Tag Archives: people

May 28 2012

In Honor of Memorial Day.

Enlisting in our nations military are some of the bravest and strongest individuals among us.  These men and women commit to the purpose to serve and protect our country, making personal sacrifices most of us cannot relate to or even begin to imagine.  1.6 million civilians have become veterans in nearly a decade since the war in Iraq began.  While this number is astounding, many U.S. citizens don’t know a soldier, don’t think about the war and don’t recognize how irresponsible it is for us not to support our troops and their families.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider the over 6,000 soldiers who have been killed in combat.  They leave behind parents, spouses, children and friends whose grief of a senseless loss will have infinite effects throughout their lives.  In addition to combat deaths, statistics regarding suicide rates of soldiers should be enough to alert the military and the government to discontinue their efforts and re-evaluate how to gain peace.  Many soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan have to cope with the effects of post traumatic stress related to the devastation they have witnessed overseas.  Troops experience real life nightmares and exist in a perpetual state of alert anxiety to survive.  Many soldiers returning have to rediscover their place within their family and in society, some uprooted again for redeployment.  Many soldiers struggle to find employment in our suffering economy, some statistics suggest unemployment for veterans is higher than 27%.  Many soldiers, 45% of veterans, need some form of services related compensation do to injury or trauma.  And many soldiers need more mental health services then the military is prepared to support, some give up seeking help because of the amount of paperwork required by the VA.  In the last two years suicide rates of soldiers has surpassed the combat death rate.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider the over $4 trillion which has been spent related to Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan.  It’s difficult to say what we have or have not accomplished with these funds because of the war efforts without being hyper critical of our government or cynical about their reports of accomplishments.  What’s not difficult to see is the injustice that has been served to our troops and their families because of the sacrifices they have given in honor of our country.  The physical and emotional pain these men and women will continue to deal with for the rest of their lives and the lack of support to them once their service is over is outrageous.  Even if you are an individual who doesn’t know a soldier and doesn’t think about the war on a regular basis, you are effected.  Every American feels the rippling effects of the senseless violence these brave men and women have witnessed.  We all feel the rippling effects from their families who stress at the absence of their loved ones.  We all feel the rippling effects from the hatred that perpetuates war.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider what you can do to help a soldier or help a soldier’s family.  And to honor those who have been lost in combat or from suicide – stand to put an end to the war and bring our brave men and women home.

May 26 2012

Taking it Back to Kindergarten.

Well that’s it, I’ve done it!  I’ve repaired my husband, relieved his fear and helped him to become whole again.  For so long he had been suffering, it must have been horrible to be afraid of the dishwasher.  It can be such a wildly intimidating mechanism… so loud and wet…  It took a lot of patient trial and error so I am hoping to spread the cure for anyone else whose husband may be affected with similar problems.  Dishwashers, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, even Windex can have a similar reaction – men can be terrified of them all.

I first noticed the phobia of the dishwasher growing when I came to realize I was the only one using the dishwasher.  There were even times when I loaded the washer and my poor husband walked up quivering behind me to put the dish in the empty sink. I knew this was getting serious.

At first I was in a panic, I wanted to react strongly, draw attention to it and snap him out of it.  This men would refer to as “nagging”, in truth it’s the term men use to maintain masculinity in the face of fear.  Pointing it out, demonstrating how to safely operate it, and trying to reason about even allocation of household responsibilities all proved unsuccessful.  In turn, this even made him withdraw further.

After this failure I attempted to ignore the fear hoping he would work it out in his own manly way.  What I found was that there is no manly method for improving something if there is no pressure or motivation.  My silence indicated approval and therefore no need to change.  My husband would still be content keeping his safe distance from the dishwasher had I not realized a third method and the cure to this clean kitchen ailment.

I’ve coined this treatment The Kindergarten Teacher…  The name says it all, we resorted to elementary school interactions and it’s guaranteed to be effective.  There were several ways to maintain light pressure and gentle motivation to coax my fearful husband back to his big boy pants.  The first rule of thumb was to keep the kindergarten teacher in mind, just think sweet and nurturing.  It was important to lay on the compliments thick, boost his confidence back up beginning with anything I could find that he was doing right. “Thank you so much for putting the milk back in the fridge,” “Yay, you brushed your teeth twice today,” “I really appreciate you driving, I don’t know how I would get around without you.”  You get the idea, ANYTHING.  The next phase was to utilize the examples around him, I staged my toddler to help me to load and unload the dishwasher when he would be able to see.  He could see our baby had no fear so he could have no fear.

The final step was to make suggestive statements and allow him to interpret his behavior as his own idea.  In kindergarten tone, “Oh my, I am so tired I think I will leave the dishes for tomorrow.”  This I’ve said in a variety of ways with no effect, it takes frequent repetition and creativity.  With his new found confidence and the fear being alleviated by watching how it can safely be done, one day I went to bed with the sweet hum of the dishwasher and I didn’t start it!

Success at last.  My husband loaded the dishwasher twice in 2 weeks now, which is the best record in the last two years.  I am committed to maintaining the kindergarten teacher method in preparation for a possible relapse.  I also set a goal of getting him to try an unload sometime in the next month, please if you see him, this is all top secret information.

May 23 2012

My Indian Summer

Yesterday I caught myself wincing from the sunlight when I had forgotten my sunglasses.  It reminded me of the summer I opted not to wear sunglasses.  This was an intentional thought I had in preparation for traveling to India.  I wondered if it may be inappropriate for me to wear a luxury item in this part of the world where so many people went without basic needs being met.  Prior to the trip I even wondered if going without some lenses might help me fit in better with the non-sunglasses wearing Indians.  How quickly one can learn that a minority will stand out regardless of what they are wearing on their face, and a minority with light skin is regarded in a sort of freakish celebrity status in West Bengal.  The irony of forgetting my sunglasses yesterday is that today marks the fifth year anniversary of arriving in Kolkata for my Indian summer.

Within two minutes of reading there was going to be a program studying in India I had determined I would apply to attend.  Along with seven other students, I was chosen to study the social welfare systems in Kolkata, West Bengal.  It wasn’t until after all was set in stone, I began learning about what I had signed up for.  My stress was high as the days led up to the adventure.  I believe part of my anxiety was knowing I was in for a life changing experience; I would witness things I had never imagined and be in more unfamiliar territory than ever before.

Feeding monkeys in Puri, Orissa

I was accurate with my worries.  I had never felt further from home.  Clothes, food, traffic, language, and everything seemed unrecognizable at first.  After about a week and a half I was exhausted thinking I wasn’t even half way through the program yet.  Our group of eight went through fun then turbulent then close again stages having to spend so much time together.  Despite being diverse in age, background and interests, we were all an important contribution to the group as a whole.  The sights, sounds, people and culture I witnessed during this month deeply impacted who I am and how I think about the world.  I feel so fortunate to have been able to travel to India and get an up close look at the systems in place to help an impoverished population.  One of the most important lessons I learned is that even people lacking resources have a lot to teach Americans about traditions, values and happiness.

In the next month I will be posting stories, photos and links to the agencies I visited while in India.  It’s been five years of reflection which I am overdue in sharing.  During that trip I felt a great desire to do something with the information I was gathering and become more of a resource to those individuals who had made such a great impression on my life.

(left to right) Colleen, Julia, Michelle, Kate, Natalie, me, Jesi & Abbey

May 18 2012

Seven years ago…

Seven years ago I would have been preparing for my Euro-backpacking adventure with my roommates. We each committed to the trip years before and despite some conflicting life courses we were able to pull it off. We each loaded our packs and unloaded several times narrowing down to a handful of select outfits which we would wear on a steady rotation for the next four weeks. Our itinerary began with flying into London, then a flight to Amsterdam. Between there and our scheduled flights home was completely spontanious. Our adventures were influenced heavily by the advise of fellow travelers who made suggestions of “must-see” and “skip that – it’s overrated” locations. I’d like to think I am still spontaneous and I know the enthusiasm for travel is still present, however, the priorities on my pocketbook prevent me from living how I did seven years ago.

The following is an e-mail I sent home from some forgotten internet cafe in Amsterdam:

Hello All,

I have already lost track of time and have no idea what todays date or the day of the week is. I keep calculating the time in Kansas and I am blown away thinking about what I would be doing if I were at home right now, instead of drinking my 6th beer at the Heineken factory, I would have been getting ready for work (just an example from yesterday.)

We flew into London on Tuesday, even though it was a 7 1/2 hour flight it went by really quickly. We each had our own TV with about 12 channels to choose from, plus I slept alright for most of it. We found our way with only a few wrong turns to our hostel in Westchester called Wake Up London. Wednesday we toured London on a double decker bus. We saw all the sights there are to see just passing on the bus, and also took a ferry ride. That night we saw a musical at the Queens Theater, it was great but I was so exhausted that it was hard to enjoy it. David Schwimmer had a play going on in the theater right next door that we could have gone to and I think that I saw something about Val Kilmer in a pay there too.

For the past two and a half days we have been in Amsterdam, crazy city – I love it!! I could spend a year here just watching the people and studying the prostitutes – no joke!! We visited Anne Frank’s house yesterday morning and then took a tram down to the Heineken Brewery, I don’t think any other museum could live up to that. Along with your ticket in you get three free drinks and a free gift ticket. JoJo, Sheila and I met two Canadians, a young married couple from LA and a med student from Oklahoma. We used far beyond our three free tickets in drinks each! All of us went out to dinner and then the guy from Oklahoma met up with us to walk through the red light district last night.

There is a huge selection of prostitutes, it was kind of how I expected it to be, but I guess I had never thought about the “clients” in the business. It was bizzare watching men walk out of the small doorways and then the curtin would open back up again and the prostitute would be ready for her next sale. We found a coffee shop/bar across the canal from a busy red light spot. We started analyzing the business and timing how long people go in for. We had so many questions to ask about this business, and the longer we sat there the more questions we came up with.

I have so much else to tell you all, but my time is running out on the internet. We are leaving for Berlin tomorrow and I will try to make time to write again soon.

Love – Holly

May 3 2012

The Master of Disaster

My husband affectionately coined the name Master of Disaster for my daughter.  She, as toddlers typically are, has an extremely healthy level of curiosity and a seemly endless amount of energy to explore.  We did the usual child-proofing measures of putting locks on drawers, the gate at the top of the stairs and plugs in sockets.  While she continued to grow in bravery and independence we quickly learned to clear clutter in her path and try to keep her confined when possible.  Since I have not discovered how to be a hovering mom AND accomplish household tasks this has led to the nickname Master of Disaster.

For example, this morning she sat in her booster chair eating her breakfast while I was in the kitchen.  I take advantage of the moments when she is strapped in and with food to occupy her so that I can clean the kitchen and complete tasks like emptying the dishwasher without an assistance climbing in.       She sat eating in a cheerful mood, talking throughout her meal in her indistinguishable baby garble.  My overly productive morning quickly turned to the realization that my back was turned to her too much when she indicated “All done,” and I saw how she had used most of her yogurt as lotion for her pants.  

Her favorite disaster creating media is water.  She could spend hours in the bathtub, sprinkler, or faucet just playing.  The unfortunate part is that we don’t have all the time int he world to be playing with those things and she sometimes tries to make do with the dog bowl.  I have found her with a measuring cup from the drawer scooping water from the bowl to the floor.  I have scolded her for using her play kitchen set spoons to stir the dog’s water bowl.  And I have noticed a pattern in her intentionally dipping her hands in the dog dish in order to get to play with the water in the faucet since the only rational step after putting hands in the water dish would be to wash hands.

By far the most comical, yet disgusting, Master of Disaster move I have seen yet with the dog’s water bowl happened as most of these incidences started.  I am busy trying to keep up with my household mess and trust she is innocently playing with her things until I realize she has been quiet and independent for too long.

“Parker” I call from the kitchen.  Within seconds she steps into the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen, facing me, hands to her side, silent with a pacifier plugged in and avoiding eye contact.  “Have you been in the water dish Parker?”  I ask.

She loosens from her frozen position and moves past me in the kitchen to the refrigerator magnets.  I can almost see the thought bubble in her head trying to distract me from questioning if she takes position with an approved activity.  I continue to look down at her and recognize her hand is wet, of course she has been entertained by the water bowl.  Crouching down on her level I show her that I noticed.  She finally looks up at me with her big brown I’m sorry don’t I look too sweet to punish eyes.  She resumes use of the pacifier in her mouth and I can tell from the wet escaping with every suck that it too has been submerged in the dog’s water dish.

May 1 2012

The noisiest shoe ever loved.

I am sadly putting to rest my daughter’s outgrown squeaky shoes.  Ironically, I say sadly since when the shoes were purchased I wondered how quickly I would be working to remove the squeaky device.  They were bought in haste back in the fall when I unintentionally brought her out without shoes, well maybe that’s not entirely true… I think it was more related to not having shoes that matched her outfit – yes I am that kind of mom sometimes.

Where we shopped I imagined there would be a wide selection of children’s shoes and I was mistaken to find only one brand available. A local Kansas City baby’s shoe company, Pickle Shoes, had a booth set up at this shopping convention.  At first notice I found shoes immediately that I loved for my tot, colorful leather with Velcro, some with flowers or birds.  My excitement was diminished when I came to understand ALL of company’s shoes contained a noise making air bubble in the heals of the shoes, similar to a dog toy.  Therefore with each step a toddler takes a squeak follows.  “How annoying,” I thought as I started to put a pair back on the shelf.  The salesman, noticing my disappointment, showed me the plug on the side and reported the noise is optional.  My mom ended up buying two pairs that day, these were the most often worn, most frequently commented on and most favorite shoes in her collection to date.  The best part is, the plugs were never removed and the squeaks I assumed would be annoyance were much appreciated.

image

With her squeaky shoes on she draws an even bigger audience of adoration in public and gives even the most gloomy passerby a reason to smile.  At home the shoes came in handy as she became more adventurous wanting to leave my line of sight.  With the shoes to indicate her location I didn’t worry as much and when the noise stopped I was aware she must be into something and I needed to go check it out.

What would it be like if everyone’s shoes made more than a click of a high heel or screech of a tennis shoe.  What if everyone’s shoes made noise to reflect their personality or the mood they were in that day.  Buzzing to indicate someone obnoxious is coming, whistling tunes for feeling fun, a siren for someone who is cranky and a warning to move out of the way.  Just a funny thought, what would you want the sound from your shoe to be?

Apr 27 2012

A not so great reminder of why living in the mid-west is GREAT.

Sometimes it’s hard to see the “silver lining” when the clouds continually present themselves.  I decided to create my own meaning for a few could-have-been-disasterous events which have happened recently.  And I relate this meaning to reminding myself why I love living in the mid-west.

Earlier this month my family and I were riding back to Kansas City through the scenic Flint Hills.  We decided to get an early start on the travel home so that we would have some relaxation time when we got there, turns out we needed that relaxation time for a major hiccup in our plans.  Less than thirty minutes into our journey my husband had to pull to the side of the road as the driver’s side front tire deflated.

Together we maneuvered our 2 dogs, yes our whole family was in the vehicle, from the back to the front in order to get to the spare.  Unfortunately, we lacked the key needed to remove the flat tire from the car.  Standing dumbfounded on the side of the interstate with the Acura manual open, a truck pulled up behind us.  A gentleman from a small town, also headed east for a meeting the next day, offered to help us.  He was off duty and employed by the department of transportation.  After figuring out there was nothing we could do to change to the spare without the key the gentleman took my husband into the nearest town to find a way to rectify our situation.

My toddler loved the opportunity to play around in the front seat as we waited for their return.  She bounced around smiling, turning the stereo up and down dancing, and pretending to steer the wheel.  Luckily the weather was perfect to have the windows down and feel a cool breeze.  I made a conscious effort not to look at the time, as I knew it would make the minutes cooped up in the car on the interstate progress in slow motion.

Her entertainment distracted me from two other vehicles who separately pulled up behind us to check on our wellness.  I was surprised each time to see a friendly smile appear at the window asking if we were okay.  Living in the mid-west where it is not out of the ordinary for people to go out of their way to help each other, it still seemed extraordinary that we would have so many generous offers for help.  I believe the larger of my protective guard dogs sensed the sincerity in their offers since he did not bark at the strangers.  In fact, the only noise he made was growling at the curious herd of cows coming to the fence to inspect our situation.

During the time my husband was away, a third car pulled up making that four individuals stopping all together.  This time it was a highway patrol officer and after hearing our situation put his lights on behind us and stayed until their return.  The officer eventually assisted us in calling a tow-truck as we discovered there was no way to unlock the tire and put on the spare.  Despite being irritated from our derailed trip home, my husband and I enjoyed the conversations with the tow-truck driver and highway patrol man as they brought us into town.  The Manhattan Wreckers driver and I discussed my afternoon on the highway and the unexpected offers of help I received.  He recalled his experience with the tornado that came through town three years ago and how members of the community chipped in to ensure everyone was taken care of.  

My poor dogs were stressed enough from the days events and finally we were at the brink of getting new tires and ready to head home.  Another saving grace to the day happened to be friends in town who picked up our pets to give them a break from being in the car and some time to play in a backyard.  We are forever, and repeatedly indebted to the Schottlers, for everything they do for us!

Eventually we made it home tired and safe, adding about 7 hours to what we anticipated it would take for our ride home.  The car had a full set of new tires and drove smooth again.

Exactly nine days later, in our other vehicle, I was again on I-70 when I felt the same feeling of the tire deflating.  “CRAP – How could this happen again?” I thought as I pulled to the side of the interstate.  Determined to be an independent woman and put the spare on all by lonesome, my aspirations were squashed when I couldn’t event figure out how to get the jack to loosen from the side compartment in the trunk.  

Midwest generosity to the rescue again…  A friendly stranger happened to stop behind me to check his own equipment at first and when he realized I was in need of help set aside his own priorities to make sure I was taken care of.  While initially I asked for help loosening the jack, he insisted on completing the whole job.  While he cranked the car up he told me about the grinder he had just purchased and the inventions he had made and sold.  I got a lesson in recycling carpet for plastics and oil, more importantly I received a lesson in going out of my way for others in need.

While I may not be of much assistance pulling over to help someone with a flat tire, there has to be more ways I can pay it forward in order to repay the individuals who have helped me.  These two incidences of flat tires in such a short period of time initially had me irritated and wondering why I had such negative karma being delivered to me.  After the bitterness settled, these situations reinforced my faith in the people living in the community around me.  It is nice to know I’m not all alone when I need help.  Despite the craziness of the world there are good people who do good things with no expectations of a return on their investment.

Dec 9 2011

Integrity for sale on Craigslist?

In our house “spring cleaning” doesn’t seem to cut it for clearing the clutter.  It’s like a wild fungus that recreates it’s self four times over every time items get hauled away to be donated.  More frequently than just in spring, I get the urge to purge our unwanted and unused items.  It has been easy to bring various clothes, small furniture and decorations to the thrift store benefiting veterans down the street.  Lately I figured some items with more value I would try to utilize the power of Craigslist to see if I could make a little cash.

It has been an interesting adventure to say the least, with some unique inquiries and pushy buyers.  Due to being up to date on the horrors of meeting people over the internet I have been careful to set meet-ups in well-lit public settings.  Most transactions have been simple and uneventful.

On Wednesday afternoon I made a call to the phone number given on an email in response to my ad about a printer I had posted for sale.  After some discussion the gentlemen agreed to make the purchase and wanted to arrange to meet that day since his printer had broken and he needed one to replace it right away.  He suggested that I could just drop it by his shop, I perked up at the thought that it would be a public setting and I could make it convenient for my buyer.  Although when he told me the street it was on, I sank recognizing this as the street named almost nightly for crimes on the 6 o’clock news.  Thankfully he agreed to meet me in front of a store a few blocks from my house (that part he didn’t know).

I arrived at the store and quickly located his blue rusting pick-up truck.  It was the kind of truck my uncle used to have, back when me and my cousins could hop in the back and ride down the gravel path to the neighbor’s house.  Back then no one would frown at us for how unsafe it was to not be buckled in the moving vehicle.  I tried to be friendly and show him where the directions were located.  He did not even seem to make eye contact as he snatched the printer, delivered the cash and went on his way.  In fairness I did arrive late to our meeting, and from his appearance he probably had a hard-working day at his shop.  On my quick drive home I felt satisfied with the two crisp twenty-dollar bills in my palm and wondered briefly if my asking price was too low.  After all, the all-in-one printers are sold for hundreds of dollars new at the store.  It didn’t matter, I was richer then I was when it was sitting in my office collecting dust.  I didn’t think about it again and probably would never have thought about it again until I received a text message on Thursday afternoon.

“Isnt the value of ur own integrity to ur self worth more than forty dollars ?” the text message said.  I would have been completely confused as to who the message came from and what it was pertaining to had $40 not been referenced.    I knew that it had to be the man who bought my printer and I was quick to assume there must have been a problem with the printer.  The feeling of anger poured over me to partner with being offended.  How quick this man was to assume that I had tricked him into buying a piece of junk?  The urge of wanting to return his message with another hateful statement was strong so I put my phone away to think about it for a while.  When I relaxed enough to realize his statement had nothing to do with me, I wondered if he had experiences buying bum equipment in a similar fashion before.  I thought maybe he didn’t know how to install it properly – not that I could be any help.  I considered not responding and just slipping away with my money and letting him believe he was right about the kind of person he believed me to be.

It took me about 30 minutes to come up with a response to his question.  I text him my reply, “Yes.”  

Following this message, a conversation ensued beginning with the man apologizing for making a negative assumption about my character.  I explained that the printer had worked the last I used it and we agreed to meet again to make a Craigslist return.

It seems as though my integrity was restored, in that individual at least, and for the favor a bit of karma came my way.  Let me explain…

While working on the sale of the printer I also had another sale in the works.  Some small VHS blank tapes for the old school type video cameras were also cluttering my office.  I knew they weren’t incredibly valuable and I figured someone could make better use of them than I was.  Sure enough I was in touch with a buyer who wanted to make the purchase for his dad since he was taking a trip to El Salvador this summer and wanted to capture it on tape.  On Friday afternoon I met him in a parking lot where he expressed great appreciation for being able to get the tapes for his dad and handed me a fifty dollar bill.  I told him that I didn’t think I had any change as I had listed the tapes on Craigslist for a fat $10 bill.  The young man seemed confused and stated that he couldn’t remember if we had discussed price and that he planned to offer me $50.  Interestingly, this price would have made the difference in the loss of $40 from the return of the printer.  Yet again another moral dilemma where I could have kept silent and walked away richer.

I handed him back the fifty and told him that it would be too much for these tapes.  We exchanged a smaller amount and he happily took his purchase home to his dad.  While I maintained my integrity through lessons from Craigslist.

I don’t remember where I first heard the definition that always stuck with me… Integrity is doing what is right even when no one is looking.  I love the definition although sometimes it is hard to know what the right thing to do is.

Dec 1 2011

Keeping in Touch.

Earlier this week I went out of my way to an appointment to quench my craving for chai tea.  I have never been a fan of coffee, it seems to be one of those drinks that I try a sip every few years to reassure myself that I still don’t care for it.  However, after my first taste of chai tea I was hooked.  Even while I was pregnant and gave up soda with caffeine, I knew my tiny bun in the oven would appreciate and excuse this warm, tasty, slightly caffeinated beverage.   The ode to my little addiction was not really the intent of this post – it was the event at the coffee shop that got me thinking…

I parked at the drive through at Latte Land when the gentleman through the window stopped to ask me my name.  He recognized me from going to middle school together – apparently I have not changed too much from the wire mouthed, frizzy haired kid in 16 years.  While I did remember his name I had no memory of what he looked like back then and no recollection of him looking at all familiar now.  It was almost embarrassing that he remembered me so easily and not be able to return the gesture.  He kindly put me at ease by saying that he is good at remembering faces.

After leaving the drive though it got me thinking about how I wish I had a better memory for faces and if there is a way for me to build this as a strength.  Something less invasive and more practical than taking pictures of everyone I meet and creating flashcards to practice in my free time.  So far, I have come up empty on ways to improve facial recognition.  Maybe it is just a strength I will have to appreciate in other people, like my old classmate at the coffee shop.

However, I also realized I have my own strength in relation to people which may not come as naturally to others.  My strength is keeping in touch.  I hold on tight to people I have grown close with over time where otherwise friendship might have faded and those people would have just been a memory to me.  In these days with social networking, this is an easier task.  With one click a distant cousin, old college roommate, co-worker from your first job or neighbor from a childhood home can become a Facebook friend.  I have been keeping in touch for much longer than Facebook though.

Whether family, friend, co-worker or neighbor – people who I have grown fond of, I keep in touch with.  I make frequent long distance phone calls, send cards or letters and organize get togethers.  I feel like these individuals have made a positive impression on my life and it’s sort of my way of letting them know that no matter how long it’s been between when we have seen each other, I still appreciate them and what they have meant to me.

This week I have been preparing my holiday cards to mail out, and due to my eagerness to keep in touch with so many people my stack of cards is getting pretty high.  My husband tried to quaff at the extraodinary cost of stamps and secretly I know he supports this as he adds in his own friends he wants to make sure to connect with.  As my handwriting is generally only readable by me, I carefully addressed each envelope  and I wondered whether all of these acquaintances would even care to hear from me.  It didn’t take me long to realize it didn’t matter what they think of me.  The gesture of trying to keep in touch is letting people know that I care about them, I care about the relationship that we have or had even if it was several years ago.

So, I apologize if I have met you and don’t remember your face.  I also apologize if you have penetrated to my inner circle of friends and you can’t get rid of me – most are stuck there for life.

Nov 23 2011

The Power of BUT.

A few years back (July 2008 actually) I started working at a facility where I began learning and utilizing DBT with a team.  DBT stands for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and is very well-known in the world of Borderline Behavioral Disorder and also has been used in treatment for addictions.  I am positive that I will write a lot in regards to DBT because it has strongly influenced me in terms of how I see myself and how I view others.

Long story short…

DBT was the first time I can remember anyone making a big deal out of the word BUT.  BUT is outlawed in the world of DBT and since then it has become a word I have tried to extinguish from my vocabulary as well.  In order to really understand this point you have to be willing to acknowledge there is truth in every statement – even if it only a miniscule piece of a statement that holds validity.  And unlike most of the thinking we naturally assume, there is no black or white, right or wrong, all good or all bad allowed when comprehending the importance of BUT.

So, with that in mind.  The word BUT sort of acts to negate a statement and discount it as truth.  We all have spoken the words or heard them from others in a heated debate  – “yes, but…”

“Yes, BUT…” Really could be the same as saying “what you said is wrong BUT this is right.”  I learned to use the word AND in place of BUT.  For example “You see it one way AND I see it another,”  speaking this way challenges viewing situations or people as all right or all wrong.

The power of the word reaches way beyond it just being said or not said though.  When we make a conscious effort to change what we say it eventually will affect the way we think.  When we can challenge the way we speak and think our attitudes follow as well.  Can you imagine how different our attitudes could be if we weren’t so quick to assume people for being bad, or being wrong?  So you see, there is a lot of power in the word BUT.