I was listening to a radio program this morning in which the purported "expert" defined friendship. He said if you are ever charged with a heinous crime, your friend(s) will be there in court to support you no matter what the personal cost. Something about that didn't quite sit right with me, so I thought about it most of the day. I agree that true friendship is defined in the moments of tragedy, upheaval and crisis. I don't necessarily agree that a true friend must be defined in such a selfless, "black-and-white" manner.

Life is complicated and we all have ties stretching in various and often opposing directions. Many of us have jobs that require, either by written contract or unwritten rule, us to be discreet and noncontroversial. Standing by your friend in such a public way in a very ugly and public situation could cost you your livelihood. Many of us cannot weather a financial storm for the sake of a friend, as we are collectively hanging onto the edge as it is with mortgages, car payments, and the other myriad of debts we Americans carry. I wouldn't hold it against my friend for staying home if the fire got too hot. I have to see things from my friend's perspective before I can make a judgement. True compassion is both elusive and challenging, but it is a key ingredient in the creation of real, lasting friendship.

I did stop to think about who I would count as my real friends. I think I am fortunate to have a handful of people in my life, beyond my husband and close family, that would help me through difficult, uncomfortable and emotionally taxing times. These people that come to mind have very similar qualities even though they live very different looking lives. My friends are real. What I mean by that, is what you see is what you get. There is very little artifice, pretense or hidden agenda in most everything they do, say and undertake. I don't have to guess at what they feel, what they need or who they are, even if we don't agree. My friends are intelligent and curious. They are the kind of people who are almost always interested in learning something new. This isn't always easy; it can be messy when new ideas bump up against long held beliefs, but they are willing to learn and ultimately judge for themselves. My friends are loyal. I don't ever worry about what my real friends are saying about me or if they are judging me. My friends are honest, yet tactful. If there is a problem, it might not always be easy to talk about it, but we do. If there is something I am doing or saying that makes me look foolish, stubborn or mean, they can be counted on to point it out so I can correct it or just own it. My friends love a good laugh. It doesn't matter if we are laughing at our misfortunes, our situations or ourselves, we manage to find the humor in just about anything. It isn't always the first impulse, but it is the last. I love laughing with my friends about something that has really made me unhappy, angry or depressed. It makes all the crap we have to bear so much easier to take. Most importantly, my friends are unafraid to love. My friends, whether they are demonstrative or shy, have a well of love and support they can tap any time I need it. A kind word, a warm hug or even a concerned look is often all I need to turn my perspective around, lift my mood and my spirit.

"True friendship is never serene." I believe that with all my soul. I cannot have a real friendship without give and take. I love to give of myself; share my thoughts, my emotions, my home and my sense of humor. To do this, it guarantees some eyebrows will be raised. Friends don't always have to be comfortable, but they do have to be comforting. Friendship takes real work on both ends. Maybe that is why in this age of instant messaging, instant credit and instant gratification, so many people are wondering why they feel so alone and lonely. If you don't work at making and keeping real friends life may be "serene" and "calm" but it certainly lacks color, light and vibrancy.

In short, we chose our friends by the virtues we value most. I value compassion, honesty, curiosity and warmth above all else. I don't care what the package looks like, what number the bank account reads or how many degrees are framed on the wall. Just let me get to know someone who is funny, smart, warm and direct and I guarantee we will become fast friends.

We Are All In This Together!

After receiving the following e-mail from a dear friend, who happens to be a harried, working mother, I had an "A-Ha" moment. We are all reallying in this together. It doesn't matter if we are in our 20s, 30s or 40s, if we are stay at home moms or working moms, if we are tiger moms or earthy moms, we are all paddling upstream and praying not to be taken out by the rapids that are waiting just around the bend....

After a night of tossing and turning due to simultaneous premenstrual cramps and perimenopausal hot flashes (really?!!), this is how my morning began . . .

1. My son woke me up in a hysterical lather that he couldn’t find his experiment on YouTube and that he needed posted before he left for the bus in three minutes.

2. While they ate breakfast, my daughters waged an all-out-brawl over a plastic turtle bathtub toy.

3. While negotiating the sisterly spat (see #2), I spent over 20 minutes on the phone trying to explain to the customer service rep. at my on-line prescription company that they had mistakenly sent me a prescription for Paxil rather than my correct medication (although after the frustrating conversation, the thought of popping a few Paxil sounded pretty good.)

4. Now running twenty minutes late (see above), I quickly threw together some breakfast to eat in the car, and then promptly left it sitting on the kitchen counter.

5. Rushing daughter #2 into the car, I realized that both dogs were still outside, so I then spent the next ten minutes chasing them around the yard in the rain, trying to cajole them to get back inside.

6. Now running a good thirty minutes late (see above), I careen out of the driveway (narrowly missing the babysitter’s car) only to get stuck behind a delivery truck driving the entire length of my commute at a geriatric pace.

7. While fuming behind the maddeningly slow truck, I realize that I had forgotten to brush my teeth this morning (see above). Scary.

8. After dropping off daughter #2 at school, I make a mad dash into Walgreens for the necessary toothbrush, toothpaste, and power bar.

9. Arrive at the gym only to realize that I had forgotten to pack a clean bra and extra pair of underwear with my work clothes. Make the quick calculation that I should “save” my only clean bra and underwear for my post-workout work day (sensing that attending faculty meeting braless and commando was not a “professional power move.”)

10. Instead, try to camouflage my ample and gloriously unfettered chest by wearing my heavy fleece (and nearly passing out from heat exhaustion on the elliptical) while attempting to “support” myself discreetly with my elbows.

And to think it was only 9:00am!

It is no surprise that when I started mentally comparing my day with hers, there were striking similarities. A run down looks like this:

7:00 a.m. Please, just 15 more minutes of sleep! (Since I had an hour and half of insomnia at the convenient hour of 12:30 a.m.)

7:15 a.m. Dragged myself out of bed in a sleep deprived stupor to the chorus of hungry boys with various short order cook-type orders for breakfast.

7:30 a.m. Son #4 is plugging his ears upon the singing of "Happy Birthday" by his 3 brothers because he thinks they are making fun of him. Argument of inane nature ensues.

8:00 a.m. Son #2 wants me to completely rework the brim of his new hat (this involves intricate cutting and sewing) so it will be "cool" despite the fact that no one is yet dressed for school.

8:15 a.m. Son # 2 still bitching about the uncool hat while I am fielding requests from all sides for tying of shoes, missing books and "better" school snacks.

8:30 a.m. Trying to get out the door for yoga while son #4 wants to take a toy gun to his Catholic pre-school and cannot be reasoned with because it is his birthday. Realize son #2 is sitting on the lawn pouting about uncool hat. Hear bus driving off in the distance. Freak out on son #2 about how he is a totally unreasonable child and now I have to miss yoga to drive him to school. Get to bottom of hill and see bus is still there. Feel like an idiot for freaking out.

9:00 a.m. Squeeze into last legal space and race into yoga to "relax."

9:05 a.m Realized I have forgotten my water bottle, have no cash and no clean bra for after shower.

10:15 a.m. With 15 minutes left, I can't do another damn thing, so I head out to the hall with girl who threw up from the heat. The instructor promptly requests that I return to finish class (a.k.a. a polite way to say I need to suck it up.) I do, not because I want to, but because my eldest child nature kicks in and I instantly obey any commanding authority figure.

11:15 a.m. Pick up son #4 who promptly throws a fit because we aren't going to McDonalds and it is his birthday.

11:30 a.m. Sit son #4 in front of wii so I can go out and continue to spread the truckload of mulch I thought was an absolutely necessary purchase. My back and neck are screaming from the insane pace I set yesterday after the dump truck pulled out of the driveway. It doesn't look like I have done anything.

All goes well, until: 3:15 p.m. Son #4 wants to go for a bike ride and throws a fit because I won't walk his bike down the hill for him or ride my own bike. (See request #1). Get down the hill and across the neighborhood when the (God-Damned !!!) ice cream truck pulls into the neighborhood. Son #4 goes tearing down the middle of the street on his bike without looking while chasing the truck. I proceed to scream his name throughout the neighborhood at a volume that would alert orbiting satellites. Son #4 doesn't pay any attention. I appear to be completely insane to those passing by.

Fast forward through the groans and complaints of dinner, 4,000 dessert requests despite the fact that not one child ate any vegetables and the mad dash out the door for baseball. Of course, the baseball schedule was just changed yesterday and I checked yesterday's email about 2 hours ago. Book club meeting canceled at the last minute and boys whining that they are too tired to go. I am left with sons #3 and #4 and a new computer monitor to install. Practically electrocute myself in the attempts to keep them from "helping" me. Install new monitor and old mouse dies. I am hardly surprised. Screaming fight over the foam packaging that was inserted to keep monitor intact during shipping. Life-or-death craft project with said foam commences at 7:45 p.m, complete with packing tape, Elmer's glue and magic markers. After cajoling them upstairs, screaming match over who takes a bath first, who uses which tub and who get which toys. My neck and jaw are pulsing and hoping husband returns soon to keep me from killing them.

Chaos breaks out at 8:15 p.m. when sons #1 &#2 return. Dirty baseball cleats, socks and gloves thrown all over the kitchen I managed to clean between the computer problem and the craft project. No one wants to go to bed. 8:45 p.m. I am screaming about teeth brushing, "No, you are not getting dessert!" and"I told you three times to get into bed!" Husband looks at me like I have lost my mind and has no idea why I am so stressed out. Hide in the basement at 8:55 to write blog while choruses of "Mom, "Mom!" follow me down the stairs, directly past husband who is parked in front of the t.v. watching a play off game (i.e. really important t.v. viewing while deaf and blind to all around him.)

It's only Wednesday and it certainly feels like a Monday. Goodie. I get to get up and start all over again tomorrow! We may be all in this together, but DAMN, this motherhood gig can be a bitch slap to the head!

Open Letter to All Hardworking Moms

I sent this email out to all my women friends when I can home from my latest retreat. It was the result of processing all that I had experienced. The feeling was so warm and profound that I just had to share it with those that mean a great to me because the message is absolutely essential in these modern times. I got to thinking that there are others I would like to share this message with, those friends and family I've lost touch with or don't know how to reach via email. In the larger scheme of things, I thought that this message is something that should just be put out there for someone to find just because they need to. I post this with the hope that this message finds their way to those who need it most. If you read this and think of someone, please pass it on.

The original message reads as follows:

Since every single one of you I have sent this to has been important in my life at one time or another, I have decided to send to you the essence of the work of the latest retreat I undertook this past weekend. I went to Kripalu and met with one incredible facilitator (Jennifer Louden, see her work at www.jenniferlouden.com) and 19 other women. The ages ranged from 20 something to 70 something and every age in between. Women came from NYC, farms in PA, the suburbs of Boston, the quiet of NH and even far off places in Ohio, New Mexico and Seattle. Everyone had their sad stories: breast cancer, thyroid cancer, widowhood, children with severe special needs, aging parents, unhappy marriages, difficult coworkers, partners or children, unfulfilling jobs and profound feelings of lost and aloneness. Everyone also had wonderfully joyful stories to tell: people they love, things they created and things they were passionate about doing. To a person, no matter what the age or the circumstance, the answers to the questions presented were all the same. They are incredibly simple but equally difficult to apply to our frenzied, overworked, overstressed lives. Print these out and soak them in. They will speak to you and move you and inspire you. They are given to you with sincere love and a wish for you to have a happier more authentic life.

Minimum Requirements for Self Care

Rest

Time Alone

Slowing Down

Eating Well

Exercise

Listing to Own Needs v. Others Needs

Creativity

Less Judgment Both Inward and Outward

Showing Kindness to Others as Well as to Myself

Spending Time in the Fresh Air and Sunshine

Strong, Loving, Meaningful Connections with Other People

Setting and Sticking to Boundaries Without Guilt

Claiming and Owning My Autonomy

YOU CANNOT BE OF ANY USE TO YOURSELF, YOUR DEFENDANTS OR YOUR EMPLOYER IF YOU DO NOT TAKE THE RESPONSIBILITY TO GENUINELY CARE FOR YOURSELF.

Excuses Be Gone!

It is selfish to put myself first

Everyone else’s needs are more pressing and important than my own

I am last on the priority list

I am not worthy of self care

I'm afraid of what I will find out about myself

It is easier to give in or give up than to care for myself

I am too damn tired

Its too damn hard

Questions to Ask When I feel Stuck, Stressed or Overwhelmed:

The Comfort I’m Hungriest For Is:

When I Let Myself Want What I Want, I Want:

I Feel Most Joyful and Alive When I:

I Feel Most Connected to Myself When:

I Get Out of Whack When I Don’t:

What My Heart Desires Is:

"Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful." Sophia Loren

Believe you are beautiful today.

The Tyranny of Should

I, like most "good" and "responsible" people have lived my life by the power of SHOULD. I perceived should to be a substitute for a moral compass. After all, all the things I should do were good for me, just like eating my vegetables. I should go to college, I should finish my dinner before dessert, I should clean the bathroom. When in doubt, I most always take the path of should. My obligations and my duties ruled the thinking judging side of my brain and therefore, most of my life. If I was feeling particularly rebellious, I would leave the should undone and do something else: sleep, shop, read. I would feel guilty like the big parent in the sky was going to come stand over me with a disapproving stare. Following the should ultimately feels safe for me. What I never recognized, until now, was that should abdicates choice.

Don't misunderstand me, should can be a powerfully positive guide. No one should touch a hot stove, walk blind across a busy street or drive while intoxicated. Should can save your life. Should can also overtake it. I never thought much about my shoulds except when I was viscerally rebelling against them. I know I should clean the bathroom but I absolutely hate it to the point I often gag while doing it. (One of the unspoken joys of having four boys.) I know I should exercise but there are times I would rather poke my eye out with a stick than move my butt off the couch. I should, I should, I should. It is a mantra that I repeat a million times a day but it is a mantra that never takes me to a place of mediation or relaxation. It gets stuff done. Fine. But I rarely stop to ask if what I should do is what I want to do.

What do I want to do? What do I want to do? Whoa. What do I want to do?!? What a radical concept! In the context of motherhood, type A personality, approval seeking and the need to conform, this is an absolutely radical question. There are choices? Possibilities? There is such a feeling of freedom in asking what I want to do. I can ask myself what I want. I can stop and think about my next step without mechanically moving on to the next task, the next step on the to-do list, the next fulfillment of someone else's expectation. Part of me balks at this revelation. How selfish! So many people need me. So many people depend upon me. Yes, they do and some shoulds are set in stone. What I have never given myself permission to understand that not all shoulds are set in stone.

How many people, especially women, never stop to ask what they want. We rarely ask ourselves the smaller questions: what do I really want to eat, what task do I really want to do, what is it I need in this moment at this time. We especially have difficulty asking the larger questions: is this relationship really what I want for myself, is this career in any way fulfilling, what do I truly want to do with my life. The shoulds are easier. We can plod along the path of should and numb ourselves without experiencing the full breadth and width of our lives. Now that my eyes are open, I am joyous to learn that I have choices. I have the right, the chance, the power to a make a selection of the various options that are open to me. I am claiming my power. There is nothing like the freedom of spirit that claiming our power delivers.

Life is too short, to precious to go through it without claiming it. I should make more choices, both large and small. I should move forward and fully into myself. I should come home to who I am. I embrace this particular should. More importantly, I choose this should.

Don't you just love choices?!

The "Luscious, Comfort, Creative Retreat" and the Gifts From Jennifer Louden

I just returned from Kripalu where I participated in a women's retreat. This was no ordinary women's retreat, this was the "Luscious, Creative, Comfort Retreat." Isn't that a fabulous title?! As soon as I saw this on the Kripalu website, I knew I had to go. If you know anything about me, you know that anything with the word "luscious" in the title is definitely something that speaks to me.

I recently came out of tremendously painful bout of depression. This is the second time in my life that the shadowy monster of clinical depression has reared it's ugly head. The first time, I was 28 years old, newly married and a mess. I had no idea why I was totally negative, couldn't stop crying and why my mind was spinning out of control. Although I would complain to anyone who would listen that I now lived in Dover, N.H., I was there for a reason. I finally figured out that I needed help and I turned to the Center for Eating Disorder Management. This was the only place of its kind in Maine or New Hampshire. It just so happened to exist in Dover, five or six blocks from my apartment. The women there were simultaneously a life saver, a marriage saver and a sanity saver. I was diagnosed with clinical depression (relief! a name for what I was going through!) put on medication, sought individual therapy and worked with a nutritionist. This was the first time in 28 years I learned anything about my needs for meditation, self care and the illusive yet critical dynamic of the perfectly match of therapist and patient. This smart, compassionate and no-nonsense woman introduced me to "The Women's Comfort Book." I used it in therapy and then for years after to reinforce the insights I gained in therapy. That book brought me comfort, showed me I was not alone and that it was an absolute necessity to prioritize caring for myself. This book's author was Jennifer Louden.

Flash forward sixteen years later. In between time, I gave birth to four beautiful boys, changed careers four times (coincidence, I think not...), bought my first house, my first minivan and joined my first PTA. Life had moved forward at a super-charged pace, brought with it unexpected changes and new experiences but depression had not been much of an issue. I had learned from that first painful episode that my depression was nothing to mess around with. I took it very seriously and, in turn, I managed its effects very well. Out of nowhere....Wham! What the hell was wrong with me? Was it winter blues? Was it peri-menopause? Why was I so tired, so lethargic, so disinterested? Why didn't I want to get out of bed or get off the couch? Most importantly, why couldn't I stop alternating between yelling and crying? As with all chronic medical conditions, as the body ages and changes, everything must be examined, explored and tweaked to assure maximum therapeutic effect of prescribed relief. About a month and half later on new medication levels, rest and complete support from my husband I was climbing back out of the dark, lonely abyss.

With the long, slow, uphill climb comes the slow return to self. I began reaching out to friends and family again. I began getting out of the house again. I even took up exercise again. Things were looking better, but I felt I needed something more. I needed renewal. Since I experienced such a wonderful feeling of self acceptance and renewal at my first ever retreat* I thought I should look into finding another one. I logged into the Kirpalu website and there was that "luscious" title. I reached out to my sisters-in-law to see if they would care to join me. My dear sister-in-law, Amy, thought it was a perfect idea. We prepared to go. Well I did, sort-of.

As with most women everywhere, life kept getting in the way of what I wanted to do. I didn't sign up for the retreat right away. Even after I did, I didn't review the content of the retreat right away. Once I finally managed to squeeze that in, I was blown away! Jennifer Louden was the facilitator, the fearless leader, the Goddess extraordinaire at the helm of this "luscious" retreat. The same Jennifer Louden who wrote the book that helped me with my first debilitating taste of depression. I am a firm believer that if you open yourself up, the Universe will supply you with all that you need. I needed Jennifer's guidance again and I was granted that gift once again. She, for the second time, helped restore my balance, my creativity and my sanity. I have found that she is my unwitting yet undeniable guardian angel.

As for the retreat itself, it was, as expected, extremely comforting and wonderfully creative. "Luscious" though? That word drew me in, but I had my doubts that a women's retreat could live up to the hype. After all, for me, "luscious" evokes all things luxurious: a soft cashmere sweater, a decadent chocolate souffle, a warm, fragrant massage. It turns out that I learned a new and decidedly better definition of luscious. It looks like this:

The end of the retreat was capped with a request from Jennifer to declare, in one sentence, what we, individually, would take away from this experience. After a few moments thought, we were guided to a corner of the room where chairs were set in a circle, half as many chairs as participants. We were invited to sit or stand. Those standing were asked to stand directly behind someone seated. With soft music playing in the background, we were invited to whisper in the ear of our seated partner our declaration. We then moved slowly around the circle, repeating our declaration to ourselves in the form of a whisper to each woman seated. Our last moments together were a powerful exchange of giving and receiving. Giving of our new found wisdom: "I am enough just as I am." "I can say no." "I give myself permission to lower my expectations." "I will put my needs first." "I will ask myself what it is I want." "I am powerful." "I can do anything." Receiving these messages of essential truths and having them replace all the negative, nasty thoughts I torture myself with on a daily basis was one of the most luxurious, luscious and beautiful experiences of my life.

So, here I am, back in my reality. Its only been nine hours since I left, and it feels like a lifetime has passed. I have done laundry, given baths, and washed dishes. Yet, I have done so with a lighter, fuller heart. It has been several months since I felt any urge to write, since I felt that I had anything worthwhile to say, since I wanted to share anything creative of myself with the world. I go forth into much the same routine as before I left, but with a new purpose and new perspective. I am powerful. I have a great deal to say and the urge to say it. I need only remember the essential truths whispered so lovingly in my ear. It is true that great things happen when a group of thoughtful, curious and compassionate women meet as strangers and leave as friends.

Thank you, Jennifer Louden.

* My first retreat was in September of 2010 entitled "Women, Food and God: The Weekend Retreat" facilitated by Geneen Roth. Loved, loved, loved it.