Yesterday was the first Mother’s Day that I’ve spent without my mom…it wasn’t terrible. My sweet children made or gave me thoughtful presents that warmed my heart, but I couldn’t help thinking about last Mother’s Day. Last year, I dreaded another Mother’s Day with my mom, buying her presents and pretending that we were close when all I felt was resentment. Resentment is a funny thing. You think it’s about the other person, when all the while it’s a window into dissatisfaction with yourself. I resented my mom for leaving me so much when I was young and then expecting me to be there for her when she was too frail to go-go anymore. It seemed like such a raw deal for me…so unfair. I’m not saying that my mom was right for leaving me alone to pursue her own adventures, but I’m not saying I was right to resent her for it, either. All that resentment maintained a certain distance between us when we could actually have been together, as she was finally still for the first time in ninety years. Instead of wanting to spend time with her, all I wanted to do was check the box on my TODO list: buy Mom a present, check. Take her to brunch, check. Say I loved her, check and then get while the getting was good. That is not my idea of a great Mother’s Day for either my mom or myself. But that’s what resentment buys you.

So this year, I visited my mom’s headstone instead of her house, and I did it willingly, without resentment. Because for six weeks last summer, I stopped resenting my mother and started loving her for as long as she had days left for me to do so. I realized that the resentment was about me and all the areas where I had neglected myself. I’d subjected my body to years of brutal dieting and exercising, while ignoring my need for spiritual and creative sustenance. I'd shoved coutless calories of crappy food on top of unfelt feelings, hoping to numb the pain. I’d spent a small fortune on shoes or toys while looking for a happiness that could only come from self-care, not Visa. I had neglected myself in a way far more damaging than my mom ever did. And even though she was neglectful of me, it wasn’t intentional, unlike my punishing regimen of self-doubt and criticism. As I reflect on a Mother’s Day without a mother, I see a day filled with love from my children and husband; a day of grief for all the lost moments with my mom, when my resentment and pride erected a barrier between us; and a day of gratitude for the last six weeks we had together, filled with love. If you are mad at anyone because of their treatment of you, and you’re carrying resentment around like a leaden backpack, I implore you to look at that resentment very closely. Ask yourself whether the actions that you resent the other person for are not reflected in your own life. Then forgive them, and when you’ve done that, forgive yourself. Begin today to live a life free of resentment, and then take all the energy you’ve emancipated and do something nice for yourself; and then do something nice for your Mom…today, while you have the chance.

April 21, 2012 was a milestone in ways both good and sad. It was my first Saturday in the Park (a local festival to benefit the Heritage Museum of Northwest Florida, of which I am a Trustee) where I was an actual participant, and my mom wasn't. It was the first time my daughter Alyssa sang the national anthem in public (she was great!) It was the first time I've spent any real quality time with my Uncle Walt in years, and it was my Uncle Walt's last sno-cone.

He had driven himself to the event (without a driver's license), and he was having a grand old time. He sat on a bench outside the museum, not far from the T-shirt booth where I was working, right where I could keep an eye on him if he needed me. I'm sure he didn't plan it that way, but there was definitely a plan in play. I checked on him from time to time, and he was happy as a clam watching the parade of humanity and listening to the performers. Just as things were heating up, the event was canceled prematurely due to bad weather. After we broke down our booth, I was free to leave; however, I didn't want to leave my uncle to drive himself home.

I called everyone I could think of to come and pick him up, but all I got was voice-mail. I tried to talk him into letting me drive him home, but he was enjoying his sno-cone far too much to engage in chit chat. I understood; his ginormous sno-cone was over-the-top in its strawberry-ness, and it looked delicious. Between bites, I asked him again if I could drive him home. He politely refused my offer and told me not to worry about him; he was just fine (sounding eerily like my mother-with exactly the same phrasing and inflection). But, I just couldn't let it go. I felt a heavenly push to see my mom's little brother home safely. So, I hung around until he made his way to his car. I called a friend to see if he might be able to talk my uncle into letting him play chauffeur, but he turned my friend down as well. So, I followed my uncle at a discreet distance, feeling like a participant in the world's most boring car chase. To my surprise, he didn't drive home-he went to his office instead. I made sure he got out of the car safely (from a discreet distance, to allow him his pride), and then I left. It was 11:44 AM on Saturday, April 21; that's important, because it was the last time anyone saw my uncle smiling.

This is tragic and sad, especially as it was juxtaposed against the other event on my Saturday schedule: senior prom and all its regalia. My middle girls spent most of the day (11:00 AM to 4:30 PM) getting hair and makeup done and dressing in finery. My hubbie put on his tux, so he could pose, James Bond-like, in the pictures with both girls. All participants looked divine! We followed the crew out to Baytowne Wharf, where they met their posse for a pre-prom dinner. My hubbie took his camera and all his lenses to capture the action on film. The whole time he was snapping pictures of this watershed moment in my kids' lives, I couldn't help thinking about my uncle in the hospital and wishing him peace. Sometimes you know when things will never be the same, like when you're experiencing such a transitional moment as senior prom. And sometimes you think it's just a chance encounter with your uncle and his sno-cone, when it's actually the last day of his long and fruitful life;and I had the privilege of playing a starring role in it.

As I was silently shepherding my uncle around the park, there was a feeling of being steered myself. Normally I would've said "Hi", given him a hug, and moved on. But this time, something spurred me to hang around. He reminded me so much of my mom and dad, as I was talking to him, that my caretaker instinct was activated; or it could've been my mom using me to look out for her baby brother, making sure he got to where he was going, without harming himself or anyone else. Whatever the reason, I'm glad I was there to witness his last great day and watch him delight in the festivities of Saturday in the Park; he spent his last day in Perrine Park, where he spent so much time growing up; life truly is circular. Uncle Walt, I hope you and your sister are swapping stories right now; please, tell her I love her, and I miss her every day. Thank you for letting me be a part of your last day and showing me that life is so precious. Thank you for reminding me to pay attention and enjoy each moment, because you never know which sno-cone will be your last.

Last month I had the great privilege of taking a class from Koelle Simpson, a force of nature also known as a “horse whisperer.” She’s not crazy about that moniker. I’m guessing because it falls woefully short in capturing the magic that happens in one of her workshops. You see it’s not just the horses that Koelle whispers to, she teaches you how to communicate with the untamed animal that lives inside you. Whether you call it your Inner Child or your Essential Self, it is the part of you that exists outside society’s rules and restrictions, in perfect communion with nature. This part of you is directly connected to your body, and, as a result, has an ancient knowledge that goes far beyond the walls of Ivy League institutions or pundits on CNN. It’s a knowledge born of connection. Koelle uses the horses as a bio-feedback machine to show you exactly what you’re projecting to the world, even if you’re too disconnected from yourself to see it. I am devoting this post to a list of truths I learned in the high desert of Arizona from Koelle Simpson, Abigail Steidley and Diane Hunter.

1. You're always projecting emotional energy, even when you're not aware of it. You may think you’re hiding your annoyance or fear, but you would be oh so wrong.

2. Sinking into your body is a way of grounding into the moment. For me, this is accomplished by taking three deep belly breaths and then feeling my heartbeat. The result is a re-boot of my emotional computer. When all else fails, and your screen freezes, try a grounding re-boot. With the horses, the change in energy was immediate and quantifiable. One minute he was running around like a maniac; then when I closed my eyes and took 3 deep breaths, by the time I re-opened my eyes, the horse was standing still, facing me, waiting for his next energy instruction.

3. When your intentions are clear, it doesn't take nearly as much energy to turn them into reality. My partner and I did an exercise where we herded the horse through an obstacle course without speaking; sounds impossible, right? One of the hurdles was a blue tarp that the horse didn't like one bit. Seeing his skittish behavior, I knew I had to focus all my energy on sending him over that one hurdle. I quieted my mind, kept focus on the horse and my partner, and the horse walked over the same obstacle that he wouldn't get near when we started. Then, my partner wanted to try it a second time. I thought it would be easy, because he had already walked over it…not so much. Because I didn't focus my energy, the horse ran everywhere except over that stinkin’ tarp!

4. If you look at the maintenance of your energy level as a problem, it will be. You will run short and feel dazed and confused. However, if you look at it like a puzzle to crack (see Dr. Martha Beck’s new book, Finding Your Way in a Wild New World for more information on puzzle cracking) then focus on the source of all energy, the Universe, God, nature, whatever fits with your belief system, then your well will never run dry. By the way, I believe that the source of all energy is loving gratitude. Think about someone or something you love, and then think about how lucky you are to have them in your life; hold that thought or image in your mind and notice how much lighter and more energetic you feel. It works every time!

5. Doing is different than moving. When you first walk into the arena, you're instructed to just walk around a bit. Let the horse see you; connect with your own inner horse by using movement. Then you can proceed to set an intention and play with the horse. In my "real" life, I always struggle with what level of doing is "too much." When I hit the wall, I feel like I must lie down to recover. The horses taught me that sometimes my body will recover faster by moving...just walking or dancing will increase my heart rate enough to get the blood pumping, thereby cleansing the toxins that have been stored by my "got to get things done" thoughts. Perennial doing without being is not serving your higher purpose, but “not doing” doesn't necessarily mean you have to sit still in a lotus position. “Not doing” can be playful movement: a walk outside, a boogie in the living room with your daughters, or a yoga class. You get to fill in the blank with what you love.

When I returned from Arizona, I felt like a newborn. My eyes were opened to the beauty which exists in the most ordinary of things: the way the light plays on the bayou behind my house, the sweetness of dinner with my family, the deliciousness of a big-guy hug. These things were here before I went to Arizona, but the horses taught me to see them clearly and to bask in the wonder that is my everyday life.

The last couple of weeks have been a bit dramatic for the Fedonczak family. One kid had a fender bender and one kid was tied in knots about a singing audition, my eldest and youngest (my bookends) were cruising along just fine…yay! The drama combined with preparations for a big trip were enough to knock me off my axis. Usually it’s enough for me to meditate, go to yoga, journal, knit a bit, and I straighten right out. However, my routine wasn’t working this time. My body started trying to get my attention by swelling up with lymphedema and exhaustion, and now I listen to my body instead of just pushing through. As I was gathering my thoughts (and then questioning them:), my middle child came to tell me she wasn’t going to the audition she’d been preparing for (even though she is an amazing singer, she is plagued by performance anxiety). Evidently, one of the other singers gave her a face when she asked where the auditions were, saying, “Really, you’re trying out?” while shaking her head with disdain. My kid makes that mean that she’s not accomplished enough to sing the National Anthem, because it’s so hard (Side note: why is it so hard? Why did we pick a National Anthem that’s so difficult it trips up even professional singers? I guess because, as Americans, we love a challenge! My daughter was not loving the challenge).

Unlike the other girls trying out, my daughter had never sung our anthem, and she was woefully short on Mariah Carey hand gestures and runs that go on for days. Unlike the other girls, she didn’t think she was the best singer in the world or even in the school. However, what she has in abundance is heart and soul. You feel the song when she sings–your heart vibrates with love, or at least mine does. I laid down my journal and focused on what was surely a teachable moment, “So tell me again why you don’t want to try out?” She replied, “I can’t hit the “Free” note…this song is so hard! All the other girls have sung it for other performances, and I don’t sound like them.” I pointed out that she just performed a song with a higher note, and it was breathtaking; she cocked her head and murmured, “You’re right.” Can we just pause for a moment and savor those two little words; they are so rare coming out of a teenager’s mouth…o.k., moving on. I told her, “You’re right, you can’t hit that note the way the other diva singers do, that’s true. But why would you want to? That’s their business. Your business is to sing your song. Sing about the feeling that Frances Scott Key felt as he was watching his town burn; he thought all was lost until he saw that flag still standing…then he knew that we would prevail. Sing that song. Sing it to me. If you really can’t do it, I will support you backing out.” So she closed her eyes, opened her mouth and told her story. It was so true and pure that I was crying by the last note. It made me proud to be an American and really proud to be the mother of a kid that can produce such beauty. After I stopped snotting myself, I told her, “Sing it just like that. If you don’t win, that’s the judges’ business; you will have sung your song, and that’s all you can do.”

So she went and auditioned. She said that she didn’t hit the notes perfectly, but she sang it her way. As fate would have it, the judges must have enjoyed her song, because she will be performing at the commencement ceremony. In a real twist, they chose her to sing it with one of the more traditional singers as a duet. I’m sure I will have the same conversation with her again in a couple of weeks. Maybe she will be just as freaked out, or maybe she will swallow the fear and just go out and sing. It made me think of my own journey. I’m finishing a book on parenting that has been clamoring to be written for ten years. As I complete my final rough draft, the excitement I’ve felt while writing it is turning into fear. “What if it’s not any good? What if no one wants to publish it?  What if I don’t sell any copies outside my own family?” It’s like I told my daughter, that’s not my business; that’s the marketing person or the publisher’s business. All I can do is sing my song.

What do all parents really want? I believe they all want to know that they’re doing a good job of protecting their children…raising them to be good people who respect others without forgetting to respect themselves. When I shuffle off this mortal coil, I will be satisfied if I have done my best to provide my children with a good life and the kind of support they needed at any given moment, so that they can be successful in their chosen path. I have spent many years crafting my family’s environment in a way that challenges my kids without making them feel threatened or insecure, and now my career is helping other parents do the same for their families.  

I’m a big fan of rules for small children and pre-teens, however, as your teenager grows to be independent, it works much better to let your rules dwindle to an important few. There comes a time when your teen will learn just as much, if not more, by falling down, and it’s up to you to let them. After setting up a framework for success in school (homework is completed directly after arriving home with a snack to replenish energy, using planners to make sure assignments are recorded properly, every day starts with a healthy breakfast to keep blood sugar levels steady, teaching them to respect their teachers and the importance of sucking up to the difficult ones: after all those teachers still hold your GPA hostage, even if they may not deserve their power), there comes a point in time when you just have to let go and lead by example.

This “letting go” is not an exact science; it takes faith that you’ve done the best you could for the last 18 years, and you’ve raised a kind, thoughtful semi-adult (who may be hidden inside a wise-cracking, hysterically funny mess who can’t seem to get her homework done or show up to every class on time). Dropping the reins is my most difficult parenting challenge, especially when it comes to my middle child. She has always been my “heart on her sleeve” kid, and the world seemed so much crueler to her because of it.  So I allowed my role to be her protector as well as her champion; however, my sword and shield are in need of respite.  Dropping my knight in shining armor status has been on my mind for the last few months, but last week was the first time I actually paused long enough to notice how it could be accomplished with relative ease.

 If you’ve read my blog, you’ve probably surmised that I have a little knitting addiction. One of my dear clients got me hooked on this meditation with accessories as a by-product. Since I felt kind of self-conscious about my knitting passion (not self-conscious enough to stop, however) I didn’t push it on my kids. That’s my usual M.O.: I find something that works for me, and then I suggest that my kids try it (read “badger them until they give in”). After all, I want the best for them - that’s my job as a parent, right? This plan usually means that I am left enjoying my new passion all by myself, as pushy is not fun. For whatever reason, I didn’t do this with knitting, and the results were illuminating. My teenagers have picked up knitting all by themselves. My friend, who is very cool and edgy, came to visit last week, only to find us all sitting in our game room chatting and knitting. She laughed at us, actually pointed and laughed, and I said “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!” Just recently, she told me that she thought she might like to try knitting as I seemed to enjoy it so much. Who knew? As soon as I stopped pushing and just relaxed into my passion, the teenagers’ curiosity was piqued.

I had the same experience with green smoothies. I started drinking them and loved the taste and how much energy I had.  I then suggested that the girls try them, and they shook their heads in disgust, saying, “I’m not drinking anything that looks like sewage sludge.” This time I dropped it, replying, “Suit yourself; that leaves more for me!” As they saw my energy level rise and my butt shrink over the ensuing days and weeks, the girls decided to try the smoothies. Long story short, I’m now sharing my blender of smoothies with 3 of my kids (the other one is out of the country, no smoothies for her), and they are the go-to drink for my little one’s volleyball team during tournaments.

This all goes to show that getting what I want is much easier than I thought. For my big kids to be happy and successful, all I have to do is be happy and successful. To that end, I told my middle child that I am putting my sword and shield in storage. It’s all up to her whether she sinks or swims; I’m here for support, but she’s in charge. She gave me a big hug, and we both shed a little tear. There’s a Martha Beck life coaching principle that I quote quite a bit, “whatever you resist, persists”. This letting go phenomenon is a corollary of that guideline: “whenever you push your teenager, they will push back. Instead of pushing, try leading by example instead.” The bonus is that your kids will think that it’s their own idea!

As everything was going to hell in a hand-basket last week, I thought about Murphy’s Law...so I Googled it. This excerpt is from www.murphys-law.com: “Murphy's Law ("If anything can go wrong, it will") was born at Edwards Air Force Base in 1949 at North Base. It was named after Capt. Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working on Air Force Project MX981, (a project) designed to see how much sudden deceleration a person can stand in a crash. One day, after finding that a transducer was wired wrong, he cursed the technician responsible and said, "If there is any way to do it wrong, he'll find it." The contractor's project manager kept a list of "laws" and added this one, which he called Murphy's Law.”  The circumstances that led to me pondering archaic precepts were fairly mundane, yet the way I chose to handle them had a profound effect on me.

Here’s the scoop: Last weekend my 12 year old had a two-day volleyball tournament in Alabama. After sneaking out of the hotel room to catch some “me” time before everyone woke up, I was happily typing away on my book when my phone rang…it was my 18 year old, “Mom, we have a problem. Can you come to the front desk?” I started to fret, “What could be wrong? Have they broken something in their room (this was the reason both teenagers were with us in the first place…they were grounded for breaking something expensive. Why does grounding affect the parents as much if not more than the kids)?” It turns out that the 12 year old had forgotten her contact lens case, so she left her contacts in two hotel glasses. The teenagers had used the glasses to quench their thirst, not knowing the contact lenses were in there. And to top it off, the little one brought one backup lens…one, really? What the hell good would one contact lens do for her? So, we were 2 hours before the volleyball princess’s first game in the playoffs, in a strange town far from her optometrist with no prescription; I forgot to mention she is VERY near sighted, and she’s the team’s middle hitter (an important position, I’m told). She was freaking out, which made my mirror neurons want to panic as well (Wikipedia defines mirror neurons as: a neuron that fires both when an animal acts and when the animal observes the same action performed by another…also known as monkey see, monkey do:).

My first reaction was to try to comfort her by climbing into the horrible story with her, “OMG Mom, coach won’t put me in, because I can’t see. We will lose the semi-finals and not go to the finals, and it’s all my sisters’ fault!” But then I thought about those lovely mirror neurons, and decided that I could instead try to have her mirror me. I calmly replied, “first of all, it’s not your sisters’ fault that you forgot your contact lens case and a backup pair of lenses. Second of all, it’s done; all we can do now is try to fix it. You go to the game, and I will head for WalMart to try and get new lenses. We have plenty of time before your game at noon.” And then the stinking Murphy’s Law kicks in: WalMart Optical doesn’t open until noon on Sunday…again, opportunity to panic or accept the situation and adapt. I chose door number two and adapted. Long story a little shorter, she had her lenses by 12:25 p.m. It turns out that when I approached Murphy’s Law with something resembling calm, it gave up. The game started late; WalMart was right next to the tournament venue; their systems are all linked, so the optometrist could look up her prescription. Even with his computer running veeeeerrrryyyyy slowly, I still made it back before she missed much; actually, she really only missed the time it took to put in her lenses, as she played pretty well without them. She even said the team played better, because they pulled together when they knew she couldn’t see.

 Even when Murphy’s Law seems to be ruling your day, it’s still up to you how to handle it. This weekend taught me that panic doesn’t help. It may look dramatic, and you may receive a lot of hand holding and pats on the back (or people backing away from you very quickly, depending upon your version of panic), but it only keeps you stuck in a place where Murphy’s Law makes you its slave (I heard that, and it didn't sound like slave). You have the choice of how to react. If, instead of panicking, you decide to accept the situation and move on to the next step in solving the puzzle of “what’s next,” then the universe will line up ways to help you. Don’t take my word for it; try it yourself and send me an e-mail at terri@alifeinbalance.com to tell me how it went!

I heard a comedian do a bit on parenting that revealed his childless status. He began by referring to Oprah’s position that parenting is “the hardest job in the world". The comedian said that he didn’t believe that any job you could do in your pajamas could be all that hard. To which I respond, "Let me ‘splain you how wrong you are!"

Let’s begin with a brief job description: 1. Applicant must be willing to be on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for at least 18 years, 2. Applicant must be able to deal with employers who speak a language that is impossible to understand, while at the same time being completely responsible for said employer’s survival, 3. After the first 3 years of listening very closely to determine the employer’s needs, Applicant must devise a way to tune out or risk bleeding from the ears after year 12 of employment, 4. Applicant must be able to be patient and handle fourteen tasks simultaneously, after which the employer will tell you how incompetently said tasks were performed. 5. Applicant must be willing to do all this for the salary of $0 with the proviso that in 18 years you will work yourself out of a job, unless of course the employer decides to renew the contract with a one-way option.

The bonus plan is that you can work in your pajamas.

During the process of finishing my book on parenting, it occurred to me that before releasing a book on parenting, perhaps I should address NOT being a parent. If you are contemplating having a baby, know that parenting is too important (and difficult) a job to be taken lightly. My philosophy is that parents who decide to have a child should be well informed before consummating the marriage. They should have to take a class given by a middle-aged mom with at least three kids to show these idealistic, would-be parents exactly what to expect.  I also believe that people should view parenting as a privilege, not a right. To drive a car you have to go through some training and pass a test. And yet, you can have a baby and become a parent without any knowledge or training whatsoever, just the appropriate equipment will do. At least in the old days, our extended families (the grandparents and aunties) would help the new parents learn how to raise a child; today there’s rarely anyone to guide the new moms and dads through the maze that is parenting. Without guidance, many parents lack a program of discipline and structure; as a result the kids are wandering through their lives aimless and disgruntled.

If you don’t want to have a baby, I mean REALLY want to have a baby, don’t have one. I don’t care how much your mom/gramma/friends bug you or how much society says you are incomplete without a child; don’t listen. It’s not true. There are plenty of couples who have great marriages without kids. Not having children is a perfectly respectable decision. Some couples are terrified that kids are going to change their relationship, and they would be correct! Having children forever changes the relationship you have with your spouse. A child will change everything about your life, and if it doesn’t, you’re not doing it right. The time it takes to be a good parent is immeasurable. I believe that parenting is a gift, but sometimes it feels like a booby prize that has been left flaming upon your doorstep. It takes infinite patience. It takes a long view. It takes a plan to do it right. Parenting is not something you wake up and decide to try on like a pair of shoes.  Also, having a baby just to have someone who loves you completely is faulty logic. For the first few years, your baby relies completely upon YOU loving HER and YOU being there 24-7 to attend to HER needs, not the other way around. It is a weighty responsibility. If you want constant devotion with very little input from you, I highly recommend getting a dog.

A few years ago, my 16 year-old daughter was talking to a pregnant girl in her class (I know, it makes me sad, too) about her choice of keeping her baby. This young girl said she was keeping her baby, because she didn’t believe in adoption. How can you not believe in adoption? I can see not believing in abortion, but adoption? This is a girl with a non-supportive family and no job prospects who was planning on dropping out of school to raise her baby on her own. My daughter’s response was, “Oh so you don’t believe in giving your baby a chance at a life with parents who really can and want to raise a child”…okay, perhaps she doesn’t receive the sensitivity award, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t speak the truth! No matter what your situation is, you always have choices. The choice to become a parent will change your life forever; you need to be really sure that’s what you want.

There is no one right answer; everyone’s situation is different. The right choice is only the right choice for right now. That means perhaps adoption is the right choice today, if you’re 16 with no support; that doesn’t mean you can’t be a parent later. If, as a society, we gave more respect to the decision to remain childless, perhaps people who weren’t cut out to be parents would decide to continue being part of the support system for their relatives, basking in a life of marker free walls and late night movies while reaping the joy of sending highly inappropriate drum sets to their nieces and nephews!

As I was sitting down to work on my book today, I thought about the life coaching mantra of meeting your client where they are….not where you think they ought to be. This has been a big challenge for me. Because I’m a mender by nature, I just want to fix their pain. I can listen to their story and see a way out, so, by golly, I’m going to push them in that direction. Because everyone wants to be happy, right, and the quicker they get there the better, right? Wrong! Pushing someone to be happy completely short-circuits the lessons that come from pain and sadness. Everyone’s journey involves pain and sadness; who am I to determine what is best for my client?

This leads me to the reason that I’m writing this blog post instead of working on my book. I’m meeting myself where I am this morning. I’m recovering from a nasty cold, and I feel beat up. I don’t have the mental acuity to work on my book today. My first instinct was to push through the pain to a result…to be just as results oriented as I tend to be with my clients. Because if the saying, “you have to live it to give it” is true, then I AM my own client. In the words of Bridgette Boudreau, “in practicing live it to give it, you go first.” So what does that look like? It looks like acceptance. I accept that I feel pretty crummy today; I accept that I only want to write a short blog post instead of working on a chapter in my book; and I accept that today is about listening to my body’s needs and wants, schedule be damned. I am meeting myself where I am. I invite you all to try this today. Get very quiet and acknowledge how you are feeling. Then take that information and apply it to your TODO list. If you are feeling sort of slug-like, perhaps you push a few things to the Universe’s side of the list. If you are flying high, perhaps you take a few more things on your side and help the Universe out (I’m referring to my Energy Worthy Worksheet; e-mail me at terri@alifeinbalance.com if you would like a copy). Just for today, meet yourself where you really are and notice the difference it makes in your day. And now I'm going to take a hot shower and get real friendly with my neti pot!

Terri Fedonczak here from A Life in Balance Coaching, bringing you a deeper understanding of the technology of magic with Martha Beck's (yup, the one in Oprah magazine all the time) newest book. I will bring my big wacky sense of humor along with my calm & comfortable coaching style to the club...all you have to bring is your own sweet self. It's just $49 for 5 weeks with me. What are you waiting for, Wild Thing? Click play and let's boogie. 

Here's the snazzy jazzy video where you can rock out to Wild Thing

And here's the video where I tell you how much I love this book.  Please watch them both.  Then sign up for my book club right here.  See you tomorrow, Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 12pm EST.

We life coaches love our metaphors. If you are a frequent visitor to this blog, you know that my Mom passed away in August after a two month dance with cancer. I haven’t written much more than journal entries since she passed away, because I haven’t felt like working...or playing for that matter. I’ve been in the throes of Square 1; learning how to live as an adult child without parents. I’ve been hunkering down and just putting one foot in front of the other for 5 months. I’m fortunate that I’m not alone on this journey; I am surrounded by friends and clients. Some of my clients have morphed into friends. One of these earth angels has introduced me to a new hobby: knitting. Suffice it to say that I have never knitted, sewn, crocheted or any number of other crafts that I have heretofore thought were...well, kinda’ lame. I was wrong. Up until I picked up those needles, you would have been hard pressed to get me to stop moving long enough to do anything except read a book or watch a movie. That is my journey: to learn how to be still. In Square 1 there’s not a lot of movement; that’s why I wore it like a hair shirt. But now I crave knitting. Why? Let me tell you how yarn and needles have allowed me to re-fashion the fabric of my life (metaphor alert)!

Knitting is like the journey to my right life in so many ways:

1. Knitting has its own pace; if you try to hurry it, you will drop a stitch and damage the integrity of the fabric. If you try to anticipate the stitch that’s coming up, you might miss the stitch that you’re working on. You may be able to look ahead in the pattern, but you can’t jump ahead 10 stitches…that would leave big holes in your fabric. It doesn’t matter that the pattern changes further down the row, the only stitch you can knit is the one you’re on. If you pay attention to just the next stitch long enough, then you will have something fully formed between your fingers. It’s almost as if your life grows in your hands, stitch by stitch. I’m not quite sure what the finished product will look like, but I do know that as I knit, I love the feel of the fabric in my hands. And I love the thought that one stitch in front of the other join together to make something bigger than each individual stitch ever imagined.
2. In order to produce a work of complexity and beauty, you need a pattern. My life’s work is to work my life, or play my life, as Martha Beck urges. Sometimes, when you’re in the details of the work, it’s difficult to see its shape. Even when it doesn’t seem like your project will look like anything special, if you just keep following the pattern stitch by stitch, you will complete that beautiful project. It may not look just like the picture, because it’s YOUR project. I can try to use someone else’s pattern, but the only one that will produce the garment I want is the pattern of my right life, drawn by my stargazer self and stitched by my essential self.
3. Sometimes when you’re working on a project that has a lot of complexity, you need to use markers to remind you when the stitch changes. It’s difficult to remember each change in the pattern without these little markers; it requires time and effort that are better spent actually doing the work of stitching. My markers are my family. When I see the look of concern in my daughters’ eyes that I’m pushing myself too hard, or the gentle nudge that my husband gives me to slow down, I know that I can’t go on in the same way. My markers tell me when I need to make a change in my style of knitting, because to go on in the same manner would disrupt the pattern of my project.
4. Sometimes you have to start over. Even when you’ve put a lot of time and effort into a project, if you’ve dropped a stitch or split a stitch it mars the fabric of your work. Sometimes you can repair it, but you have to stop and notice where the mar is in order to repair it. And sometimes the only way to maintain the integrity of the finished project is to unravel your work and start all over again. If your stitch is incongruent with the vision of the finished project, you are better off just scrapping it. It doesn’t matter how inconvenient it is or how frustrating or how much your auntie will tut-tut at you; it’s worth the effort to maintain the integrity of a fabric well crafted.

When I’m finished knitting these scarves, my plan is to give them to each of my girls to keep them warm…so that they are wearing something that came from me. They will wear the scarves and know that I love them. Hopefully, they will see that all any of us can do is go stitch by stitch towards the pattern of our lives.

I wanted to take this chance to thank all of you who have supported me throughout this 2011 year of trials and tribulations. This goes out to my tribe of coaches, clients, family and friends. It has been an honor and a privilege to work with you, laugh with you and cry with you. To those of you who have small children, here's a tip from your future...Christmas is infinitely easier when Santa comes out of the closet! I was in bed by 10:30, and only woke up early because of my giant turkey (no, my hubbie wasn't thrashing in his sleep, the bird had to go in the oven, yuk, yuk). Here's to a blessed Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, Merry Kwanza and a joyous Festivus!

Love,

Terri

After searching for this for the last two months, I finally found it yesterday. I knew I was writing something just before things went very bad, very fast with my Mom’s health. She passed away about 4 hours after I closed my computer:

 8/15/11: Yesterday I was listening to a tele-course, and I had a striking moment of clarity. These don’t happen all that often, so I thought I would share it! The tele-course was taught by the fabulous Brooke Castillo, and the subject matter was Martha Beck’s incredible book, Finding Your Own North Star. Brooke said, and I’m paraphrasing, that the “ick factor” is a message from your essential self that you’re not acting in an authentic manner. I have always had the lowest “ick” tolerance of anyone I know.  Except in a case of emergency, (if my kids are bleeding or hurt, the “ick” is suspended) anything to do with bodily functions makes me want to hurl. I have never pulled one of my kids’ teeth, because it makes my skin crawl to think of it. When my Mom was bedridden many years ago, I had to grit my teeth every time she needed assistance with anything physical. Today, as I’m writing this, I’m sitting by my Mom’s bedside bearing witness while she slowly retreats from this life. There is nothing she needs that I won’t do. For the first time in my life, I am dealing with the worst possible physical symptoms without a trace of “ick”. I’m not sure why, but I am sure that my best and highest self is all about bringing comfort. Right now, the only thing I can do for my Mom is to make her comfortable and, in so doing, show her how much I love her.

The reason I'm posting this is that I had a dream last night about my Mom. I don't remember the dream at all, but I wrote something down before it slipped away completely. My dream journal said that in the dream "my Mom was alive and that she was begging me to let her go." So this morning I went paddleboarding for the first time since my Mom got sick. You see, that was our thing. She would take her walker, her glass of iced tea and her dog out in her backyard and watch for me on my board. After a beautiful time on the water this morning, I was paddling home and saw my Mom's chair...sitting right where she left it. As I sat down on my board to cry, a snowy egret landed right in front of the chair, looked at me and then flew away. Okay, I get it. She's gone, and I'm still here...and we're both okay. We may not be the same, but we're okay. As I surf the waters of Square 1, I will take my paddleboard with me. And when I pass my Mom's chair I will remember that the best way to honor her memory is to take her with me on this journey...let her sassiness and her humor lighten my days. I have missed writing; I've missed my work, and I've missed connecting with my community. I feel that it's time to let go of grieving my Mom and begin to live again.

This is a poem that my beautiful 17 year old, Alyssa, wrote for her Creative Writing class...yet another reason that I adore this child!

Dear Grandma,
Could you please come to visit?
You left before I realized
How much I would miss you.

I need back my last day with you
So I could see your face glow
Your teeth glisten with unsweet tea
Hear you insult my outfit
And tell me how beautiful I am
Cook me burnt bacon
and soggy eggs
Cough stories of your youth
Whisper back to drunken nights
Laugh over broken hearts
Weep lost loves
Thank me for listening

Then I would squeeze your frail bones
Avoiding flimsy oxygen tubes
Pain killer charts
Hospice how to's
I'd promise to see you later in the week
Because I believed I would.

I know you can't come
But I hope you get this
So you know how sorry I am
for not visiting more,
ignoring your advice,
taking your spirit for granted.
Mom hasn't been the same
since you left.
Her smile isn't sunshine,
just partly cloudy
with a chance of showers.
None of us expected to miss you
this much.
But we should have.

For those of you who couldn't make it to my Mom's funeral, I wanted to share my speech. Delivering it was one of the most difficult, yet freeing, things I've ever done. I could feel my Mom's spirit with me as I spoke; I think she was pleased.

Good morning. I would like to thank all of you for coming today; my Momma would be tickled pink! As most of you know, my Mother was a bigger than life character.  She had an iron will, a superhuman tolerance for pain and a razor sharp sense of humor.  She did not suffer fools or tolerate self-pity. I spent a lot of years being mad at my Mom, because she wasn’t like my friends’ moms. She didn’t clean; she didn’t like to shop; she wasn’t a cuddler, and she rarely cooked anything but eggs and bacon that she called “very crisp” and anyone else would call burned. The exception to her no cooking rule was an amazingly tasty apple pie…go figure! She was not the person you wanted to go to if you were sick. Unless you were bleeding from your eyes or had a temperature of 104, you were expected to suck it up and get on with it. However, what my Mom did very well was to listen and problem-solve; there was no obstacle too big for her to overcome.

About 10 years ago, she broke her back by falling in front of the chiropractor’s office; I know that sounds like a punch line to a bad joke, but it’s true. She called me to pick her up and take her to the hospital. On the way to the E.R., she made me stop at the Black Angus and pick her up some iced tea. I protested, because I could see she was in a lot of pain; when my mom was in pain, there was something very wrong. I said, “Mom, we need to get you to the hospital; I think you’ve really hurt yourself.” She replied, “I’m fine, Teresa, you worry too much. Just stop and get me my darn tea.” She didn’t really say darn. In the hospital, the doctor came in to tell us that she had fractured her vertebrae. He pulled me aside and said, “At her age, people rarely recover from a fracture like this. You need to prepare yourself that this could be the beginning of the end.” I managed not to laugh in his face, because he was being so serious and kind. But I did say, “You don’t know my Mom.” She was driving her stick shift convertible BMW two months later.

In the last 6 weeks since my mom received her terminal diagnosis, I have spent more one on one time with her than in the last 6 years. And in that time, I realized something. She was exactly the right Mom for me. She taught me that there was nothing I couldn’t do if I put my mind to it and refused to take “no” for an answer. She taught me that all people deserve a chance at happiness, and it was my responsibility to help those less fortunate than I. She taught me that there’s nothing so serious that you can’t find something about it that’s funny, and by doing so, you can break a big hairy problem down to a solvable size. But the most important thing she taught me was that life is not a spectator sport. Every day is a chance to do something meaningful. On the last day she could speak to me, she told me: to stop crying, that she had no regrets, that she had lived 90 incredible years, and that she was ready to go. My Mom lived a BIG life. She led by example, and she left ripples of her indomitable spirit all over this world. Now it’s time for me to try and fill the biggest pair of size 6 shoes there ever was.

I'm in a challenging place right now, and my knee jerk reaction was to figure out how to FIX IT. People close to me are very sick, and all I can think of is what I can do to help them. Night and day, the thought ran through my head that I should be able to help. I'm a Life Coach; I should be able to make them feel better, dammit, at least mentally. The more I let this thought run me, the tighter and more anxious I became. As I'm writing this, I can feel my shoulders tighten and inch their way toward my ears...deep breath, shoulders down and back. The other thought that played leapfrog with the first was, "I can't handle this; I'm not strong enough." The old me would never have let this thought see the light of day, so its mere existence is progress. With both of these thoughts running around in my mind, I felt like a hamster on a wheel....running, running, running looking for something to do. I stopped meditating, I stopped journaling, I stopped exercising, and I began to crave sweets and fat and salt, oh my!

While searching for something to do, I went outside to water my flowers. The hose that is usually nearby was missing. So I picked up a watering can and went to fill it at the spigot. As I carried the watering can back to give my flowers a drink, I had an epiphany. As long as I filled my can, I could water all the flowers I wanted. I could water all day long, and the spigot would never run dry. However, without filling my bucket first, all that water was useless and the flowers would die. I could not help anyone else, no matter how badly they needed it, until I filled my own bucket. I went straight inside and pulled out my journal, then I went paddle boarding, and then I meditated. The rest of the day felt more balanced; like I had awakened from a fuzzy dream. Are you forgetting to fill your own bucket in the race of trying to out-busy your neighbor? Are you at the top of your own priority list; are you on the list at all? Today, stop and think of one thing you could do just for yourself. It doesn’t have to be huge or expensive; it could be sitting for 15 minutes listening to your favorite music by yourself, sipping a cool glass of tea. Just do one thing that makes you smile, and tomorrow do two things. You will be amazed at how much more joyful your busy will be!

Yesterday I went paddle boarding on a day best spent indoors; the heat was
stifling. I started early, hoping I would get back before my brain baked. I
was paddling into the wind as I started, so I wasn't too hot. However, I was
going against the current, so my progress was slow and sweaty. The whole way
I kept thinking, "I can't wait to turn around, so that I'm going with the
current! It will be so much easier!". So I got to my half-way point and
turned around; and the wind died. I spent a good 5 minutes in despair; "It's
so hot, what am I going to do, I feel like I'm gonna' pass out; why did the
freakin' wind die?" And then I realized that the wind didn't die; it was now
at my back. The current was pushing me, and the wind was pushing the
current. Duh! That's how current is made, by wind pushing water. So you can
have the wind in your face, cooling you off and creating a current for you
to work against, or the wind at your back, carrying you along without the
benefit of nature's A/C. At the moment I had this epiphany I stopped wishing
for something else and started looking around. I noticed the beauty of the
trees bowing down to kiss the water, the sound of my board gliding through
the bayou, the call of the osprey warning me away from the babies in her
nest, and the sheer joy of being able to sweat after long months of surgery
and recovery. All that wishing for something to be different robbed me of
the ability to notice how great things were right here, right now. It
reminds me of the immortal words of George Carlin, "You can't have
everything, where would you put it?"