Tag Archives: self-esteem

Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.

That quote is from the cult classic, “Better Off Dead” and has long been stuck in my head as my life’s roadmap.

It’s been a long time since I last wrote.

If I were to be honest, I’d admit there’s no reason other than my lack of discipline but in the time I’ve been literarily mute, I have started a new job, a new year, and had a birthday.

My last birthday, I wrote about how little the numbers of your birthday matter – how so many of the professional women I admire were 20+ years my senior when they accomplished what it is that I admire them for.

On this year’s birthday, a friend gave me some great advice – that I should use a bit of time from my “work from home day” for writing.  She isn’t as close a friend as I would like but she honored me by knowing how important writing is to my spiritual wholeness and by asking me about it.

So here I sit, at 11:16pm on my WFH day, scratching out a few thoughts.

And it is this friend of mine – who took time out on HER rare night out to celebrate with me on mine – who reminded me of a post I’ve been dying to write.  It is a post about who and what we admire and how we guide and are guided.

In moments of self-loathing and melancholic nostalgia, I will bemoan my assertion that I’ve suffered from a lack of mentors.  I use this term like I know what it is.  Like someone who could easily answer “Who is your hero?” or “Who is your role model?”

Am I the only person who doesn’t feel like I had one?

Am I so critical that no one measured up for my aspirational admiration?  Am I so sheltered that I lacked esposure to stand-outs?  I have to assume that neither are true but I stall when trying to recall help/guidance/direction in my professional life.

Now I’m knocking on the door of 40.  I’ve had one marriage, two kids, and more jobs than I care to admit to.  As I evaluate my value – fiscally, empirically or otherwise, I revisit the concept of mentor with equal parts sense and wonder.

In my adult years, I’ve counted a number of incredible women as my friends.  And perhaps I should view them in some capacity as mentors.  They’ve weighed in and stood by as I explored and failed and rebounded.  But I think it is my insufferable ambition that makes me want to identify someone just beyond ‘peer’ status as an advisor, a confidant, a professional coach.

I have had a few female bosses in my career.  My Aussie boss who got me started in this crazy world of internet advertising went on to launch her own site and become a bit of a maven.  A couple of peers turned bosses have traded sales roles for management ones and made significant marks on their companies.  A former CEO remains a sentimental mystery whom I wished I had known better.

But then there are friends too – or phriends, perhaps – but let’s not let cynicism ruin this, eh?  I have perhaps, half a dozen friends who are wildly accomplished in their fields.  For example, one recent friend who is executive status, politically connected, and philanthropic; another is a self-made social correspondent and contributor, published author, and well-recognized speaker/blogger; A former colleague created her own network of bloggers, sold it successfully and remains a consistent presence in the social and digital publishing reviews.  These three in particular, I think would take my call and work with me on a project.

I have asked them about their path to success exactly… let me count…. ZERO times.

I have asked them for advice on my own zigzag, mishmosh career precisely the same number of times.

I’ve another friend who has finished a book and is in the process of publishing it who asked me to collaborate on her next one.  COLLABORATE ON A BOOK!?!?!?  The honor!  The thrill!  I rewarded her by doing and writing almost nothing.  And then I had a baby and she let me slither away in humiliation.

And then there are the stable, serious, no-frills sugarmamas who just get the job done day in and day out.  One of my oldest friends is a single mom who owns multiple properties and has worked at the same company for a dozen years.  Another has been married for eight? I think?  and manages a family life and a sales team with grace.  HOW DO THEY DO THIS?  I’ve no idea.  I am exactly the kind of self-absorbed, pity-party-of-one fool who never asked.

Seriously.

I’ve done this to myself.

The truth is – I suck at asking for help.  I always have.

I don’t know how or where to begin.  I wouldn’t know the first thing about opening up honestly to someone about my professional goals.  And I dare say that I’ve managed to land on my feet more than once despite that handicap.

But I do have goals.  And perhaps they’re to be fulfilled when I’m in my Ariana-Hilary-Nancy years.  But shouldn’t I be mapping a plan for them now?  And writing about it in the process?

These are the questions I would be asking anyone who would listen at Blissdom right now, were I there with wine in hand.  Since some of the aforementioned heroines are there, I’d best simmer a bit and ask them upon their return.

In the meantime, who do you turn to for the really big career advice?  Where did your best counseling come from and how did you ask for it?  What happened when you took or didn’t take it?

I’m asking…

Lean Legacy

I love food. 

I have lived and traveled all over the world and sampled cuisine in the most unlikely places that makes my toes curl.  I am an adventurous and confident cook and view dinner guests as my personal focus groups for new, sometimes bizarre recipes.  I love recreating restaurant dishes at home and embellishing cookbook instructions with my own culinary insights.

But I also hate food.

I blame food, rather than my dysfunctional relationship with it, for my over-curvy figure.  I know I’m not alone or even terribly unique.  A reported 68% of adults are considered overweight or obese in this country.

There was a time when I had the lean, tight body of an athlete.  I was a softball catcher in high-school and a swimmer in college.  In my 20s, I enjoyed a brief window of physical perfection after a particularly bad break-up and subsequent work-out obsession.

But that was all a long time ago.

I don’t remember weighing myself until I was in my late 20s…  I never dieted in high-school or college.  I think that makes me somewhat of an anomaly nowadays.    Yet I distinctly remember when my weight went up and stayed up. 

Somewhere in my 20s, I stopped eating for love and started eating for pain. 

I am certainly guilty of ingesting my share of cheese fries, pizza, and processed junk but it has more likely been the volume of food I eat that has kept me from being at an optimal weight.

I would probably go my entire life without addressing the source of my disorder were it not for one small reason… my daughter.

My beautiful girl will undoubtedly inherit her share of my bad habits despite my best efforts to tame them:  my temper, my bossiness, my outspokenness, my mischievousness.

But I would be stricken with grief if she inherited my unhealthy relationship with food.

Of course, children learn what they live.  Girls especially, copy their mother’s habits, mannerisms, and behavior.  How soon will she recognize that mommy eats every bit as much food as daddy?  How soon will she notice that mommy snacks even after a full meal?  Too soon, I’m afraid.

I often joke that I was my healthiest when I was pregnant because my body was a temple to motherhood.  I protected that little life inside me against my normal “toxins”.  Why couldn’t I do that for myself?  Aren’t I worthy of being protected too?

As I watch my daughter mimic my loving cuddles with her dollies, I hope I can also find a way to show her how to love herself and value her health.  She is so precious and worthy to me.  Can I make sure that she feels that same way about herself? 

I don’t believe in “do as I say, not as I do” living or parenting, so my challenge is both real and immediate.  Eating habits are established young.  Body confidence as a woman is difficult enough without adding unhealthy weight to the problem.  How many of us are still harboring low self-esteem that originated in our adolescence? 

It isn’t a charity or celebrity chef raising my daughter.  It’s me.  And there isn’t anything I won’t do for her.  Including breaking some old habits.

There is a legacy of motherhood that fascinates me.  In giving life to our children, they often save ours.

(This article was first posted on www.STLFamilyLife.com on May 10, 2010.)