convinced that she was repulsed and irritated by me.

With my newfound insight, I leaned over to her and whispered, “You’re a superwoman too, you know. Just being here is hard.”

She softened, smiled, and did a set on her machine before taking a deep breath.

“You know,” she said, “I’m actually recovering from a stroke and a triple bypass. I’m trying to get back to being healthy.”

Talk about a superwoman, right?

We spent the next few minutes chatting in-between sets as each of us completed our own superwomanly workout and shared some of the struggles of our lives - her looking back wistfully at my current stage of life and me looking forward in awe at hers.

As we parted ways, I couldn’t help but be moved by the irony of our shared experiences with self doubt and negative self talk.

Both of us had dragged ourselves to the gym on a Monday morning, feeling badly about ourselves and envious of the other women around us.

Women we thought were stronger,

skinnier,

faster,

healthier,

prettier,

and overall, better.

We had looked around us and saw a bunch of superwomen and in the mirror only saw a fraud.

But, for those few moments today both of us seemed to realize that maybe we did have a little bit of a superwoman in us.

Because there is a superwoman in all of us - fighting our own demons, pushing through our own challenges, and fighting towards our own goals.

Maybe it’s time to stop beating ourselves up and start lifting ourselves up instead.

And maybe as we start to lift ourselves up, we could also lift up our gaze and make connections with the other superwomen around us.

Because they are everywhere.

Even within.

As I neared my 40s, so many of the women around me who were already 40 were proclaiming a newfound sense of self.

They spoke about how they didn’t care what others thought of them anymore—sharing that it was as if some sort of epiphany suddenly released them from the burdensome weight of other people’s opinions once they reached the magical age of 40.

Hallelujah! Bring on 40! That sounds fabulous!

But, here I am, already 16 months into my 40s, and I can’t find the promised life-changing insight anywhere. There were no epiphanies that greeted me on my 40th birthday. There has been no increase in self-confidence. None of the magic I was promised has kicked in.

This isn’t how 40 was supposed to be.

I expected to roll up to my 40s, throw on some fabulous shades, and be able to let all the crap others might sling my way simply roll off my shoulders. At least, that’s the idea I was sold by so many of the women around me.

I want my money back.

Even at the age of 41, I am still crushed to the core by other’s negative opinions of me. Essentially, I am still the 14-year-old version of me. Yes, behind the wrinkles in my forehead, the crow’s feet around my eyes, and the sparkly grey hairs that frame my face is a girl who just wants everyone to understand she is a good person. She doesn’t need everyone to like her, approve of her, or even want to spend time with her, but man, does she need others to believe she is a good person — one who does not lie, steal, cheat, or deliberately hurt others.

Surely those insecurities were supposed to fade once I hit the age of 40, right? But, they are still there, sometimes louder than ever.

I keep telling that teenager inside my brain to ask herself So what if someone misunderstands you, talks about you negatively behind your back, accuses you of something you simply did not do, or even posts completely false information about you online? But my inner teenager always rolls her eyes at me, sighs, and gets stuck. She gets stuck on wondering if there is anything she can do to convince people of who she really is or to convince them the information they received about her is wrong. She gets stuck wondering how many other people believe she isn’t a good person.

This isn’t how 40 was supposed to be.

Life was supposed to change drastically for the better, leaving a fresher and more confident version of myself, poised to tackle my 40s like a boss. But, it really doesn’t feel much different here in my 40s, aside from increased joint pain and needing to cover my greys more frequently.

This can’t be it. There must be more. I must be missing something or doing my 40s all wrong.
​
I watch in awe as my youngest son navigates the world with confidence, able to brush off other people’s views of him swiftly and effortlessly. It’s an ability I thought I would find for myself once I turned 40. Somehow he has already mastered what it means to be 40 at the ripe old age of 11. He lives fully, without holding back. He is who he is and if people don’t like it, he doesn’t care.

I thought the theme of my 40s would be pretty similar to how my 11-year-old lives his life: I am who I am and if people don’t like it, I don’t care. How can I make that my mantra? How can I find for myself the changes I thought would come with last year’s birthday?

Perhaps my 40s haven’t gone the way I thought they would because I’m still holding back. Maybe I am still holding back who I really am, afraid to just let the real me be free for all to see. Perhaps I am holding back what I really want to say, do, or even be. Could I be holding back pieces of myself so there is less of me to be unfairly judged?

I’ve had 41 years to figure all this out, and I suppose if I want my 40s to be the way I envisioned them, it’s up to me to do something about it.

I have to be more like my 11-year-old and less like my inner 14-year-old. I have to stop holding back. I have to put the real me out there and learn to be a fabulous version of myself who just lets negativity roll off me. After all, the people who matter are the people who know me, the people who have my back, the people who see the real me, and the people who believe in me. If others choose to misunderstand me, that’s on them.

So, today I’ll go buy some fabulous shades, toss my sparkly hair back, and begin facing the world like the 40-something-year-old boss I know I can be.

Watch out world, I’m in my 40s now, and I’m going to start living my life for me.

This piece was originally published on 12/3/20 on Her View From Home.

“You’re one of the strongest moms I know. If you can’t do it, I can’t either.”

My friend’s words jumped out of the text at me, hitting me right in the gut. That negative voice in my head, always lurking just beneath the surface, was quick to question her view of me. 

How could it be that someone sees me as strong when lately all I feel is weak, a growing sense that I am a failure, and the notion that I am shrinking away from everyone?

How could it be that despite the fog of depression and anxiety that has lately filled my head once again, I could appear to have it all together to others?

How could it be that my outward projection is such a contradiction to my inner thoughts about myself?

Which view of me is the correct one? Her view or my own? 

“I always think of you when I am in a bad spot and wonder what you would do.”

This time her words hit me even deeper. They cut through the nonsense in my head and brought some clarity to me. 

She had no way of knowing my inner struggles, but something I was doing or saying was acting as a lifeline for her. Somehow, despite nearly drowning in my own despair, I was serving as a beacon of hope for her at times. 

Maybe, just maybe, that voice in my head was wrong. 

Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to be that beacon of hope for myself. 

Her words echoed in my head that night and kept me awake for hours as I reflected more and more about what it meant to be a source of hope for someone.

I realized that I can’t give up. None of us can. 

We have no idea who is watching us, who is holding on to their last thread of hope thinking, If she can’t do it, neither can I.

We have no idea who is wondering what we would do if we were in their shoes, using us and our experiences to help guide them through their troubles. 

Look around. Someone somewhere is watching you, desperately looking for signs of hope and a sense of guidance. Maybe it’s one of your closest friends, a family member, a neighbor, a mom who sees you in the drop-off line at school, a coworker, an online friend, a stranger at the grocery store, someone reading your words—it doesn’t matter who it is, but they need you to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep believing in yourself. 

If you can’t do it, they can’t either.

Originally published 11/27/20 on Her View From Home: https://herviewfromhome.com/dear-mama-you-are-stronger-than-you-think/

As I was listening to my sons tell me all about their impromptu baseball practice session at the field the other day, critiquing each other’s stance, swing and follow through, I realized that life is a lot like getting up to bat in baseball.

The People

Your fans
Behind you are your friends. They are the people in the crowd who are there for you and want you to do your best. They know when you need to be cheered on and when you need them to be quiet. They get you.

Fans of the other team
Behind you may also be some people who are not your friends. They wouldn’t mind seeing you strike out because they are there to root for someone else.

People only there for the snacks
Then there are the people that are just acquaintances. They are the people behind you who are totally uninterested in what you are doing — they are taking selfies on their phones and carrying on about something totally unrelated to your at-bat. Even though they are neutral, you still might not want to make an error in front of them.

Your coaches
Then there are your role models. They are your coaches. You look to them for guidance and advice. They motivate and push you.

The umps
Let’s not forget about the authority figures in your life. Perhaps they are bosses or others who are quick to judge you. They are the Umps, ready to call you “out.”

Your teammates
But, as you make your way to the plate, you also feel the presence of your team. Your success is their success. Your failure will also be felt by them. Maybe they are cheering you on, chanting your name, reminding you that they believe in you.

Your opponents
Then there is the other team — waiting in the outfield, watching your every move. Willing you to strike out and send them a nice pop fly.

Does any of that seem a bit like how real life goes?

It does for me.

I can identify people in each of those roles: fans for my team, fans for the other team, neutral acquaintances, people quick to judge or point out my errors and also my team who has my back.

Once you are in the batter’s box, all that other stuff fades away as you face off with the pitcher.

The Fear

• What if you swing and miss?
• What if the pitcher throws a crazy ball and you get hit?
• What if you get hurt?
• What if you completely strike out?
• What if you let yourself down?
• Worse yet, what if you let your team down?

I have seen countless batters step into that box throughout my years as a baseball mom. One single bad experience can set some kids into an incredible slump. Great hitters suddenly freeze, afraid to swing the bat. Some confident batters suddenly find themselves jumping out of the box because they have grown afraid of being hit by a ball again. Others lose their focus and can no longer seem to make contact with the ball. I have spent many seasons cheering on my sons, hearing coaches remind them that baseball is in large part about confidence, focus and staying in the box.

Look around. What is it like in your batter’s box of life now?
1. ​Who is cheering you on?
2. Who wants you to strike out?
3. Who is part of your team?
4. How are they supporting and encouraging you?
5. Who are your coaches and how do they motivate and bring out the best in you?
6. How does it feel in your batter’s box?
7. Do you need to make some changes to your stance?
​8. What are you thinking when you step into the batter’s box?
9. Is your fear of striking out so great that you just stand there, frozen, as the pitched balls fly by you, hoping they are called balls and not strikes?
10. Are you so scared of being hurt that you back out of the box on each pitch?
11. Do you lack confidence in yourself so you find yourself closing your eyes and swinging wildly at any pitch?​

As you move through this week, notice all of the children who are taking to the fields with their gloves, bats and balls. Let those images be a reminder to you to take some time to reflect on your life and what it is like in your batter’s box.
​
How can you regain your confidence, drown out the negative noise behind you, lean in, keep your eye on the ball and smash it out of the park?

Ladies, I have an important message for you.

You know that voice in your head — the not so nice one?

The one that tells you all the ways other people are better than you.

The one that tells you that you aren’t smart enough, pretty enough, funny enough, skinny enough, nice enough, rich enough, talented enough, popular enough.

The one that tells you that you are a bad mother, bad friend, bad sister, bad employee, bad wife.

Yes, that voice.

Guess what?

She lies.

She’s wrong.

She’s become too comfortable in your brain.

She lies.

She’s become too familiar.

You don’t need to listen to her.

She lies.

You don’t have to be perfect. No one is perfect.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. No one does.

You don’t have to be able to do it all. No one can.

When that voice starts ringing in your head, picture yourself turning down her volume, like you would on the tv or radio.

Remind yourself that she lies.

Turn up the volume on all the good things about yourself.

You ARE enough.

You DO matter.

You ARE loved.

​That’s the only voice that you should listen to — the kind one.

That’s the truth.

“You’re one of the strongest moms I know. If you can’t do it, I can’t either.”

My friend’s words jumped out of the text at me, hitting me right in the gut. That negative voice in my head, always lurking just beneath the surface, was quick to question her view of me. 

How could it be that someone sees me as strong when lately all I feel is weak, a growing sense that I am a failure, and the notion that I am shrinking away from everyone?

Originally published on Her View From Home. Click HERE for full article.

Sometimes you will be too much for people.
Sometimes you won’t be enough.

Sometimes they will find you too sensitive
Sometimes they’ll say you are too insensitive.

Sometimes you will make decisions that hurt others.
Sometimes the decisions of others will hurt you.

Sometimes you will be lonely.
Sometimes you will wish for solitude.

Sometimes you will feel like all eyes are on you.
Sometimes you will feel invisible.

Sometimes the people you need to cheer you on won’t be there.
Sometimes people around you will shout things that aren’t true.

Sometimes you will feel too focused on a goal.
Sometimes you will feel lost and directionless.

Sometimes you will lie awake at night unable to find sleep.
Sometimes you will crawl under the covers, afraid to face the world.

Sometimes.
Not all the time.

Sometimes you will feel valued, seen, and appreciated, despite your flawed parts.

Sometimes you will find your confidence, support, and direction.

Sometimes you will be at peace and rest easily at night.

Through all the sometimes, there will be constants to hold on to.

You matter.
Your life has meaning.
You are not alone.
Tomorrow is always a new day.

Sometimes you just need to hold on.

Hey you out there, the woman holding back who she really is, stop.
It’s ok to step into your light.
It’s ok to show up and be yourself.
It’s ok to finally figure out who your real people are.
It’s ok to want more, ask for more, need more.
It’s ok to be the person you really are.
It’s ok to ask for help.
It’s ok to break a little, feel lost, and struggle with the next steps.
It’s ok to make changes in your life.
It’s ok to be vulnerable.
It’s ok to acknowledge that life is sometimes really freaking hard.
It’s ok to be 100% you.
It’s ok to be proud of yourself.
It’s ok to be happy.
It’s ok to be ok.