I love you, Ariel Gore

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She showed up for me.

We never met in person, but her words knew me.  I feel my face smile chapter after chapter of Ariel Gore’s book How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead.  My eyes enlarge and my head nods each page turn.

Is this what it’s like when a writer encourages the deep inner being of another writer?

Yes.

Ariel,  thank you.

Around page 79 an unexpected tear escapes and a memory flashes through my brain.  I remember the day no one showed up.  Not a soul.  Every other college student had parents, grandparents, maybe aunts and uncles too.  Dang.

The ceremony is held in a red brick colonial style building with tall windows trimmed in white.  The large room has plenty of chairs, food that I am too scared to touch, and lemonade that I dare to enjoy.  I am thirsty.  My writing professors say hello and are pulled away because other people’s people want to meet them.  I find a seat in an empty row on a green cushioned chair with a straight backrest made of metal painted white.

While today that scene cuts me a bit, I assure you that on the actual day I am joyful and feel justice is about to be announced.  I am 22 years old and delighted.

“This year’s Best Graduating Senior Writer goes to…Glenna S. Edwards for her submission Bertha.”

I make my way to receive the certificate and $500 check.  Only on rewind do I remember the surprised audience members whose faces turn to question that the alone girl is a winner.  The money is a bonus compared to the certificate that I want most.  I need someone to say I am a good writer.  And they do out loud and on paper.  Boom!

This was the vengeance I longed for because four years earlier at a smaller scale spring time writers event, no one said anything.

That was high school.  Back when I participate in many extracurriculars, but the only award I ever hope for is the Golden Pen award.  A plaque hangs in the English department where the new winner’s name will be engraved.

Sitting in the cafeteria listening for the announcement, my 18-year-old mind practices being a good loser.  The only other candidate who might win deserves the prize too.  I will remain kind and congratulate her then run home to lament.

I also practice remaining calm and gracious if I do win.  I will not jump up and down though my legs may try to betray me.

The other possible winner may throw a fit.  She has a reputation.  She has publicly wailed sometimes when things did not go her way.  I try to remember her personal story about how her mom didn’t know she was pregnant until she went to the hospital for extreme food poisoning but came home with a baby.  For reasons I do not fully understand while in my youth, her tale helps me be patient with Miss Could-Make-A-Scene.

The teacher says into the microphone, “Thank you for coming tonight.  This concludes our evening.”

What?!  They must have forgotten.  I see the other candidate ask about the Golden Pen.  The teacher pretends not to hear.  We all go home never to know exactly why the 1990 Golden Pen is not awarded.

My adult self has multiple guesses why 1990 was skipped.  And I remain thankful 1994 happened.

To my writer friends, read Ariel Gore’s book How To Become A Famous Writer Before You’re Dead.  It is encouragement served all you can eat buffet style.

To be fair to those who knew me in 1994, I didn’t know to ask for representation.  I realize now why the obvious choices didn’t jump at the chance.  Me becoming a writer terrified blue-collar adults around me.

To Ariel, I promise never to use the word p_ _ _ _ _ _ _ mentioned on page 82.  I get it.

Much love & peace to all readers & dreamers.  oxox

Signature GSE

Brave

If you are walking along the public library shelves and an adorable 3.5 x 5 inch little book catches your eye, then by all means pause to take said book home.

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Brave Enough is my introduction to Cheryl Strayed.  I may be the last to learn about her.  I mean, I also was the last to learn this week that emojis can be multicultural if you hold the emoji buttons down long enough, a fact of not knowing which horrified me.  How did I miss that?!  Then I compounded the horror by sharing my surprise with dear friends who all already knew.  I don’t intend to be late, but sometimes I am.

For most of my adult years I ponder through the roller coaster of life that wherever you are, that’s simply where you are…no more, no less.  How silly that may sound, but it is my way of being present this minute, to “be” and to breathe through whatever happens to be occurring at the moment.

In fact, when considering baby names, I was thrilled that one of our children could have initials that spell BE.  Yeah, made that happen.

So new I-wannabe BFF Cheryl’s book Brave Enough was a 1.5 hour tiny vacation in a recliner read.  It is a pep talk, a reality check in, a fun reflection on the “be” of life, a matter of fact tru dat book.  She wrote what my heart and mind when mindful has felt over the years.

And apparently she has done the hiking for answers thing.  She wandered on a trail.  I can relate!

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I adore Cheryl’s mountaintop quote.  I felt this ring accurate throughout my body:

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On a day that the plumber turned a corner saying, “Is that a cat or a Pillow Pet?!”, I read the pages about loving your body to our Sookie Cat.  Cheryl covers a lot of topics in one hard bound book.

I am currently reading or commute time listening to six books and two writer friend manuscripts.  Quick read Brave Enough gave me a one sitting finish and a smile.

Thanks, Cheryl.  I appreciate your work.  I look forward to reading your other books and to see a movie based on one of them.

Peace out beautiful readers.  I hope you are enjoying Spring.  May you experience mini vacations as needed too.

Love,

Signature GSE

🙌🏾   🙌🏼   🙌🏻   🙌🏿

Permission

My mind, body, and soul have been confused since mid-February.  I laid down my superpowers.

That is when I let go of working four jobs simultaneously.  The same week Hubby finished his last day at work never to work a full time job again.  Meanwhile our house is for sale, and we are responsible to help one of our close family members who struggles with mental illness.

Oh, and my nearly new laptop broke.  Boo!

Somehow with three less boss supervisions to schedule per month I thought I would jump into a writing routine.

Nope.  I found myself instead grieving the losses and challenges our family faces.  I enjoy my new job, yet could not make the turn to be disciplined with writing during evenings and weekends.  With the size of my household to-do list, free time is debatable anyway.

Then there is the ever present internal fight for gratitude.  I wrestle with the fact things could be worse, way worse.  I tell myself:  Enjoy right now.  Count the blessings even when the challenges feel like too much.

So I rested and watched winter play out its final weeks.  I wondered when would I feel like digging into my passion?  Afterall, I have not one, but two manuscripts that need attention!  Do I dare say who need attention?  I sense the writing files need me to breathe life into them.  They will walk upright alive.

Worse, I received unexpected feedback from more than one friend that I don’t seem available or as connected as they thought I would be after the job shift.  Don’t I have more time for them now?  Haven’t the number of hours in a week expanded for me somehow? [No, it’s the same number of hours, Ladies.]

Some folks thought I would be more fun perhaps.  I am flat emotionally.  Even if I go through the motions to return texts, friends may pick up that my vibe is “off”.

I became quiet.  I said no to multiple social outings.  I don’t want to be that person who struggles all the time.  I have less and less to say out loud.  Besides, a realtor might request a showing any minute.  I better stay close to home to swish a toilet or run the vacuum–this home in which I can no longer fully relax.

At times I dream of moving far away.  Montana, Florida, Oregon, a random place with no expectations.  I could take my troubles elsewhere.

Fortunately kindness and encouragement arrive from various people in surprising ways too.  Cookies baked by a neighbor for our open house.  A box of positive intentions to read one note at a time.  Patience.  Laughter.  Forgiveness.  Someone asking if there are ways for her to be a good friend to me right now.  All good things.

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Leveling up to a new reality is not instantaneous.  I need time to adjust.

I cling to daily Bible verses, but I do not communicate well with God or anyone other than maybe Hubby right now.  Perhaps I’m in the eye of the storm or this is the whole Footprints poem with one set of footprints at the moment.

I follow strong women on Instagram. What would authors Elizabeth Gilbert and Glennon Doyle do to self-care through this, I ponder?  They are unapologetic in their processing.

Then Lysa Terkuerst makes the Word of God light up on my cell phone.  She’s been through trying times.

And how about the young woman at my church who is blogging her heart out?  She’s cool and fun to watch grow deeper into adulthood.  Or my 100 miles consecutive running friend with a book coming out later this year.  Love you, Kelly!  I am still in awe that Kelly played on her high school football team.  Shout out for writing consistency Brieanna Arsenault and K. A. Wypych!  I am inspired by you weekly!

What emerged in my brain a couple days ago is that I dwell in what I should be doing rather than what I desire to do.  And there’s too many should-be-doings.  As a wife and mother maybe it is time I recover from some of that.  I could be cooking, cleaning, and gosh darn organizing every hour of the day.  Or I can give myself permission to write.  Permission to take a time out.  Permission to rest.  Permission to be me.

Permission to say no as long as I need to say no.  Permission to say yes to the right things for right now.

Permission is a different way of thinking for me.  It is a shift in my perspective.

Permission means releasing the coulda shoulda woulda pressures.  I can choose and then not think about the decision again.  I have permission to let the chips fall where they fall.

Permission means I get a vote.  Permission means I don’t constantly worry about everyone else’s needs before I do something for me.  Permission might seem selfish.  And I have permission to let go of that concern.

There are people I admire who give themselves permission freely without thoughts of repercussions.  I love them and don’t judge them.  I have permission to do the same.

I have permission to dial direct in my prayers and say more than early morning, “Hold me and ease me out of this bed, Father.  That’s all I’ve got to say today.”  I have permission to recognize seasons of life.  I have permission to pray all the things and seek the path I know He imprinted on my heart long ago.

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As a matter of fact, I have permission to open the screen door, listen to the rain, and write life into my novels.  Right now.

CPR in progress.

Love always,

Signature GSE

P.S.  What do you have permission to do?  How are you managing the seasons of life?

 

 

 

What Swirls In Your Head

Are there negative comments made by others about you that come to mind easily or often?

And worse, were those words said many years ago, but still linger today?

Yeah?  Me too.

I’ve chosen to address some of the aforementioned.  To follow is one example.

Shortly after Hubby and I were married my mom said, “I know he must love you because I know what that (me!) looks like in the morning.”

Some might think that she was jovial or meant her over share for fun, but in that moment I felt her words pierce my newlywed abdomen. Deep.

Over the decades I barely noticed that I heard her say it over and over within the swirling sauce pan on my mental health back burner.  Her sentence low level impacts my ability to function.

I don’t want to see me in the mornings.  I can be slow to rise post alarm clock.  Her words are there even when I mostly ignore their existence.  I take way too long to get out the door.  I dread the daily get ready ritual.  And frankly, I’d like a blue ribbon for managing to get me from bedhead to work while also getting children to school for much of the last 20 years.

Recently I allowed myself to tune in to the slow burn frequency.  I decided that every single day for the month of February I would take a morning selfie within minutes of being awake.

Maybe if I head on face my own face and wild AM hair, then I could find release from those stupid words?

So the selfies began.

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I challenged her comment.

And I felt annoyed mostly.

I laughed at frayed ponytails.  I dared to whisper “make up free is beautiful” or “lingering one eyed eye liner is hot”.

I hid sometimes.

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I took a pic daily no matter what.

I guessed by my birthday mid month surely I would be past carrying the hurt.  I am a gosh darn Valentine Day born person filled with Love and Light.  I am done with holding myself back.  Right?

Nope.  I did not feel better the 14th, 15th, 16th, and so forth.

I continue with my selfie promise and determine that I will learn to love all this.  After all, God loves me.  And there are plenty of people who may not be traditional magazine cover material, but I find them gorgeous inside and out.  Could I admire the undone me?

Along the way I accept that I may complete the month without feeling any breakthroughs on the subject of my morning time look.  I pondered verses like:

Psalm 139:14 I will give thanks to you because I have been so amazingly and miraculously made. Your works are miraculous, and my soul is fully aware of this.

Ephesians 5:29 For no one has ever hated his own body, but he nourishes and tenderly cares for it, as the Messiah does the church.

Proverbs 19:8 To acquire wisdom is to love oneself; people who cherish understanding will prosper.

Then one night last week I had a dream.  A detailed dream.  People I trust and value greatly were there.  I was invited to go on a hike.  I had to pack quickly borrowing some supplies, grabbing what was available, and choosing to do without some items.

My hiking buddy was a young early 20’s gal with red hair.  As we passed an amusement park on our way to nature she said, “I may not be or feel pretty,  but I always have adventure.”

Yes!  Something shifted in my body.  I connected with the free to roam, always have adventure statement.  When I woke up, I no longer felt linked to the negative feelings.  I felt change.

I thanked God for my sense of departure from the negative weight.

Since that dream I have continued the February commitment while also noticing my improved ability to love the person I spend the most time with: me.

The 28 pictures have formed into an art collection.  I appreciate both the humor and seriousness found in the pictures.

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I am pretty excited today is March 1.  No more morning selfies and no more need for morning selfies.

What swirls in your mind?  Is there something you can address with the intention of breaking free from it?  I’d love to hear how you creatively kick certain thoughts or words to the curb.

Wishing you health and freedom,

Glenna

 

Find Your Mastermind Group in 2019

I’ll give it one month, maybe two, then decide if this is for me, I thought in the fall of 2016.

A new friend, Jill, said something along the lines of, “You, two other women I know and myself have a lot in common.  We do different work but have similar entrepreneurial spirits.”

Did I need or want one more thing to juggle on my calendar?  Nope!  Yet she captured my interest, so I went.

There are four of us.  Our rules are simple:

  1. We meet once per month for an hour and give grace to plan occasional 5-6 week stretches during busy times of the year.
  2. One person is on the “hot seat” per Mastermind meeting.  That person brings any topic or project they wish to discuss.  The hot seat person opens the discussion.  Once their introduction is complete, then the other three brainstorm ideas, ways to help, suggest people to connect with, and more.
  3. We pick the next date to meet and rotate the hot seat person.

We enjoy the simplicity, the safe space, and the shared wisdom from a variety of business and educational experiences.  Over time precious friendships have formed or strengthened.

Mastermind groups can begin with people you know or don’t know.  There are resources online or you can build one as you desire.

I adore the ladies in our group.  I appreciate the way we help one another expand our thinking and encourage one another’s growth.  My two-month trial turned into multiple years and is going strong.

Would a Masterminds group be helpful to you in the new year?

Best,

Signature GSE

 

#MeToo and the Christian Woman

Before I hit “send” on the type of email that 99.9999% of the time you should not send, I shared it first with my new boss.

Within minutes the office phone rang.  “Come see me please,” he said.

My boss looked me in the eye and expressed with stern lips, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve counted the cost.”  It’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

He nods, “Ok.  Good luck.”

I proceeded to send the email to the head of the company and Human Resources.

~~~

I’ve been asked a few times what I think about the #MeToo movement.  The experience I describe took place a long time ago, way before #MeToo.

Once upon a time I spent over a decade in the corporate world.  It was clear that some men abused power or said whatever crude thing they wanted with little consequence.  I wondered why I was told as an adolescent that girls can do anything we set our mind to do, but once I was in the business world somehow, I, a woman, often felt “less than” or “used” in some way.

There were many examples.  I entered a meeting where a client raised an eyebrow and said to the men with me, “Well, I’ll sign the contract since you brought this.”  I was a this?  One year I spent every work day at 5pm being critiqued by a boss for my performance beginning with how my hair, clothes, and makeup looked that day.  A year.  Every day.  He thought he was helping me function in a man’s world–that’s what he called his pacing and instructing while I sat wanting to go home.

I’ll spare you the long and varied list of inappropriate moments.  Not all men behaved this way.  Men who were spiritual or had a personal growth mindset were respectful.

~~~

Back to the email sent with no turning back.  Times were tricky.  An executive woman had been fired and then settled a lawsuit.  I knew those in charge were on edge.  I had asked for months to increase pay for my staff as well as provide equal pay for males and females.  My request had been dismissed multiple times.  It bothered me when females with similar qualifications were hired for less salary than a man for the same job.

So, I wrote key bullet points of concern and asked to meet with the head of the company and HR every Friday at 1pm for about 20 minutes.

“What do you want?!” The head of the company bellowed at the first meeting.  He had invited another male executive who was known to be threatening.  I knew first hand because he had threatened my family the year prior when I pointed out something else unethical.  Specifically, “It would be a shame if your boys grow up without a mother.”  The Holy Spirit reminded me of David and Goliath.  I wasn’t afraid.  The HR representative brought two pens and a yellow writing pad.

“I want to discuss an example or two each week of things that have been said or done that involve discrimination.  I believe our company can treat people better.  Twenty minutes each Friday should do it.  I believe we can work together for healthy change.”

“For how many Fridays?” his nostrils flared with suspicion.

“As long as it takes.”

And so, we began.  I brought weekly succinct topics or situations and explained why you can’t say this or that about women, or make fun of people in general, or discriminate against minorities–conscious or unconscious.

Outside of these meetings, a nervousness grew in the boardroom.  The leadership group said cursing was no longer permitted.  Jokes were shut down with side-eye looks before punchlines arrived.  My department’s pay raise was approved after six Fridays.

I think the men began wondering what in the world I planned to say next each week.  Eventually I offered an ending, “I think we’ve covered what needed to be said.”

HR put down her pen.  The threatening guy yawned.  The head of the company snorted relief.  We almost had become comfortable in the muck.

That was a time and place where I chose to go uphill alone after deciding I could accept potential negative repercussions.  One thing I like about #MeToo is that people are saying you are not alone when discrimination happens.

With or without such a movement, God gave us road maps in the Bible to address wrongs peacefully.  Actions are not to be taken lightly.  Here are steps I followed:

  • Consult scripture.  [Matthew 18:15-17,  Galatians 6:1]
  • Pray.
  • Go to the person directly.  I had with no progress.  That’s why I moved on to request the Friday meetings with HR present.
  • Seek wisdom and/or wise counsel.
  • Think about timing.  My guess was it was a time when the head of the company would listen to me whether he liked what I had to say or not.
  • Consider chain of command.  My new boss learned my intentions from me first.  I had reason to believe based on his professional behavior that he would be supportive.
  • Count the costs.  I remember thinking of the best and worst scenarios that could happen and accepted in advance that the outcome could be good, bad, or something I couldn’t imagine yet.

~~~

Down the road after the head of the company left the organization and later I had too, I saw him one more time.  He wanted me to work on a project with him.  I asked why would he want me to do that?  His answer, “Because you taught me about love.”

I didn’t see that coming.  But it made sense.  God is love.