Author Archives: bethfosborne

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About bethfosborne

I've been writing since I was five. It's something I do every day. My life hasn't turned out as expected but that doesn't mean it can't be wonderful. I'm here to write about my life, my craft (marketing) and things that interest me. I write for myself, but I also hope that the words I share may inspire or help others. Thanks for visiting!

September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

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September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month.  I want to make sure that all women understand that this is a serious, yet treatable cancer. However, early detection is key to survival. Ovarian cancer isn’t as high profile as breast cancer, yet it is one of the deadliest cancers effecting women. The World Health Organization estimates that over 238,000 cases are diagnosed annually with 152,000 deaths annually.  Even though it’s highly treatable, death usually occurs because the disease isn’t caught in the early stages. I could very much be a statistic right now. I didn’t have any awareness of ovarian cancer nor do I have a family history of this kind of cancer. I just knew something wasn’t right.

I was diagnosed the first time at 23, which is 40 years younger than the median age. So don’t think this is only a cancer that threatens older women or post-menopausal women. My symptoms were bloating, abdominal pain and having to pee all the time. I went to my gynecologist and shared my symptoms. The doctor examined me and performed routine tests. She could find nothing wrong. She also did not recommend an ultrasound. What really blows my mind is that I could feel something on my left lower abdomen. I was really thin at the time, and it was almost obvious that my left side more pronounced than the right. Had I just kept going then who knows what might have happened. Instead I went to an urologist, thinking there was a problem with that area. The urologist performed an ultrasound immediately and found the tumor. He was in the same building as my gynecologist. He called them and told them they needed to see me immediately. I had another ultrasound and was in surgery days later. On the day of my surgery, I saw the urologist in the pre-op area and thanked him again. He probably saved my life.

However, most women probably don’t have a tumor the size of a football; it was so big and putting so much pressure on my bladder, that’s why I couldn’t stay out of the bathroom. There is no actual “screen” to diagnose ovarian cancer. A CA-125 blood test is about the best non-invasive diagnostic tool. There are multiple types and stages of ovarian cancer. It can also recur. And just because you don’t have ovaries or a uterus doesn’t mean, you’re in the clear. I had a hysterectomy after my third recurrence, but the cancer cells had spread to my lymph nodes. The type of cancer I had is very slow growing with general consensus being that chemo doesn’t help so I have to keep living with the possibility of recurrence, now most likely in the abdominal area. I still see my oncologist regularly and have CT scans. The type I had is also very rare. To help continue research, I agreed to donate tissue from my first two surgeries.

So how can you protect yourself? If you have a family history, there is a gene known to be a carrier so there is the option to undergo genetic testing. Many have no symptoms and depending on your overall health and age, this might not even be on your gynecologist’s radar. So keep it on yours! Also, Pap smears have nothing to do with ovarian cancer; they screen for cervical cancer.

Here are three things you can do:
1. See a gynecologist for an annual exam.
2. Pay attention to your body.
3. Ask your Doctor questions about ovarian cancer and what he or she recommends.

Learn more at www.ovarian.org.

My Love Song to Sara Bareilles

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Dear Sara,

I finished your book a few weeks ago. I bought it when it first came out, but I was saving it like a long hidden Reese’s cup. I knew there would be a time I needed it, and that time arrived. I would probably prefer to read words by you every day, but then we’d need to be friends in real life (there’s still hope for that; I’m available!).

I have great admiration for you and your talent. Your beautiful words and songs have meant a lot to me over the years. After I bought Little Voice, I listened to it over and over. It was my refuge from a bad marriage. I’d put my earphones on at night, listen to your album and cry, tears of hurt, fear and hope. I didn’t know how to get out. I was in an emotional meltdown because for so many years there had been a ban on feelings (as in feelings will not pass go and be sent straight to jail). I had been solely in survival mode. I was in trouble. Your music made a difference in my life. They aren’t just songs; they are mantras, they are inspiration, they are as you might say, “satellites.”

I thank you so much for sharing your talent and for allowing us a glimpse behind the music in your book. As women, we often face more challenges than men, especially relating to our appearance and self worth. Your candid and refreshing stories cemented what I already heard in your music: you are someone who cares, you like all of us are human and flawed.

Your next album Kaleidoscope Heart helped me through heartbreak. It fed my courage. It made me believe that I would come out the other side. It helped me understand that love is a lot different than the notions we have in our heads. Thanks for keeping me steady.

I listen to at least one of your songs most every day. They are a friend and a comfort to me. Because some days are good, some are okay and some are really horrible. Something will happen almost every day that breaks your heart a little. It’s what we do with all those little cracks that matters. My heart has a lot of cracks, tributaries of fissures from one side to the next. But it’s still beating; it’s still strong. Maybe stronger than it would have been untouched.

Thank you for being a part of the fabric holding all those cracks in place and for reminding me to hold my own heart.

This, Sara, is my love song to you.

What I Learned from Loss

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From the What I Learned Series

People like to say, “Everything happens for a reason.” I understand why they say it. It’s meant as a comfort. It reaffirms we can’t always control what happens to us. Because we can’t control it! Sometimes I can see the truth in those words; other times not so much.

Maybe everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Maybe an alternative way to digest the things that happen is that really bad things happen to really good people every day; it’s what happens next that matters. What will you do with your loss?

You can learn from loss and adversity; after all it builds character (another one of those helpful things people say). For better or worse, loss has shaped me. It has woven its way into my DNA.  Did it change me? Yes. Did it destroy me? No.

Even though I’ve probably had more than my fair share of loss, I understand that loss is relative to one’s own experience. But in the end no matter how great or how small your loss may be, you have two choices: bloom out from it or succumb to it. Yes, there is a choice. It may not seem like it most days. But you did get a choice.  You can’t change it. You do, however, get a chance to decide what happens next.

Loss never leaves you. My mom died almost 20 years ago. I’ve now lived more of my life without her and most of the rest of my immediate family. So in these 20 long years, time should have done a lot of healing (yet another helpful adage). Time is something that keeps firmly marching ahead, moving you further away from those losses. Yet I’m not sure if time heals because  it feels like it just happened most days. So for me, my loss is still part of my thoughts, my skin, my breath. I’m just not ever going to get over the loss of my mom. I used to think I needed to “get over it,” whatever that means. I thought I was dragging my loss and heartache around like some badge of honor. Believing in order for the person and their loss to mean something, it had to be held onto.

Yet when you carry it around, you don’t forget. And maybe it’s good not to forget. I make a conscious effort to not forget my mom’s face, voice or smell. I see her picture every day so that’s the easiest. Her smell I can mimic with her favorite perfume. The voice is the hardest. I’m losing it. I try to imagine in my head the words she said to me so often. I want to recall without effort just how she said my name or the way she laughed.

So maybe time doesn’t heal. But I like to keep the conversation alive. I want to still talk about those I’ve lost. That’s not true for everyone. Sometimes I think it’s easier for some to just forget who they lost ever existed. That’s what people do to survive. That’s just not how I chose to handle loss.

Loss will trick you; trick you into thinking you’re alone and that life will never be good again or normal. It will trick you into blaming yourself. I spent a lot of time feeling guilty just for being alive. It also tricks you into thinking it’s best to not get attached because you know what it’s like to lose. Nothing penetrated my heart for a long time. It just made me lose more: time, relationships, opportunities.

Loss made me angry. Angry at the situation, the lost person, myself. It was intense in the beginning; it still lingers. The anger flares up the most during the important times in life because I can’t share it with those gone. They have missed my triumphs and failures. Everybody has that longing to be number one to somebody and to have someone always on your side.  That was my mom for me. When I lost her and a million times since, I was mad that I’d never be that important to anyone ever again.

I’ve felt anger at myself as well. Either because I couldn’t move forward or was moving too fast. Should I be enjoying life? When was it okay to be happy again? Survivor’s guilt is real. I’ve asked myself many times, why am I still here?

Grief doesn’t have a timetable. I’m not sure if it ever really ends. You don’t wake up one day and are cured from your loss. I’ve learned it doesn’t have to disappear. Loss created a big hole in my heart. It can’t be filled.  I know I’ve tried. I don’t feel the need to close the hole anymore. It’s a part of me. It’s influenced my choices, sometimes for the good, sometimes for the bad.  Grief, in a way, is like the personification of the bond you had with that person.

But I won’t wallow in loss. The world is full of grievers. Tragic things happen all the time. Loss still wraps its arms around you, but if you let it be your focus, you will lose so much more. It’s just one part of me. Not my first or last thought every day; just somewhere in between. In my loss, I eventually found a better person. I never gave up on and will never give up on trying every day to be better.

Loss cannot be undone. Sooner or later, it will visit us all. I’m not unique. What I do want to do is share my story. To tell everyone that life rarely turns out as expected, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be great.

Pop

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Pop and me at Tweetsie, circa 1982

We don’t all have the good fortune to have great role models. I had a lot of exceptional women around me, but there weren’t many examples of how a man should be. For the first 12 years of my life, I did have my Pop. Although he’s been gone for quite a while, I think of him often.

This is what I can tell you about my Pop. He was a doting husband, father and grandfather. He was always so sweet and sincere to my Granny. My grandparents had a real love story. I still have letters that he wrote my grandmother through the years from first dating to long married. When I think about a happy marriage, I think of them. They laughed a lot and were always very affectionate. I’m sure they didn’t agree on everything (she was a Democrat; he was a Republican), but I never heard either say an unkind word about the other.

My mom was a daddy’s girl. She was much closer to him than my grandmother. It wasn’t until after his death that my mom and grandmother became close. My mom loved sports and was very athletic, which meant she had more in common with my grandfather. My Pop even played minor league baseball when he was younger. After being wounded in WWII (he was shot in the hip and received a Purple Heart), he was never the same physically. He and my mom watched a lot of sports together and were always talking about the Yankees or the Redskins, depending on the season.

To become this eventual great man, my Pop had to go through a lot. He lost his parents and younger brother in an accident at a young age. Only he and his older brother survived. They were then raised by his grandmother. I don’t recall him ever talking about this to me. I’m not sure how old he was when this happened, but I’m sure it shaped him forever. It led him to be thankful and grateful for life. He always seemed to convey this with his smile and kind nature. I’m sure he never got over it. And that’s why I’m glad in a way that he passed when he did. He would have been devastated to watch my mom go through her illness. It literally broke my grandmother’s heart; I’m sure it would have done the same to him.

What I remember the most about my Pop was the time we spent together. He often picked me up from school and took me to dance class. He had this green Hornet that I can still picture. It was easy to spot! When I would visit, he always had time to play with me. We’d set up Monopoly or play banker. He would often tell me ghost stories, which fed my hungry imagination. As I got older and started writing, I’d read my stories to him.

He always smelled like aftershave and tobacco. After he passed, my grandmother held onto many of his clothes for a while. I’d sometimes go in the closet and smell them so I could somehow feel him around me.

My Pop was never really sick. He did have Parkinson’s. I remember his shakes and tremors. But I was never fearful. Eventually he had to stop driving, but he was never feeble. He passed one night in his sleep. It was my first death. I was 12. I didn’t really understand it all. Until I went to my grandparents house, and he wasn’t there. My Granny certainly brought a lot of life and joy into their home. But it was never the same after Pop passed. His kind eyes and sweet voice were such a big part of my experiences in that home.

My Pop was an amazing man. I wish I knew or remembered more about him. There’s no one to really ask anymore. I suppose what’s important is the feeling I have when I think of him: love, safe, peaceful.  He was the greatest man I knew. He shaped my life a lot in the 12 years I knew him, and I’m so very glad for that.

I Miss Botox

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I miss Botox, but not because of its magical way to erase wrinkles. Rather it has been the best preventative treatment I’ve ever tried for migraines.

The first time I had Botox was probably 14 years ago. It was finally becoming a recognized migraine treatment, one that insurances would pay for. Back then it was only a small amount injected just in the forehead. I had several treatments but saw no visible improvements. I had already exhausted most traditional treatments for migraines with either little impact or horrible side effects. My doctors have often called me a special case because I don’t respond to Triptans, which is the family of medicines used to treat migraines. I’ve tried them all. Either they had no effect or made me feel worse. Triptans are rescue medications taken at the onset of a migraine. My rescue meds for years weren’t Triptans but narcotics and muscle relaxers, which eventually made things worse. So my doctors started focusing on preventatives, which can actually decrease the number and intensity of migraines.

I tried a lot of preventatives. Everything from anti-seizure meds to medications for high blood pressure (it’s believed that these meds can prevent the constriction of blood vessels and therefore pain). Nothing helped, and I couldn’t deal with the side effects of lethargy and nausea.

I tried physical therapy, nerve block shots, chiropractors and acupuncture. So many years later, Botox came back around. Now Botox is a common preventative. There are even ads on TV recommending Botox for migraines! A lot changed since my first treatment. The dosage is greater, and there are multiple injection sites: forehead, temples, neck and shoulders. There were probably about 40 separate injection sites. It’s not painful. It’s a small prick. Initially, I didn’t think it would help. I didn’t see much improvement at first (I keep a headache journal that tracks when I have headaches and the severity). What I did see was that the Botox made my left eye kind of droopy. After all, Botox does paralyze the muscle. The Botox wasn’t injected for cosmetic reasons so my neurologist wasn’t going for aesthetics. It did improve, and as I got more treatments my eye seemed to get used to it.

After about six months (two treatments), it was starting to work. I wasn’t pain free, but the number and intensity of the migraines improved. I still had headaches about half the days of the month. This was a decrease from 20 to 30 days. So that was a success.

However, it’s now been nine months since my last treatment. The insurance I currently have does not cover Botox. In fact, it won’t cover much of anything. I made the choice to change insurance to reduce the premium cost, but of course you get what you pay for, which in this case, isn’t much.

I don’t mean for this to turn into a rant on healthcare, but I’m literally sick by the fact that as a tax paying, hard working person, I can’t get access to treatments that would dramatically improve the quality of my life. I don’t have any answers. I just don’t understand why it’s so hard for sick people to get help.

What may surprise you is that the insurance that paid for the Botox was a plan I found through the Healthcare Marketplace. The plan that denies everything is through my employer. Yes, the premiums were more but the coverage better. I remember a time not so long ago where I had phenomenal coverage. But that’s in the past. Employers are doing all they can to reduce benefit costs while insurance companies simply deny coverage. Healthcare is a for profit business in this country. If you need any proof of that, turn on your TV and wait for the numerous pharmaceutical commercials.

I’m not alone in my struggle to get access to the meds I need. This country is currently in a tailspin over the EpiPen price increase. I happened to read a good article on this, which basically called out the fact that Mylan has a monopoly on this type of treatment and because of government regulation can charge what it wants; the price is not set by the market.

Again, I don’t have any answers. I’m not an expert. I’ve always had insurance and paid my fair share. I just miss the Botox. And more importantly the relief it provided.

 

The Lonely Introvert

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I am an introvert. I’m not sure if I always was. Life and circumstances have a way of changing us. But as an adult, I have certainly always been an introvert. I don’t think that’s a negative think, it’s just the way I’m wired.

I wouldn’t say that I’m shy or socially awkward. I think being shy and being an introvert are different things. I’m never afraid to speak my mind or stand up for myself or others. I can behave extremely normally at social functions (whatever that means!). I just kind of feel really drained after.

A lot of people can be seriously draining to introverts. Or really large social settings where everyone looks like they are having the time of their lives. And I’m wondering when I can go home! Introverts, like me, tend to like smaller circles. I often joke that I don’t really like people; I prefer animals, which is sometimes very true. The people I do love, I love hard. They are easy to be around. I don’t have to worry about anything but just being me.

As an introvert, I’ve had to put myself out there and go outside my comfort zone. It’s been necessary for my job and my social life. I try hard to be a more charming version of myself, usually failing. I think it’s good to push yourself even if it goes against your natural inclination. As an introvert, I feel like I have to be “on” in some of these settings. But I don’t think I’m ever far from my genuine self, just maybe a bit more talkative.

I need a break after times like these. I need to cocoon a bit and recharge. I’ve always been fine by myself. I don’t mind going places and doing things by myself; never minded traveling alone. Through all my travels, I never had more than a few sentence conversation with anyone sitting beside me. I wouldn’t say I’m not friendly. I just tend to have my nose in a book. I’m rarely interested in what’s going on around me.

However, I do get lonely. That may seem contrary to everything I’ve just written thus far. I never feel lonely at home. I’m blessed to have an amazing connection with a great man. I just sometimes feel disconnected. Most of my favorite people are not close by. And because I work for a huge company with colleagues all over the globe, I don’t really see anyone all day. Most meetings are virtual and literally no one sits around me when I go into the office. It can be really isolating.

The truth is the older you get the harder it is to keep and make friends. We stay in touch with those closest by and who we have the most in common. I could do better. I don’t call my west coast friends near enough. I don’t make plans with the ones closer enough. Because you know, life gets in the way: responsibilities, projects and work. I want to be a better friend. I want the people I love to know it. I am grateful and thankful for them every day, and I know that even if it’s been a day or month or a year, we are always in each other’s hearts.

As I reflect on friendships, I can’t help but also think about the friends I have lost. Most because we fell out of touch or grew apart; others needed to be let go. Even if we haven’t talked in years, there are so many out there that are and were wonderful lights in my life. There is a sadness that comes with this when you think back to people who were such important parts of your life. Now they are just people you used to know. In times like these, I think mostly of two friends that I still miss and think about all the time. I met them at a critical time in my life. I was trying to start fresh and carve out a place for myself in a new city and new school. The weight of everything that had happened in my young 20 years wasn’t clear, not yet any way. I needed to have fun. I needed friends. I needed people to see me differently than others did who already knew my story.

For the next six years, those two girls were so much to me. I couldn’t have survived without them. I believe I was a good friend, too. I’m still not really sure what happened that caused our rift. I haven’t seen them now in over a decade. But I keep up with them. I have so much love for them and wish them joy and happiness. They’ll never read this. They’ll never know how much I think of them. I’ll probably never see them again. It’s sad but that’s life. It’s not fair but sometimes people are only in your life for a short time and hopefully for a good reason.

Loneliness is not my unique malady. I’m sure we all suffer episodes of it. Loneliness isn’t about being alone. I’ve felt lonely in a room of people. It’s not about not wanting time alone. That I don’t mind and recommend. Loneliness is about the absence of the faces and voices you love. It’s about not being able to say everything or nothing at all to the people you want by your side. Loneliness is the feeling of wanting to be connected to more than just your own thoughts and feelings. It’s a powerful emotion, one often hard to detect and even harder to remedy.

What’s even more interesting is that we enter and leave this world alone. Humans are not solitary creatures by nature. Yet loneliness may be an evolved emotion as our brains and social structures have matured. So should we be lonely? I don’t know. I just know that I am sometimes. My ask to you is that if you are lonely or missing someone you love, reach out to them. But don’t mistake any company for a cure to loneliness. Sometimes we are better off on our own. It’s knowing the difference that’s so hard.

22 Things You Didn’t Know About Me

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As a professional introvert, it takes time to get to know me. However, if you read my blog then you’re on the express path since I’m more apt to share my stories here than at a party or social outing. Lucky for you I’ve got lots more to share! I was just thinking the other day about random things that are important to me and what makes up someone’s character. So here’s a quick list of some possibly insightful, possibly funny tidbits. You’ll leave with something, maybe even some giggles.

1.      I’ve been to the Olympics. I was in Sydney during the 2000 games. I went to the women’s soccer gold medal match; the U.S. lost. I also met a German man who had just won a silver medal in weightlifting. He let us all try it on.

2.      I am not scared of spiders. I will often transplant them back outside if possible. They are good to have around, mainly because they eat mosquitoes.

3.      I take care of my skin. I’ve been getting facials and treatments for about 15 years. More importantly, I stay out of the sun; after all, I am transparent. I always wear sunscreen and haven’t had a burn in over a decade. Please take care of your skin; not just for vanity. It’s the largest and often most abused organ.

4.      I rarely wear lipstick. People ask me a lot about what kind of lip product I use. It’s chapstick. I am no makeup expert so I usually don’t wear lipstick or lip gloss unless I have a professional doing it.

5.      I will never hate or look down on someone because they are different than me; rather that be because of race, gender, religion, sexuality, education or socio-economic differences. I choose to live my life embracing the differences of everyone and believing everyone is human and deserves to be treated as such.

6.      My mom had lots of nicknames for me. She called me Buffy mostly, which many of my friends who I’ve known my whole life still call me. She also used to call me Trixie. I’ve never really had a nickname as an adult. It’s just Beth. But on that note, I have never gone by Elizabeth. If someone called me that, I usually don’t respond because I don’t think they are talking to me.

7.      I do judge people by their movie choices. Don’t tell me a movie from 20 years ago is a classic. I will stop talking to you forever.

8.      If I could have lunch with three people, I’d choose my mom, Sara Bareilles and Jennifer Weiner.

9.      I have horrible motion sickness. I’ve gotten sick on every type of transpiration available: car, plane, boat and train.

10. My favorite place is Paris. If I had the option, I’d live there.

11. I love learning. I’d be a professional student if that were possible. I’d love to go to law school and get a Ph.D. in marketing.

12. The first real concert I went to (because I refuse to count NKOTB) was Pink Floyd. Since then I’ve seen basically every group I love, including the Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead (before Jerry died), Fleetwood Mac (multiple times), Aerosmith, the Eagles (multiple times), The Killers, The Who, U2, Dave Matthews Band (about 30 times), Heart, Def Leopard, One Republic, O.A.R., Sara Bareilles (multiple times) and many more big and small artists. My only regret is not seeing Prince before he passed. Music has informed a lot of my life. I have always found it very healing and a catalyst for creativity. I am, however, not musically inclined myself. My brief foray into piano lasted not very long. But almost every guy I’ve ever dated or been in a relationship with has been a musician or had musical talents.

13. My belly button is crooked. It wasn’t always but after three surgeries it’s kind of lopsided. It use to bother me; not so much anymore.

14. I use to love scary movies. Now, not so much. I like the idea of them and watching the trailer. But now I’m a big wuss. I still have nightmares about the scariest movie I ever saw, which will remain nameless so I don’t start thinking about it (too late, I’m SCARED!).

15. I am not a good bike rider. It’s been a while. I’m not so sure it’s like “getting back on a bike” easy. I should really address this. I’m missing out. It’s totally embarrassing.

16. I’ve never broken a bone, which is amazing, because I fall a lot. I wouldn’t say I’m a klutz. I have just taken many tumbles in my day, so many which often included stairs. These bones must be like Wolverine grade.

17. My most prized possessions are:

·         Postcards my mom sent me when she was in Europe

·         The Pink Lady figurine that was my Granny Helen’s

·         Some amazing shoes I bought in Paris

·         A pink painted plate that was my Granny Faye’s

·         A bracelet Justin gave me

18.  I am a Pisces. I am no Astrology expert nor do I read my horoscope. I will say that almost every other Pisces I’ve ever met, I’ve gotten along with wonderfully. We immediately hit it off and had lots in common before finding out of our shared sign.

19. This makes the most upset: People who don’t spay and neuter their animals. Or those that chain dogs up and call that a life. Also, please adopt don’t shop.

20. My favorite sounds in the world are the sweet moan that Honey makes just for me and Justin’s voice – it’s so calming.

21. My first crush was J.R. Ewing (Larry Hagman). I cried for an hour when he died. Dallas was my favorite TV show ever. I remember watching it with my mom. I was probably too young, but I’m glad she let me watch it. I’m going to the real Southfork this fall when we go to Dallas.

22.  I’ve kept every journal I’ve ever had since I was very young. There’s some interesting stuff in there. I’d tell my younger self to lighten up a bit, and enjoy the moment.

What I Learned from Bosses (The Good, the Bad & the Crazy)

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From the What I Learned Series

I’ve had a lot of bosses. Most of which were not really qualified to be anyone’s boss. In fact I’m not sure if some of them were even qualified to be human beings. From many of them I took away lessons of mostly what not to do.

First, I want to talk about the good. Mainly because there’s only two people to mention here. The bad and crazy are much longer. My first job out of college I worked in a litigation department of a now defunct manufactured housing company. It wasn’t an easy job. It was a lot of responsibility. And it was emotional work: plaintiff attorneys were nasty; homeowners were pitiful. But nobody ever treated me like I was a kid. They just threw me in and gave me the support I needed. My boss was an attorney who was both extremely intelligent and likable. My only criticism was his horrible handwriting. He saw something in me and helped me grow. He gave me the encouragement I needed to be successful. He taught me to always ask more questions and focus on facts.  I’m glad for that and know I’m better for knowing him.

My all time favorite boss goes to the guy who took a chance on me, hiring me after a brief interview. I didn’t know much about country clubs, but I was a good writer. He gave me the chance to learn and take on my first marketing role. He and I just clicked. I knew what he meant even when he didn’t. He praised me, challenged me and supported me. He was more of a father figure to me than my own father ever was. I know that if I ever really needed anything, he’d help me. Some of the happiest times I’ve ever had at work were with him.

So that’s the extent of the good. Now for the bad. I’ve had a lot of bad bosses. It didn’t start off bad necessarily. But there were red flags. Huge red flags. For example, if someone tries to talk you out of taking the job and you leave feeling as though you were interrogated, don’t take the job! But I did.

This man is not a horrible human being. I think he just doesn’t know how to interact with people or manage people. On one hand, he wanted to be respected and liked; on the other he wanted to be feared and intimidating. In my book, you can’t be both. Respect and fear are mutually exclusive. He didn’t think this way. Because I didn’t fear him and disagreed with him, he wasn’t sure what to do with me. So he set me up for failure. I wanted to reach goals but was unable to execute on projects to attain these goals. He just didn’t understand modern marketing and was fine with being status quo, but that’s not me. Even though I do believe he is a good person, he was very personally hurtful to me and others on occasions. He believed people needed to be publicly humiliated if they made a mistake or broke the rules. He was obsessed with ensuring that people didn’t make personal connections at work. He told me and anyone else that we were replaceable. It was often a really destructive relationship, one that made me doubt my skills and value. However, the worst thing he ever did was make a snide comment to my co-worker about my appearance.

It was hard to go through this because I really loved my job and my colleagues. But I had to leave. I forgive him for his cruelty. I think he’s a very intelligent man; however, I would never under any circumstances work for him again. It taught me so much though. It taught me to always set others up for success and not take them for granted. Sure, we are all replaceable, but saying that to your employees certainly doesn’t build loyalty. I hope maybe he learned some things, too.

So we are getting closer to the crazy! This boss is borderline bad/crazy. It didn’t start out that way. At first, I thought he was an affable guy. He listened to me. Gave me lots of responsibility. He seemed to trust me. Then I got in deeper and started to realize this guy’s morale compass was not only broken but he was the one who had stomped it into the ground. But he had this salesman smile. People liked him. His incompetence was astounding. He was smart in the sense that he knew the industry and knew how to work people. He had zero business acumen. I tried hard to establish processes and controls but had no support. I worked long hours and took a lot of shit from him and our customers. Finally, I kind of just snapped under the pressure. I felt like he wanted me to be untruthful to customers. That’s not me. I held onto my integrity. Ultimately I couldn’t work for someone that I thought to have zero integrity. One of the last things that really pushed me over the edge was a disagreement we had about what I can’t recall. Apparently it became a bit heated, and he said to my face, “Fuck you.”

I don’t hate this guy at all. I just don’t think he’s a great example of a businessman. For my sanity, I’m glad I left. But it taught me so much about being a boss and myself. It taught me that doing the right thing and the profitable thing are often very different. And I’m always going to choose the right thing. Sometimes you just don’t know until you are tested. It taught me how to listen to others when I’m the boss, not just listening to what they say about a project but about goals, ideas and more. Listening is about giving someone your attention and finding out what they are all about. Neither of these men ever listened to anyone about anything: not their employees, their peers or customers.

Now to the crazy. This lady turned out to be one of the most bizarre human beings I’ve ever encountered. She seemed perfectly normal during the interview process. However, it wasn’t long after I started that her crazy started to show. This woman had nothing in her life but work. But she wasn’t remotely good at her job. She seemed to know very little about marketing or communications. For the first few months, any ideas anyone had were shot down. And it wasn’t in a diplomatic way. She’d flat out tell you that your ideas were awful and so was every piece of work submitted to her. I’d get edits back and be shocked that someone could take a concise, well-written piece and turn it into something that didn’t make sense. She refused to get on board with how marketing was changing, telling us that blogging and social media were ridiculous concepts.

But it wasn’t just her ineptitude. This woman was vicious. She insulted everyone personally, made up lies to pit her employees against one another and watched us all to the point of stalking. We had to start parking on the other side of the building because she was always looking to see when we arrived, went to lunch and left. I never heard her say anything positive about anyone or anything except a computer once. She also made remarks that were borderline racist, once stating that all Canadians were lazy because they had a holiday (we had offices in Canada) and weren’t available.

While I was her employee, I had to take leave for an operation that was really serious. Some of my co-workers were aware but not all. Yet she announced it during a staff meeting. She seemed to go out of her way to make everyone around her feel insignificant and foolish. She was cruel just to be cruel. Look, I don’t really hate anyone. I’m just not going to carry that around with me. I chose to believe in karma, which came eventually when she was fired (long after I left). I don’t hate her, but I do believe you get what you deserve in life eventually, good or bad.

So most of the lessons learned were about what not to do. I’ve been on the other side as the boss. When I’ve been in this position, I have tried to be a leader, one that values the talent around me and nurtures it. The boss employee dynamic can be challenging. You can’t really be a friend, but you should be empathetic and open to suggestion. Guess what? Bosses aren’t always right! If you have good people around you who are experts, you should defer to them. Otherwise why did you hire them? One of the fatal flaws of all the bad bosses I’ve had was their own ego. It was their personal preference, not what was best for the brand. I just think there’s no room for ego in the workplace; it’s just going to fill up the room, leaving the boss to see only his own thoughts.

So how have good, bad and crazy bosses influenced your work life? I’d love to hear your stories! Share them by commenting below or tweet me.

My Mom Wasn’t Perfect

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Mom & Me, 1984

My mom wasn’t perfect. She was an amazing person, teacher, daughter, friend and mother. She was also human and flawed. She didn’t always make the best decisions. She made mistakes. Of course, I didn’t always see things this way. It took time to realize this and accept it. I put my mom on a pedestal for many years. She was and always will be my hero.

I think it took me longer to realize her imperfections because I never really got to have an adult relationship with my mom. We were never really equal. I come from old school parenting. My mom said to me on more than one occasion, “I’m not your friend. I’m your mother.”

Because I didn’t get the chance to become my mom’s friend, I always saw her through rose-colored glasses. I didn’t want to take off those glasses. I wanted to remember only the good things, but in the end that hurt me, something my mom wouldn’t have wanted.

I never wanted to blame her for anything that happened when I was growing up – it was easier to blame myself. I did not want to take her off that pedestal. How could she not be perfect after her courageous battle against cancer? She was so brave, never feeling sorry for herself, never letting me see how scared she was. Very few people handle anything the way my mom handled cancer – with class and dignity.

It wasn’t until over a decade after her death and years of therapy that I began to see her as regular person capable of messing her kids up like every other parent. She would have never wanted me to see her as perfect; that’s now how she saw herself.

Listen, our parents fuck us all up in one way or another, even the great ones. We all know this is true. Parents are imperfect creatures trying hard to either be like their own parents or the opposite, depending on how they were raised. Guess what parents, whether you admit it or not, you’re going to mess up your kids so just own it.

Parenting today versus when I was a kid is drastically different. My best friend asked me if I thought she was a good mom. I said, “Of course you are. You are present. You play and entertain him. Did your mom play with you?” She shook her head no.

My mom didn’t really play with me either. She played games and cards with me. She gave me plenty of attention and filled my life with activities. But she didn’t get in the floor and play with me. She bought me lots of Barbies and books so I could entertain myself. That’s just how it was. I doubt her mother ever played with her either.

I’m not bitter about any of that. I never felt lonely as a child. I never was starved for attention from her. She was absolutely always there when it mattered. But there were boundaries. She did not coddle me or say I was always right. She was honest with me. She never treated me like a kid. I don’t really remember acting like one very much either. In a way, it felt empowering because I had responsibility and could make my own decisions. In other ways, it created big worries for a little girl. I worried about my mom a lot growing up. I remember worrying about her after my dad left. She was probably sadder about the situation rather than about him. I was really young when they divorced. I have no memories of them together. And to this day, it’s hard for me to picture them as a couple.

My worries for my mom never left and only got worse. It was hard for me to ever mention my stepmother in front of my mom. If I said anything nice, she would cry. I know she didn’t mean to be emotional. And she probably didn’t understand what it did to my little mind and heart. My loyalty was to my mom, which made be less than nice to my stepmother. This in turn caused even more of a rift between my father and me. Even though my father made a lot of bad mistakes and hurt a lot of people, my mom wasn’t helping the situation. It’s really hard to write about what it felt like to be a kid in this situation. Lots of kids have divorced parents. Some handle it better than others. My parents, due to the nastiness of what occurred between them, were in no way co-parenting. My mom was the parent. My father was just somebody I saw now and then. I can’t recall that he ever did anything that would register as parental.

It would have been more ideal if my mom would not have elevated me to adult status so quickly. I was always mature for my age. Maybe I wasn’t ever really a kid. It felt really great that my mom told me things. But it informed my opinion on everything – some good, some bad. This trust made it easier for me to share everything with her. This was until around seventh grade when I hated everything and everybody. Lucky for me, my mom was a teacher at my school. This was the ultimate embarrassment. I didn’t actually have her as a teacher, but my friends did. I couldn’t do anything without her knowing. I had this boyfriend that she adored. She was so mad at me when I broke up with him. I think I did it purely because she liked him. And thus the start of my rebellion!

My rebellious behavior got worse. I was no sweet, innocent girl by any means. Yet it was always important to me that she not know. She let me do a lot and get away with a lot. She trusted me to make decisions then deal with the consequences. She let me date at 14 and spend much unsupervised time with my 18-year-old boyfriend.

Me being open about my life and feelings had ended. I never told her when I lost my virginity or when I cheated on a boyfriend. I just didn’t want her to be disappointed in me. I wanted her to always have this image of me that I was her perfect little girl. I didn’t want to burden her with my worries; she had plenty of her own.

Maybe I did start to see my mom as more human during this time. It’s hard to see your mom sick; especially my mom because she was always so active and athletic. She was six feet tall and could hold her own. Until she couldn’t. Chemo made her weak. She lost a lot of weight and most of her hair. She didn’t look like the same person. So at that point, I knew she wasn’t invincible anymore. That’s a hard thing to learn about your mom, especially at 16. I try hard not to remember her that way. It’s difficult to erase those images. They are somehow burnt into my brain as a reminder of how fragile we all really are.

I know my mom made mistakes every day as a parent. She failed to protect me. She pushed me too hard sometimes academically without really ever asking what I wanted. She let me get away with probably too much. But she loved me fiercely and without condition. I’ve made a lot of decisions based on what I think she would have wanted both during her life and after death.

I still think a lot about the impact she made on my life and what she would do. But I’m my own person now. I’m not her. We are different, very different in some ways. Yet there’s still a lot about me that is absolutely her. I love those parts. I love it when my best friend tells me I’m making a face like her or if I say something that she would have said.

In the end, I think she would be impressed with how I turned out, despite those mistakes. I had an imperfect mother. She was wonderful and beautiful. I’m so glad I had her for the time I did. If I had to do it over again, I absolutely would even though I know how it ends.

I Don’t Have a Five Year Plan

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I’ve always had a plan. I am a planner. Not to say I’m not up for spontaneity, but you won’t find me waiting for a table on a Saturday night because I’d have a reservation.

I’ve always wanted to be in control of my future. Planning seemed the logical path. However, most of my plans have required revision and rerouting. It’s important to be flexible. Not everything can be planned for in life.

I was an ambitious planner in my teens and 20s. I had a vision. I knew what I wanted. I did everything I could to get there. I had lots I needed to check off my list. My young self never got tired (even migraines rarely slowed me). I was emphatic about what and who I was going to be: happy, successful, something.

I finished my second novel at 25. And was busy planning for more. I was submitting poetry and fiction to journals weekly. I was writing pitch letters to agents, researching everything I needed to do to get noticed and basically doing everything to say I’m a writer!

This was early 2000s. Online journals were fairly new. Pitch letters were mailed. Social media hadn’t really become a thing. Back then self publishing was not what you did as a serious writer. So for years, I was planning and working every day. I stayed convinced I could be something. I paid little attention to my own world; wrapped up instead in the worlds I had created.

Perseverance would get me noticed I thought. But it didn’t. There were small victories: short stories and poems were published. A few agents actually wrote me back. So I kept pushing until I had to walk away. Had to find a new plan and tame that dream.

By this time writing was my job. I realized that in marketing I could get paid for writing; it just wasn’t going to be my story to tell. So I rechanneled my energy. I could be a success in marketing. So I went to grad school. Worked all day and went to class at night. Those were long days, but it kept me busy. I needed to be busy. And needed to believe this plan would work. I would shape brands and make the money I deserved. Ambition suited me well; always has.

After grad school, I got a new job with unlimited possibilities. I threw myself into building this brand and increasing business. Work became all I was. My personal life was in shambles so I needed the diversion. Most weeks I worked 60 hours. There was no boundary between life and work. I answered emails late at night and calls on Saturday mornings. Because in my plan if I just worked harder and longer then I’d get where I needed to go. WRONG.

Life’s not fair. Rewards rarely come for the ones always there doing what they say they’re going to do. People will use you, manipulate you and disappoint you. I was burning out when another offer came my way. This opportunity had more structure and a chance to build a marketing team. It seemed like a win. I still had so much drive; so much I wanted to offer.

I did a lot in my time there. But there were still long hours and lots of miles traveled. What was worse was the wall of frustration. I couldn’t get excited about a project because I knew like the 100 before, it would go nowhere. When you don’t allow people to succeed and shine, you dim their passion. When passion is extinguished there’s no resuscitating it. So I had to go leading me to where I am now.

Which is me not really having a plan. I mean I do have a broad picture in mind. And I still keep lots of running lists of what I need to do to further myself. I’m not always motivated. I’m not always my own cheerleader. I could do more.

My plan looks different now. It’s not about money or status or titles. Success looks a little different now. I want to be excited every day about what I’m doing. It’s about loving writing again and not looking at it as a chore.

What will I do without that five year plan that every guru tells me I need? I’m just going to be a rebel. Look, I had plans. They didn’t work out. I waited patiently for that big break, for someone to tell me I was talented. I’m still waiting. Waiting for that one post to go viral or for one publisher to think I’ve got what it takes.

Yet I still feel like a failure 93% of the time. I still worry every day I haven’t lived up to my potential. I’m still haunted by things I should have done differently. I think these things, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past. Maybe I wasn’t ready for success earlier. Maybe my voice has to get stronger.

So what do I do? Keep writing. Keep posting. Keep believing that if it’s good stuff people will read it. I once heard that dreams can’t become more than that while you’re still sleeping. I’m awake now. Wide awake.