Defining Love

Originally published on 01/28/2008 - 4:00 p.m. GMT

L’amore! The season of love is quickly approaching yet the age-old question remains, “What is love?” There are many far smarter than I who have attempted to answer this question. Recently, though, I wondered how this word is understood and practiced in a society growing more cynical and indifferent to others’ feelings.

Just the other night, I was shopping with my eight-year-old daughter who was eager to spend a gift card she received for her birthday. She had visited the store’s website and had an idea of what she wanted. In her arms, she held the stuffed, pink frog she had planned on buying. However, standing in the store with so many choices was proving challenging.

Her older brother casually commented that he liked another item. My little girl put down her much-anticipated frog, exchanged it for the item her brother had mentioned, and said, “I’ll buy it for you.”
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When Being Good to Yourself Hurts Others

Originally published on 11/07/2007 - 4:17 a.m. GMT

“Mrs. Bays, here are the 20 t-shirts that need to be tie-dyed for the second graders’ field trip next week. Could you have those done by Thursday? Thanks.” “Jennifer can whip out the flyers for this weekend’s chili cook off. She always helps out.”

Can you fill in your name in either situation? Do you often find yourself taking on tasks you aren’t interested in or don’t have time for just to make people happy? If so, join the crowd! Many women are people-pleasers. I know this because I’m a people-pleaser in rehabilitation!

I don’t like people being upset with me. I didn’t think that being a people-pleaser was such a bad thing. I mean, being helpful is the right thing to do, right? Unfortunately, being a people-pleaser isn’t an altruistic behavior. It can be self-destructive.

I have finally reached a point of exhaustion. I’ve been saying, “yes, yes, yes” to everything and everyone but myself. Am I happy being helpful? No! In many cases, I am resentful. I resent the fact that people can’t do a task themselves, or that I lose family/personal time while the people I help actually gain free time with my assistance. I think nastily, “Their schedule isn’t half of what mine is! Why is it that I can find time to do this, but they can’t?”
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The Graying of the Guard

Originally published on 07/24/2007 - 12:13 p.m. GMT

It happened today. I knew this day was coming, but it always seemed like a far off event. True, my oldest child begins high school this fall, and the second isn’t more than a year behind her. Yet, with all the media hype about 40 being the new 30, I thought this change wouldn’t occur for a while. I found a gray hair.

Actually, once I pulled that one out and started looking, I found, as my seven year old said, “not so many of a lot” of gray hairs. I wish I could say that the gray was just at the roots—barely a beginning.
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