Getting Back on the Horse

Truth be told, I did not ride a horse for the first time until I was fifty-three (if the feeble Barney even counts as a horse). All worst-case scenarios scared me too much. How embarrassed would I be if I couldn’t keep the horse on its designated trail? What if the horse got spooked and threw me off? Would I get the independent-minded horse who was in the mood for a joy ride? With so many possible things that could go wrong, I avoided the experience all together.

Now at fifty-six, I find myself at a 2023 crossroads that feels an awful lot like pushing myself to get on a horse. Only this time, my hesitancy involves a blank canvas or even worse for a writer, an empty page. It’s a version of writer’s block that has inhibited me from writing my own story and I know I have plenty of company in this predicament. Not just other writers, but anyone who has ever had to take care of a sick loved one.  It’s an all-consuming task that can strip a person of so many different things – including their own identity. 

Watching my daughter lose her quality of life at the age of twenty-six is an experience that I am slowly starting to recover from. Spending months witnessing her in a debilitating state without knowing the cause was horrifying. I would find her passed out all over the house during the day, while sleep would elude her at night. Thankfully, she was able to use her insomnia as an opportunity to scour the Internet, leading to her best guess that she was suffering from a form of chronic fatigue syndrome brought on by a candida yeast overgrowth. A specialist in New York City confirmed her diagnosis and began administering treatments that are now leading to a slow, but full recovery. 

After almost three decades of being a mom, I took pride in my role as the superhero who could be there for my children no matter what the circumstances. Of course, I discovered my limitations long ago, but I never expected to feel completely helpless. There was absolutely nothing I could do to make my daughter feel better, so my daily life became fixated on the things that I could do. I spent most of my time running errands, cooking meals and shuttling her to doctors’ appointments while losing sight of the fact that I wasn’t doing anything for myself. I didn’t even want to tell my closest friends what I was living through as if not talking about it made it less painful. My coping mechanism became walking through life without giving in to my frustrations or fears. My daughter and I were both in survival mode, even though she was the one fighting the illness.

Thankfully, my experience does not compare to anyone who has had to watch a loved one slowly slip away from Alzheimer’s, cancer, or any disease that ultimately robs a person of their life and dignity. The scars left from those battles rarely fade, but eventually every caretaker will emerge from a journey that is highly personal. They will have faced an experience that came without a handbook or roadmap and found their way to an ending that comes attached to a new normal. 

After taking care of someone with an illness, life can never return to being exactly what it was. The loss of consistently being needed often leaves a person with an emptiness that becomes difficult to fill. A sense of quiet replacing a constant state of worry might feel more unsettling than comforting. Even putting yourself first for the first time in ages could create an irrational sense that you are doing something wrong. In many cases it takes time to find a way to reset and catch up to a world that has now moved on without you. 

As the new year begins, I’m so grateful to be able to tell my caretaker story in the past tense with my daughter’s recovery now in progress.  Not everyone gets so lucky and yet I know I am in plenty of company when it comes to struggling to fill in my next steps. There are moments when I almost feel like the little girl who was leery of mounting the unpredictable horse. As I compare those fears to emerging from this experience, I am struck by the similarities. I successfully navigated my way through being derailed from what I thought was my designated trail, I survived getting spooked by an illness that felt at times like it was taking me down, and now I have been gifted the independence to take my own joy ride into the future.  Apparently, I really am ready to get back on that horse and embrace the journey forward.

Threading The Needle Through Five Generations

When I decided to sit down and write an article for Mother’s Day, I wanted to concentrate on the four amazing generations of women in my family. One of my greatest blessings was to have my grandmother Ruth in my life for thirty-eight years. She was there for my wedding and for the birth of all three of my children. And when my daughter was born, I never took a day for granted because I felt like we had been gifted something incredibly special over the nine years that we had left with her.

Looking back, I gave credit to my grandmother for bringing our strong independent woman mantra to life. A stranger would have never known that Ruth lost her own mother at the age of seven. Without any maternal guidance, she became the most loving matriarch of our family, not to mention an extraordinary chef and one heck of a fashion plate. Some might have described her as a force to be reckoned with, but in a good way. And through the magic of genetics, her strength has threaded its way through our family all the way down to my now twenty-five-year-old daughter who enjoys letting people know (with humor inserted) that she’s a strong independent woman.

Tracing resilience back to Ruth had always been my go-to until I sat down to write this article and started thinking about my full genetic female lineage. The story of Ruth’s mother Dora, as we have pieced together, also paints a picture of great bravery and perseverance. Dora was the youngest of seven children and the last to leave her parents behind in Lithuania in the late 1800’s. She had two sisters who were often described as being tough as nails, but it was her sister Mary who sent for Dora to come to the United States. After bravely making the journey by herself around the age of twenty, Mary introduced Dora to her brother-in-law, Morris, and it was love at first sight. They married and had four children, Elsie, Jack, Ruth, and Leonard. Sadly, tragedy tore through their happy family when Dora succumbed to an unidentified illness and passed away at the age of thirty-eight.

Since two sisters had married two brothers, Mary remained highly invested in Dora’s family. She even made it her business to find a new wife for Morris – a woman who would quickly become the stereotypical evil stepmother. My grandmother grew closer to Mary as she and her siblings struggled to adjust to life without their mother. It was through Mary that Ruth would learn about the women on her mother’s side of the family. All were described as having varying degrees of dominant personalities, with some even boasting that they liked to rule their households with an iron fist. As my grandmother grew up, the power of her genetics began to flourish. She took over the household chores and succeeded in navigating the new dynamics of her family, later comparing her experience to that of Cinderella’s.

Elsie had it a little easier because she was already a teenager when Dora passed away. The age difference stalled the bonding process until Elsie and Ruth got older and began to develop a relationship more like Dora and Mary’s. Their inherited grit and spunk became an invaluable asset as they raised their families and later helped each other with the loss of their husbands. Losing their mother had helped them master the ability to use humor to cover pain as they marched through their lives with unbreakable spirits. Both lived into their 80’s, continuing to be strong independent women until age and illness sadly caught up with them.

While it would not be a stretch for Dora’s daughters to show signs of their mother’s genetics, the next generation of women in our family seemed to benefit as well. Dora’s granddaughters – Dory, Diane, and Donna (all named after Dora) along with Harriet and Ilene. Each one in their own way became women not to be messed with. Cancer survivors, business executives, nurses, and music educators. Smart and talented women who bulldozed past roadblocks that dared to get in their way. All devoted to their families and up to just about any challenge. Thinking about them collectively leaves me amazed by the genetics. Even adding other family’s genes into the pool only seemed to enhance the strength and determination of our female line.

Dora’s great granddaughters have also continued this trend. At 55, I think I’ve been a good example of persevering through life’s unexpected hurdles. But I can also say that I sit on this branch of our family tree with some other impressive dynamos – Renee, Jennifer, Alexis, Jamie, Carly, Rachel, Talia and Danielle.  We range in age over four decades and I think Dora would be very proud of every single one of us. Women waking up with a purpose to face each day as our best selves while possessing the ability to deal with whatever curveballs might be thrown our way. Based on our family history, this is how I see a young Dora facing a journey across the ocean and a health crisis that ended her life. I believe she did everything possible to battle her illness during a time when her medical options were so limited. A brave woman who left her parents behind knowing she would never see them again could have done incredible things if she had lived among her accomplished great granddaughters at a time when things could have been so different.

And finally, not to be left out is the 5th generation of this family. My daughter is the oldest female and is currently pushing through a grueling master’s program on her way to becoming an occupational therapist. The rest of the girls are still young, but based on what we know, I’m sure that Alden, Lark, Zoey and Emily are all high spirited and strong-willed young women in progress. How could they not be?

So without ever knowing Dora, I feel like my amateur genetic study has allowed us to get an idea of what she was like. Based on my deductions, I believe she was smart and funny, like her daughters, while also possessing the kind of resolve that has flowed through the generations she never had a chance to meet. With Mother’s Day on the calendar, it makes me feel especially good to acknowledge a legacy that feels more meaningful than any of us have stopped to realize. Five generations is something to be proud of, and since it all started with Dora, it makes me happy to be able to honor her and for the first time in my life, wish her a Happy Mother’s Day.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

Walking Away From Mean Girl Energy at Any Age

For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my head around the mentality of a mean girl. Having been a spectator to the many ways a person can be affected by this form of bullying, I have learned the hard way how even the smallest things can trigger repressed pain. Cruelty that can never be allayed by the words “I’m sorry.” Choices made without ever realizing how you’ve made another person feel. It breaks my heart to think about how prevalent this is in our world and how the widespread use of social media has made a bad thing worse.

Are Mean Girls Born or Are They Created? 

Throwing out the question of nature versus nurture leaves me baffled. I have always believed that children are born a blank slate, slowly becoming influenced by genetics and experiences. And yet, even in preschool settings you can find examples of girls who act naturally kind and inclusive, while others exude selfish and boorish behavior. Is it possible for a 3-year-old girl to innately possess and display such hurtful conduct, or are they mimicking behavior they learned at home? For this reason, it’s so important we teach our children empathy at a young age. 

Unsavory Experiences Have Stayed With Me

As a young girl, my family moved many times during my middle school and high school years, always putting me in the position of being the new kid. Each time I started a new school, the same scene would take place. The girls would give me the once over, assessing whether I was worthy of their friendship. Did I wear the right clothes? Was I cool enough? Which group would I best fit into? Meanwhile, all I wanted was to find someone to eat lunch with so I wouldn’t have to eat alone.

Seeing My Kids Be Victims Was Much Worse 

I thought I had it bad until I saw the 21st-century version of this behavior inflicted upon my own children. Social media brought to light everything they were missing out on: Parties they weren’t invited to, weekend trips they were left out of, and even girls they thought were their friends suddenly deciding there were much better people worth spending time with. Having to live with snubs and disappointments can leave a child with cumulative pain, especially when a hurtful scenario repeats itself over and over again.

I Realized Mean Girls Turn Into Mean Women

Now that I am in my 50s, I have come to the realization that the only path some mean girls will take is to turn into mean women. My mother is almost 80 and she is still dealing with some of this all-too-recognizable behavior. Groups of friends excluding an undesirable woman along with the timeless practice of talking behind her back. And if that weren’t bad enough, when my then-90-year-old grandmother moved into an assisted living facility, the first people she encountered were the mean women who would not allow her to sit at their table to eat her meals. So if any of us think there is an ultimate cure for mean girls, I think we might be deluding ourselves.

Surviving Mean Girl Energy 

Age can often bring wisdom, which was much appreciated when I woke up one day and decided to embrace my power in choosing who I wanted to be friends with. At that point, the bullies in my sphere were probably more of the passive aggressive variety, but it was time for their bad energy to go. No more drama. Only people who were non-judgmental and fun. Friends I could laugh with and who accepted me for who I was. And as my circle of friends changed to fit the new me, it felt great to discover that I had women in my life who could be supportive and kind. No more settling for anything but a mature and healthy female friendship because it turns out that having the right women in your life can actually be quite awesome.

The Bottom Line 

Sadly, some mean girls are here to stay. Even if you are somehow spared in childhood and adolescence, one could be lurking around the turn of any decade. It might help to remember that a lot of this behavior stems from insecurity — theirs and yours. Time is supposed to be a helpful factor, but some will never break free from the desire to make themselves feel better by hurting the people around them. That’s why it’s so important to grow from the experiences and find empowerment on the flip side of the pain. Because when you get to the finish line of owning and controlling your own life, a mean girl will never be able to hurt you again.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash