I woke up this morning with absolute certainty that a specific part of my life…


I woke up this morning with absolute certainty that a specific part of my life needs to change. Have you ever had that feeling? The sense that you’ve struggled long enough to resolve something, nothing is working, and now you just simply will not tolerate it anymore?

What did you do about it?

It seems to be a fairly human thing to try to ignore it, deny it, not look at it. Anything is easier than facing our demons, getting to the bottom of stuff, and doing the work (which may include going through some pain) to get a different result.

You know that old definition of insanity, right?

I’ve been here before, for changes huge and medium-sized. Maybe you have too? So this is a reminder to us all that the 3 ways we humans really change anything are these:

ONE:
Get absolutely certain that things must change and you must change them. Wishy-washy, maybe, minor discomforts rarely empower us to make radical, massive changes in our lives. Continue reading


As I write this, I am in rural Missouri visiting my biological father.  I met…


In Missouri with my father

In Missouri with my father

As I write this, I am in rural Missouri visiting my biological father.  I met him when I was 28, and have seen him perhaps 10 times since.  He has been married to my wonderful, kind-hearted, patient stepmother for more than 40 years now.

Being around them has made me reflect on my relationship with my “real” parents – the ones who raised me in Chicago.  Here, I have the chance to see what it is like to be around someone who loves me enormously, but with whom I have no triggers, no history, no memories even.  (He left when I was four.)

In the relatively rare position of having two sets of parents as an adult, one of which I didn’t know as a child, I can compare how quickly my mother can get under my skin with how my father doesn’t.

I have to remind myself of the points below when my mother’s personality catches me off guard, despite how much I love and appreciate her.  But as for my father, I can shake my head and wonder how anyone can think as he does about political or other topics, but it doesn’t bring up a flicker of emotion.  Nothing he says or does really pushes my buttons, because I don’t have any with him.  I can calmly accept the things he does that I judge as quirky, strange or wrong.  I watch myself smiling it off because I have no skin in the game.

I once read:

“Why does your mother push all your buttons? . . . Because she installed them.”

I really love my mom.  We get along nicely now. She is very dear and important in my life. Yet for years, I was conflicted over the relationship.  I have come to realize a few things that have helped me to be more loving, patient and kind with the woman who spent so many years and so much energy raising me, her most difficult child.  Perhaps this will help you, too?

    • Parents have their own history.  They had their own parents – who may or may not have been loving –  and their own genetics, illnesses and fears.  They have traveled their own path and they became the people their lives seem to have driven them to become.  Could they have fought against it?  Apparently not! 

 

    • A generation ago, people had different ideas about how children should be raised.  If you mix in the effects of education, religion and/or poverty, you create a very different environment than the one in which you and I were raised.  In Victorian times, children were see as basically short adults, and expected to quickly take on responsibilities. Now we prolong childhood into a person’s 20s in many cases.  The best you can do is determine to raise your own children differently than you were, to the extent that you didn’t like your childhood.  It’s too late to change yours.

 

    • People born before the 1980s didn’t have access to computers.  Oddly, my stepmother at 76 is quite good at her computer.  My mother at 74 can’t turn one on.  My mother has hundreds of books.  My stepmother only has the Bible and a book of Whitman’s poetry.  Think of how much you have learned from having access to the enormous resource of your computer – and how subtly or profoundly the explosion of knowledge availability has changed the way you think, believe and behaveWas it like that for your parents?

If you weigh nature vs. nurture, and you know even a little about what their childhood was like, evaluate the journey your parents have been on since before you were born.  When you fold in their cultural elements, economic situation, education level of their parents, the lack of access to modern knowledge, and the nature of the people who raised them, it becomes easier to see our parents with mercy, maybe even pity, and disconnect the triggers that irritate or alarm us.  It becomes easier to see them as humans, struggling to get by in the world.

Our relationship with our parents is the deepest of our lives.  For many people, it is also the longest of our lives. As adults, we have the opportunity to observe ourselves reacting to them.  We are at complete choice to change how we feel – in the moment and later – when we’ve had time to reflect on all the influences that created them.

 

Like this blog? Hate it? Agree? Disagree? I’d love to hear your comments below!

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Why is it that sometimes, something we’re certain we want, something we know is absolutely…


wendy keller motivationWhy is it that sometimes, something we’re certain we want, something we know is absolutely guaranteed to make us happier…just doesn’t work out?

Maybe you wished or prayed or activated the law of attraction to the best of you ability, but you got zilch. Nothing. You didn’t get something to go the way you wanted.

Drat!

A man wrote me recently and told me how hard he’s been praying that his wife will come back to him.  Wow, that’s got to be an awful feeling, doesn’t it?

I wrote him back and shared something I’ve been forced to learn from the (seems like) two billion things in my life that went differently than I had intended, wanted, hoped they’d go.

I said, “The strangest thing I’ve been forced to realize is this: that sometimes, in the moment, when I don’t get what I think I want or need, I feel angry, sad, frustrated or lost.  But every single time I’ve looked back on those instances, Continue reading


In March of 1991, a car broadsided ours at 65 kilometers per hour. We had…


My children a few weeks before they died

My children a few weeks before they died

In March of 1991, a car broadsided ours at 65 kilometers per hour. We had been on vacation in England for less than 48 hours. Every bone on my left side was broken; my pelvis was folded almost in half; many internal organs were shredded.

None of that mattered.

My daughter Amelia, just 18 months old, died on impact. I’d weaned her just the week before. My son Jeremy, barely more than 4 years old, never had another brain flicker. They took him off life support three days later, but he’d been dead that whole time – while I had been unconscious.

When we got to the hospital, my husband was the only one relatively uninjured. We knew no one in England.   The staff gently tried to get him to remember the phone number of anyone back in the USA. There were no cell phones back then and he was in inestimable shock.

Hours passed.

Eventually, he remembered the number of the guy with whom he carpooled, Jim. According to the story I was told later, Jim’s wife Jill answered the phone and because of her level head, she and Jim alerted everyone we knew in the USA and got us massive help.

When my husband and I divorced a few years later, I lost touch with Jim and Jill.

Today, my former husband called to tell me that Jim and Jill’s son died last night. Continue reading


I counted 19 homeless people along a 3 mile stretch of Lincoln Blvd. in Los…


Wendy Keller Inspirational Speaker AuthorI counted 19 homeless people along a 3 mile stretch of Lincoln Blvd. in Los Angeles today. It’s a road I take often, but I am rarely in the passenger’s seat. I feel shocked and sad right now.

At one stoplight, I saw a young man, maybe 25, chatting with an invisible person. The conversation turned from laughter to screaming in between the colors red and green.

Further on, a gigantic Teutonic warrior princess of a woman, with bright yellow braids down either side of her grubby face, was shouting at a mother walking past pushing a stroller. Continue reading