Live and Learn – Page 12

Monday March 03, 2014Double Standard, Ma'am, Offense, Prejudice, RespectLife, Live and LearnView all 2 comments

While checking out at Target, the checker called me young lady. The person in question, calling me young lady, was at least ten years my junior. It took me so by surprise that it was a moment before I had comprehended what he had said. I started to doubt what I had heard until he said it again. This young man in his early twenties, at the oldest, had just called ME young lady. What the hell? Now I’ve been called young lady many a time in my life and never once batted an eyelash at the term because it was said by my father, or people in his general age range. In comparison I am a young lady to them, so the moniker makes sense. But what in the heck is this kid doing calling me that. I didn’t know if I should be offended or laugh at him. I almost gave him a piece of mind, to let him know that it’s not appropriate to call a woman who is obviously older than you, a young lady, but I stopped myself. At the time I didn’t know why I was stopping myself, but a big red flag was waving in the back of my mind warning me to keep my mouth shut, so I said thank you, took my bag and left.

It wasn’t until I had reached my car, and had gone over what I would have said to him, that I realized the cause of the red flag. While I didn’t want him to call me young lady, what did I want him to call me? Ma’am, hell no! I’m not married, I have no kids and at the end of the month I’ll be celebrating my 32^nd birthday by going to see the new Muppet Movie. I am not a ma’am! But how does he know any of that? Okay he could guess age, but the rest he’s clueless. So how about Miss? That works for me . . . but I’ve seen women get upset, flash a big rock and proclaim that they are a Mrs., not a Miss. Ms? That’s just awkward and weird. Honey or sweetie? Nope. Unless of course you’re a sweet little old grandmother in which case go for it! Chick or Babe? Not. Even. Going. There. That’s a whole other blog post.

So what is a safe bet? Here’s the thing, I can’t come up with one. I can’t come up with a single name that you can use for a woman that is universal. I don’t think it exists! Help me out if it does, because I can’t think of a single thing. Guys are easy. You can call every single guy that walks up, Sir and be good to go. This kid at the express lane probably thought that it was flattering to call me young lady, pointing out my youth, etc. The fact that I found it pandering and patronizing probably puts me at odds with the score of Los Angeleno women that he has dealt with heretofore. Who knows? Or maybe all of the women before me had the exact same thought that I did, but none of them said anything because of the exact same reason that I hadn’t. None of us had a better alternative for him, and what’s the point of correcting one “wrong” when all you can give is another “wrong?”

I guess the better question is why does this problem even exist in the first place? Why are women so sensitive about what we are called? Especially ma’am! Ma’am is almost like a bad word or an insult to most women, but if you look at its definition it’s actually a far cry from being an insult. Ma’am is a shortened version of madam and is used as a title of respect, especially when addressing female royalty. Royalty people!

Thousands of women are going around getting insulted because people are showing them respect and addressing them as royalty. What? That makes no sense what so ever! Other than our modern day connotation, the actual moniker of ma’am has nothing to do with age, it’s to do with respect, rank and authority. And really what’s so bad about getting older? If I could go back to my twenties, but retain the knowledge that I have now, I would do it in a heartbeat. But if going back to my twenties meant that I would also have to go back to only what I knew in my twenties . . . no thanks. I’ll stay exactly where I am thank you very much! I’ve learned a lot of lessons since then and earned each and every one of my years. So when somebody calls me ma’am, I should take that as a sign of respect, not an insult. Need to work on that.

Thursday February 27, 2014Feel Better, Illness, ImmunityLife, Live and LearnView all 8 comments

I seem to have entered that oh so fun cycle of the never ending sickness, and no I have not gotten my flu shot, because I haven’t been able to. Apparently you’re supposed to be healthy when you get the flu shot, and so far this cold and flu season I have yet to be healthy enough to get the shot. I have actually been turned away. For a while it was just one thing after another, but as evidenced by the stomach flu hitting two days into an antibiotics treatment, these illnesses aren’t even waiting for the old one to go away before attacking anymore. So I have set upon a quest to find ways to boost the immune system, because quite frankly I am sick and tired of this – pun intended.

Since I can’t seem to focus my cloudy brain on anything else right now, you all get to hear about what I’ve learned. First off, I’m going to throw out the obscure stuff – the odds of me taking my happy ass down to the health food store to find larch are slim to none, so out the window with ya! Next I’m throwing out the ones that everybody already knows about – get more sleep, drink water, wash your hands, exercise, chicken soup, vitamin C, etc – because I’m already implementing those to the best of my ability (or ignoring because I tend to be even lazier than normal when sick). Which leaves the things that made me go “huh!”

1. Keep your feet warm – my feet are ALWAYS cold. It’s gotten to the point that I’m so used to it, I generally don’t even notice how cold they are until Bubba plops his warm puggle butt on them and I realize they my toes are practically icicles. Well apparently there’s been a study that shows a correlation between cold feet and constricted blood vessels in your sinuses. Constricted vessels means less blood flow, which means less white blood cells in the area, which means a lowered ability to fight off infection. BOOM! That song that they made us sing in grade school about everything in the body being connected was apparently correct! I’m breaking out the fuzzy socks tonight! Also, the next time I smack myself in the face and get a bloody nose, I’m sticking my feet in the freezer . . . or maybe just ice on my feet. Yeah, that would be less awkward.

2. Eat better – I know that this is one of those common ones, but I have a couple of things that all fit under this heading.

a. Cut back on sugar – apparently sugar is completely superfluous for our bodies, we get absolutely no health benefits from sugar. Bacteria on the other hand, love it and will feed off of it and get fat, happy and multiply all day long. Same goes for cancer cells. So sugar is basically food for nasty crap that we don’t want in our bodies. Great!

b. Eat Japanese mushrooms – apparently they are chock-full of good stuff that isn’t found elsewhere in a typical American diet.

c. Black and Green tea – again with the unique good stuff. I always thought that it was just green tea, but apparently black tea is good for you as well, just not as good for you. Besides who doesn’t like a nice warm beverage when they’re sick!

d. Eat a big breakfast – as in close to half of your daily calories, big breakfast – but here’s the kicker, low in fat, or at least go with the good fats like in avocado. Which means no bacon . . . yes, it is still Kat, I haven’t been abducted . . . yes, I did let out a solitary sob of anguish when I typed that. Apparently the body needs a lot of fuel to get up and going properly after resting all night, but bad fats slow everything down including the immune system. Doing this means that your lunch and dinner are significantly smaller of course. Unless you have some really awesome fat pants that you want to get back into.

3. Cut back on pain medications – one of the main goals of pain meds is generally to cut down inflammation, and one of the main ways that they do that is to reduce the white blood cells that are causing the inflammation. Lowered number of white blood cells = more prone to illness. This explains some things since I’ve been taking ibuprofen like it was candy for the past couple of weeks because of some dental work.

4. Journal and Do Crafts – Both are good stress relievers, and lowering stress helps to boost the immune system. Who doesn’t want an excuse to break out the glue gun – “Leave me alone, I’m crafting for health damnit!”

5. Sex – yeah apparently having sex on a regular basis boosts your immune system. Something about chemicals and hormones and the exercise and blah, blah, blah I stopped paying attention, because let’s face it, I was on board for this cure! However, as a friend pointed out, going over to the corner bar and picking up random guys would probably have the opposite effect on my overall health . . . yeah, she’s got a point there. Guess I’m going to have to stick to the other four.

So there you have it, be well my readers.

Friday February 14, 2014Burning the candle from both ends, Gauntlet, Grieving, Loss, MothersLife, Live and Learn, MothersView all 3 comments

My dad always used to observe that I was happiest when I was going Mach 5 with my hair on fire, and then in the next sentence he’d warn me not to burn the candle at both ends. He was right, and it was a valid warning. Not one that I’ve ever been able to take to heart, but valid nevertheless. Lately, I feel like I have not only been burning the candle at both ends, but that I have cut it in half so that I have access to two additional wicks. Oddly enough, this was completely intentional. The beginning of the year is always very hard for me. Toward the end of my mother’s life, my father signed her DNR and the doctors gave her a week to live. This was at the end of November. The doctors were wrong. She didn’t die until February 8^th. We’ve all heard stories of loved ones hanging on for one more holiday, or birthday, etc, so it didn’t seem that odd that she lasted until Christmas. But when the new year hit, and she was still hanging on, an anxious dread descended. Every time my phone rang I expected it to be the call – “Pick up your sister and come home. Mom just died.” But January came and went and there was no call. I was a ball of nerves. Always on edge, not sleeping, doing anything to occupy my mind with something, anything else.

I had plans to go home on the 8^th. That morning my dad called to ask me to pick up some dog food before heading up the mountain to get home. I said okay, hung up and hopped in the shower. I was picking out clothes when my phone rang again, and for the first time in over a month I didn’t jump. It was dad, but I assumed that he needed me to pick up something else. I was wrong. “Pick up your sister. Mom just died. Oh, don’t forget the dog food.” She died while I was in the shower. I will remember that shower for the rest of my life. It was in that shower that the dread and tension finally released from my body. Whether that was because I knew that I was heading home when I got out, or if someone how my body instinctively knew that it was all over, I have no idea. But after that shower I was relaxed for the first time all year, until that call. Then I was just numb.

Every year since then, I spend the month of January as a ball of nerves. My body’s yearly vigil of grief. By the time that February rolls around, I have to consciously remind myself to relax my shoulders from their permanent position up around my ears. I usually try to take it easy at the beginning of the year and do things for myself. It never works. I’m a ball of nerves through Valentine’s Day. This year was different. If I’m happiest going Mach 5 with my hair on fire, then why in the world should I slow down during my hardest time of the year? So this year I over-scheduled myself. I not only cut the candle in half, I borrowed a couple of extra candles and burned those too. And it sort of worked. Did my shoulders still take up residence around my ears? Yep. Was I still a ball of nerves? Yep. But I actually got things done – I fell behind on stuff because of my over scheduling, my blog for one, but I got a lot done. My dad is right. I’m happiest when I’m getting things done. Starting tomorrow I’ll be able to breathe again, because the anniversary of her funeral will have passed and all of those years ago it was finally at her funeral that I truly cried and grieved for my loss. It’s my yearly gauntlet and it’s almost over. Tonight I burn the last candle. Until next year.

Friday November 22, 2013Life, Live and LearnView all 4 comments

Okay, so not completely unplugged. I’ve spent the week sitting in front of a computer all day, but I have been without my phone. It broke on Monday morning and my replacement doesn’t arrive until tomorrow . . . I’m hoping. I’m not gonna hold my breath on that one, but my fingers are definitely crossed. Surprisingly, being without a phone for a week hasn’t bothered me nearly as much as I thought that it would. I learned a couple of things though.

Contrary to popular belief, there have been no dire emergencies and the world did not end when I was without a computer to stay connected. Crazy I know!
When I’m by myself in a public place, I use my phone to avoid interacting with the world around me. Instead of enjoying the breeze or watching the shadows play on the side of a building I recheck my email for the tenth time that hour. I kind of wonder how much of life I’ve missed out on?
I obsessively check my texts, email, Facebook and Twitter accounts. I’ve almost given myself whiplash from constantly reaching for my phone to check . . . yet again.
Despite that, not once I have I had something to say to someone, that it couldn’t wait until I got home or back to my desk at work.
Nobody gives a crap that I haven’t “Checked-In” anywhere in the past week.
I can get places and meet up with people without GPS or texting. We kicked it old school and showed up at the appointed time and looked for each other!
I’m more relaxed. Since there is no way for me to respond to anyone immediately, I don’t stress about needing to respond to someone immediately.
It is kind of liberating not being available every second of every day.
A small part of me hopes that my phone gets delayed for another day or two.
Once it does arrive, I think I’m going to start turning it off instead of just putting it on silent when I arrive places. Life exists outside of my smart phone.

Tuesday November 19, 2013Inspiration, Life, Live and LearnLeave a comment

In my quest to build a platform for my work I have found myself chatting with a cornucopia of people from across the globe. More than a handful of those people that I have chatted with have been young woman – late teens into their early twenties. Quite a bit of my work speaks to them, especially Heroines of History. So we chat about that, we chat about literature, we chat about what they’re studying in school and what they want to do once they’re out of school. Without fail these young women open up and tell me the career that they long for and then type something along the lines of, “Well, that’s the dream.” I can feel the longing dripping from the screen. It’s not like they are saying that they want to be a princess, bring peace to the Middle East or eradicate world hunger. Instead their dreams are to own their own business, or be a publisher. To these women I always have the same response, “You are using the wrong word.” I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, words are incredibly powerful. Make sure you choose the correct one. To these women I say that that is not a dream. That is a goal and the first is much different than the second.

Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, a dream that one day America would live up to those sacred words put down by our forefathers that this nation was founded on the belief that all men are created equal. MLK Jr. knew words. He knew the power behind them and he chose carefully. He did indeed have a dream, not a goal. A dream implies that something is unrealistic; something that you hope for even though you know it is unattainable. A goal implies something that you work toward, something that can be achieved. Martin Luther King Jr. did not have a goal because he knew that what he wished for was not attainable in his lifetime. He knew that it was unrealistic to think that he would cross that finish line himself. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming; didn’t stop him from acting and moving forward so that one day his dream would become someone else’s goal and the race would finally be run. That is a dream. An admirable dream, and one that I hope we can achieve some day.

When a young woman tells me that her dream is to publish young adult novels I can’t help but tell her that she is using the wrong word. That is not a dream. That is an attainable goal. A goal that she can work towards and achieve in her lifetime, and she doesn’t need luck or well wishes from me. Instead, I wish her patience to stay the course, because any goal that is truly worth achieving takes time. I wish her perseverance to push through the hard times and never give up. I wish her the insight to recognize opportunities when they appear and most of all I wish her the courage to go after those opportunities, or create her own, with all of her heart.

This is what I tell young women. Learn the difference between a dream and a goal. Dreams are to be enjoyed, never stop dreaming. But goals are to be achieved, and the only way to do that is to work like you’ve never worked before.

Saturday November 02, 2013Live and LearnLeave a comment

Is it just me, or do you find that sometimes you completely ignore an obvious solution? I am a writer. I enjoy the act of putting words on a page even if they aren’t intended for anybody to ever read them. It makes me feel better. Writing helps me figure things out and clarify my thoughts. Yet during the times that I am the most upset, or frustrated, or confused I do the least amount of writing. I choose instead to stew in my thoughts. How does that even remotely make sense?

I used to be a tutor and whenever one of my kids would come in clearly upset about something, but they didn’t want to talk about, I would have them do a free write. I would tell them that for ten minutes they had to have their pen to the paper writing. I wouldn’t be reading it and I didn’t care if they started off by writing, “This is stupid, I have nothing to write about” over and over again. Because eventually they would get bored with that and they would wind up writing about whatever was bothering them. After the ten minutes was up, I would have them rip up the page, throw it away and then we’d work on homework. You know what, it worked every time. Without fail they would feel better.

Despite the fact that I watched this happen over and over again, do I do the same thing for myself? No! Why is it easier to take care of someone else, than it is to take care of our selves? Why don’t we follow the brilliant advice that we give to others? I am genuinely curious about this phenomenon. It’s like I can’t see the forest for the trees. Since it is my own problem, I’m too close to it to have any sort of perspective. So it’s not that I ignore the obvious solution, it’s that I can’t recognize that the solution is that simple. But it is. The solution is simple. It is now your job to tell me to go free write for ten minutes whenever I get surly!

Thursday October 24, 2013Happiness, Life, Live and LearnView all 2 comments

While walking into the grocery store the other night, there was a rather straggly looking homeless guy by the door begging for spare change. I mumbled that I didn’t have any and avoided looking at him while I quickly ducked into the store. This is what I generally do when I encounter people begging for money, I avoid looking at them. Not because I’m disgusted or offended by them or anything like that; it’s because I know that I’m not going to give them any money and that makes me feel guilty. So I don’t look.

I went into the store, leaving him by the door and started my grocery shopping. But my mind lingered with him. I wasn’t going to give him money, but I was in a grocery store. I could get him some food. Then, as is my natural propensity, I began to over think things. What if I got something that he didn’t like? What if I got something that he was allergic to? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, until I happened upon a display of items that were all 50% off and I got engrossed in that. Poof! The homeless guy vanished from my thoughts, and I was absorbed by all of the things that I could get that I didn’t really need, but were 50% off, so it would be silly for me not to get them. You can laugh, but you’ve done it too! The next thing I know my basket, which was missing the four things that I had actually walked in to get, was over-brimming with my on-sale prizes. So I got the four things on my list and staggered up to the check-out lane and gratefully dropped my basket onto the conveyor.

When I got to the checker, and he emptied out my basket I looked with pleasure at all of my great finds. I was quite pleased with myself. Until I looked over and saw at the end of the conveyor belt, the homeless guy clutching two dollars in his hand with a cup of coffee in front of him. All of a sudden my “great finds” felt frivolous and ridiculous. Did I really need a new water bottle? I felt guilty. All of those voices in my head that always said, “Don’t give money to homeless people, they’re just going to use it for alcohol and drugs” was quieted. Someone had given this man money, and he had chosen to spend it on a warm cup of coffee – my particular drug of choice.

To make matters worse, the man in line between the two of us, was clearly offended by the fact that there was a homeless man in line. He didn’t do anything to hide his disgust, and in fact wound up raising such a fuss and being such an ass that he started a fist fight with another customer (but that’s a completely different story). Everybody present knew that this asinine display was caused because of the very presence of the homeless man. He knew it too and I could see the hurt and confusion etched on his face. I personally wanted to punch the asshole in the face for making someone else feel like that. I don’t care if he’s homeless, he didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He deserved just as much respect as anybody else present.

So I did something that I’ve never done before. I leaned in, and quietly told the cashier to charge me for the coffee. To his credit the cashier did so discreetly, without saying a word. However, his demeanor toward me changed immediately. He had been providing me with good customer service, but all of a sudden he was treating me like I was a VIP – was there anything I couldn’t find that I needed help finding? Would I like help out to my car? Would I like a cart to help get my groceries to my car? He was at my service for whatever I needed. I thanked him, told him that I was perfectly content, grabbed my groceries and left. As I was leaving, I heard him tell the homeless man that his coffee had been paid for. He had to repeat this and finally said that I had paid for it, and that the store wasn’t giving it to him for free.

By this time I was out of the store and feeling pretty good about myself. Kind of a warm glow, that in some small way I had been able to tell this man that not everyone was offended by his presence. That some people do care. As I was loading my groceries into my car he came out and looked around the parking lot. When he saw me, he made no move to come toward me, but nodded his head at me. I nodded my acknowledgement and got in my car as he went back to his perch by the door, cup of coffee in hand.

Driving home I felt good about myself. I still feel good about it, which doesn’t really seem fair. It kind of feels like cheating, that doing something nice for someone else (expecting nothing in return), should make me feel so good. That two dollar cup of coffee turns out to have been worth a lot more than that stupid water bottle that hasn’t moved from its spot on my kitchen counter since that night.

I learned something from that night. If you buy a homeless guy a cup of coffee, you’ll want to do it again.

Love Coffee by Ahmed Rabea

Wednesday October 09, 2013Life, Live and LearnView all 2 comments

I have often heard it said that procrastination is the lazy man’s disease. Which to some extent, I whole heartedly agree with. There are dishes in my sink right now, because quite frankly I was too lazy do them. Or just didn’t want to, which is really about the same thing. But there is a whole other brand of procrastination that I don’t think has anything to do with laziness. I think it has more to do with a lack of confidence. You are faced with a task – it doesn’t necessarily have to be a hard task or even a new task, it could be something that you do every week – and for whatever reason there is that kernel of doubt somewhere deep down that you can’t do it. Or that when you do it, it won’t be any good. So you put it off, you procrastinate. Every time you look at it, or think about it your blood pressure rises imperceptibly, and that crawling sense of dread creeps its way up your slowly restricting throat. So you put it off another day, another hour, another five minutes, until at the very last moment you complete the task with each step more pain staking than the last.

Of course, since you waited so long, and had to rush through to the completion with no time for revisions or fixes, it’s not going to be your best work. But it’s passable, or at least you hope so, and you breathe a sigh of relief that it’s over. Until you have to do it again, and the whole process starts over. By procrastinating, you are creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. A vicious cycle that will repeat itself until the end of time. You don’t believe that you will do a good job, so you put it off. By putting it off, you don’t do a good job. By doing a mediocre job you a reaffirm to yourself that you aren’t good at the task. This serves to dent your already delicate confidence, making it all the harder the next time around.

Until finally one day, you blow it off completely. You don’t fulfill your commitment, and maybe you get away with it this once. And this once you feel relief. You feel like you’ve slipped by this one time, so you’ll be able to do it next time. But then you shirk your responsibility a second and a third time, and all of sudden you’re not the one that does a mediocre job, you’ve become the person that lets everybody down. Those dents to your confidence have now become holes, rusting away and threatening the integrity of the entire structure. So you attack the task with a new vigor. You’re going to prove that you can be relied upon, but instead of the high praise needed to start repairing your damaged self, you get the cold reception of someone who finally did what they had promised all along. Thus the cycle starts all over again. A battle of confidence.

So how does one win this battle? How do you go about breaking the cycle and repairing the damage? Because you can’t rely on anyone else to do this for you, it’s not in their power. You alone can fix the problem, despite the fact that you feel as if you are the least capable person for the job. Little do you know, you are perfectly capable for whatever task lies in front of you, you have exactly the skills needed to succeed. It all starts with forgiveness.

This article is late . . . but it is done. I forgive myself.

This work is mediocre . . . but it is on time. I forgive myself.

This didn’t turn out like I wanted it to . . . but it is still works. I forgive myself.

I haven’t blogged in almost a month . . . but I’m working on one right now. I forgive myself.

And I will do better next time.

Tuesday September 17, 2013Life, Live and LearnLeave a comment

Sometimes I forget how truly lucky I am, and it’s days like today that remind me of just that. When I reached 100 likes on my Facebook page I was sent a congratulatory email from Facebook with a coupon so that I could try out Facebook ads. So I waited to use it until my latest Heroines of History article came out. Which if you haven’t seen that, you should check it out. Mother Jones is pretty awesome! So, for the past two days I’ve been playing around on Facebook ads.

Apparently, the way that it works, is that Facebook sends an ad out, but you don’t pay until someone clicks on the link, likes it, comments or shares it. So basically you only have to pay for the results, which in my opinion is pretty awesome – this is of course assuming that I correctly understand how it works. At any rate, I put out an ad for my page along with sending out “sponsored posts” of my Heroines of History article along with a couple of my older blog posts. So out they went into the internet ether and I waited to see what would come of them.

What came of them, was that my friends kept liking and commenting on my sponsored posts . . . and I got to pay for each and every one of those. At one point this afternoon, I actually found myself thinking, “STOP LIKING MY POSTS!” Then I stopped for a minute to appreciate how truly ridiculous that comment was. I have people in my life that support me to the point, that even though they have already read something that I wrote, they will read it again, and like the post or comment on the post all over again. They weren’t doing it to boost my analytics numbers, or encourage others to start a dialogue. They were doing it because they care about me and appreciate my work. In my book, that makes me pretty damn lucky. That’s worth a couple of bucks of ad money . . . or how ever much it actually cost. Did I mention, I don’t completely understand how it works?

Tuesday September 03, 2013Happiness, Live and Learn, PermissionLeave a comment

Someone once said that, “Saying no to one thing, is like saying yes to everything else.” I remember hearing this when I was in college, but for the life of me I can’t remember where or from whom, but it stuck with me. Mostly because it was catchy and I had no idea what it meant. This was a time in my life that I said yes to everything. I was fresh out of high school, could function on caffeine and four hours of sleep a night, and was terrified that if I turned down even one opportunity I would ruin my chances of being successful. Because of this belief, I found myself over committed to multiple projects at all times – most of which I didn’t really care that much about, but gave 110% anyway. An average day would start at 7 or 8 in the morning and wouldn’t end until 2 or 3 the next morning. I honestly have no idea how I did it, and would sign away the rights to my first-born child to have that kind of energy and stamina again.

However, when I look back at that time, I realize that I was never truly happy. I was busy, but not necessarily happy. My inability to say no meant that I wound up committed to a lot of things that I didn’t necessarily want to be doing. Which caused a lot of frustration because it meant that I didn’t have free time to commit to doing those things that I wanted to do. Mostly because I had no free time: every hour of every day had already been sold at auction to the lowest bidder.

While I would like to say, that I have figured this out and no longer have this problem at all, I would be lying through my teeth. I still tend to over commit myself. However, I have gotten much better at choosing my projects, and learning when to say no and where to set my boundaries.

I have one project, that I commit a certain amount of time to every week. However, for months now, the person in charge has been trying to get more time out of me. One night I relented and stayed late, and found that my time was completely wasted, with absolutely no acknowledgement that it had been a complete waste of my time. It was at that point that I decided that that was not going to happen again. Unless there was an emergency, I wasn’t going to stay late. The next time I was asked, I said no. I said no the next time, and the time after that. I let it be known what my boundary is, regardless of the expectations of others.

I have gotten a lot of resistance because of this. At first from everyone, but slowly someone came over to my side, my way of thinking. He encouraged me to stick to my guns and lamented that he never had. He now feels like his time is taken for granted and often wasted, but he’s been letting it go on for so many years that there’s nothing he can do about it now. So he cheers me on when I stand my ground and refuse to stay late. It makes dealing with the bristling and the guilt trips easier.

Then last week a funny thing happened. I was supposed to leave in an hour, when the guy in charge showed up and wanted to get a bunch of things done. I immediately braced myself for the fight that was surely going to come about me wanting to leave on time. Especially since that night it wasn’t just about principals, I actually had dinner plans with friends that I didn’t want to be late to. But the fight never came. He asked me to do on last thing before I left, and then wished me a good night. I didn’t even have to bring up the fact that I had plans. He knew what time I was going to be leaving, and he respected that.

The giddy happiness that bubbled up inside of me as I made my way to my car plastered itself all over my face in a huge smile. For the first time, that quote made sense. “Saying no to one thing, is like saying yes to everything else.” Because I had stood my ground, and said no to something that made me feel used, I had gained the freedom and the confidence to say yes to whatever I wanted. There was no bitterness, no animosity, just the euphoria that comes from knowing you made the right choice.

Decide what is best for you, set your boundaries, and then say no when someone tries to move your line. It’s truly liberating.