a light in the heart.

So I've got this milestone birthday right around the corner.  I'm not going to say how old I'm turning but it rhymes with forty. 

I should qualify this post by admitting I suck at birthdays.  I am awful with dates and I don't have a birthday calendar so I never remember anyone else's.  I'm the kind of grown woman whose mother has to call her to say "Today is your grandfather's birthday.  Just thought you might like to give him a call" (thanks Mom!).  To make matters worse I'm not so into Facebook lately so I'm not even sending the social media based well wishes these days.  That Facebook never forgets a birthday.

I've found a major perk of having small children is they are always willing to make a home made card for the birthday I nearly forgot.  When kids make the card it's charming and endearing...it feels more intentional and less like you forgot to stop at Target for a real card.  Construction paper for the win.

The only thing I can say about my tendency to not properly acknowledge birthdays is that the same rule applies to my own.  They come and go.  I don't take the day off from work.  I have zero expectations that anything outside the ordinary is going to happen and when it does I'm always surprised and grateful.  

But this one.  This one is different.  This birthday feels like something.  

I'm going to be straight up with you and say that something about this milestone is shining a light on the physical aspects of aging that are making themselves at home on my body.  I have noticed the following truths about my physical self in the last year especially:

• I'm on the every 4-5 week plan at the salon these days to fight back the gray hair I refuse to see one centimeter of.
• My fingernails are getting  inexplicable "ridges" in them.
• There is this perma-exhausted area under my eyes that I have to cover with concealer if I don't want to look like I've been sleeping in an alley for the last month.
• My hands on the steering wheel look just like my mothers did when I was growing up. 
• I have a couple age spots.
• I get out of bed a little slower than I used to and I'm starting to wonder why.  At first I thought maybe I was just putting on a "Mom is tired because you woke her too early" show for the kids but now I'm starting to think it's for real.
• I have to exercise hard five times a week or my body reverts back to veal status.
• I find myself rubbing the "elevens" in between my eyes.  Do I think if I really commit I can rub them right off or something?
• I have laugh lines that look like I've been laughing...lots.

When these changes started happening I noticed, and I cared.  I could lie and say I didn't but I did.  Because despite knowing better, there are times we women still feel like so much of our value resides in our physical self.  We are conditioned to believe that beauty is where our power lives and our value diminishes as it fades.  

But our value doesn't diminish.  It grows.  And our beauty doesn't fade, it changes.

By forty we have learned to do something far more important than just be beautiful.  We have learned to create beauty.  We can do magical things we couldn't do when we were younger.  

We can:

• Create living spaces that comfort and inspire.
• Treat food (growing it/preparing it/serving it) like art.
• Appreciate fresh air and outdoor activities as though they are church.
• Value risk, adventure and uncertainty (mid-life tattoo or nose piercing anyone?)
• Digest political/national/world news in a healthy way (mostly).
• Grow and raise beautiful little humans.
• Pee outside confidently and without hesitation.
• Own our bad habits and change them if we feel like it.
• Be the kind of friend that genuinely wants to see her girlfriends happy and successful.
• Give our time and money and talent away to causes we value.
• Love harder than we ever imagined we could.

We can do all those things and more.  So this year, for this "something" of a birthday I am going to give myself this gift...

Every time I look at my thighs in disbelief, or use the magnifying side of the mirror to get a way-too-close look at the tiny lines around my eyes I am going to stop, take a breath, and close my eyes.  

And instead of focusing on whatever unimportant nonsense has me tricked into thinking I shouldn't leave the house I am going to remember that I am alive and I am healthy.  That my body is strong.  That so far I have only become happier and more brave with every passing year.  That the date on my driver's license doesn't determine my worth...I do. 

That is my birthday wish for all women, no matter what number you may be turning next.  My wish for us is another year of learning and loving and knowing that beauty is not in the face, but rather a light in the heart.

the power play.

Feminism isn't scary.  It's enlightened and essential.  

Say The F Word

About four years ago I was sitting in the office of my then boss with a couple of peers who were also members of his team.  We were going over a presentation for an upcoming meeting with some VIP's who would be visiting from HQ the following week.  One of the three men in the room jokingly expressed his nervousness about presenting to such a high-powered audience.  To which our boss replied: 

"There's no reason to be stressed.  These guys put their pants on one leg a time...just like us.  Or Juli, I guess in your case it would be they put their lipstick on one lip at a time?"

Ummmm yeah.  Couple of things here.

1.  I actually do wear pants, so the original expression sans modification could easily have applied to everyone in the room.
2.  I highly doubt these middle-aged white men visiting from Milwaukee would wear lipstick.  But if they did I suppose that yes, they would apply it one lip at a time since that is typically what most users find works best.

No.  For real.  WHO SAYS THAT?!?!?

He did.  

I was so surprised by his comment that I just smiled and pretended to understand what the hell he was talking about.  Over the next few years of reporting to this person I watched him minimize, criticize and openly berate the people I worked with.  He had a particular fondness for choosing team meetings or large group settings to exercise his authority and make sure everyone knew he was the boss and don't you forget it.

It was difficult to respect him.
People were constantly uneasy around him.
He made us feel as though we were competing against one another.

It was all a power play.

Working for this person ended up being a career gift.  I learned a lot about the misuse of authority and generally how people react to this bullish style of leadership.  Pretty much his entire team left - including me.

The experience taught me real power comes from giving the people around you respect and the right to be heard.  I adopted a management style (if you can call it that) of functioning more as a coach, advocate and mentor to the people on my team.  I see it as my responsibility to make sure the people who report to me feel safe, supported and valued when they come to work.

I will speak out if someone is shit-talking a coworker who isn't in the room to represent themselves.  

I encourage my team to be the light in a difficult conversation.  

I remind the people who support me professionally how much I appreciate their contribution.  

Women are often led to believe that if we want to be fully respected we need to create a professional persona that only demonstrates our more "traditionally masculine" qualities.  But the truth is the most powerful qualities we can bring to work are our human qualities.  The genuine pieces of our personalities that make us approachable, trustworthy and real.  

The power play is not focusing on who in the room has the power (even if that person is you).  It comes from taking the high road every chance we get.  By refusing to minimize or judge.  It comes from encouraging the people around us to challenge themselves and grow.

Empowerment.  


That's the real power play.

(A few closing words from my girl Sheryl.)

speechless.

I haven't been able to write anything interesting for a while now. And when I do write something it's total crap to the extent that I can barely read it silently to myself for editing purposes (*See Exhibit A:  My last blog post)  

No really, you don't have to be kind.  I can take it.  It was total crap.

I'm not even the kind of writer who is a perfectionist or thinks every word I write needs to be relevant or inspiring.  At best I'm an aspiring part-time blogger who has the lofty goal of getting her thoughts out into a little corner of the internet and maybe making someone else smile while I'm at it.

I set the bar so low for myself I'm practically tripping over it and yet I STILL can't write.  And I know why.  I am all talked out.

For a few different reasons.

1)  I changed companies.

Taking a new job with a new company required more talking than I expected. First I had to explain who I am, what my experience has been, why I am qualified and what I planned to do in the position if given the opportunity.  

Then when I actually got the job I had to explain my thoughts, my approach to the work and my decisions to every person whose path I cross throughout the course of a day.  I am a stranger to 95% of  my co-workers...how can they be expected to understand who I am or what I'm about?

There's only one way...lots of talking.

2)  The Presidential election and the horror that followed.  

We Americans were, and continue to be flooded with everything from fear mongering to endless SNL sketches and everything in between.  

I still say Melissa McCarthy as Spicer is the funniest skit yet.

It's been a very you-can-run-but-you-can't-hide time for the media in our lives.  It's everywhere you look and seemingly all anyone wants to talk about - and I'll admit it.  I'm guilty.  I jumped right on the talk bandwagon.  

Anyone who knows me well knows I am not shy when it comes to my political beliefs or opinions about our elected officials.  I realize there are two "untouchables" in the rules of polite conversation and they are a) religion and b) politics.  I figure since I rarely discuss religion that politics should be free game (or maybe I just don't like rules).  

It's possible I have nothing left to say on the topic of American politics.  Or I've just surrendered to the idea that what's done is done.  Or all the energy I put into the reading/watching/thinking about the topic finally took a toll on me. 

Either way, I'm spent.  Too much talking.

3)  I'm almost 40 and overly socialized.  

I've been fortunate enough to live a life filled with good friends.  In the last decade however, with the introduction of little humans, the socializing really kicked into high gear.  There are girl's nights out to take a break from mommy duty.

There are dinner parties/holiday parties to take a break from adulting, and let's not forget, my personal favorite... "play dates" that involve kids running around destroying the house while moms day drink. 

then the next morning I'm all like...

I don't mean to sound Grinchy...the 30-something social scene has been and continues to be a blast.  I still enjoy being social, having a cocktail or three and laughing until I cry with a group of friends.  

It all just requires a lot of well...talking.

These days I am feeling...

Like actions speak louder than words.

Like maybe not everything we think needs to make the journey from our brain to our lips.

Like we all have a chapter of our life we don't need to read out loud.

Like someone can tell you more with their eyes than they can with words.

Like maybe if what we're about to say isn't rooted in kindness, love, or a genuine desire to bring about positive change then we should just say...

...nothing.

Our voices are important and we shouldn't be afraid to use them, but we also shouldn't overlook the important interactions that happen in those times of silence.  Those times when we aren't debating or explaining or gossiping or disagreeing or fighting for air time.

When we are quiet we give ourselves and the people around us a chance to reflect and breathe.  When we are quiet it means we are watching others, or listening to someone besides ourselves, or better yet, doing something for someone.  

The peaceful times in between the noise are when we have the opportunity to really see someone else, and for them to fully see us.

Because there is beauty in that space in between.

There is peace in that silence.  

And because we all sound the same when we're speechless.




Be well friends.  xo, juli