The Fearless Pursuit

wonder woman joyI was speaking with my friend, Kim, yesterday about the theme of the recent cabi sales conference, Fearless Pursuit. She said, “You are always so fearless, Joy!”  Ha!  If only she knew!  I am fearful of so much — what people will think of or say about me, that I will fall short of my own expectations or ones others have of me, that I will bite off more than I can chew, or that I will fail to see the larger context and play out my life in small little ways.  I am a recovering pleaser and fear has been a friend/foe for as long as I can remember. (A few years ago I even wrote a rare blog piece about my relationship with fear) No, I am certainly not fearless, but I am learning to be courageous.  I am learning to feel the fear and do it anyway.

Please, please tell me you saw the Wonder Woman movie this summer!  I took my grandmother and the two of us have been texting each other ever since to point out themes of female empowerment, courage, risky grit and leadership.  My biggest take away is swirling around the idea of “calling” and how Wonder Woman was “called” to her mission, and that mission didn’t look like everyone around her thought it should. And if you’ve seen the movie, do you remember that moment when she entered no man’s land simply to rescue a village — a small blip on her quest to end WWI? When her team hesitated and said, “This is not what we came here to do,” and she replied, “No, but it’s what I am going to do,” donned her crown and climbed the ladder, I seriously thought my heart was going to explode.  It was like she was saying, “This is all there is right now,” and that’s the line that keeps coming back to me as I do the little things to open and build my business this season, settle my family into the new school year, connect with far flung friends and touch base with my parents even when I feel too busy to call.  “This is all there is right now,” is what is guiding me forward at the moment. It’s what my inner Wonder Woman is whispering to me so that I don’t get overwhelmed trying to eat the whole pie of my life — dreams, achievements, ambitions and all. This Wonder Woman will stick with me as I enter the big noisy cabi shows this fall and see that one shy gal standing in the corner needing some personal attention, the days when my inbox reaches 300 unopened messages, but a friend in needs wants to go for coffee, or when my kids ask for some extra help and love even though they really could do it on their own.  It’s what has kept me traveling so much this past year.

Speaking of which, I’ve been living out of a suitcase for 15 weeks and tomorrow, I go home!  I cannot tell you how eager I am to unpack, sleep in my own bed, walk my dogs and make toast in my own kitchen.  This last stretch of travel has been wonderful and I’ve seen so many great friends and had fabulous cabi fashion experiences, but it’s time for a little rest and recovery as I enter this fearless fall fashion season and begin again.   Stay tuned for lots of information as I dive into the collection and begin having shows, but for today, listen for your own sweet Wonder Woman’s voice and ask, “What is this thing in front of me that is requiring me to be fearless?”   What fear are you feeling, but doing the hard work of courage anyhow? What is your no man’s land moment?  What did you certainly not sign up for, but you now realize has become everything that you need to do? Well, I can’t tell you how you will get through it, but I can tell you — with certainty — you are not alone. I am cheering you on and I’d love to hear what you are fearlessly pursuing.  You can just hit reply to this email and you’ll land in my inbox.

From one strong Wonder Woman to another — Much Love,

Your Singapore Joy

P.S. Truth time: This is a re-post. This morning, I emailed this to my Cabi fashion clients in my typical newsletter form. I usually receive 2-3 responses to a newsletter update.  After just a few hours, my inbox had over 30 responses with women sharing their intimate and closely held fears, inspiration and triumphs with me.  So… I’m not the only one who is familiar with fear and who is trying to overcome it, huh? Thought I’d share it with my patient readers as well.  I promise, you guys, I will start writing again. I think about it, and you, all the time. Thanks for hanging in there with me during this quiet phase.

P.P.S. I know a movie scene outside of the context of the movie just isn’t that moving. But here’s my Wonder Woman Moment. Click Here 

 


While on a gondola…

photoA few days ago, I loaded into a gondola on a spontaneous one-day ski trip with my 13-year-old son.  In order to ride up the mountain forward facing, I sat next to the small boy who had boarded ahead of us, rather than next to my own son.

Now that I am back in the city, returning to regular life, I keep asking myself, how long can a gondola ride last? According to the ski resort’s website, just under 10 minutes, which was long enough for me to see the pain on his face and hear it in his voice.

“Are you guys just getting started?” he asked us casual and friendly.  Louis and I giggled and quickly recounted pieces of our morning of misadventure.  Among other delays, Louis lost one glove somewhere between the car and our first gondola ride.  After a thorough retracing of steps we gave up and bought a new pair.  As we were about to board our first chair lift, a man behind us called out “Hey, you dropped these,” and handed us Louis’s goggles. I said, “After many delays, we are finally going skiing, yes.”

I think Louis and I were projecting a pretty heavy, mother-son-on-an-adventure vibe without realizing it. It seemed to strike a cord with this boy and he leaned into the warmth and charm of it.  He shared that he was in high school (this was surprising because my 13-year-old was physically much bigger), that he attended an East Coast boarding school, was on a three week school vacation, had been skiing in Tahoe for 10 days and that this was his final day. He was climbing the mountain to meet a boy he’d made friends with earlier in the week.

He was sharp and quick-witted.  By asking only a few questions he deduced that we were from, (his words) “San Fran,” and that my son attended an all boy’s middle school.

He bristled at the description, all boys. “I am in a co-ed boarding school now and it’s so much better.  When it’s time for you to find a high school, go co-ed for sure.”

I asked if he started high school first at a single sex school and he told me no, he had attended a Jr. Boarding school that was only for boys and it had been a terrible experience.  Without shyness or fear of vulnerability he shared some of his experiences and explained the difference between bullying (picking on people for no reason) and hazing (a brotherhood of love continuing abusive traditions that had been done to them.)

I was stunned into silence while he shared stories of being the “little kid” on the hockey team and some of the nightmares he’d endured.

I mentioned that I had looked at various middle schools that might be a good fit for Louis and had come across the idea of boarding school for sixth graders.  “It’s more common on the east coast, I understand,” I concluded, and he concurred. I asked why he’d gone to a Jr. boarding school in the first place.  He turned to Louis and said, “You are so lucky she didn’t send you away.”  My parents just…” He made a repeated motion with his hand as if brushing dirt off his ski pants.   “I guess my Dad works all the time and my Mom, well, I think she wanted freedom to travel.”  Brushing hand motion again.

“Have you shared with your parents some of the experiences you had?” I asked. “Yes, and they feel terrible, but it still caused some real attachment issues for me.”  Clearly this kid had been to therapy, but he had not finished processing his pain.

We sat in silence for a few minutes and then I quietly said, “Middle school can be a really difficult time in a boy’s life.”    We looked at each other, goggles to goggles for a long moment and then he said, “Yes, and it’s a time a boy really needs a Mom.”

We sat in silence some more until my son quietly said, “What’s your name?”  His name was Patrick and he is now a sophomore in a different, more gentle sounding boarding school.  He and his parents continue to work on their relationship.  “My parents love me, don’t get me wrong, but they just…” and he did that motion with his hand again.

For the whole ride, his knees were almost touching Louis’s knees, and I know his words were imprinting themselves on Louis’s soul.

He didn’t know that Louis was a kid who has had a rough time in middle school as well.  I am not sure how Louis would describe his own experience: bullying, excluding, ostracizing…. He chose not to open up on that gondola ride.  Whatever happened to Louis in the past, we lived through it together. I have suffered inside for not being able to rescue him from it and no efforts on my part seemed to stop the behavior of other kids.  While listening to Patrick speak, something clicked into place in my heart.  All Patrick regretted was that his Mom hadn’t been there for him.  He didn’t seem to have any anger or resentment for those boys (he was quick to defend the hazing rituals he had endured) he just wanted his mom to be a part of his life.  Patrick wanted a mom who could pick him up each afternoon and absorb all the details.  Remind him that his identity was not placed in what the boys said or did.  Name the treatment as wrong and unfair.  Spend time with him on a Friday night instead of going out. Support his interests and love him just as he was, skinny and short.

Understanding my role as a parent of a teen can be challenging.  He is pulling away from me emotionally, and I am resisting the urge to helicopter parent, (s)mother and over-manage.  But Patrick-of-the-Gondola reminded me of a powerful, under-valued and still-necessary ingredient of parenting:  Just freakin’ show up.  Sometimes there isn’t anything specific to do and holding still and being nearby is the hardest thing of all.  I need to honor this kid I’ve been blessed to have, step up to the role I asked for, and simply be present. The rest, well, it somehow-someway takes care of itself.

Afterthoughts:

  • Louis loves his school and chose to stay there from Kindergarten til 8th grade (next year).  I am sure he made the right choice and I am happy I listened to him.
  • There are loads of happy kids at boarding schools whose parents “show up” in the right ways in their lives.  I know this is true, but Patrick is not one of them.
  • I will be praying for Patrick and his broken heart for years to come.  I hope he knows or learns how valued and loved he is by God.