Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

There is a point a person's stress level when they can take no more.  Everyone deals with that point differently, and to complicate matters that threshold varies from person to person as well as from time to time within an individual's life.  How we deal with stress is a complex bit of magic that takes its influences from chemistry and hormones and all sorts of physiological balances along with a lifetime of lessons and examples that began at day one with our caretakers.

As a mom, I hope to teach my son my to handle stress with a smooth grace and a calm demeanor.  I want him to have the ability to manage a superhuman amount of pressure and still be cool and miraculously relaxed.  And I want him to be able to recognize when the stress and pressure he feels is just too much, and that he needs to ask for help.

This is something I am not good at, and that I fail in my parenting and being an example for him.  I do not have the ability to ask for help, I do not have a superhuman ability to handle pressure and the weight of a million tasks and responsibilities and remain collected and cool and un-phased.

What I do have, for better or worse, is a deceptive ability to APPEAR as though I can handle it. Until I can't.  These last few months have been heavy with stress, anxiety, pain, pressure, intensity and disappointment.  And given who I am, the time of year, the challenge of my circumstances, and a host of other excuses - I was unable to ask for or receive help to get out from under it all.  Instead I tried desperately to juggle, balance, manage, and maintain (often failing) - barely keeping my nose above the rising tidewater.  At times it poked through, at times the meltdown appeared imminent, and often I felt like a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  (A much darker less entertaining version of a farcical Almodovar movie).

What I do know, what I can pass along, is a small bit of self awareness, that in these moments of unbelievable pressure and stress and turmoil - what often suffers and takes the lion's share of neglect is ourselves. The things that make us healthy and happy. They are the first to be ignored in place of the thousands of noisier moving parts requiring more attention.  And this is a mistake.

Allowing for a certain amount of madness and meltdowns and insanity is one thing.  It may even be unavoidable, given a balls to the wall sort of lifestyle (which can make one prone to those sorts of things).  But letting it go on forever without taking care of one's self is inexcusable.   its an indulgence that is supremely annoying and gets in the way of truly living.

So bring on the new year.  Bring on 2013.  And say goodbye to last year's stress and madness and pressure and upheaval and uncertainty.  In its place, make self-care and attention and health and happiness a certainty -  worthy of the time and attention it requires.  No one wants to repeat history, and last year only needs to happen once.  Deep breaths.

Sometimes Things Suck

When thinking about things I want my son to know, among the many life lessons that seem relevant to me in the moments I put my thoughts into words, I want to acknowledge the fact that sometimes things just suck.  This may seem silly or beyond obvious for most of us who have been around awhile.  But for my little man-in-training, who seems to love life from his first breath and is full of so much laughter and joy, I have to tell you this hard truth - sometimes things suck.

Sometimes life is messy.  Sometimes it is ugly, and sad, and frustrating - or full on just sucks ass.  It is true, and if you don't know this it will be a shock to your light-filled system.

But here is what else is true.  Even when it sucks and seems to be dark and gloomy and full of despair, I want you to know something else very important - it will get better.  It will always get better.  No matter how long the dark days last, whether it be one day or one week or one year, eventually the clouds will clear and miraculously everything will get better.  I promise you.  You need to remember this because, in the thick of it, this can be hard to believe.  But your mom and her 40 years (gasp!) of experience is here to tell you - now and over and over again whenever you need to hear it - that no matter how sucky things get they WILL get better. I know this. I live this.

As your mom I don't want you to feel heartbreak, pain, or loss.  If I had my way, your days would always be filled with nothing but happiness and good things.  But if my life has taught me anything, it is that this is not the way the world works.  Bad things happen, even to good people, and sometimes things just suck.  So that is why I want you to always keep in mind the more important life lesson here, which is that if you are patient, and let time pass, and continue to get up each day and do your best in all that you do and be the best person you can be, things will get better. They just will. How? I don't know, its part of the magic of life.  It might take a day or a week or a month, but things will get better.

In the suckiest of times, the future is bright for you my love. As it is for all of us, if we have the will and the strength to wait for it.  So when things suck for you, as they inevitably and annoyingly will some day, know that it is not forever.  Know that it will get better. Know that eventually it will pass.  Know that while sometimes things suck, they always always always will look up.  Eventually.

On Being 40

Last Day in My Thirties

Here is the thing - I never imagined myself at 40.  This could be due to several reasons, one of which is the depressing thought I had when younger that  - for no specific reason - I wasn't really sure I would live to be 40.  Another reason is that I just never imagined what I would be like when I got older.  Old.  And now that it is happening, and the number no longer permits denying it, I don't really like it.  I am not embracing it, as my healthier and perhaps more content self-assured friends are.

No matter which way you slice it, 40 sounds old when you are younger.  As a kid it sounds ancient (I mean my grandma BECAME a grandma at 34 years old so....).  And as a young adult it seems like forever from there.  And as an actual adult in your twenties and thirties it somehow still sounds like it will happen to someone else.  At least to me it did.  But here it is, happening to me - turning 40.

I am supposed to be wiser now.  But all I really know about being older is that it happens so fast.  One minute you are in high school and having those moments that will be burned into your memory forever about life, friendships and love.  The next you are in college and playing at being an adult and feeling so confident and brilliant that you will take over the world.  Then you are actually living as an adult with challenges and responsibilities for decision-making on real life issues like employment and relationships and housing.  And all through the decades, these decades that truly move by like fleeting moments, it feels as though at some point you will have it all figured out.  But the only thing you know for sure is that time is speeding up.  And before you know it you are that 17 year old, that 22 year old, that 30 year old, trapped in a body that is now 40.  Its confusing really.  Like waking up after a brief ride in a time machine.

So as I enter this new decade, I might actually be wiser, more mature, experienced, and certain skills like patience and thoughtfulness may have grown.  But also inside of me, in many way, I am still the same person I was 25 years ago.  The voice I hear in my head has not changed, in fact it sounds exactly the same - it has not grown older as my hair has grayed.

Being closer to 50 than I am to 20 makes no damn sense to me - and no matter how I try I have not yet been able to reconcile this in the inner monologue of my daily reflections, wants, and intentions.  Maybe I never will.  And it has nothing to do with a sense of achievement or success - I am so deeply satisfied with having lived in the present and gone balls to the wall in all that I have put my mind to.  I have a wonderful life that I am so incredibly thankful and proud for - not the least of which is my beautiful and joyful amazing son.  It is simply that despite all that my life has given me, I will never be young again.  I will never experience youth again, be considered young, or grouped in with that ridiculously optimistic, arrogant and un-jaded category of 20-somethings.  I will never again have my whole life ahead of me like an almost-blank slate.  Instead I will be called "Ma'am," I will be the "old" mom at my son's playground, and I will feel like Mrs. Robinson when I notice a super hot 20-year old.  And most of all I will have to be intentional in all that is ahead of me - knowing that 50 is right around the corner - and with the speed that time moves now I shouldn't waste a second of it.

30 Days Until 40

i have 30 days until i turn 40 years old.  this is no small event.  as someone who likes to think i have a long and interesting (dare i say exciting) life ahead of her, turning 40 presents some existential crises that are hard to put into words.

feeling old.
feeling unremarkable, invisible.
being called ma'am by boys i would once have consider hot.
watching my body and face change rapidly, and feeling the ever intensifying pull towards old age.
looking around and ahead and finding there is so much still to be done, to be accomplished.
looking back and finding that, despite my best efforts, there were missed opportunities and decisions that could have been better.
remembering moments that are long gone, and wishing i could visit them again.
grasping at memories, people, songs and feelings that remind me of my younger self.
wanting things that seem somehow harder or further from reach for someone soon to be entering their 40's.

i know a lot more about myself now.  i also see clearly the areas where i could be better.  it is obvious to me the many ways i would like to improve, change and grow as a person.  and with time speeding up it all becomes very intensified and serious for some reason.

initially i thought i should take on a challenge of doing one new thing for myself in the next 30 days - to mark the milestone of 40 more poignantly.  maybe things on my life's growing to-do list that would make me feel accomplished. but then i realized that there are enough challenges each day, that being the mother i want to be,  making progress in my professional life (slow but sure progress), and trying to live a life that is happy and interesting and balls to the wall on a daily basis (particularly this month!) doesn't leave a lot of room for an additional 30 day challenge.  so for now i will look at this countdown with wide eyes and hope that something awesome and delightful hits me over the head on september 29th.

Sacrifice and Love

I was ruminating on the nature of parenting, and the challenges i face as an individual with deep and dramatic desires for adventure and meaningful contributions and travel and impactful work.  and i started to think that the word that best describes how i was feeling these past few months is SACRIFICE.

Sacrifice - an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy.

as a mother, i find that there are many things that i am choosing to sacrifice for the sake of something else more important - my son.  not surprisingly, i sacrifice some of the work that i value...i forgo certain projects and work less on things i care about in order to spend more time with him.  i sacrifice some of the things that i love, such as sleep and extensive travel, in order to be there for him.  i sacrifice time with my friends in order to put him to bed each night, and i sacrifice time getting ready in the morning (and as a consequence often sacrifice feeling good about how i look) in order to be sure to give him the attention he wants.  i sacrifice what i want to do a million little moments through out the day, because i happily give them all up for the sake of him.

its not something i need him to thank me for later on.  its something that is natural to me, and seems inherent in the position. its something that i can't imagine not doing, as he is always (and always will be) regarded as more important or worthy than just about anything.

i know the importance of being happy - and that a happy parent makes for happy children. believe me, i indulge my dreams and interests often.  i am not a martyr.  but i do see how critical and intrinsic the notion of sacrifice is to being the kind of parent i want to be. and its important to acknowledge how hard that can be sometimes.  its not that the rest of me shriveled away and died when my son was born and i no longer have the outlandish intentions and impulsive desires to act...those are all still there (sometimes straining to be unleashed).  it is rather that i, most oftentimes, choose to sacrifice my selfish impulses for something of much greater value.  and i am confident that not only am i happier for it, and he is better for it, but also that these pieces of me will be still be there when the time is right and selfishness over sacrifice makes sense again.  

Screw the Lemonade

So there is this saying, that may or may not still be around when my son is old enough to finally read this, which goes like this - If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Well I don't feel that way.  I never have.  I am more of the mind that if life gives you lemons then tell life to fuck off and kick its ass.

I have a low tolerance for wallowing.  This is true in how I view myself and at times even others.  I don't know what it is.  Its not that I lack empathy, I like to consider myself super empathetic and compassionate to others.  Its more that I don't have an enormous amount of patience, particularly for myself.  I know that time speeds up and life is shorter than we all think it is -  I don't have the tolerance for too much self-pity for my own disappointments and raw deals.

What I do have, when life doesn't deliver, is a fire to do something.  Perhaps it is an unhealthy desire to move on, a little too rapidly (I have noticed this on more than one occasion, that I didn't allow myself the time to mourn a loss or feel the sadness).  Nonetheless, when life screws you I say screw the lemonade.  Instead go out and find something else to do, something else to feel good about, something else to pin your hopes on, something else happy to focus on, somewhere else to go.  There is an infinite number of possible directions in life, and so my balls to the wall philosophy doesn't allow much time for stewing in sadness - it requires me to go out and kick life's ass by doing something exciting and wonderful.

This something exciting and wonderful for me is climbing Mount Kilimanjaro this fall.  Take THAT life.

The Dangers of the Back Up Plan

Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate disappointment.  I deplore it.  Generally speaking nearly any kind of disappointment, no matter how great or small, for me results in crushing heartbreak.   One of the ways I have adapted to this disproportionate emotional reaction is to always have a back up plan.

Back up plans have worked wonders in my life - providing meaningful alternatives to plans and hopes in the event that those endeavors don't pan out.  A perfect antidote to the high risk of disappointment, particularly in a balls to the wall existence.  And it keeps my life moving forward, always changing and progressing, with many wonderful twists and turns.  So what if that job I went for didn't come through for me, there is always an offer equally interesting waiting as Plan B.  So what if returning to New York isn't in the cards, L.A. is equally fun and something different.  Who cares if this project or that desire doesn't materialize, so long as there is some beautiful secondary option percolating in the wings.

But there is a downside to the business of the back up plan.  As I get older I come to terms with the fact that sometimes a back up plan provides an escape, an excuse to move on to Plan B before Plan A disappoints.  A cowardly alternative to putting all your eggs in one basket.

And more important than that, there is the issue of the power of putting things out into the universe  - visualizing something positive to help make it come true.  If you have ever listened to guided meditation tracks or anything goal-oriented in nature, they never say visualize what you want...and also visualize a Plan B in case what you want doesn't work out.  Nope.  They focus exclusively on visualizing your goal, attaining your goal, achieving what you want, and seeing in your "mind's eye" what you want to see reflected in reality.

So what of the power of positive visualization?  Certainly one can't focus on making one's true desires and wishes come true if one is also planning for possible failure and disappointment.  These are not mutually compatible actions.   The latter will always take away from the former.

While I remain skeptical about my own power to will things to happen, these days I am recognizing the possible benefits to focusing on one outcome at a time and the drawbacks of entertaining back up plans.    Though I still believe there are huge benefits to having options and staving off disappointment, when the stakes are right.  I also am open to entertaining the possibility that I may contain within me the power to make the things I want most materialize, by harnessing the focus of my balls to the wall attitude and effort.

We will see how that works out for me.  To be continued....

When We Get Older

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died
Jim Carroll - People Who Died

When we get older sometimes we can't help but look around us, and look back.  The allure of sentimentality and nostalgia are so great that in dark times, quiet times, monumental times, harrowing times, and lonely times we think of our former selves, and the people we knew.  Approaching 40 it seems natural to want to take a loose inventory of my life.

It strikes me that so many people I knew have died.  

I have a running mental list of them that I occasionally revisit to wonder about our merging and diverging paths - old friends, more than one former lover, sisters of my most important people, relatives, acquaintances.  All dead before I turn 40.  It is disturbing and baffling, and so senseless, to know this many people gone before their own 40th birthdays.


And then there are those who haven't died but our paths took opposite turns due to other reasons - homelessness, alcoholism, addiction... It is nearly impossible to determine which set of small (and big) decisions widened the gap between those friends and me.  But as we get older it becomes curious.  

Continuing to look around at those who are still in our lives in some way evokes deep emotions that seem only possible with history and the flattering benefit of time and distance.  It is visceral and crushing - that feeling when your high school sweetheart gets married and has kids with someone else.  Amusing when you find out that your prom date has five kids or that your junior high crush looks even better at 40 than he did in 1988.  Inspiring when your clean-cut friend-turned-heroin-addict-turned-felon-turned-clean-again becomes a responsible and loving father to his son.  Fascinating when your college boyfriend comes out with a book, your law school boyfriend evolves into a successful attorney with a remarkable wife and the best friend you traveled Europe with turns out to live just half a mile from you.  These discoveries are magical.

Without judging, knowing how the people we knew and loved and shared pivotal times with have turned out is part of looking back.  And looking around. Reflecting.  It is like another road map of how we got where we are, where we took a different turn, and where we might have gone, had things.... It puts our own lives in context while also showing the uniqueness of our own paths.  And, when the sentimentality passes and the losses fade again to the backdrop, I emerge back in the present and can't help but feel extraordinarily fortunate to be at the very spot I am right now.  And soon to be 40.

In the Company of Great Women

I am lucky.  I am surrounded by inspiring women of extraordinary talents and strength.  This Mother's Day I am thinking of women, mothers and non-mothers alike, who provide amazing examples of what is possible  - possible to do, to be, to become, to accomplish.  So many women who somehow find a way to make the impossible seem almost effortless and who show me the infinite levels of living (balls to the wall) ... as a woman.

From the women I know who somehow manage to raise smart and happy kids on no money whatsoever, without them ever feeling deprived in some way.  To the women who are changing the world with each day that they dedicate themselves to service and global development.  The women who are miraculously balancing their personal and professional selves, with or without kids, and contributing to the external world as well as their intimate personal worlds.  Women in school while working and raising kids, women raising kids in countries foreign to them and teaching their children to explore and appreciate the world and other cultures, women raising kids with their wives who have to endure ridiculous legal obstacles to fair and just treatment, women pioneers leading huge teams (of mostly men) in places like Afghanistan and Libya, women in shelters (often with kids) paying a high price to live a life free from violence, women raising smart and thoughtful human beings while juggling a thousand other relationships and obligations and demands, women following their dreams while simultaneously taking care of their babies or other people's babies, women who run marathons and break physical barriers, and women who bravely do what is right even when it is the hardest option.

This Mother's Day I am celebrating all women.  As a mother for less than two years now, I feel so fortunate to have so many examples of how to live; to have so many people to look to in order to remind myself of what can be.  It is easy to find motherhood full of challenges and daily heartbreaks - particularly when also trying to maintain a sense of self and contribute to the world in a positive way.  These truly great women (including my own mother) are important reminders to me of the incredible, unimaginable and outrageous world of possibilities that is open to me (to all of us) if I just fearlessly stay committed to living life balls to the wall.

And as I do that, as I stumble forward somewhat blindly but well-intentioned into all sorts of adventures and endeavors and travels and professional milestones, I know that I am being the best mother I can be.  One that continues to set the example for my own son of a live truly worth living.  One that is balls to the wall.

Decisions 2012

There are decisions that we have to make in life, and decisions that are made for us.  It is difficult to see which is which sometimes, and both kinds are challenging in their own ways.  Decisions that we have to make can paralyze us - knowing that the wrong choice can lead us down a path we may regret - and yet action is critical so any choice is better than no choice at all.   Making a decision on something important can be gut wrenching.  But a decision that is made for us is equally gut wrenching - having the choice out of our hands and not being able to decide what will happen next is a different kind of painful process.

Sometimes it is easier to be the one to decide where to go, what to do - then there is no one else to blame if things don't work out.   Sometimes it is devastating when the decision is made for you, as it can close a door you had hoped was open. Other times it can be fantastically freeing to have the choice taken out of your hands - it can serve as wonderful protection.  If you have to choose whether or not to take a job - that can be harder than not having the job offered to you in the first place.  A relationship ended by someone else can be heartbreaking, but sometimes less so than having to decide if it was good enough to maintain.

There are positives and negatives to decisions we make verses decisions that are made for us.  And both come in ample supply in life.  The important thing is to accept the decisions we are faced with, the choices open to us, and to act on them.  Fear of making the wrong choice, when one is presented to us, is never a viable option for a life lived balls to the wall.  And when we are given a break and a decision is made for us, well that too is a gift that should point us in another direction of pursuit - to the next fork in the road.

Be Open to the Bizarre

I find that strange things happen to me.  With some regularity.  And its not because of anything special about me, or that I am particularly strange (psshhhhtt).  It is because I am and have always been open to the bizarre.  I smell its possibility, I envision the hilarious versions of reality that are just a moment away, I anticipate that even the most normal interaction with another human being carries the potential for absolute weirdness - given the right combination of time, place and people.

I have so many beautiful stories of total madness, surreal experiences and "did that really happen??" reflections.  And it may be that I am responsible for helping usher them into existence - through my mere openness to them.  But I wouldn't have it any other way.  The kinds of fiction-worthy things that are happening every day to people are so strange and funny and amazing - it is incredible what can happen to you, around you, with you if you somehow manage to send out the right unspoken signals, pheromones, body language, eye contact, and empathic openness in your communication.  Something lets people know they can be their freaky selves - and then the awesome madness ensues.

So, the life lesson for my dear Luka, is be open to the bizarre.  It will make you laugh and happy you have accumulated the stories - and someday you will call upon those memories to make you smile at how gloriously bizarre real life can be.

The Waiting Game

Anyone who knows me well knows that when it comes to time management I am a waiter not a rusher. I hate to be late, as I view it as hugely disrespectful, and I hate to rush (it stresses me out and makes me sweat). Therefore, in general I prefer to arrive to my destination - meeting, appointment, airport, etc. - with a comfortable cushion of time to spare. I much prefer getting somewhere early and waiting over rushing to arrive somewhere barely on time covered in back sweat with a flushed face. I am a waiter not a rusher.

However, when it comes to life and living balls to the wall I believe fully in NOT waiting to do something. There are some people, very responsible and smart people, who are waiting until retirement to enjoy their money, to travel and to live. There are people who are careful and cautious with their hearts and they wait to see how solid something is before they jump in and do something outrageous, if at all. Those people wait a bunch dates before having sex maybe, and certainly don't move in with someone a week after they meet them. There are people who focus heavily on working and counting the days until the rest of their life can begin - 14 more years and I will be able to start enjoying myself. That is one way to live, and it may be a smarter way - it has long term vision and planning and caution on its side. However, I prefer the other way. Not waiting.

I prefer to do things in the moment it strikes me, rather than wait another day. (It may be that I am never completely convinced that I will get another day so its critical to act immediately. You never know). By not waiting, you might find yourself running away to Puerto Rico with someone after only 3 dates. Or inviting someone you haven't seen for 10 years to spend Valentine's Day with you in Thailand. Or going snorkeling in Australia's Great Barrier Reef (even though you are terrified of sharks). Or cage diving with said sharks in Dubai. Or having a conversation with the Attorney General of Afghanistan. Or teaching the Chief Justice of Ghana the Electric Slide. Or find yourself in the middle of a hilarious spy novel in Azerbaijan, with cigarettes still smoldering in the ashtray of your empty apartment.

These are the kinds of things that can happen to people who don't wait for the right time.

It may be wiser and safer to wait for some things - until the time is right, until there is enough money saved, until all your ducks are in a row, until you are sure about it.... but living balls to the wall isn't about being safe. Its about going all in - living life like each day matters the most. Because it does.

The value of being a dork.

Last night I was thinking about the quest for the extraordinary, and in the early morning hours I had a ridiculous dream that involved marrying Johnny Depp, him speaking Arabic and sex. And I woke up feeling like a total dork (and yet smiling). It was a silly dream and cute and it reminded me that, in a quest for an extraordinary life, it is important to never be afraid to express the inner dork.

No one likes someone who takes themselves too seriously, thinks too highly of themselves, or is afraid to make an ass out of themselves. We might find some of those people impressive, intimidating or even extraordinary in some way, a distancing inhuman way - but without the ability to look like a complete dork there is something missing. Fun. Being a dork is so much more fearless, more balls to the wall, than being composed, confident and cool.

As I think about how I want my son to grow up, how I hope he views me, I hope he is often and alternating-ly embarrassed and proud of me. I hope some day he loves that I do the work that I do and brags about his mom to his friends. And I hope he cringes at the things I am willing to say or do - that he begs me not to dance in public or sing in the car when his friends are around or any other demonstrations of what an awesome dork I can be. In fact, I can't wait to model being a dork for him.

So lacking from my prior reflections on what it means to be extraordinary was the importance of ridiculousness. Ridiculous behavior, a huge imagination that allows for the most insane, funny and dorky of fantasies (hello Arabic speaking husband Johnny Depp) and a propensity to let the world see you as silly.

What it means to be extraordinary.

Recently I have been thinking about what it means to be extraordinary. To be an extraordinary person or do extraordinary things or to feel with extraordinary measure.

Coincidentally, I have also been thinking about the situation in Afghanistan - or perhaps not so coincidentally since working there/living there was an extraordinary experience for me. Also perhaps not so coincidentally I have been considering what it would mean to contribute there in the wake of the recent unfortunate events, as the opportunity to assist again may be on the horizon.

Thinking about my son, and wanting him to experience a life that is nothing less extraordinary, I am reminded that I have to model what that means. Of course it follows that living balls to the wall is likely to bring you closer to the extraordinary. So how does one do extraordinary things - BE extraordinary - exactly?

It means not playing it safe, for one. Not letting fear stop you from trying to accomplish great things. Not letting embarrassment or concern for looking foolish stop you from loving completely. In fact, it may be that the answer is to have just the right amount of recklessness. Be reckless in love. Be reckless in your sense of adventure. Be reckless in who you want to be. Give so much of yourself that you never have to ask "what if." And absolutely do the very things that people tell you can not do. While I expect to eat my words as my son gets older, I know that it will make him a better person for it.

Some people are extraordinarily good at their jobs. Or good in bed. Or good people. But the challenge seems to rest in how to be simply extraordinary. In all that you do. An extraordinarily good person, good parent, good partner, good worker, good citizen of the world.

(As an aside, I read something a highly successful woman and mother wrote - which is that you can have it all, just not all at the same time. Hmmmm.....)

As I (rapidly) approach turning 40, and what very well might be a midlife existential meltdown, I am conscious of how each decision - each action or inaction - may be viewed by my older self when the time comes for mortal reflections. What will I regret not having done is the most decisive factor in assessing current conditions, and i think so far it has steered me well. I am pleased (if not yet fully satisfied, though i hope never to be) with the level of extraordinary I have experienced thus far.

Without being reckless I would not have met so many extraordinary people (you know who you are). I would not have been to extraordinary places (like Istanbul and Buenos Aires and Thailand and India, to name but a few). I would not have worked on unimaginably meaningful and rewarding projects (in places such as Afghanistan no less). I would not have had my son (an epic of its own). I would not have thousands of memories to choose from on days when I need to remind myself of who I am, what I have done, where I have been, and where I still can go. When the time is right.

So, my love of loves,

my heart of hearts,

my prince of men.

This means that when your mom does something, it is for a reason - even if it appears foolish, reckless, impossible - and that reason is to show you how to pour every ounce of yourself into life. And in doing so, I hope you will learn to live an extraordinary life that makes your heart full, your head happy and your soul satisfied with the trail you leave behind.

Synchronicity of the Head, Heart & Hooch

Now this may seem slightly off topic, but on the subject of life lessons for Luka and living balls to the wall - I think ruminations on passion, love and sex are important.

I am sure there is plenty that has been written on the subject, particularly in self-help books and couples therapy texts. But to state it bluntly, the best relationships (at least in so far as I guess, in my limited and not-so-hot record of relationships) seem to exist when there is synchronicity between the mind, heart and body...or as I call it - Head, Heart & Hooch.

So often we have an imbalance in one of the three areas, and when prolonged that can wreak havoc on a relationship. Too much of one area and not enough of another is never a good thing, as a relationship built solely around the hooch leaves the heart empty, while a relationship with all heart and no hooch is - lets just say its another brand of unfulfilling. An even more dangerous consequence of the Head, Heart, & Hooch imbalance is the appeal of getting one of the triad satisfied by someone outside the relationship. Whether it be in the form of "emotional cheating" by getting heart satisfaction from someone other than your partner, or physical cheating by hooch satisfaction, any way you look at it, it spells doom and gloom for most couples.

Some people live a little too focused in their own head, which is hard to get out of. Some people live exclusively through the hooch (for MEN I mean this figuratively - replace it with Heart and Head squared). When we do this, and our partner is not focusing on the same element at the same time, we risk massive disconnect. One partner thinks sex will solve a problem that the other partner thinks only heady discussion will solve. Its an age-old impasse.

The most desired combination therefore seems to exist when the head is in a good place with each partner seeing the other as a critical and positive addition to their lives, and the heart is warmed by the very presence of the other, and the hooch is happy and satiated right there at home. That is the magic of synchronicity of the head, heart & hooch.

love in a nutshell.

Smothering Under the Blanket of Melancholy

One of the consequences of living balls to wall, which I had forgotten until it snuck up on me recently, was the overwhelming crushing sensation when you crash to the ground after soaring so high.

There are such huge gains to dreaming big, to enlisting an overactive imagination to see what could be and where it could go. And there is so far to fall when, for all your efforts and powerful imagery, for some reason the stars don't align and it doesn't materialize. It is heartbreaking. It is a brand of heartbreak that plagues those who take risks, who reach for heights that are laughable and seemingly impossible - the irrational acts of a courageous and silly few.

But simmering in this nostalgic stew of melancholy, I am thankful. Thankful that I would rather see huge amazing potential, and suffer the pains of disappointment, than see a world through narrower and limiting eyes. And sometimes, just sometimes, the heights imagined, the dreams visualized and the fantasies of a madwoman magically are actualized, realized. And those moments, though rare and fleeting, keep the dreams going in this alternate reality of that which is impossible. Most of the time.

Virtual or Reality

I have been thinking a lot lately about the blurring lines between our virtual world and our concrete world, and I must say I haven't been able to reconcile my confusion between the two.

What is real and what is not? What is meaningful and what is meaningless? What is fact and what is fantasy? My questions are prompted by the every changing social environment that is taking place through online tools. So often now people are meeting their future partners online through dating websites. People are grieving the loss of loved ones on facebook. People are sharing the most mundane of daily activities through hourly tweets. There is arguably greater social activity happening in the virtual world than in person these days.

What do we do about the very vague boundary between virtual reality and Reality? In many respects these two worlds can be separate - people projecting personas in their virtual world that are distinct (if not all together different) from their concrete world persona. Making or remaining friends with people online that one will never (and never intends to) communicate with or see in person. In essence, for some of us we have the opportunity now to live multiple lives - one in real life and then several others online, depending on our mood.

Of course this is also being done through interactive videogames (I recently saw a program about one that may actually be called Second Life, where people have virtual second lives with other individuals and relationships and workplaces).

But sometimes, and unavoidably, these worlds (as innocent as they may have started) collide. And then what?

A sad example of this collision course relationship between virtual and reality is the consequences of the virtual behavior of cyberbullying. Cyberbullying leads to real deaths.

Lest you think I am using an extreme and unique example, is it not true that many (most) people do, say and act differently - more boldly - online than they would in person? Don't many of us say things (even in email) that we would be challenged to utter in person? Our behavior online is a changed/edited/modified version of ourselves - and sometimes the fact that it is not "real" is permission to be....well, bad.

There are also amazingly positive contributions of this virtual world, in fact they are too numerous to list (but one doesn't have to look further than the Arab Spring to see the potential power of harnessing social media for real social change). But I think we are in a strange position, this generation, of navigating our feelings, behavior and moral attitude around the seemingly limitless tools available for online living. And I struggle with the fluid line between my own virtual world (hello blog) and my Real world - as its apparent the two are constantly intersecting and changing the other. I only hope that in the things that matter, I don't cross the line.

Operation Baby Separation

I knew it had to happen. For months I have known it was past due. And finally I did it. I had my first night away from Luka since he was born over 15 months ago.

It was a bit like a staycation. We didn't stray far from home, and we didn't do much more than eat and see a movie (and eat again). But it was an important milestone in Operation Baby Separation - acknowledging that Luka and I are not one person. And that it is okay for us to be apart sometimes. And that he can in fact be totally happy in the care of others (thanks Mom). And that he is able to sleep through the night even without me listening intently from 20 feet away. He is fine without me. And I learned that I am fine (even better than fine) when I can take a break and get away and not have to think about someone else's needs the first second I wake up and the last minute before I fall asleep. Its a nice lesson and one that I think will need a lot of practice, but the first step was the hardest.

Phase I of (what I can only assume will be a lifelong process) Operation Baby Separation was a success. Someday I might have to be gone for more than 26 hours, and at least now we had a dress rehearsal.

Why Valentine's Day Matters

I understand the perspective of those who hate Valentine's Day. There are many good reasons to disavow this as a made-up holiday, one that creates expectations, disappoints many, and spreads gloom among people who are without a partner but would like one. I get it. I also understand that Hallmark and jewelry companies and flower shops and fancy restaurants all charge a fortune to help you "celebrate" on this date, for no real good reason.

But maybe there is a reason.

Maybe, for some people, reminding us to take a break from our routine and celebrate love is necessary. Sure, it doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day. Or Christmas. Or your birthday. It could be any day. And maybe it should be EVERY day. But lets be real. It isn't.

So for those of us who find ourselves in a frenzied pattern of day-to-day living and doing and working and taking care of business, both in our personal and professional lives, often showing appreciation is not a part of the habit of life.

Even in a good life, a great life, appreciation is appreciated. It doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day, but isn't it just easy that we are reminded to try to do that - show our appreciation and love - at least on this semi-random day in February?

This is why Valentine's Day matters. Because even the best of friendships and relationships can benefit from a designated time out from the taking-for-granted of each other's goodness in order to recognize, in the form of love and kindness and generosity of spirit (not money), the amazing fortune of finding another human being that you connect with. On February 14th, at the very least, or any other day of the year.

Taking the Plunge

This week my balls to the wall philosophy was put to the test, professionally speaking. Faced with two opportunities - one safe and one a gamble, one wrapped up with a bow and one big and amorphous, one a step back and one a giant leap forward - it was walk the talk time.

Going balls to the wall in life means taking the plunge and diving into the unknown, taking a risk and embracing the challenge rather than playing it safe and easy. So I gathered up my courage and said no to the simple path, the one I could have quickly slipped into with minimal difficulty.

Why? Because the not-so-simple path has the most to offer me in terms of all-around happiness, both professionally and personally. The harder road, as is often the case, has oodles of potential that is simply not found in the easy road. As of now I am committed to this new professional path, and while I see huge challenges ahead and moments where my capabilities will be tested and stretched, I also see opportunities for huge professional growth. And with that I see personal growth and happiness. I see greater flexibility, greater creativity and freedom.

Is it scary? Hell yeah. It is always scarier to do something new, something challenging, something that stretches us and forces us to grow. Not to mention the risks financially and emotionally if one fails. But like someone who is starting their own business, there is also excitement - excitement at the possibility of success, excitement over creating something new, and excitement of forging your own path rather than being a cog in a wheel. So for these reasons, among others, I decided to go balls to the wall in my career and current professional path and just take the plunge.

I don't know where the path will take me or if I will accomplish all that I hope in this new professional adventure, but that is part of the joy of life. Diving into the unknown, taking the plunge, going all in, balls to the wall. Anything less would be less of a life.

Putting One Foot in Front of the Other

Sometimes, when we go balls to the wall, we get hurt.

My son learned this lesson yesterday in expressing his excitement over a cute dog while practicing his walking skills - he propelled himself full force forward and sadly fell face down on the concrete. It clearly hurt, and when the blood started coming out of his nose I was horrified. My heart sunk. I literally had my son's blood on my hands.

But after cleaning him up and distracting him with a little vanilla ice cream he was over it. Quicker than I was. And as the day went on and his nose got more and more bruised and purpley I was reminded over and over of how fragile he is, and how resilient. This morning he woke up with big scrapes that have already started to scab over, and he clearly is feeling great and ready to enjoy a new day of adventures. I am left however with another reminder of life's hard lessons.

Living balls to the wall means that sometimes we fall. Sometimes we get hurt. And our real strength is in how we approach every moment after the fall. Do we feel the pain, recover and start anew? Or are we afraid to ever walk again? Do we continue to take steps forward and let the wound scab over or do we let injury and pain stop us in our tracks?

This past year there were many balls to the wall moments in my life. And there were occasions when this resulted in hurt. Inevitably. There has been financial bruising, physical challenges, emotional pain, scabbing and healing. There have also been times when I was stopped in my tracks. Looking at my son's scraped and scabby nose I am reminded that one of the hardest things to do as an adult is simply figuring out how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And keep moving forward.

The Personal and Professional Yin-Yang

I am well aware of the extraordinary position I am in personally and professionally. My son is the greatest gift I have ever received in my life, and I am beyond fortunate to be able to decide how much or how little I want to work and how I want his first years to be spent and with whom. I have generous options. I am also extremely fortunate to have always had work. I have always had job opportunities (albeit some more attractive than others) and I have never been truly scared that I would be jobless for a great length of time. So while I am one of the millions of people who live paycheck to paycheck, and certainly above my means and enjoying the present rather than saving for the future, I haven't ever been too nervous.

This doesn't mean that all my dreams have come true, or that I have never wanted for anything...I still have many dreams and goals and desires - some of which may come true some day and some may not. I have endured deep challenges and difficulty, as well as ridiculous happiness and joy. However, after an epically bad day I am left wondering if I can have it all. Even when trying to live life full throttle, there may be an unexpected tragedy or pain right around the corner ready to derail this fast moving train of goodness. At the same time, as I also discovered during an epically bad week, sometimes surprising opportunities with amazing potential fall into one's lap equally unexpected. When both happen at the same time, it makes for a confusing week.

Personal lives take work to maintain. I believe that. I believe that it is hard to be your best self at all times, and that its important to keep trying no matter what. For some of us, it is almost easier to be our best self professionally. It is less complicated, less emotional, less messy and has some clearer boundaries, consequences and job descriptions (well not always). But why is it that bad and good so often come our way simultaneous. If I were someone other than myself (you know who you are, and I love you for it) I would say its the universe's way of keeping balance. SO your personal life may be shit at the moment, but at least you are a rock star professionally. Or the other way around.

For me, the personal professional divide just keeps getting more complicated. Now I need to be my best self for me, my best version of what a partner should be, my best version of a mother, and my best version of a professional. Its exhausting just thinking about it. And when one of those feels like a failure - whether it be momentarily or at a core level - its so hard to not let that bleed over into other pieces of me. And then it is easy to give up on living balls to the wall, because what's the point?

Except there is a point. Each day I have the privilege of waking up, and the privilege of waking up in cushy circumstances, with a millions reasons to be thankful all around me, and a million reasons not to waste one day. Giving half an effort isn't an option when it would be shameful to waste the gifts and opportunities we are surrounded by. The only way to do justice to such a beautiful life is to continue to try to live it balls to the wall. Even after an epically bad (or good) week.

The Pyramid of Parenting

I am not sure if I came up with this mini-theory on the pyramid of parenting, or if I was influenced by one of my much wiser and more experienced parenting friends, or if its a combination of my own reflections with something I read somewhere. But here it is nonetheless.

To me, good parenting takes place when 3 levels of the pyramid are happening and present. And it is rare.

Level 1 is the base of the pyramid. It is the foundation and without it none of the other levels are possible. Level 1 parenting is basic survival parenting. Food and shelter parenting. This is the easy stuff, but the stuff that scares the shit out of us the first 4 weeks. The how-do-I-keep-this-tiny-thing-alive part of parenting. Most teen moms are able to master this level, often with the help of their own moms.

Level 2 parenting gets a little more sophisticated. Now its not just survival parentings, its a step above the basic non-neglect needs. Is my kid warm, full, happy, well-rested. I admit to having a couple key Level 2 parenting failures in my brief time as a mother. One includes failing to notice my son lost his socks on top of the Eiffel Tower in crazy 45 degree cold and fearing that his feet had suffered frostbite. And my current battle with his sleep, which happens beautifully only when he is next to me. Still wrestling with that one.

Level 3 parenting is the toughest and its the area where I find its easiest for me to feel like a failure, depending on the day. It is assisting with the higher level functioning and development of this little human. It means stimulating, challenging, reading, giving opportunities for independence, growth, learning. It is what propelled me to sign up for our brief stint in the mommy and me music class. The need to feel like I am going beyond the basics and helping my son to grow and develop, providing environments that will constantly stretch him to the next milestone and connect more neurotransmitters. Level 3 parenting makes me feel like I am doing everything I can do to help facilitate my son in reaching his potential. And being the super smartest most awesome person ever.

Mastering and accomplishing all three levels of the parenting pyramid on a daily basis is a challenge. And its a rare day when I can say that I feel like I nailed it. But it doesn't stop me from trying.

The ULTIMATE challenge, however, is how to accomplish the complete magical parenting pyramid AND still live balls to the wall. Does it mean that as a mother I am only able to pyramid parent (because this alone takes a LOT of effort)? Or can I also live balls to the wall in my professional life? Can I kill it professionally and bust ass and be amazing at what I do both in the home AND out of the home, going full throttle maximum effort in both? Or does attempting to do so set me up for definite Level 3 parenting failures? This is my real exploration: living balls to the wall as a mother.

LIfe Lessons for Luka

To blog or not to blog has often been a question for me. Among many. And as I sat here sadly dismantling my son's incredibly helpful Jumperoo, marveling at the fact that is another thing he has already outgrown and will never need again, I realized my motivation.

Luka.

This blog, about living balls to the wall, is an evolution of life lessons for Luka. A guidebook on how to live full throttle. A series of reflections on moments and decisions on going balls to the wall, narrated by Luka's mom. For his future benefit and anyone else who cares to tune in.

For Luka, who I hope goes balls to the wall in all that he cares about in life.

Living Balls to the Wall Means...

Going all out. Full force. Maximum speed.

Its not entirely clear where the phrase originated, but most sources locate it as stemming from military aviation somewhere between the Korean and Vietnam wars. The throttle in many fighter plans are topped with a ball and presumably to get maximum power you push it all the way to the front of the cockpit (also known as the firewall). Thus going all out is going "balls to the wall."

This is a blog about living full-force. Balls to the wall in all that you do.