Out With The Old?

So, when is using the treasured (if somewhat broken) items and traditions a joy -- and when is it time to retire them? -- Anonymous

Oh, boy, that's a tough one. I had--note the use of the past tense--a small box of Christmas ornaments that I hauled out year after year, even though they were not strictly recognizable as "ornaments" by anyone other than myself. We're talking shards of glass barely hanging onto rusted wires. These things were dangerous. But they were OLD and they were FAMILY and they'd hung on MY tree or my PARENTS' tree or my GRANDPARENTS' TREE for millenium, and who was I to break the tradition?
At this time last year, the second Christmas after my mom's death, I sat with that box of broken ornaments on my lap for a long time and asked that question very, very seriously. Who was I to break the tradition of having old, broken things hanging on the Christmas tree? I cried, I held each ornament, I tried to remember who each one had belonged to. I sat very still and tried to get in touch with how I would feel if I never, ever saw each particular ornament again. My meditative state was interrupted repeatedly by The Kitten, who really does not respect such introspective states in anyone other than himself. His persistence reminded me that life is here, now, and demands to be paid attention to. Also, that sometimes I take things too seriously.

Because of The Kitten's help, I threw away most of the ornaments. I threw away the shards, and the shreds, and the shattered pieces of colored glass. Then I hung the two remaining ornaments on the tree. And as I did so, I could swear I felt about 900 pounds lifting from my shoulders. I think that's the way to make the decision: If you retire the tradition or the ornament or the battered but beloved table linens, will you feel lighter? Or will you feel miserable? Will the positive effects outweigh any negative effects that might be imposed on other people? Ultimately, no one can answer that but you. And maybe Your Kitten.

Not That You Asked: Aaarrrggghh

And not aarrgghh in a piratey way, either. Aarrgghh as in Scrooge before his conversion. As in the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes. As in every stressed-out parent who's ever vowed to drag the Christmas tree out of the house and cancel the whole damn thing (see recent episode of
Modern Family).

I know I'm not the only one who really tries hard to make it all come together seamlessly during the holidays, but instead constantly comes up short. In this aspect, I relate to the angel with the purple robe. Not because she's an angel, but because she's been dropped and broken and hot-glued back together many times. You can see the cracks in her wings, the broken bits at the bottom of her robe, the chunk missing from her right wing. Some days I feel mended and cheerful, as she is. Other days--yesterday!--I feel as if I've been dropped and broken again, and I'm waiting for the Big Hot Glue Gun From The Sky to come along and put me back together. 
This is a little worrisome: all these cracks and breaks, they make a structure less sound and more prone to additional breakage, do they not? How does that translate into our human experience? I know that the repeated stress involved with, say, weight lifting actually makes a person stronger as long as it's not overdone. The secret is knowing when to say "Enough."
And that little angel? I try to remember that she was created with love and delight and goofy joy. I like to think of our own incarnations taking place in the same manner. 
Maybe that goofy joy is what I'm trying to recover and pour into these last few days before Christmas.
Thanks for reading.

Not That You Asked: Advent Musings 2009

So my kids are done with school and I'm panic-stricken, almost. I still have shopping to do. The house is a mess, and with the kids home all day for the next two weeks, it will get messier. The needles are already falling off the tree, I'm trying to get deeper into the first draft of a manuscript, absolutely NO gift-wrapping has taken place, and I miss my parents badly.
If all of this isn't a call to slow down and take several cleansing breaths, I don't know what is.
So: Breathe. And again. And one more time.
A Jewish friend asked me a few days ago about the meaning of Advent. A stock answer would be something like this: It's when Christians reflect on and celebrate "the reason for the season," e.g. the birth of Jesus. 

I hate that little five-word rhyme, by the way. It's accurate, but strikes me as being almost unforgivably smug. There are lots of reasons for the season in this multi-cultural world in which we live and move and have our being. Families of all faiths and creeds gather. Presents are exchanged to mutual delight and/or horror. Meals are shared, hikes are taken, movies are watched, gossip is bandied about, memories taken out and turned over and given a good polishing before being tucked away for another year. New relationships, new lives are celebrated, and endings are mourned, processed, respected. Or not: family gatherings are notorious for digging up old hurts and inflicting new ones, despite our best intentions.

Advent, for me, is a time of questioning. What does it mean that I celebrate Christmas? How do I bring the spirit of Christmas into my interactions with my family, friends, strangers? What effect does being a liberal, left-wing, Bible-as-story-but-not-as-inerrant-word-of-God, post-modern Christian have on my daily life? What effect do I WANT it to have? Who is Jesus Christ to me, anyway? Why do I pray? Why, other than the gifting and gathering parts of the holiday, do I celebrate Christmas? What parts of the Christmas story really resonate with me, and why? What does it mean that Jesus was born in poverty, and his first visitors were poor shepherds and their fluffy but undoubtedly smelly little sheep friends. Also, today: Where the hell did I leave my iPod, and do I buy myself another?
What questions are you asking yourself as we head full-speed into the gaping maw of Christmas? I look forward to your comments.
As always, if you have questions, you can leave them in the comments section, below.
Thanks for reading.

Breaking Back In

Dear Mrs. Ditter, My husband passed away three years ago, and I'm going back to work after having been home with our kids the past 11 years. I've decided to pursue freelance writing as it best suits the needs of my family. I've been volunteering at a non-profit radio station for the past several months. I thought it'd be a great way to build up my portfolio, and if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position.
Instead, I've been doing data entry, stuffing envelopes, answering phones. I'm beginning to think this is all a big waste of my time when I could use the time I give them WRITING.
I will not apologize for having spent time at home raising our kids, but I'm not 22 years old any more, I had a career before kids, I've already done all this entry-level stuff and it doesn't feel like it's getting me any closer to my goal as a freelance writer!--Frustrated Family Support
Dear Frustrated Family Support: First of all, ouch. Other than the widowhood piece, our stories are very similar. I had a freelance writing career for many years, stopped working to raise our kids, and have been trying to get back to freelance paying work for a while now. It. Is. Tough. 
About your specific case, however, a couple of things jump out at me:
First, you say that freelance writing best suits the needs of your family. Is that because you can do it on your own schedule, or is that because you love writing, you're good at it, and you want to move it from being a hobby/pleasant diversion to being a source of income? Also, you don't specify what TYPE of freelance writing you're interested in. I'm assuming it's business-oriented, as opposed to writing books, but I could be misreading your letter.
Second, I'm intrigued with your choice to volunteer at a radio station. Were you hoping to be assigned writing projects there, such as sponsorship announcements or newsletter copy? If so, I can see why you're frustrated with performing clerical duties. 
Third, either you want to pursue a freelance writing career or you don't--It's not clear to me that you're clear, because you say "...if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position."
What I DON'T see in your letter is the following: "I've talked with my boss, reminded her of why I volunteered in the first place, and let her know that as much as I love being here, I need 1) work that is 2) in my area of interest/expertise so that I can 3) concentrate on supporting my family." In other words, if she won't give you writing assignments, you need to find a place that will.
So talk with her. If she promises you writing assignments but they don't materialize, it may be time to move on.
Here are my other suggestions, for what they're worth: 
**If what you really want to gain from volunteer work is writing experience, contact your local neighborhood newsletter, if there is one. Or your local elementary school/PTA. Or your church. Or a favorite charity. Tell them you're a writer, you have ten hours a month to volunteer, and you'd be happy to work for them. Be really specific, or you'll end up doing clerical work again. And while that may be the way to work up the ladder at the radio station, it doesn't seem to be the best choice for you right now.
**Contact ten advertising agencies--small, medium and large-sized. Tell them you'll provide twenty hours of free copywriting services during the month of January. One of them might take you up on it, and if they don't send work your way after the month is up, they might refer you  to other potential clients.
**Try the same thing with websites that you like, offering free services for a month (or three free articles, or something like that).
**Try the same thing with corporations that are large enough to have communications departments.
**Find and join a local writer's group--most metropolitan areas have quite a few. Libraries often host writers groups on a monthly basis. Bookstores do the same. 
**If you can afford it, a writing class at a local community college or university might be helpful (depending on what sort of writing you want to pursue).
This is an extremely hard time break in as a writer, and my heart goes out to you. My own portfolio is so dusty that it looks as if mice have been nesting in it. 
Best of luck, and let me know how things go over the next several months.
And as always: If you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, leave it in the Comments section at the end of this  post. Thanks for reading!

Holidays! Divorce! Recalcitrant Teenagers! Dogs! Ho Ho Ho!

Mrs. Ditter, Do you have any good ideas for how a family can "do the holidays" when everybody keeps being unavailable? We have some extended family and we used to all get together and it was fun.
Now, the extended family is rife with divorce, two mommies and daddies, kids who would rather play their Gameboys than have a conversation or even shut up and read, others who have weird work schedules and work on Christmas Day, etcetera.
The few of us who are not working, not divorced, not rude are in a quandary. I say, "Let's go to the coast!" He says, "Let's not." She says, "That's just as much work." He says, "What about the dogs?" She says, "Mom, we're Jewish." I say, "So skip the holidays." He says nothing. She says, "Well...."
I say, "I'll ask Mrs. Ditter." -- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous: Ugh. You're in that spot where none of us want to be, but most of us arrive: It's not as much fun as it used to be and WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO CHANGE, ANYWAY? It will never be that same way again, and that's the cold truth. 
So before I trot out any trite ideas about making your own holidays (all of which you will have thought of and quite possibly rejected), I strongly suggest that you take a moment, an hour, a day if you need to, to mourn the death of your family holiday tradition. I don't care if you write a journal entry about it, go for a long hike and rant and rave, sit in the tub and cry, shut yourself in your room and pray, or write the words "Family Holiday Traditions Before It All Went to Hell in a Handbasket" on a log and burn it in the fireplace, chanting long strings of swear words under your breath as the smoke goes up the chimney. The point is, do something to acknowledge to yourself on a deep level that something you really enjoyed and valued is gone.
Okay, with that out of the way, you can move on to making new holiday traditions. I'm interpreting your question to mean you want to do something with your extended family, not the immediate family with whom you live.
One way to do this is to throw a party, invite everyone, and have a good time with whomever shows up. They may be surly and constantly connected to their Gameboys/texting/iPods (oh, those wacky preteens!); they may be anxious about running into an ex-spouse; they may be just as sad as you are at the changes that time have wrought. But if you give people the opportunity to gather, they just might.
Or: Throw a game night. Really. It's fun.
Or: Reserve some lanes at a bowling alley and let everyone know.
You could also send around an email asking everyone to join you in serving a meal at one of the local homeless shelters. Or meet up with you at a local bookstore. Or join you at church/temple/movie theater. Or for a hike. 
And finally, your word choice "...everybody keeps being unavailable" is kind of interesting. Maybe the unavailables just don't want to participate. Honor that. Invite them, but don't try to guilt them, which will just drive them further away.
Now, if I've misread your question, and you're just wanting to "do the holidays" with your immediate family, the door is open even wider. Grab a big old piece of paper and over the course of the next week, have everyone write down a few things they'd like to do as a family. Then do some of those things! You may find yourself on a day trip to the coast, or helping out at the Humane Society for a few hours, or roaming around a bookstore for several hours, or at an art museum, or skiing for a day. One or two of the activities will probably score high enough that you'll repeat them next year.
And if it were me? I'd stay home, stock the fridge, make some cookies, light a fire, get a huge honkin' pile of books, and then curl up with the books, the dog, the cats, whoever of the family wanted to join me, maybe some cheesy old movies...and I would just relax. That's as good a tradition as any.
What do you think, folks? Any suggestions? 
Anonymous, please let me know what your family ends up doing.
And, as always, if you have a question, leave it in the comments section.

Mom Plus Adult Daughter Equals Fireworks

Dear Mrs. Ditter: My wife has a child who drives her (and me) nuts. Whenever we go to her daughter's house, my wife spends the first few hours picking up, cleaning, doing dishes, washing and folding laundry and generally trying to help out. Her daughter doesn't say thanks but instead gripes about my wife's "meddling" and is generally negative about attempts to make her life easier. Is this a mother/daughter thing? My wife is at the end of her rope and doesn't know whether to just quit trying or to risk a fight by bringing up the issue--Supportive Husband
Dear Supportive Husband: Wow! Lots of potential for mother/daughter drama here. 
The first thing I would point out is that the daughter is sending extremely clear messages that she DOES NOT welcome your wife's help. So how about your wife immediately stops all housekeeping activities at her daughter's house? This would respect her daughters' unspoken (yet very strongly stated) desire about how she wants your wife to behave while in her house. Key words here: HER house. 
Second: Yeah, I know, some women would be thrilled to have this sort of assistance from their moms. Others, and apparently your wife's daughter is one of them, view this as intrusive behavior. She may perceive the "help" as a negative comment on her ability to do laundry, clean the house, be a responsible adult, blah blah blah. Your wife's intention is not the point here; the point is how her daughter interprets it.
Third: You don't specify that the daughter has kids, but I'm assuming she does. If grandkids exist, would you and your wife consider taking them out to a movie, or to a playground, or even around the block several times on their bikes or in their strollers? When my kids were young, I was incredibly grateful when relatives took the kids on an outing, even a short one. Time alone is precious, and it may be that this is the best way to help.
Fourth: Just how long are these visits? If your wife spends the "first few hours" of each visit picking up, cleaning, etc., then maybe you're staying too long if you live in the same town. Try cutting down the length of the visits.
Finally, as to whether or not your wife should talk with her daughter about it, well...do they usually talk about things openly? Based on your reporting of the situation, that seems unlikely. 
If your wife wants to talk about it, she could approach it this way: "Honey, is there anything we can do? We'd be happy to take Little X and Baby Y out for a walk, or I can fold that basket of laundry. I don't want to intrude, but I do want to help. Let me know what you'd like from us."
And then if the daughter says, "What I'd like from you is for you to sit down and relax/realize I don't keep house the same way you did/take my children out for the afternoon," bingo. You have the start of a real conversation.
Thanks for asking, and I hope this helps.

Not That You Asked: A Gift Guide for the 2009 Holiday Season

This has been a tough year for our family, but we're sticking to our holiday traditions: great big old tree; kitten climbing the tree and causing havoc; Christmas Eve pageant at our church, and then dinner with my husband's family; stockings filled to the brim with ridiculous things like toothbrushes and oranges and hair accessories and tacky magazines and paperback books; presents under the kitten-savaged tree. 
One of our family traditions, however, I almost let slip. For years now, we've had each kid choose a charity during the holiday season. Then we send part of the money we would have used on the kids' Christmas presents to those organizations.  
For some reason, I didn't want to do it this year. I wanted to spend ththe entire Christmas budget on my kids, not on animals or people we don't know. After all, it's been a tough year for us. We could all use some extra goodies.
My reaction puzzled me, because I think of myself as a generous person. So I sat with my ugly unwillingness for a while, wondering what was underneath it. 
Eventually, I realized that I was feeling closed up, fearful, unwilling to let go of what we have and resentful of people who have more. 
Okay, brutal honesty time? That is a sucky place to be. A soul-killing place to be. A big old nasty Grinch place to be. Plus, it's no fun. And I don't intend to stay there. 
So, onward:
Both kids want their donation to go the Oregon Humane Society. 
I want my personal donation to go to Mercy Corps, a Portland, Oregon-based relief organization that operates all over the world. Their projects that provide clean drinking water to villagers in Liberia are particularly dear to my heart--our city had a tainted water issue this past weekend, and I realized, perhaps for the first time, just how much we take clean water for granted.
My husband's undecided at this point, but in the past, his dollars have gone to an organization that brightens the holidays for local families in need.
My parents loved Heifer International, which may be one of the best known hunger-relief projects in the world. Our daughters have donated money in our names several times, and it is a fabulous present to receive.
If this sort of arms-length giving doesn't work for you, you could follow the lead of my Older Brother #2: He visited a local liquidation and deep-discount store, bargained up a storm, and bought 50 raincoats and 50 mylar blankets. Then he added power bars and bottles of water, and made up 50 bags that he's keeping in his car and handing out to homeless people all over town. That's awesome, and it would be just as awesome to do 5 bags, if that's where your budget is.
How about you? I'm looking forward to reading your ideas for charitable giving.
And as always, if you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, just leave it in the comments section.

How To Say No. Politely, Of Course.

Dear Mrs. Ditter: I am desperately wondering how to say no when people ask me to do stuff all the time. I work from home (or 'work' as people call it, writing apparently not really being work. I recently almost poked one of my brothers-in-law in the eye over this exact point, but restrained myself--didn't want to spoil a family wedding!).  I'm asked to do every voluntary thing in South-East England and I am hopeless at saying no. So now I end up working more hours than I did when I was working in a science lab all day! Help! -- Spineless Writer
Dear Spineless (which I suspect you are not): You are such a nice person, and such a competent one, as well. How do I know? Because people are asking you to do stuff! That means you're good at getting stuff done, and you're polite to people. Admirable qualities, indeed, but perhaps not what you need at the moment.
Now, before irate readers write in demanding equal time for the importance of volunteering, let's remind ourselves that people take on unpaid work for many reasons--some admirable, some more questionable. Many people volunteer because of the strokes they receive for being perceived as selfless, generous, and dependable. Some people volunteer because of the warm fuzzies they experience when making a contribution to something bigger than themselves. And some volunteer because their parents raised them that way. The point is, Spineless Writer clearly has done her share of volunteering. She needs to get back to herself.
So, okay, ready? Let's start with a quick review of Mrs. Ditter's Four-Step Program to Polite Assertiveness and Happiness.
First, remember the following four things:
Saying NO is not mean, dishonorable, petty, or selfish. 
Saying NO can be done in an empathic manner ("Oh, I hope you find someone to watch little Bobby. I understand that you need a break.")
Saying NO can be done without being rude or aggressive ("Why the heck would I want to help with that project?").
Saying NO can be life-affirming and uplifting. Seriously! It opens up emotional and physical space for you, and allows you to attend to yourself and your current responsibilities.
Second, practice these two things:
A) Speech therapy. Here's what you do: Find a private space (it can be a quiet room, a closet, the shower, a barn, whatever). Now, stand up straight, take a deep breath, and practice saying the following things out loud: "NO. I can't. No, I can't help with that. I'm on deadline with my book. I'm already fully committed. No, I simply don't have the time available."
How convincing did you sound? Yeah, I thought so. Get back in the barn and try it again, more sincerely this time. Really put some truth and energy into it. If you don't believe the words coming out of your mouth, neither will the people who are listening to those words and waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
B) Visualization. Quit rolling your eyes! This really works, IF you give it a chance. Get comfortable either sitting or lying down, and watch the following movie in your head: Your phone rings, you pick it up, The Voice on the other end says, "Spineless! So glad you're in. The village council has a project that needs handling, and you're the PERFECT person for it." Here's where you stop The Voice cold: "Thank you for asking, but I'm fully committed right now and can't help out. I hope you find someone else to take on the responsibility."
Want to watch another movie? How about the one where you're cornered in the drugstore as you're reaching for feminine sanitary supplies? Roll that movie, too, and as your hand reaches out toward the Tampax, hear The Voice: "Darling, so glad I ran into you. The school board all agree that you're the ONLY person who can run the auction for this year." And now watch and listen as you say, "What a compliment, but I'm extremely busy. I simply don't have time to take on any more responsibility."
Play those scenes, or whatever scenes are most likely to reflect your situation, over and over until you can refuse a request in your sleep.
Third, delete these phrases from your vocabulary: "I'm sorry. I wish I could. Please ask me the next time you need help." 
Why? Because those phrases are not honest, and they take away from the power of your honest NO. You're NOT sorry. You DON'T wish you could help. You DON'T want them to ask you next time they need assistance.
Just how you go about deleting them is up to you. I suggest writing each phrase on a piece of paper and then setting fire to it. Woohoo!
Finally, you absolutely are NOT allowed to say: "I suppose I can squeeze it in. Yes, I can help." Write these down, douse them in gasoline, and light them up. Or...whatever method you choose. Perhaps something less violent would work for you.
Of course, eventually you'll come across something with which you really, truly, honestly want to help. And when that happens, you can say YES with an open heart and a joyful spirit. Until then, practice the power of an honest no.
Best of luck!
Questions for Mrs. Ditter? Leave them in the comments section, below.

A Really Important Post on Forgiveness

Jeff's comment is long, but it's worth reading.
"I have to confess: I have reacted badly to others' behavior. I have cussed and stewed and gestured and engaged in totally inappropriate behavior while driving. I was an angry driver, and when I arrived at my destination, I was angry and annoyed by everyone around me. While driving, I made myself more and more angry each time the car next to me changed lanes without signaling or someone ahead of me slowed way down because they were confused by the construction signs. I was reacting. I was a 'reactive' being. (Mrs. Ditter note: Look at Jeff's word choice: I made myself more angry. I love how he takes responsibility for his emotional reaction.)
"Eventually, I realized this behavior was making me toxic and sick. So I changed MY behavior. I chose to smile instead of frown. I chose to wave my hand instead of just one finger. I chose a different emotion...I chose to be calm. 
"By practicing this in traffic, I became less angry and annoyed by other things. I stopped mumbling sarcastic remarks under my breath in traffic and in the office. I chose to smile. I realized that just like anything else in life that I wanted to be good at, it takes practice, it takes rehearsal and it takes planning.
"The second key was the discovery that if I visualized myself as an 'observer' instead of a 'participant' in a heated exchange, it was easier for me to choose how I reacted. Again, this takes practice and anticipation and planning. (Mrs. Ditter note: Practice, practice, practice. He's not saying it's an instant miracle solution.) I practiced at work with co-workers and with customers. I didn't get sucked into the negative void they were creating in their world. I chose to stay 'neutral', which is quite different from disengaging or 'unplugging'. We all know people like this, and I didn't want to become a cold fish or an uncaring person. So again I chose to stay engaged and I chose not to react emotionally. I was thoughtful. I was in the moment. And I was able to keep my end goal (whatever it might be) in my mind's eye. And people responded to me differently.”

I just don't have anything to add to this, other than to say: Jeff, you are a huge inspiration. Thanks for writing.
See you tomorrow, folks. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm grateful for every single one of my readers--and I'm especially grateful for the questions and comments you've left over the last few months. Thanks for helping me start my blog! I hope every single one of you has a terrific Thanksgiving, and that you take at least sixty seconds to take a deep breath and say "Thank you" to God, the Universe, your miracle of a body, or whatever works for you.
Now, back to the kitchen...

Queen of Denial Rants and Raves

So we're still dealing with anger and forgiveness and how to get from the first to the second. I love today's messages. Read on for enlightenment!
First up from Ellen: 
I am (perhaps unfortunately) a firm believer in avoidance. If the dastardly individual with whom I'm (obviously righteously) pissed is not someone I have to interact with, I simply avoid them...forever. Anger has a way of fading over time, whether we want it to or not. 

If I absolutely cannot avoid the cretin, then I use the "step through the curtain" technique. Imagine a curtain in front of you (made of glass beads, silk damask or whatever works for you). Step through the curtain and leave the anger on the other side. It's now hidden behind the curtain and is firmly in your past - you can ignore it because it's no longer in your face. Denial. It's a wonderful thing--Ellen
Anonymous writes: 

I've found that only two things really work for me in the anger-releasing-let-it-go-and-move-on-department. 1) A very, very long walk with the dogs, preferably somewhere remote where I can rant unobserved--it helps if the weather is truly appalling for a bit of added drama. Sometimes the physical exertion seems to replace the mental anguish. 2) A very, very long grumble with a select group of long-suffering friends over several glasses of wine. Usually by the end of the evening the bad stuff has become really quite funny, sometimes hilarious, at least for a while.
Anonymous, I suppose you could combine your two methods by wrapping yourself in a curtain and forcing your friends to accompany you on a long walk in the howling wind and rain, while you swill wine from a bottle clutched tightly in your angry hand and rant long and loud. Don't scare the dogs! Minus the wine, that would work beautifully for me.
Ellen, I'm impressed that you can leave your anger on the other side of the curtain. When I bring up that image, I see it seeping back around the edges of the fabric. Clearly, you're a more evolved being than am I.
And Anonymous, you bring up a point that an earlier respondent made: Hard physical exercise blunts, dissipates, dissolves, whatever term you choose to use, really helps with the process of letting go of the anger and getting further down the road toward forgiveness.
Stay tuned, folks. More fun stuff next time!

Really Angry? Try One of These Tips

Dee writes: First of all, acknowledge that you are angry and hurt. Then do something to release the anger, hurt, frustration, and resentment. For example: Write the person a letter and really let them have it, tell them everything you want to say, call them names, rip as hard as you want. Then throw the letter away, tear it up, burn it. There's something about watching it go up in smoke that truly feels like you're getting rid of it. Flushing it down the toilet works too! 
Another way to get it out is to do something physical. Maybe run until you're exhausted or hit something (preferably something that won't hit back, break, or hurt you when you hit it). Once I took a dozen eggs and, one by one, threw them in the bathtub--HARD, watching each one smash to pieces. Of course, once that was over I had to clean it up, but even that was sort of healing, like cleaning up the mess was part of the process. 
Finally, and this is the most important part, you need to let it go. LET IT GO. Holding on to the anger is not hurting the person that you are upset with, it's only hurting you. Once you truly make up your mind to just let it go, it can no longer have a hold on you.--Dee
So I think this is a little off the topic of forgiveness techniques (Dee, just HOW do you let it go?), but I love these tactics for dealing with horrible, raw anger. I'm reminded of a time soon after my brother died when I took all the dining room chairs and threw them across the room. Then I had a good, hard cry. And then I felt a tiny little microscopic bit better.
I think you're right that forgiveness is easier AFTER you do something really physically taxing. I always feel better after a hard run, or some really tough work in the yard (or...throwing chairs around the dining room...). Dee, I love your point about cleaning up the mess being part of the healing process.
More tomorrow!

Aunt Needs Christmas Gift Ideas!

I am the BEST AUNT in the world! I'm lucky enough to spend a lot of time with my nieces and nephew. I know them pretty well, but as they get older, it's harder to figure out what they would like for Christmas. I have three nieces, age 8, 11 and 14, and one nephew, age 11--World's Best Aunt
Well, this brings back a painful holiday memory! Hang on there, World's Best Aunt, while I over-share.

The year I was eight, I stumbled into my oldest sister's bedroom (she was home from college) and there, in all its glory, was a knitting machine for kids my age! The brightly colored box showed a happy girl holding up a beautiful scarf that she had supposedly knitted herself using the machine in the box. I nearly wet my pants in excitement. But on Christmas morning, as the pile of presents got smaller and smaller and NO KNITTING MACHINE APPEARED, I was thrown into the depths of despair. It ended ugly, let me tell you. Turns out College-Age Sister had purchased the knitting machine for her boyfriend to give to HIS eight-year-old sister. And no, I don't remember what gift I received from her that year, just what I didn't get.
Okay, I think I can move on...

Since you get to spend a lot of time with your nieces and nephew, what are the chances of taking each of them out separately? This might be totally lame; maybe you already do this on a regular basis. But the kids I know in this age range LOVE spending time with their favorite aunt. So...a night out at a hockey game? A movie? Bowling alley? Swim center? Live theater? A hike and a stop at a favorite burger joint afterwards? Trip to a favorite bookstore with a $20 or $25 gift certificate?
Something my kids love, and I always loved, were magazine subscriptions. Stop laughing, you Internet-addicted types! The fun of getting something every month that's JUST FOR YOU is still pretty cool. And there are a ton of magazines out there just begging for subscribers. In no particular order, and without separating for gender or age, how about: American Girl, Discovery Girls, New Moon (our personal favorite; the true voices of real girls come through in this publication, although it's not for every family, given its frank discussions about issues that most magazines shy away from), Teen Vogue, Seventeen, Boy's Life, Any One of The 5,231 Magazines That Focus On Animals (Your Golden Retriever; Ferret Times; Snakes and You, Backyard Chickens). 
How about a disposable digital camera, or, if your budget runs to it, a cheap digital camera? Also:
Art classes, or an art workshop that you could attend together. A one-time cooking class. A skating lesson. A trip to her favorite clothing store (she'll be armed with a gift certificate from you, of course) and time for a Starbucks stop afterward. 
If the kids are computer-savvy (and if it's okay with the parents), a subscription to an online game site such as Club Penguin might be a hit for the younger kids. And I won't even get into the many, many computer games for fear of showing my extreme ignorance of such things.
Also: We've scored countless times with gifts from the following catalogs: HearthSong, Chinaberry, and Young Explorers.

You could, of course, look for a knitting machine, or a loom, for the eight-year-old. Just a thought.
Readers? Any ideas for World's Best Aunt? Leave them in the comments section. 

In Which Mrs. Ditter Admits She is a Deeply Flawed Person

But you knew that already. And so here we go with the second in our line-up of forgiveness tactics and practices. Today's first comment comes from janeannechovy:
I've always thought that forgiveness really is the same thing as repentance. If you don't want to hold on to all your old mistakes, why would you want to hold onto someone else's? It's all just baggage that weighs you down.
This is, of course, true and brilliant and wise. But sometimes my baggage seems to be permanently attached to my body, no matter how hard I try to leave it behind. And so I struggle to translate the truth of "Leave your emotional baggage at the celestial curb" into actual practice. However, janeannechovy's comment is going up on a wall in this house! It's a great reminder of the importance of staying in the present moment.

For those of you who are as wackadoo as me, here is a terrific breathing meditation. It comes from Julie:

Imagine your anger (or fear, pain, sickness) in the form of thick black smoke. With your imagination, collect all the thick black smoke in your lungs (at times, it may seem to be coming from your head or a place of tension or injury in your body). On your next exhale, imagine the smoke leaving your body, whooshing out through your nose. Picture it going far out into space where it can't bother anyone else. Continue this until all the smoke has left your body. Some days, this takes longer than others...!
You can add a second step: On the inhalation, imagine that you are breathing in pure, white light, which carries with it peace, inspiration and healing.

I love this technique. I've used it already and am going to add it to my grab-bag of Instant Calming Techniques (yes, there is an actual list of things I do to calm down. Leave me a comment if you'd like me to email it to you). Thanks, Julie. Also, you people who are NOT Julie may want to check out her blog at www.fromthecapricornsgarden.blogspot.com. Excellent, thoughtful writing and for those of us who are raising kids/teenagers, some funny stuff.

Thanks for reading.

Forgiveness Coming Right Up!

First off, a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who sent in their thoughts on forgiveness--and their practical methods for finding that spot inside their soul. I'm going to lightly edit the responses and publish them over the next few weeks. I am insanely grateful to all of you! Also: The blog will be short on pictures for the next few days. Please forgive me for not entertaining your eyes!
First up, this comment from Therese:
Let me start off by saying the WORST kind of hurt, hardest to forgive, is when someone hurts someone I love.
This is what I do and it works every time. It's just harder than hell. I do it because I don't want those hooks in my brain.
1. I make a list of everything I want, at real depth. Like, "Respect from the people I work with, a sense of competence, deep and abiding love from my family, financial security, joy and flow in my daily life, etc."
2. Then I pray for them to have ALL OF IT...that's right, for the person I'm angry with to have all the stuff I want for myself.
I don't have to mean this. I just have to do it. And if I do it every day for two weeks, something in me shifts and I begin to see their wounds and griefs, and compassion overwhelms my anger. And then, if and when I have to see them again, I'm WAY different. So they can't help but be different too, or at least be uncomfortable. (The latter fulfills the biblical observation that if I treat my enemies with love it's like heaping burning coals on them! But the trick is, the burning coal bit can't be my PRIMARY goal--just forgiveness).

Thanks, Therese! I love this idea. It reminds me of that Buddhist practice where you pray for yourself, then for someone you love, then for someone you can't stand or are angry with, then for the whole Universe. Anyway, here I go to make my list of all the things I want at a soul level...and then I'm going to turn it around and aim it at the person I am (unfortunately) still ticked off at. 

I'm thinking that if you're not a praying type of person, you could substitute the following: "I wish for (stupid jerk) to have deep and abiding love from her family. I wish for (stupid jerk) to have joy and flow in her daily life. I wish for..." You get the idea. If I were to do this, I would find a quiet moment, take a few deep breaths, and recite the list three times. Once a day. Two weeks. Then check in with yourself.

Yes Of COURSE I'll Forgive That JackAss...Just Not Yet

Okay, folks. What do you do when you're smack up against a wall of anger and hurt and self-righteous justifications that you want to fling at someone because they have hurt someone you love (or you) really badly? I think this is a timely topic as we head into the holidays, but I'm having trouble writing a coherent post (probably because I am ROYALLY PISSED at someone right now. It's not you. The person doesn't even know this blog exists.). Please leave me your tips in the comments section (anonymous comments welcomed, as always). It can be anything from how to be pleasant in social situations to deep soul work on releasing anger. Thanks in advance for sharing.

Writer's Block

Dear Mrs. Ditter,
I really love to write and I think I'm pretty good at it, too. But I have a couple problems: I have a hard time thinking up ideas for stories, and then, once I start, I lose interest! I don't know what to do! -- A Cute Little Kittycat

Ah, Cute Little Kittycat, you have come to the right place. Mrs. Ditter has years of experience in dealing with just this sort of thing, and here are a few suggestions.
For Story Ideas:
1. Rewrite a family story that you've heard 983 times. You know, the one old Uncle Ralph tells every year at Thanksgiving. Give it a different middle and a different ending and see if you like it better than the way he tells it. Do NOT feel compelled to share your version with him.
2. Write the story of your own first birthday. Yeah, make it up, unless you remember it extremely clearly.
3. Write the story of the day of your parent's wedding. Yes, make this up, too!
4. Flip through a magazine or newspaper, choose a picture, and write the story that goes with it. 

5. Start with a line of dialogue that you've overheard or read or made up. Here's one I'm giving away free today (just for you): "Daisy is displeased," said Farmer Jones, glaring at his innocent-looking herd of cows. Go! Write the story!
6. Try writing as soon as you wake up in the morning...before you read the paper, before you check your email, before you have a cup of tea. Well, maybe not before the tea.
For when you get stuck:
1. Write where the energy is. You don't have to write a story straight through from beginning to end. You can start with the first sentence, skip to the middle, write the end, and then go back and connect the dots.
2. Start at the end, and write your way backwards.
3. Set a timer for five minutes and keep your pencil (or keyboard) moving. After five minutes, go for five more minutes. And then five more.

4. If you're stuck in the story, take a time out. Go shoot some hoops, or run up and down your driveway, or dig in your garden, or fold some laundry. Ten minutes, tops. Then go back to your writing and see if anything has shaken loose.
5. Take whatever you've written with you to bed at night and read it right before you fall asleep. You could even sleep with it under your pillow. Who knows? Inspiration could strike!
6. Just. Keep. Writing. Even if you hate what's coming out on the page, even if you think it's boring, even if you can shoot a cow through the holes in the plot.
7. Get a fresh piece of paper, and have a chat with one of your characters. Ask her a question and see how she answers it. What's her favorite color? What would she tell you about her first day of school in fourth grade? Does she have any siblings? Who's the last person she had a fight with, and what was it about?
Good luck, and let me know how it goes.
As always: If you want Mrs. Ditter to answer a question, just leave it in the comments section below.

I Can't Change! Everyone Needs Me To Stay The Same!

Mrs. Ditter, I so agree with you that sometimes it's fear that prevents us from making a change and sometimes it's our responsibilities. But do you think that sometimes we use our responsibilities as the excuse for not making the change because we're fearful of the change? -- Carrie

OF COURSE we hide behind our responsibilities. Mrs. Ditter has hidden behind her home-front responsibilities for years now (kids, laundry, carpool, emotional support, cooking, cleaning, blah blah freakin' blah). It's totally understandable. It's also totally deadly after a while.
This sort of hiding narrows your world, and keeps you from becoming the person you're here to become. At least, that's the way I see it.
And please note: I am using the term "YOU" in the general, not the specific sense. Okay?

Anyway, I wonder if it's not that you're fearful of the change. I wonder if you're more fearful of what the change will mean in your life and in the lives of your loved ones. 
Let's say the change is that you decide to run every morning, or become a landscape architect, or write a book (OH YES I DID JUST PULL THAT LAST ONE OUT OF NOWHERE). So the change is: you set your clock earlier and lace up your shoes and get out the door; you research and apply to horticultural degree programs; you plunk your butt in the chair every day at the same time and write even if it makes your nose bleed from anxiety and self-loathing.

The change is not all that scary. But what happens to you and your loved ones if you truly commit to the change can be very scary, indeed.
Your kids might have to get themselves ready for school and they will resent this. You may have to dip into family savings or take out a loan for education costs and this might freak out you or your partner. Your book might be a best-seller, or it might be a total flop, or it might not get published at all and you will die of humiliation.
The scenarios are endless. Make up whatever doomsday plot fits your situation best! Just remember, you will be a different person after you commit to and follow through with the change. And there's no way to know who exactly you will be. Which can keep you hiding behind your responsibilities for a long, long time. Which is totally fine, unless your heart is burning for that change.
By the way, Carrie, you win the prize for being the first person to ask Mrs. Ditter two questions! Send me your address and I'll send you some chocolate.
As always, I look forward to comments and questions. You can leave questions on any topic in the comment section of the blog. Anonymous questions welcomed!

Woof Woof Woof GGGGRRRRRRR

Dear Mrs. Ditter,

I have a good friend, whom I'll refer to as GF; we often walk our dogs together.  When I went on vacation recently, GF took care of my dog, Ms. X. Before this trip, GF made it clear that she finds my dog loud and unpredictable.  This is somewhat true, but I also find that I do much better handling Ms. X when I am alone than when I am with GF, in part because GF is always letting me know what I should be doing different.  

While I was on vacation, GF trained Ms. X to stop barking when she thinks someone is leaving the house.  This is a good thing, and I feel grateful. But I am also a bit irritated.  First, because GF didn't ask my permission to train her, and second, because when we next went on a walk and I called Ms. X back to me, GF called her too (she has done this before). I said, "GF, she is my dog.  Please let me call her myself."  Her response was to tell me why my way of doing it was wrong.

I get it that she's a better dog owner than I am.  But Ms. X is my dog, not hers!  I am a more rambunctious person generally, and I don't dislike all of Ms. X's loudness.

I think I probably need to say something about this to GF.  Or do I just need to suck it up and live with it?  After all, GF did me a favor.  I also think I need to find someone else to care for my dog, no matter how inconvenient that might be.

What do you think?--Ms. X's Human

Oh, my. Many of us have faced this dilemma with our kids; sounds as if you're going through it with your dog. Your parenting skills are being called into question and it doesn't feel good.

A couple of thoughts here: First, your friend, although she sounds like a terrific dog trainer, appears to have underdeveloped social skills. You've been politely clear with her about your wishes (asking her not to call your dog), and she's responded by telling you what you're doing wrong. No wonder you feel irritated. However, you may need to take her as she is and not expect great empathy or connection.

Second, you might want to examine your thought that "GF is a better dog owner" than you. You're a different person, you enjoy having a more rambunctious dog, you're not abusing your dog in any way. Stop throwing shoes at yourself.
Third, definitely find someone else to take in your dog when you go on vacation. You're on an emotional hook with this person and it's time to release yourself from any further sense of obligation.
As far as saying something to your friend or just sucking it up, hmm. She's already shown that she doesn't hear you when you talk to her (sounds like some dogs I know!). You might try this: On your next walk, if she calls Ms. X, tell her that you don't want her to call your dog. If she again tells you that you're doing it wrong, tell her that's not the point. The point is Ms. X is your dog, and you are the one to call your dog, and you want her to understand and respect this. Her reaction might point out whether you have a true friendship or just a dog-connection.
It's hard to sustain a close friendship with someone who is always pointing out your deficiencies. If you value GF's dog training tips, then by all means keep walking with her. But if her lack of respect for your wishes is poisoning your friendship, you may benefit by stepping back a little.
Let me know how it goes.
And as always, I look forward to your comments and your questions.