Thursday morning, as I ran along the boardwalk at the Jersey Shore looking out at the ocean, I found myself thinking of my mom.  I thought about where I was at that moment on August 16^th 1988….30 years ago.  I thought about how soon my life was about to change back then as a 15-year-old girl.  As sick as my mother was at that point, nothing truly prepared me for what I was about to experience.  She had been bed ridden for quite some time, but I don’t remember ever really understanding what was wrong with her.  No one ever talked about it and I didn’t ask.  It was just who my mom was.  She lay in bed, watching the home shopping network, smoking her More Menthol Cigarettes and I would pop in to talk to her about my day.  She always looked as though she was in pain.  Looking back now I wonder how much of that was physical versus emotional or maybe a little of both.

I often imagine how my son will describe me one day.  I would like to think that he sees me as a strong, loving, silly and passionate Mom.  I work hard at that!  I also imagine I will be alive to see my own grandchildren one day, however, I know I have a long way to go given he is only 8 years old.

This October 7^th will mark 30 years since my mother passed away.  On that day, I will be running a Half Marathon, in her honor and memory, through a Vineyard with a complimentary glass of wine and custom wine glass at the end.  Which is rather ironic given my mother died of Cirrhosis after her own battle with alcoholism.  When I learned of this race, I knew it was my race to be run.  I knew it would be sentimental and I knew I would have to write about it.  Why?  Because unlike my childhood, I have made the decision never to be silent about my struggles and more important, my successes.  Anyone who knows me, understands my own outlook on my own relationship with Alcohol.  It is one that I do not hesitate to talk about.  Why?  Because I have seen firsthand how addiction can tear a family apart.  Back when my mom was alive, no one talked about it and there were so few resources available for families and children struggling with addiction.  Sadly, today it seems there are more struggling with addiction, more resources and still so little conversation.  Part of my decision to even start this blog was with the goal of sharing my own experience with the hope that it helps even just one person feel understood, supported or even just feel not alone.  Because I felt alone for a very long time.

My mother’s death does not define me.  It drives me.  It drives me to be better, to be healthier and it motivates me to be more present in my life as a mom not only for my son, but for me.  I am no longer angry with her, but I find that as I approach the age she was when she passed, I am so far from who my mother was.  When I learned of this race and the day it fell, I knew it would be something that I needed to do.  Not only for me, and for my mom, but for my own son and husband.  While everyone has their own journey and outlook, this is simply mine.  So, why have a relationship with alcohol at all?  The same reason a 15-year-old girl who just lost her mother to alcohol would continue to make the decision to party her way through high school and college and her early twenties even after hating her own mother for making similar choices.  I do not know.  I simply do not know.   Maybe because aside from my own mother drinking herself to death, I watched my 99-year-old grandmother vow that it was a nice glass of wine every day and one cookie that was the secret to a long healthy life.  Two things I have come to very much appreciate in my mid-40’s.  But notice what I said, ONE glass and ONE cookie.  Well, maybe more.  Umm, definitely more than one cookie, who are we kidding?  I love cookies…But anyone who knows me intimately, understands how important the other part is to me.  They understand that I do not drink liquor and I rarely go over my own 1-2 glass maximum.  I understand the level of addiction in my family and I am not willing to test my own tolerance.  It is very important for me to teach my own child that his own mother can be responsible, drink a glass of wine as an adult of legal age and not destroy her family.  Given I lived this first hand, it is something that I am very passionate about.  It has been my ultimate goal to break the cycle of addiction in my family and this is a goal I know I will accomplish.

As I ran along the boardwalk the other day, I started to think about my own half marathon training.  This will be my 7^th half marathon and I was imagining crossing that finish line in October.  I was thinking about how far I have come in my life and felt a sudden wave of sadness for my own mother at 45.  To imagine that only 4 years later she would take her last breath.  Suddenly, the song, “When I look to the Sky” came on by Train.  This hot and humid August morning at mile 4, I literally had the chills.  I used to train to this song years ago after my dad passed away.  It always made me feel that he was pushing me along the way and this morning was different.  I felt my mom.  I felt her smiling.  I’d like to think she’s proud of me.

So, on October 7^th, 2018, I will run 13.1 miles in honor and memory of my mother, Sandra Stilwell Conreur.  I will cross that finish line and raise my glass to my mom.  I will show her that I can do this!  I can overcome an obstacle that I never really understood.  I will show her that I’m ok as she continues to smile down on us…I will show my son that his mommy is strong and healthy and while at times there is a sadness within me that he may never understand, he will never feel that he is the reason for it.  He will learn in his life that while life can be hard sometimes, through your own commitment and passion, you can overcome any obstacle with grace, humility and hard work.

“’Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you’re here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I’m lost something tells me you’re here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here”  Train

 

It’s been a while since my last post.

Summer is sometimes tough for me.  I’m not really sure why…but I’m finding that for the last few years, I have always struggled with the transition from the school year into Summer.  My son is home with me and balancing working part time, keeping him active and making time for my writing sometimes proves a bit of a challenge within the dynamics of our family.  I have found every time I sit down to write, something pulls me away.

We have had a full and busy summer, making some wonderful memories but also experienced some sad ones.  Very dear childhood friends suffered unexpected losses this summer that really left quite an impact on me.  Many of us exist in our busy lives, just working and living and simply being “busy”.  Then suddenly something can happen that just stops you in your tracks, takes your breath away and reminds you to count your blessings and appreciate each day you are given.  I felt that all too familiar feeling of wanting to be home longer than possible.  I wanted to just stay and freeze time so that I could be there for my friends the way they were there for me 30 years ago when I lost my mother.  Life can sometimes get in the way of our best of intentions but to be so lucky to have connections within our own lives that leave a lasting impact even after being gone so long….

I know I have said this before, but it is worth saying it again.  I always assume everyone I come in contact with is dealing with a mountain on their shoulders.  I would never say to another person, “what do you have to be stressed about”.  But yet, time and time again, I hear those words come out of another’s mouth.  We don’t know what the person in line at the check out counter has just been through.  We don’t know why the person in front of us is driving slower than they should be.  As I experience my own life, and continue to be present in the lives of my loved ones, I try to be mindful of this.  It allows me to be present, compassionate and empathetic.  Something that I know for me, would carry me through the toughest of days.  I feel that we as a society lack empathy and compassion.  I also feel that as our youngest of generations get closer to adulthood, we have to work harder to find ways to help them cope with all of the stimulation that we never had to deal with.

But some of us just struggle more than others.  Some of us are more sensitive.  Why?  Because everyone is different and has their own history as well as their own deck of cards they have been dealt.  There are so many factors that impact each and every one of my days and as I get older I realize the critical necessity to surround myself with compassionate and caring friends.  Some don’t need that.  I do.  I’m lucky to have some of the most supportive people in every corner of my life who continue to remind me how important it is to advocate for myself and ask for help, something I still struggle with.  Some days, it’s harder to find my sparkle than others, but thankfully I work my ass off to find it and have some incredible people cheering me on along the way.  But I have also learned to be kind to myself.  That has been one of the biggest gifts to date…For those of you who need it, be kind to yourself today…it’s a SCORCHER out there!!!

🙂  Happy Summer!!!!

There is a sadness that follows me throughout this time of year as Mother’s Day approaches.  As the greeting cards section showcases all of the special treats for mom and the commercials for special brunches air on television, I begin to feel my mood shift.  This day has always affected me to some degree.  Even once I became a mom, I still felt that same nagging feeling—that feeling that I’m not normal or that I’m not like everyone else.  Funny though, the more I age and the closer I get to the age my mom passed away, I am more and more aware of the reality of my feelings.  As I reflect on 30 motherless Mothers Day’s, I now understand that I am sad for missing what I never had, not what I actually did have.

My mom was an incredible woman.  Smart, strong, caring and passionate about life.  At least that is how I imagine her.  I never really got to see that, or at least I don’t remember it.  I don’t remember my mom.  The memories I have are ones that I have spent 30 years in therapy to make sense of and to continually remind myself that none of it was my fault.  She was an alcoholic and it has taken me over 30 years to finally forgive her.

I don’t miss my mom.  There, I said it.  I miss who I would have liked my mom to have been, and I guess as I am a mom now, I sometimes overtry to be the mom that I always wished I had.  If that means I hug my son too much, or protect him too much, or snuggle him too long at bedtime;  while I know it isn’t always the right thing to do for his own growth and development, I’m doing the best I can.

This past fall, I was fortunate enough to attend a 4-day retreat focused on early mother loss.  Every woman in the retreat lost their mom from 18 years old and younger.  It was incredible to be surrounded by so many women who went through the same type of loss and as we got to know one another, we found so many similarities in our experiences.  We worked on one activity that focused on the person we were before our mom passed away and the person we were after.  I struggled at first putting my thoughts together.  I really had a hard time with this activity.  Not because I didn’t know who I was, but because for the first time in my adult life, it finally hit me—I was happier after my mother passed away.  While I had a rough start, I was actually in a better place.  Coming to that realization caused me quite a bit of guilt.  For a while, I felt guilty that I didn’t miss her.  But the more I thought about my mother’s life, I found that it enabled me to find ways of becoming the best version of myself.

I know that I am a good mom and I know that generally, I have it all together.  But sometimes, those feelings of inadequacy creep up and try to knock me right back down to that 15-year-old girl that couldn’t understand what happened to her mom and if to some degree it was her fault.  Anyone who maneuvers through their life the child of an alcoholic can appreciate this. I have often modeled my life in such a way that I know that the things I am accomplishing now, my mother wouldn’t have been doing at my age.  I am proud of all that I have accomplished in my life and I hope that one day my son will look back at my life and the contributions I have made and be proud.  I don’t recall a time that she read a book to me or played a game or even encouraged me when I was discouraged.  I don’t remember her helping me brush my teeth or get ready for school or pack my lunch.  She just wasn’t present.  Raising our son, while I know some might think I do too much for him, I have realized that I’d rather do too much for him than nothing at all.  Yes, I understand I need to scale it back a bit, but for now, he’s 8 years old and as I approach the age in which my mom died, I’m just clinging to the very idea that my son will always know how much his parents love him, even on our toughest days.  When I have those tough days, and I find myself screaming out of frustration or just simply annoyed at everything, I will do my best to communicate with my son.  I will let him know when it is not his fault.  Oh, I will also let him know when it is!  Ha!

Because I never had any of this, I know it is much of the reason that I cling to my little boy, over mothering him, over loving him.  Not wanting to see him upset.  I’m constantly reminded this isn’t good for him.  I’m constantly told that he will have problems one day because of it.  Dear God I know this, but sometimes I worry that I will see in him a fear that I once had, and damn it I’m going to do anything in my power to take away the burdens that might weigh on his heart, as I never had anyone to do that for me.  I guess to some degree, I pray that showing him the love and affection that I never received will show him how incredible he is.  Maybe he won’t have to question his worth the way I have so often done in my life.

So, I will try again this Mother’s Day to find the joy.  I will cherish my new traditions with dear friends, appreciate my family near and far and find those moments that remind me that all of this journey is so incredibly important not only for me but for my son.  My experiences have shaped my compassion, my integrity and my relentless desire to provide him a safe and happy home that he always feels encouraged.  I will remember this Mother’s Day that I am not broken, I am strong and able and loved.  I will honor my mother knowing that the battles she had within her were hers and not mine and I will remember in my heart that as hard as her struggle was, deep down within her heart she loved her little girls as much as any one mother could possibly love.  As always, I think of those who are Motherless, especially those who have lost recently…know the road ahead while hard can help you find a strength within you that you might never have imagined you had….

I like to talk.  Anyone that knows me, understands that talking is something that not only provides me enjoyment, but over the course of my own life, has been extremely therapeutic enabling me to work through some of life’s most challenging issues.  Including the death of both my mother and my father, a full career change, the birth of my son and various life changing events that I will be sure to expand on as my writing continues.  My son often tells me I talk too much.  He’s probably right.  But I also like to listen and I’m not sure if I ever would have found myself with such a comfort level for both if not for my own life experience almost 30 years ago.  It was during that time that I discovered counseling and therapy.

Someone once cautioned me about my openness to sharing my history regarding therapy.  Which is somewhat conflicting given I have a Masters Degree in Counseling.  In the counseling world, there is a big emphasis on “self-care” and quite frequently, you will find someone who provides counseling, also seeks out counseling.  However, I am not a clinician and my history with counseling stems far beyond the years that I have been in practice as a Career Counselor.  I also understand there is often a hesitation to seek out counseling.  But for me, I have been going to therapy on and off for close to 30 years.  I guess one of the main points that I am looking to share today is, going to therapy is one of the many ways I have been able to cope in my life.  But not the only way…and I was not always as open minded regarding therapy.

When I was 15 years old, my mom died.  I was numb, scared, angry, confused and quite frankly I really didn’t care much about anything.  Once I returned to the 10^th grade that October, I remember just going through the motions.  I remember skipping a few classes here and there with friends and I was failing Math.  I also remember feeling that my Math teacher at the time was being a real jerk and didn’t seem to care much that my mother had passed away.  As far as he was concerned, the time that I missed was my responsibility and I had to find a way to catch up.  That’s really all that I remember about that teacher.  It’s funny you can go through a time with little memory of particular moments, but one poignant moment will stand out and stay with you a lifetime; even if you can’t really remember exactly what happened.  That moment for me was when the Principal of my School called me out into the hallway.  As I walked into the hall, he looked at me and said something that honestly, I cannot remember.  I just remember he grabbed my elbow (I could be making this up), and physically walked me down to the Social Worker in our School.  Everything is truly a blur, but if I can take a moment to envision what may have happened as this was a moment that truly shifted the direction of my life, it is as follows:

Principal:  You’re going to counseling.

Me:  I don’t need counseling!

Principal:  This is not up for debate, you need to get your act together.

Me:  I don’t need to go to counseling.

Principal:  Your mother just died, you’re failing school, you need to get your act together.

Me:  Fine!

So, again, I know this isn’t exactly what happened, but as my memory fails me, my heart speaks my experience.  This man, the Principal of my High School, literally forced me to go to the School Social Worker and quite frankly my life was changed forever!  Not overnight, not by the end of the year.  But this started a journey for me that taught me how to cope with the peaks and the valleys of life.  Therapy has enabled me to maneuver through some of the most traumatic events that any one person could possibly endure and while difficult, I have always come through on the other side stronger, more determined and with even more empathy and compassion than I ever could have imagined.

Two years later, my Senior Year of High School was filled with plenty of success including being crowned Homecoming Queen, a strong extracurricular resume, solid grades and acceptance to one of my First Choice of Colleges.  I am not sure if I would have been where I was that year if not for the support of my High School Counselor, incredible friends and other staff at my school.  Going to counseling truly changed the path I was going down, and while I lost touch with her, I know that she will never forget how she helped me change my journey for the better.

Counseling isn’t for everyone.  However, I understand that it is critical for each of us to determine ways that enable us to cope with life.  I have found what works for me;  therapy, running and working out, writing and amazing friends that get it.  I’ve even begun exploring yoga and meditation, two things that I know will be amazing.  I just need to make the time, something that we as a society seem to be losing more of.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we cope as a Society.  I often hear that life today is definitely nothing like it used to be.  But how do we cope with that?  It’s something I am very passionate about.  Not only for myself, but for my family, my friends and even my students.  I have worked in and out of Higher Education for over 15 years and I have found that as a society, our ability to cope with certain issues has become even more challenging.  We are distracted.  We are rushed.  We are overwhelmed.  We are just keeping our heads above water.  I have found that what has worked for me among other things, is to take a step back and take an inventory of what is truly important.  It has helped me stay grounded; most of the time.  When I find myself falling back to my old habits of self-doubt and self judgement, I try to remind myself how I got here and all that I have come through.  I have also learned to acknowledge and ask for help when things get to be a bit too much.  It took me a long time to get there.

So here I am 30 years later, and still going to Therapy.  Why?  Because it is one of the ways I have coped with some of the curveballs that life has thrown me.  My therapist of 15 years is in the process of retiring and I have been interviewing new therapists before our final session.  One therapist was actually surprised that I have been seeing the same person for as long as I have.  Which struck a nerve.  While I know that talking through issues is not for everyone, it works for me.  Some go for a particular issue, solve it and move on.  For me, I have found that keeping this foundation stable allows me to adjust to life as it changes.  The next therapist upon hearing my initial intake took one look at me and said “WOW!”.  As she took a moment to remind me of the challenges I have faced and seemed utterly speechless over the life experiences I had just rattled off, I realized I found my next therapist.  A warm, nurturing and caring person, who has just begun this next chapter with me and has already reminded me of something that I already knew, “I GOT THIS!”  I just might need a reminder or an extra push sometimes!!!  I hope you too can find your balance…

Thanks for coming along for the journey!!!!  Keep fighting for that sparkle!!!!😊

If you’ve ever read the book “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” by Stephen Covey, you are most likely familiar with the Subway Story.   This story provided me a foundation of understanding others at a young age and has enabled me to find compassion for others even on days I’m feeling like the whole world is falling down around me. In the story a father is riding the subway with his young children.  The children are being very disruptive and a fellow passenger finally loses his patience and proceeded to address him. The father quietly says, “I’m so sorry, they just lost their mom, and I’m not really sure how to get them under control”.

While this isn’t exactly the way the story is told, this is how I had remembered it, and how I have continued to tell it over the past 25 years. It is a story about compassion.  In the book, it talks about that moment serving as a Paradigm Shift—  One moment that can change your entire perspective of a situation or a person. This is something that happens to many of us throughout our life, including myself.  Every person I interact with, I try to imagine the struggles they may have going on in their own life.

For a long time, I couldn’t remember where I had heard of this story.  It wasn’t until I was teaching a course at my University to first year students entitled “Personal Effectiveness” and I realized this story was in Stephen Covey’s book.  I have carried this story around with me for over 25 years since reading it in my “Business Communications” class in college.  Since I can remember, I have always had this story in the back of my mind.

My Paradigm Shift was propelled by this story 25 years ago.  It struck me as I was a young college student, five hours from home in Maryland and missing my Dad who was back in my hometown of Seaford, New York.  I was also missing my Mom, who had passed away only a few years earlier after a long battle with alcoholism. Going away to college was the first time I existed somewhere that no one knew “my story”.  No one could have known the trauma that I had experienced only a few years prior to my first year of college.  I had spent much of my childhood feeling as though I didn’t fit in.  The struggles within my own family were rarely discussed.  I would often look at others as though they were normal and I wasn’t.  I would compare myself to my friends, wishing I had what they did yet not even having a clue as to what that was.  I never really gave much thought to what I actually did have; a father who loved his children and worked tirelessly to ensure we were taken care of.  When I read that story about the dad on the subway with his children, I saw myself there, on the subway.  I imagined what my dad might have said or done in that situation.  I felt that pain, I saw those children and I cried for them and for me.

The “Subway” story resonated and showed me that other people go through traumatic events that are life changing.  It kind of made me feel less alone.  I am sure that many of us can relate to this father.  Sometimes, life just gets to be so much, so hard, so overwhelming.  As I reflect back on the subway story, I felt the pain of that father—the same feeling of “where do I go now?  How will it all make sense?”  I can picture that father looking out the window, completely numb, unable to make sense of the deck of cards he had just been dealt.  Suddenly forced to be a single father to young children after losing his spouse.

It also made me think of my own father.  When my mom passed away, he was about to turn 50 I believe.  He was away on a business trip in Paris, France and his 15-year-old daughter (myself) was home with his mother in law, while his oldest daughter was away at college.  Over the years, I have often thought of my dad, imagining what it was like to receive that call that his wife had passed away, and he had to come home.  I don’t remember him speaking about my mom after she passed away.  I just remember we carried on.

I also think about all the years my dad battled stage 4 liver cancer. While our country was on high alert post 9/11, I was in my late 20’s, newly married starting my life with my husband.  I had made a big decision to go back to graduate school to earn my Master’s Degree in Counseling.  My husband and I were living just outside of New Haven, Connecticut and my father was undergoing chemotherapy treatments at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York City.  So, when I was able, I would take the train into the city to be with him.  I would often find myself sitting on the train, heading into the city after receiving the news that my dad was being admitted once again with a fever.  I would often feel that numbness that was all too familiar. I even remember one day having a realization that when my father passed away, I would be left parentless.  I’m sure that if someone saw me sitting on a train that day, they would have no idea the burdens I had been carrying with me.

As you go about your day, you may never know what that person in line at the grocery store might have just gone through.  It is during these day to day interactions that I try to let my compassion follow me.  I often feel that this is what is often missing in our society, compassion for others.  It is very easy to get caught up in our day to day lives, struggles and challenges.  Everyone is so busy.  But if we take the time to just consider others and imagine they are going through a tough time, rather than thinking “what do they have to be stressed about”, we might find that kindness becomes contagious.  Sometimes, we might see someone that appears to have it all together; a great job, a beautiful family, an incredible community.   But the burdens that may weigh on their heart might be something we could not ever possibly understand or imagine.   A wise woman once said to me, “try not to compare your insides to others outsides”.  Meaning in this day and age, everything is out there on Social Media.  Generally, all the “good things”.  But our lives are filled with EVERYTHING!  The good, the bad and everything in between.  As hard as it might be, I try to be mindful of all of this.  So, the next time you are sitting on a train, look over at the person across from you and if given the opportunity, be kind.

Thanks for reading…

I have been encouraged for years to write, but the last few years have evolved in such a way that the content of my writing has been shifted, widened and it has taken me a while to make sense of much of what this blog would focus on.  I am the mom of an Only Child.  I am a Law Enforcement Wife to one of the hardest working men I have ever known.  He is on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  Which means, I am on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for our family.  I am a Motherless Daughter and a Parentless Parent.  I lost my mom when I was 15 years old to Cirrhosis after a long struggle with alcoholism and my father passed away when I was 34 years old after a 7-year battle with Cancer. My son never had the opportunity to meet either of my parents.  Among the many hats I wear, I am also a Private Career Counselor and Adjunct Professor at a Private University in the Northeast.

All of the life experiences I have had to date, make up the person I am today.  Without the successes, failures, struggles, traumas and amazing experiences, I would not be the person I am.  We all have our own journey.  This is mine.  My hope is that throughout the time we spend together, I am able to offer an insight that may at times inspire you as well as motivate you.  Other times, I hope to let you in to possibly help you understand a struggle you or a loved one might be going through from a personal perspective.  I am not a clinician.  I am simply a woman who deeply cares about making a positive impact and has decided to share my journey that as challenging as it has been, has provided me a framework for never giving up.  Feel free to comment, but please refrain from commenting negatively towards anyone else’s comments.  This blog is for support, not judgement.  At the end of the day, just be kind…for we truly will never know the journey of another and the struggles they might have….

The Sparkle part?  There is so much to the Sparkle!!!  Kind of like finding your joy!  Two things I have fought to find, keep and never let go of.  But as many of you all know, sometimes the sparkle fades and the joy subsides….The key is to find the inner strength within yourself to get it back.  Fight for it!  Remember how good it feels and when you have those days that seem to welcome in the darkness, look for the things that help bring out your sparkle.

Thank you for visiting!!!

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton