Get My Meaning?

Welcome WebTalkRadio Listeners from Dr. Brickey's Show!

Dr. Michael Brickey and I have known each other for a few years. It was a pleasure to do a show with him on WebTalkRadio and talk about one of my favorite subjects - How to Find Love After Forty!

If you didn't have a chance to hear the show when it aired, you can still download and listen to it at your leisure. I'll have the link available after it airs and will post it both on my site and here.

Finding love after forty is challenging but not impossible. In order to find love, one must be open to change in all areas of life. Change becomes more difficult as we age because we find comfort in the familiar. We adapt familiar routines and habits. Some of those routines and habits prevent you from finding love.

Listen to the interview and let me know what you think. Remember that there are many others looking for love and believe that there are a few looking for you!

Mega-Blessings!

Still Here...Honest! Instructional Video on Communicating Clearly

Yes, it's been far too long. Still, I am here and I do still have observations to mention from time to time.

Instead of trying to jump in with a Deep and Heavy entry, I'm going to simply recommend you view the video below and take from it what you need. I realy, really enjoy this clip. It's a good reminder that things really haven't changed when it comes to expressing yourself well. :-)

Courtesy of Internet Archive

Pest vs. Good Customer Service

A few nights ago, I heard a wonderful professional speaker talk about customer service. To make a particular point, she used a common illustration - shopping in a store. Sometimes we are approached by a salesperson who asks if we need help. And then there are times when help cannot be found.

Which situation would you rather have?  A salesperson who was attentive and nearby if you needed assistance or remain a lonely island in a sea of aisles, left to your own devices?

It was an excellent point. For many people, contacting sales leads or any type of initial relationship-building task can bring a sense of foreboding. What if, we say to ourselves, they say no? Are we being a pest or being helpful? Should we ask again?

Many entrepreneurs have the IDWTBP Syndrome, otherwise known as  "I-don't-want-to-be-pushy." If not addressed, this syndrome can kill a budding business and seriously hamper an existing one.

When I contact my leads, I remind myself that I am not only a salesperson, but an educator, an inspector, and a detective all rolled into one. I ask questions. I take notes. I try to remember as much information as possible about my contact so when I connect with them again, I can provide a bridge from our last meeting.

My husband's friend and business partner found the "tipping point" for his contacts during a recent email message from a possible buyer. "Don't send any more unsolicited emails." Ouch! No "please" was even included in that very blunt message. But he understood. He had crossed the line from being helpful to being a pest.

I have asked some people when they stop contacting someone. One said, "When they tell me to stop." Even though we are contacted constantly by various businesses, we will rarely say "Stop!" We continue to get the flyers, the phone calls, the postcards - and we either throw away the information or keep it for possible future reference. But if you're the business sending this information, you don't know what people will do with the information you give them. And really, that isn't your concern. Your objective is to make sure they are contacted. Every time a potential customer hears from you is one more time a potential customer will think of you.

If done in a respectful, courteous way, the contact will most likely think of you when they need your services or products. Checking in with someone is almost always appreciated. Using language that is helpful and not presumptuous is also necessary to ensure your contacts don't feel badgered.

So as you stare at that phone, wondering if you should make the call, remember this: You are providing the best kind of customer service - being available.

Those Tricky Conversations

You know you need to talk to a friend about a sensitive issue. Or you may have an issue at work that requires meeting with your boss. We'd rather avoid such situations but know that life is filled with such conversations.

How can you ensure the meeting will go smoothly? Here are a few tips:

Write down your major points. Take a few minutes to sit down and think about the issue you want to discuss. What will be your main point? Why is it important for you to communicate it to this person? If you want to go the extra mile, write how this conversation will go, creating in detail both of your responses. Envision a successful and fruitful end result.

Act the devil's advocate. Whenever we discuss something sensitive with another person, there is a strong chance that he or she will become defensive. When writing your major points, anticipate their response, including any defense mechanisms. Denial, obfuscating, deflection - all are ways to avoid dealing with the issue at hand. Consider how you will handle such tactics ahead of time to smooth the road.

Keep your focus. If you called the meeting, you're the one in charge. Keep the conversation on track by discussing your issue until you both have reached some type of resolution. If the other person tries to bring another issue to your conversation, you run the risk of derailment if you allow it to shift. Stay on point and agree to schedule another time to discuss separate issues, especially if you feel blindsided by the issue they've raised.

When you do schedule a time for that conversation, make sure you're in an environment that supports you. Neutral meeting grounds such as non-chaotic restaurants or coffee shops are good choices; or a park location when meeting a friend. You want to minimize as many interruptions as possible.

Do all the above and then remind yourself that these types of discussions often provide the springboard for change. It is a good growth opportunity for both you, and the other person!

When Was the Last Time You Spoke to Your Dream?

I had an interesting conversation last week with a gentleman who, in my estimation, is living far below his dreams.

He told me that when he was a young boy, he had always wanted to learn how to fly. It was all he could think about. One day, a pilot came to his school to talk about flying and what it would take to become a pilot. As my friend listened, his heart began to sank, for in his mind, he would never be able to accomplish all of the work necessary in order to make his dream of flying come true.

I briefly mentioned that dreams have a cost, and sometimes, people realize they're unwilling or unable to pay the cost to achieve a certain dream. But make no mistake- in order to achieve your dream, it will cost something.

In the book, Think and Grow Rich, Napoleon Hill recounts a story of a migrant worker's young daughter who came to her mother's boss to collect payment. The boss, a hard man, refused. The little girl would not budge. She asked again. He threatened to beat her if she didn't leave. Finally, she yelled that she wasn't going to leave the spot she was standing on until she received payment. The stunned boss took the money from his pocket and paid her, humbled that a little girl had bested him.

Napoleon Hill asked the reader the question - what was it in the little girl that caused such a hardened man to cave?

My mind quickly said  - perseverance and determination. There was fire in that little girl's eyes. It could have been that she was motivated by fear that her mother would punish her if she didn't come back with the money. Or it could have been a knowledge that the money had been well-earned and it was deserved. Whatever the reason, that little girl had simply made up her mind that she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.

It makes me wonder how many people have taken "no" as the answer to the dreams in their life? How many quit thinking about their dreams because they heard a "no" or a hundred "no's?" How many stopped trying to pursue reaching their dreams because important people in their life said "no, it can't be done?" And you probably know the answer to this next question:

Where would we be if Beethoven had listened to them? Einstein? Benjamin Franklin? Alexander Graham Bell? Henry Ford? Golda Meier? Bill Gates? Or anyone who has made a valuable contribution to humanity?

Seek your dreams and start a relationship with them again. Especially remember the ones from childhood. Don't take no for an answer.

The Coat

Recently, I came to the conclusion that grief is like a big, heavy overcoat that automatically wraps itself around me each day. Some days, I don't even notice that it has been placed on my shoulders. And then there are days when I feel every inch of its sad presence.

I've noticed also that we don't like "sad" in our culture. There is no place for it. Some insist on being happy no matter what and strive to have a positive attitude. I would like to think that I fall in that category. However, I also acknowledge that there is a time for sadness and if this isn't the time, I don't know when it is.

I had a very difficult day yesterday and today already - more tears. Losing a mother is to me, one of the most difficult losses we will ever face in life. I had brunch with some friends over the weekend and was surprised that no one asked how I was doing. I at first chalked it up to the common "I don't know what to say" group of responses; but my husband helped me see other options. He said that not only do people often feel their words are inadequate, they also don't want to bring it up and make a person feel sad. And then, (I think this is the one most common) he said that for those who have not lost their mother, they simply don't want to contemplate the loss or death overall.

I still have the need to communicate and so, here I am, typing away early in the morning. I pray often that God will help me through this and already sent up my daily order. One day at a time...

Grief Is Lonely Work

As a communicator, I am accustomed with evaluating, anticipating, gauging, reviewing, analyzing, and organizing my messages and those of others as we share our thoughts. Communication has been described as a tennis game. I serve, you return. You serve, I return.

Not with grief. You can do all the above all you want, but ultimately, the ball never leaves the court. You are stuck with taking the ball, which you would give anything to have returned, and holding it. You can try to describe what is going on with someone else, but all they may be able to do is listen sympathatically. What you will yearn to do is talk with your loved one, who is now gone.

Grieving is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I think it's the hardest thing anyone does in their life - if they have loved fully and allowed themselves to feel the depth of that love. There is nothing to do but go into grief as it comes. I could avoid it, but it is a persistent companion. It will wait until another time, another memory and then bam! It's with me again.

I read somewhere that it's good to acknowledge grief's presence in our lives as a companion. I know I can't avoid it and each day I feel its touch upon my heart. Each day I greet it and turn my face toward heaven as I tell my mother how much I love her and miss her. A grief counselor said to me, "How you loved your mother. How this is a tribute to the love you shared with her..." It made me feel a little better to know that the deep sorrow I feel inside is because a void now exists. This void, which is larger than I ever thought, was where my mother resided in my heart. I know that this void won't go away completely, but I also know I will find ways to celebrate her and still love her.

Love doesn't end just because someone close to you dies. Our love will live on as we remember the joys we shared with that person. Love truly is eternal.

Disconnect

There is a certain disconnect that occurs when someone close to you dies.  Especially when it is your mother. I didn't realize how much my mother defined me in so many ways. I am most definitely an individual, and I think at times I exasperated her with my independence from her, but still, she defined me.

Now that she is gone, I feel lost, wandering, for in a very real sense, my heart lost a home. She was the one place I could turn to for unconditional love and nurturing support. My father loves me, but is much more practical with his counsel. My mother would just listen and tell me it would all be okay.

She is now in another world, separated from me. Supposedly she can see me and watch over me, but I can't hear her voice. I am looking around, expecting to receive some type of message that she is there and loving me. So many others have received messages from their loved ones. I'd give anything to see my dear mama in a dream.

It is incredible to me, the weight of this sorrow, and that somehow, we are given the strength to carry it.

It Seems Like Years

It seems like years have gone by since yesterday.

Yesterday, I learned that my dear mother had passed away.

It was strange, the night before I could not get to sleep. I stayed up until a little after midnight. Then I tossed and turned in bed, finally putting in a CD with relaxing music to help me fall asleep. I finally did. But at 6:00 AM, I awoke, fully alert. I immediately started to cry as I thought about my mother.

About 6:10 AM, the phone rang. I said to my husband, "There it is. She's gone." It was my father to tell me that at 12:40 AM, she had passed away.

The emotions that have hit me have been fierce. Like a flood of rushing water, the grief has washed over me, shaking me to my core as I cried over and over into my husband's comforting arms. I feel drained and empty inside. Hollow. A friend of ours described it as a hole and said it will never go away.

I'm not sure how to act. I know I will be different and there may be some behavioral changes. But I designed a photo collage of my mother that we'll use at the visitation. It helped me as I viewed each photo, remembering how she cherished each connection with someone she loved.

I will also start to journal. This is part of it. This path of grief will be a long one and I hope I will have the strength to face its demands. In time, I hope the pain will lessen.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted...

The Beginning of the End

At around 8:30 AM today, I received a phone call from my father. The hospital suggested that my mother be placed in hospice and my father agreed. He knew this was going to be a hard thing for me to hear, but nevertheless, it was the last option for my mother. She simply wasn't healing and her platelets, which had been dangerously low, had yet to increase.

I am going to use this space to chronicle my thoughts and emotions during the next week, perhaps weeks. I truly don't know how much time my mother has left, but I do know that I wish we had more of it. After the phone call, I broke down. I cried, then talked to my husband, who held me - then cried some more. I thought of the things I still had hoped I could do with my mother. Memories from my childhood sprang upon me out of nowhere, only adding to my grief.

I told my husband that I knew this was the way it would be. The grief would hit me in waves and I had to simply go with the flow. I know that I am only beginning with the grieving process and more tough times will come. I will deal with the emotions as they come, and pray for strength.

My father is doing remarkably well, for being her caretaker, but I know he's prepared himself for this inevitable situation for many months, if not years. I knew my mother was in poor health and I would watch as she'd enter into the hospital yet again, the admissions becoming more frequent and the stays more fruitless. My mother has been on strong medications for many years. I know her body was able to take only so much.

I love her so much. The sorrow and pain I feel is so overwhelming. The impending sense of loss is coming at my like a freight train. I know the finality of death is not too far away and I would wish for anything I could derail it - but I can't. I know it and that knowledge is almost too heavy to bear.

I am so thankful for my loving husband. He has already provided strength to me as he held me today as I wailed into his arms. He cried with me, stroking my hair until I felt empty inside, finally falling asleep on the bed.

We went over to my in-laws to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with his parents, brother, and his son's girlfriend. We ate corned beef and swiss cheese sandwiches, cole slaw, baked beans, potato salad, and for dessert an apple crumble with vanilla ice cream. Mickey and Bob sang Irish tunes and even Sarah sang a few solo Irish ballads. I almost didn't want to go tonight, feeling that I should perhaps stay home since I was a tearful mess. But I went and I was glad I went.

The singing reminded me that life will go on. I will continue to have moments of laughter and contentment. Song lifts my spirits and I definitely needed to be lifted today. I know people are praying for me and my family to get through this difficult situation.

I found the hospice information online and started to read some articles about grief. I'll end by quoting one of them:

Inside, however, grief works on us, and we suffer it, endure it. sometimes grief drags us down with invisible, clutching fingers of energy-sucking weight. Other times it backs off, gives us temporary reprieve, only to spring, howling at us when we come around a corner. It wells up from nowhere at a stoplight and streams silent tears down our cheek. Grief breaks like a sudden storm, victimizes us. Violently, grief shakes us, squeezes the breath from us, casts us aside, empty and exhausted.

Here’s where our real work starts. First, we face it—all of it, as it happens. Then we open ourselves to it. We let ourselves know how big it is, how deep, how hard. We come to see that “fierce grief” is not a sign we’re “defective,” but rather a natural response to suffering. We mourn for one who shared our life and with whom we found meaning and purpose and joy. It’s work to stand up to grief and say, “No wonder you’re here. No wonder you’re so big. You’re a reflecting testament to whom I loved, to who loved me. I will live through you. I will not run or hide from you. I will not be afraid of you. I’ll engage with you. I will work with you until your absorbed energy transforms and renews my life.”

- By Maureen Kramlinger
Orlando, FL