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

sparkle from scratch.

I was so busy being thankful this November I totally flaked out on last month’s blog post.  I promise I will make it up to you next Thanksgiving with five of the most inspired paragraphs about turkey anyone has ever read.  

But for now...let's talk tinsel shall we?

I was out in middle-America this week enjoying my "other life" which primarily involves non-stop work with the occasional break to sleep, eat a bowl of something (soup/cereal) and enjoy two fun filled hours of me time each evening for:

a) exercise 
b) getting my nails done 
c) shopping 

Last night I decided to go with option B since I "forgot" to pack my sneakers and well, this girl wanted some red glitter no-chip polish in a big way.

I headed to my fav Illinois outdoor shopping city (I mean mall) and picked my color at the fanciest "PICK YOUR COLOR!!!" nail salon you’ve ever seen.  This place has roman columns and looks like the inside of a mausoleum.  (Those Midwest ladies are apparently not joking around when it comes to getting their nails done).  

The nail tech, David, came over and introduced himself.  He made some polite small talk as he evaluated the two week old chipped polish disaster I walked in with.  

At first we kept it light.  We talked about the frigid Chicago temps and the best places to get a good bowl of pho in the area.  Small talk eventually turned into real talk - work, marriage, children, life.  David told me all about his beautiful wife and their six children - and how he had been a mechanical engineer in Vietnam before relocating his family to the states.  I told him about the family I leave behind when I pack it up for Chicago twice a month and what it's been like for them.

David the nail tech and I chatted and laughed for a full hour while he prepared my nails for the festive weeks ahead.

  

Right?  David's got skills.

Toward the end of our visit he asked what I do for fun when I am in Chicagoland.  I told him not much, that I mostly just work, because I don’t really have any friends in the area.  David looked at me with no ulterior motive and complete sincerity and simply said:

“You have me.”

There we sat surrounded by some serious suburban Midwest holiday bling, yet it was his words that shined.

It was his kindness that sparkled.

We put a lot of effort into making the season bright don’t we?  We decorate our homes, clothing, retail stores, airports, vehicles (can someone please explain to me the antlers and Rudolph nose on the car thing?) – we even decorate our fingernails. 

It's easy to say it's all commercial and over the top, but here's what I think.  I say it's a good thing.

The trimmings and trappings that come standard with the holidays remind us that it’s time to get to work on the important business of being human.  The overdone holiday entrance to Target reminds us that it’s the season to connect, and the stuff in the $3 bins is not how we will do it.  

It whispers “It's that time. There is more to it than this.  You can create your own sparkle from scratch”.  The beauty we see around us reminds us to create something beautiful within us.  

things like:

Police in Chicago spending a day bowling with inner city at-risk youth to help them feel safe and comfortable with law enforcement.

*sparkle*

A single woman in the office volunteering to run the company Toys for Tots fundraiser.

*sparkle*

A husband and wife spend an evening making homemade Christmas cards for kids at the local children’s hospital.

*sparkle*

Parents donating gift cards to their local elementary school so families less fortunate can put something special under the tree.

*sparkle*

Two women turn a simple small town tree lighting ceremony into a night of singing, crafts, hot cocoa and pure magic for kids (thank you Bonnie and JoAnne).

*sparkle*

Together Rising donates millions of dollars to support children in Aleppo.

*click here to sparkle*

A nail tech in the Midwest tells a perfect stranger she has a new friend.

*sparkle*

This is how we make the season shimmer friends.  Genuine human connection is our tinsel.  Gestures that say “I am here, I see you, and I care" are the decorations.

This is how we strengthen our communities.

This is how we teach our children to be givers.

This is how we show one another we all have the same value.

This is how we fill our hearts.

This is how we heal.

This is how we create sparkle from scratch.

merry merry friends.  xo - juli

the bathroom floor.

I recently read something that described the current political situation in our country as the United States of America being "on the bathroom floor".  The claim implied that we are officially at the lowest point in political history, and there is nowhere to go from here but up.

I immediately had two thoughts (not in any particular order):

1)  God I hope that's true.
2)  I love the idea of describing something as being on the bathroom floor (I actually had a third thought and which was "man I wish I wrote that").

It's just such a positively perfect way to describe being at the lowest point of something - and it can easily apply to so many things.


An addiction.
A career.
A project.
A marriage.
A life.
A presidential campaign being led by a racist, misogynistic, self important crybaby.

(Obama telling Trump to quit his whining.)

The bathroom floor is the place we lay on our back, stare up at the ceiling and ask ourselves how in the hell we ever got here.  We reflect back on our path and the choices we made that landed us in this space filled with regret, confusion and pain.  

Yet as our tears fall on the cold tile we realize we still have choices.  We can either accept to stay there, or we can decide it's time to scrape ourselves up off the ground and start rebuilding.  The bathroom floor isn't the end unless we let it be.  If we take the pain and lessons that brought us there and turn them into energy it can actually be a beginning.  

Yes, the bathroom floor is where a new chapter starts, but interestingly it's also when we are in our most vulnerable and fragile state.  

We have all known someone in this place haven't we?  Someone who found themselves in a financial crisis, a marital crisis or (my personal favorite) a midlife crisis.  We can hear the vulnerability in their voice and see the uncertainty in their actions...and for good reason.  Chances are their whole world just got rocked and they don't know what to believe in anymore.  They may not even be sure if they can believe in themselves.

I will admit that in the past there have been times when my initial reaction was to shy away.  To listen politely but not "get involved".  Aren't we all a little nervous that if we support someone who is down on their luck too much we might catch the bad luck bug ourselves?  So we look but don't touch.

It's easier to question their choices.  To assure ourselves that we would never have been so careless or selfish or foolish to end up on the bathroom floor as they have.  We would have done it differently.  We would have done it better.

That's not at all how I see it today.  Whether it's ourselves or someone we know who has hit that low point I think it's the perfect time for learning.  For growth.  For compassion.

More importantly, it's a time for grace.

When our knees hit the floor and it feels like rock bottom, that's the time to show what we're really made of. 

It's the time for us hold ourselves, or someone else, or this country in our hands as gently as possible so the healing can begin.

It's our time to bring our best self forward.  

It's our time to not turn away.

It's our time to rise up.


xo - juli

PS - If you're looking for me between now and Nov. 8th you know where to find me. ;)

An Honest Habit.

I can’t believe how long it's been since my last blog entry.  This can only mean one of two things:

1. I have nothing left to say (anyone who knows me would agree this is highly unlikely).
2. I have been out of my mind busy.

I think it is a hybrid of the two potential causes above combined with the truth that when you are constantly feeding one thing, chances are pretty good something else is starving.  For the last few months I have been feeding my career as I transitioned through a change and as a result, the fun writing I so enjoy has starved for a bit.

Along with just about everything else in my life.
  
I have been putting all my energy into figuring out what my new normal will look like.  I've asked myself questions like:

 - How will I manage my time on the off weeks I'll be working from home?  

 - How will I juggle the kid/family schedule when I am not there to take care of things in person?  

 - How am I supposed to replenish the paper towels, juice boxes and cat food if I’m in Chicago?

I didn’t have the answers, but then, when I started this new job I didn’t know what changes would trip me up the most.  I did know one thing however, my "new normal" would involve lots of airplanes and hotel rooms.  I knew from past experience with business travel that if I was going to be a frequent flier, I would need to set some good habits in place from the start.  I would need guidelines to help me avoid getting depressed about being away from my family, having daily hangovers and gaining twenty pounds.  I would need to lay down some new habits.

They were admittedly a little rough in the beginning, but they went something like this:

Juli's Guidelines for Maintaining a Shred of Sanity While Spending Half Her Life on Business Travel

• Resist the urge to buy a new celebrity rag every time you walk into an airport.  They're expensive and essentially junk food for your brain.
• No alcohol on the road.  Yes, you read that right.  (This guideline exists for oh-so-many reasons but primarily because I need to be on my A-Game for work).
• Exercise every day if possible (this habit is for mental health first, physical health second).  
• If there is any “me time” left over I will spend it reading, not watching TV.
• Avoid eating dinner in restaurants.  Plan meals ahead (so far "planning ahead" has meant eating an apple from H-Mart and a package of Funny Bones in bed while answering emails).  I justify this as still being better than eating out.  As I type this I'm thinking this guideline could use some fine tuning.

does the fake peanut butter count as nutrition?

Doesn’t life on the road sound like a total drag?  Guess what?  It isn't.  

I miss my family a ton (this is another post entirely), but it's positively dreamy to sleep a full uninterrupted eight hours every night in a huge bed with fresh sheets and way too many pillows.  I wake up to a peaceful shower and hot coffee waiting for me when I come downstairs.  To me, the Hampton Inn every other week feels like some sort of rehabilitation center for women in their late 30’s.  Say what you want, I like it there.

After three weeks on the job I am pleased to report my new travel habits seem to be working out pretty well.  My home office habits on the other hand, leave a lot to be desired.  For the last two days I have found myself eating ice cream out of the carton at three in the afternoon.  

This can't continue.

I also realized quickly that my home office life of conference calls and no in-person meetings means my physical appearance is less important.  Which means showering is kinda optional.  It wasn’t long before I started to feel generally gross and started the habit of getting up, getting clean and getting some eyeliner on.  If I’m having trouble mustering the ambition to execute I have found taking an unflattering selfie (sans filter) is usually enough to get my ponytail-rocking, no-bra-wearing self upstairs and into the shower.  

The one habit I am working the hardest to establish however, is probably the most challenging.  Yet it's critical to the success of all the others.
  
Part of my commitment to read more books while on the road led me to Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton.  This book is powerful and inspiring (not to mention the most beautifully written and utterly raw memoir I have ever read).

READ. THIS. BOOK.

  

Glennon talks about making a habit of “living on the surface” as much as possible.  Not surface in a shallow sense, but in the exact opposite sense actually.  She talks about showing the truth about who we are, and making our vulnerable, honest self as visible as possible to the people we encounter.  She argues that is the only way to have healthy, authentic and successful human relationships.

Her book helped me see this is also the only way to truly break old habits and establish new ones.  For us to live as close to the surface of ourselves as we can bear.  To own our truth and see ourselves as the broken, beautiful, messy people we are.  To resist squinting a little to tweak the image, but rather to force ourselves to stare and say “Hi Self.  It’s okay that you are *XYZ* (fill in the blank with whatever your crap may be... god knows I've got plenty of my own material).  I love you anyway. Now stop all the punishing and get to the more important business of doing something about it.”

Start from there.  Make a few small, gentle changes, that will eventually take root and grow into bigger ones.    

Break some old shitty habits because you deserve the freedom that comes with living on the surface.  Because you are absolutely and without question worth it.  Because people will find it easier to relate to the honest version of you.  Because we are all a little broken.  And because rolling through life as the most authentic version of who we truly are is, well, just a good habit.

{and happy fall by the way!  xo - juli}

So much still.

I was finishing up my senior year of college and was having one of those "I'm not sure I'm up for this whole adulthood thing" days.  I was mentally juggling an internship, final exams, a new relationship, moving and preparing for a full-time gig in corporate America that was waiting for me post-graduation.  My twenty one year old brain was on overdrive.  (In hindsight I probably could have used a few counseling sessions, but therapy wasn't really a thing in the late 90's and I didn't have the money back then to afford it anyway.)

What I did have however, was Patti, a dear childhood friend of my aunts who had known me since I was born.  Patti lived a short drive from my school and had just given birth to a baby girl.  I had always admired her for her professional success, quick wit, and the fact that she had a hot husband with shaggy blonde hair who built custom canoes for a living.

Yes please.

She's also great company and one hell of a good time.  I called her up to ask if I could come by to visit with the new baby, but truthfully...I just wanted to talk. 

We sat and chatted in the kitchen of her charming lake house in the White Mountains for a couple of hours.  We covered all the major bases - relationships, work, school, marriage and babies.  I told her I didn't want to make the wrong decision about what would come next.  Should I leave New Hampshire?  Who would I live with?  Is this new job really the right fit for me?  Etc.  I told her I was scared to screw up what I knew was a pivotal time in my life.  She let me finish and when I was done she smiled and said:

"You know how everyone tells you life is short?  It's not.  Life is very long.  I feel like I have already lived so many different lives, and now I am starting a new one.  Don't look at all of this as some sort of final decision.  There is so much life still for you to live."

Why would I ever pay for therapy when I had Patti right down the road?  Her words centered me and helped me frame the seemingly huge decisions I was about to make as simply what they were - the decisions I was making for that time in my life...not for the rest of it.

Today I can feel Patti's words more than ever.  In fact, I am about the same age she was when we had that visit in her kitchen nearly twenty years ago.  I now fully relate to the idea of living a handful of mini-lifetimes inside of one larger life.  Not only was there so much still to come for me, but it turns out there was actually more than I ever thought possible. 

This past month I found myself at an adulting crossroads.  I was presented with an opportunity for change that took me outside my comfort zone and demanded I put my big girl pants on.  So I did.  And while I waded through the uncomfortable feelings that always accompany a potential change I tried to remember the peace I felt that day when I learned there is not one single decision to be made...but rather there will always be another decision to make.

It's never too late.  There is more time still.  And that is a great thing.

There is time to make a different judgement call.  

There is time to reassess our priorities.  

There is time to explore an underdeveloped aspect of ourselves. 

There is time to take up a new hobby.  

There is time to go back to school.  

There is time to change your mind.

There is time to change jobs.

There is time to say you're sorry.

There is time to fall in love again.  

There will be another season to watch the first green signs of spring appear and the last orange leaves of autumn fall.  

There will be another night to watch the sun set and the moon rise.  

So don't stress.

There is so much life still for you to live. 

xo - juli 

merging words.

My daughter goes crazy for any book by Sandra Boynton.  I'm quite a fan too, since they are cute, fun to read, and super short.  Those nights when I am tired of reading yet she's still begging for "just one more book" I always know I can bang out Snuggle Puppy in about a minute and ten seconds for the mommy win.  I can recite Snuggle Puppy from memory...holding the actual book is more of a prop at this point.  Another Sandra Boynton favorite in our house is "Opposites". 

Opposites is a sweet little book of child friendly binary terms.  Each page contains an illustration and a few well-chosen words to describe opposing sides of a given concept.  Think:

Hot and Cold

Young and Old

Wet and Dry

Low and High

There are cute hippos in winter jackets and bunnies in swim trunks and sunglasses illustrating the differences in size, time of day, age, weather, distance, etc.  Learning about opposites is, of course, important for kids.  For a child to understand what makes two concepts different, they first need to understand the meaning of both words.  You can't imagine hot if you don't understand cold.  You can't imagine young if you don't understand old, etc.  

After my daughter and I finish reading the book we'll play the opposite game for a minute or two.  I'll think up a word and she has to guess what the opposite of it would be.  Guessing correctly makes her feel accomplished and confident.  It's all very cut and dry.  Something is either one or the other and there's nothing in between...which is perfectly reasonable.  To a five year old. 

As a thirty eight year old however, I find myself thinking less and less in terms of opposites.  I don't see much in life as being two parallel sides of a street that goes on forever without merging.  I believe there is a little bit of something in everything else.  I have seen good come from bad, love come from hate...and don't even get me started on right and wrong.  

I recently held a workshop at my company to promote LGBTQ awareness and inclusion in the workplace.  Words like "binary" and "spectrum" were used generously in the training materials.  In fact, all four quadrants of gender and sexuality contain their own unique spectrum (I wasn't 100% clear on this two months ago myself, so in case you're curious they are):

1. Gender Identity 
2. Gender Assignment 
3. Gender Expression 
4. Sexual Orientation

The more I learn about each of these four quadrants, the easier it is for me to embrace the generally fluid nature of gender and sexuality.  Taking the time to explore the place where seemingly opposite concepts overlap can be complicated or even uncomfortable at times...and it might take some effort.  But taking the time to do that work is the path to full acceptance without hesitation or fear.

I believe the truth about almost everything lies somewhere in that middle space. 

The place where words begin to merge.

When words merge in my mind they start to look a little different.  

Suddenly gay and straight become STGRAIGYHT.  (Really?  You find that tough to pronounce?  Just humor me for a minute here.)

Good and bad become GBOAOD. 

Love and hate become LHOAVTE.

Right and wrong become RWIRGOHNTG.  

I know you can't pronounce these non-words silly.  Neither can anyone. That's not what matters...what matters is that we can feel them.  

When we see crazy amounts of love and compassion come pouring out of a tragedy like the mass shooting in Orlando it's nearly impossible to mentally draw a line down the middle of the situation...to assign it just one word.  So much beauty coming from such an ugly event.  Strangers sacrificing their own lives to save the life of someone else inside that club.  The calls for action in the form of new legislation and the general acceptance that everyone should be free to love who they choose without fear of consequence.  All stemming from an act of intolerance and rage. 

Acceptance and compassion don't just apply to religion, sexual orientation, skin color, ethnic background or gender.  They are woven into every human interaction we have with every person we touch throughout our day.  It's the willingness to embrace the way other people choose to run their show.

It's the willingness to do the work and learn.  

It's pausing to understand fully rather than judging so easily.  

It's being open to the idea of merging words.

"I'm not really a big fan of tolerance.  

I'd much rather love everyone wildly."

- Brian Andreas