My friend sent me a link to a blog post last week and before I knew it, I’d spent a good twenty minutes on this woman’s site. Her name is a Glennon, a recovering bulimic and alcoholic and mom of three, and she has quite a following (this is an understatement). Glennon is beautiful and her family looks picture-perfect, and I suspect some passersby are guilty of dismissing all that loveliness without recognizing what it took for her to get where she is today.

The post was about how people always tell her to seize the moment, be aware, be happy and how “carpe diem” just doesn’t work for her. (She does an amazing job of explaining what does work for her, and it’s worth the read.) As I sat there, slurping her words like an original ICEE (coca-cola flavor with a little bit of cherry, please), I thought, Gulp, that sort of sounds like me. Didn’t I declare 2012 as the year to be in the moment? To stop putting off the things that really matter until later? The year of eyes wide open, the year to live? And yet I felt myself agreeing with her 100%. Glennon’s perspective made me examine my own perspective. I’m one of those people who feels guilty for not enjoying motherhood enough. When I’ve had a bad day, my first inclination is to wonder what I did wrong. I began to wonder if I’m being honest enough, with myself and with you.

After some thought, I concluded this: I purposely write about discovering happiness and soaking up all those magical moments in life. One day I might expose my heart and the next I smooth it over with humor and silliness. This is actually my real-life personality. But it’s also a coping mechanism. I turn my focus to all that is good and right and beautiful and funny about my life, because that’s how I deal. It doesn’t mean that I believe (or that I want you to believe) that my life is always good and right and beautiful and funny. But I suspect you already know that.

The fact is that most of us have a behind-the-scenes story about what it took for us to get where we are today. That story is not always pretty. Life is made up of peaks and valleys. I will never stop celebrating the peaks. But I need to stop judging myself on those days I’m in the valley. The goal is not to be happy every single second but to remember to free myself from the giant black hole of yuck. Make a pit stop but don’t move in.

On a related note, in this month’s issue of Lowcountry Parent, I interview my personal trainer Zach Conrad about New Year’s resolutions. “We create our goals from a place of fear or a place of faith,” he says. “When you set your goals out of fear, you are focused on the obstacles. Subconsciously, you’re telling yourself you can’t do it.” But when you approach your goals from a place of faith and can see yourself reaching those goals, he says, “Miracles happen.”

More miracles. Less fear. Ditch perfection. Works for me. What about you?

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Here’s something I’ve come to learn over time: Happiness is a choice, yes. But it can’t be forced and it can’t be faked. I may succeed in all that forcing and faking for a while—but eventually the performance gets exhausting. Sometimes, we don’t feel happy, and that is okay. In fact, it’s normal.

The Christmas season can be especially hard, because it’s infused with the expectation of happiness. I explore this topic in this month’s Lowcountry Parent magazine.  Click here to read the column and let me know what you think. 

Lowcountry Parent has implemented a new Facebook login feature, making it much easier to sign in and post your thoughts. Or, you can leave your comments here.

Blake has picked up a few new tricks:

“Wack wack wack! See, I’m a duck. Wook at me. I’m fwying!” or “Roar roar. I’m a dino-rex.” And, “Ribbit ribbit. I’m a fwog,” he says, scooting across the floor on his belly.

It’s all pretty funny to me, but the one that really gets me is when he looks at me seriously and says, “I am a robot,” in a very robot-y voice. It’s code for, “I’m sorry, Mom. I have no idea what you just said to me. Because I AM A ROBOT.”

I kind of feel like a robot, too. For the past week, my brain hasn’t operated at full throttle. You may notice I took Friday off (or maybe not) which hardly counts as a blogging break, but it was a conscious decision to be absent. Perfect attendance is overrated. I never got those awards in school.

When I looked back on the past full year of blogging, I noticed I took breaks (roughly) every three months. Now that I can see the big picture, I can respect the pattern. I understand that this is my natural rhythm. I go, go, go and then the wires in my head start popping out of my ears. Skipping a blog post (or a few) is merely an outward sign that I’m “in the shop” having all those cords and memory chips stuffed back into my malfunctioning brain.

Years ago, I was a personal fitness trainer and my certification focused on what many trainer-types call periodization. An expert in the field of fitness could explain it a lot better than I can, but here’s an example of how it works: You train hard for three or four weeks and each week builds on the week before. Then, you take a week to chill out. You don’t stop exercising completely, but the workouts are much lighter and less strenuous on the body. After that rest period, you start back up again with challenging, progressive workouts.

Balance experts and success coaches tell us we need to build this type of breathing room into our days. But I’ve yet to master that. I don’t believe there’s a right way to do balance. But I do think a key to staying healthy (and sane) is recognizing our natural rhythms. When our minds and bodies tell us to slow down, we need to listen.

Do you go full speed ahead and then crash, like me, or do you consciously build periods of rest into your days and weeks? (And if so, how do you do it? I’ll be taking notes and learning from you.)

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(I’ll resist the urge to continue to talk about myself in third person.)

I had a blast yesterday during an appearance on 96.9 The Wolf. The segment was part of the Total Wellness Tuesday series sponsored by Charleston Tri-County’s Eat Smart Move More.

Ryan, Tyler and Jessica made the experience relaxed and fun as I shared my perspectives on how (I try to) remain healthy and balanced.

And I also revealed what will make a mama snap and freak out on you.

Click here to listen.

And if you’d like to subscribe to my blog, click here.

When I worked in TV news and covered a crime or tragedy, it was difficult for me to turn it off. To turn off the emotions. To not feel sick over how dark the world can be sometimes.

This week, I experienced the same feeling again. A terrible crime hit too close to home. Someone fired a shotgun through 5-year-old Allison Griffor’s front door. The pellets traveled through her bedroom wall and into her head. She was a kindergartner at my son’s school.

We didn’t know Allison. But the other day, I was talking to another mom about it. Her daughter went to preschool with Dillon. “Did you hear?” I asked, when Allison was still in the hospital on life support. The mom told me Allison and her daughter played together every day. They were in the same class.

The crime was senseless. Investigators don’t know who did it. Or why.

This happened, while a couple of miles down the road, another family — my family — was basking in the luxury of domestic bliss. I have a lot of faith. I embrace my blessings. I am grateful. And it’s extremely difficult not to ask, “Why?Where was Allison’s angel when the killer came to her front door?”

Some will say she is with God now. She’s in a place free from pain, where peace and happiness reside. The tears are gone. And I believe that. But what about her family’s tears? How, I wonder, will they ever be able to recover from this? What can anyone say or do to make it better?

This summer, blogger Hannah Katy wrote a post that gripped me like nothing I’ve read in a while. She asks:

“Who catches their tears? Who catches and counts their tears, values them enough to put them in a big basin? A Big Basin of Salty Tears.”

She goes on to write:

“I’d probably fist fight God if I could. If I thought I stood a chance. If I thought the swiping at the Creator the Universe would even get me anywhere or offer me anymore clarity into my latest question for Him: WHY do some people seem placed on this earth for Suffering and Survival?”

Hannah imagines the conversation with God. “You could spend an eternity asking why,” God might say. And God would tell her that if she does that, she would be wasting time. He would tell her that the only thing she can do — the only thing — is love.

Love.

And let yourself be loved.

I know Allison’s family has been covered by love this past week. They donated her organs and saved the lives of three children. And her father said, “Even in this terrible time, God’s love shines through it all.”

We live in a world where dark and light coexists. It’s not our job to fix it. Or try to understand it all. All we can do is love our neighbor. Love ourselves.

Give love.

And allow ourselves to receive it.

You can make a donation to the “Benefit of Allison Griffor” at any First Federal of Charleston location.*

*source: The Post and Courier

"I knew it all along."

“So, Dillon. Do you think you’re getting another brother? Or a sister?” I asked, holding the pink cupcake behind my back.

“A sister,” he replied.

I revealed the cupcake, confirming his correct answer. He smiled, grabbed the cupcake and started licking the icing. It had been a long day at school, and he’d waited patiently for his snack.

“I knew it all along,” he said.

Friday (aka baby news day) was nothing short of crazy. Driving from one end of town to the other. Negotiating drop offs and pick ups and a very important appointment with the doctor. And I had to get cupcakes! Later that evening, my birthday dinner consisted of Chinese takeout, and I was asleep by 9:30.

Saturday was one big party. If you’d like to see me channeling Judy Nails, click here to view the photos.

Sunday ended with writing deadlines. You know, that book I’m trying to finish by the end of the month?

Babies and birthdays and books! My cup overflows. At this moment, I’m exhausted. My brain is mush. Those 2nd trimester hormones that help me muscle through most days only go so far.

In this month’s Lowcountry Parent column, I ask, “Is balance a joke?” And late yesterday afternoon, during a last minute dash to the grocery store, it occurred to me: Sometimes out of balance is simply abundance in disguise.

And as Dillon keeps telling me, even being a big brother is a big job.

Thanks to Abigail Green, Dawn Truede and Elizabeth Horton for sharing their perspectives on balance. To read the column, click here.

I’ve struggled with this for quite some time. I love Facebook. And I hate Facebook. If you have a very clear set of guidelines for how you “do” Facebook, or if you’ve made a decision to keep your personal profile strictly personal — limited to close friends and family — then this post might not interest you. But if you’ve opened up your profile to the outer edges of your network (as I have done), then you might want to stick around.

Last week, Facebook added a subscribe button, which gives us the option to allow people to subscribe to our updates (those updates we choose to make public) even if we aren’t “friends” with those people. Mashable.com explains it better than I ever could.

This subscribe feature is great for someone who’s somewhat of a public figure by nature of his or her profession. As a former television journalist, aspiring author, freelance writer and blogger, I’m used to having my name and my work “out there.” I enjoy meeting new people and connecting with a broader audience.

But for a number of reasons, I’m not ready to launch a page and ask people to “like”  it. I will one day. But if I created a page right now, I would use it to post links to my blog and my column, and I already do that on my personal profile. My Facebook profile is my personal and professional personas combined, and I like it that way. And I use the word persona, because the “social media me” is really just a caricature of myself. It’s the slightly animated, G-rated (sometimes PG) version of the real me.

Since 2008, I’ve accepted hundreds of friend requests from people I don’t know. Some of the these “friends” are people I’d like to know, people I find interesting and/or people who like my work. But as I scan my friend list, there are dozens and dozens of people I’ve never interacted with at all. And honestly, that creates a lot of noise and prevents me from making and maintaining quality connections, which is the main reason I love Facebook. More love, less hate, I say.

Already, I’m making more of my posts “public.” And the great thing is, I can still interact with subscribers in the comment threads. And sometimes, those interactions will result in a “friend” connection. It feels like a win-win.

My intention here is not provide all the ins and outs of the subscribe button and how it works (if you have a question, just ask, and I’ll try to answer) but to explain why I’ve chosen to go this way, for now.

I believe in Seth Godin’s concept of Tribes. Reduce the noise. Make quality connections. Sometimes less is more.

What do you think?

Hurricane Hugo

Before I wrote this post, I checked the local weather forecast once again. As of this moment (just after 5am), it looks like Hurricane Irene is not going to smack Charleston. We might get some wind and rain. But maybe not. That’s the thing about hurricanes. You have to keep your eye on them. You need an emergency plan, even if you don’t use it. Those who lived in Charleston in 1989 know this well.

Many of us remember Charleston County Council member Linda Lombard (who is now a bond court judge) saying on live television, “Get out now.” This week, people joked about it on Facebook. “Somebody let me know if I should be worried about Hurricane Irene,” read one status update. “If Linda Lombard pops up on TV, give me a call.”

But that’s not exactly how it happened. According to this article on WisTV.com, officials did not order residents to evacuate. What Lombard actually said was, “If you want to leave the Charleston area, please leave now. You cannot delay. Because shortly it will be too dangerous to leave…”

Lombard says the speech was carefully crafted. Officials went over it countless times, trying to find the words to encourage people to take the threat of Hurricane Hugo seriously. ”The night before Hugo, the governor had not yet declared a state of emergency, so we could not demand that people leave,” said Lombard. “We could only ask them.”

Mayor Joe Riley ordered City Hall be boarded up, to send a message. ”You have to strike a balance between fear and panic,” said Riley. “You have to convince people their lives are at stake. Everyone remembers, ‘leave now, you must leave now’ as though it were an order.”

My mom and I did not evacuate, because we lived farther inland. But the day before Hugo, we spent the day making sand bags to shield the sliding glass door leading to our apartment. We taped the windows. I’m not sure how masking tape stands a chance against a hurricane, but we did it anyway. Mom filled her car with gas and stocked up on ice. Hugo left us without power for days and days, and I can still remember the container of cream cheese and half gallon of milk floating in the cooler.

We spent part of the night in the downstairs half bath, bracing ourselves as Hugo hit. During the eye of the storm, we walked outside. Everything was pitch black. We hurried back inside, and I fell asleep on the living room floor and woke up at 6am, when the phone rang.

“Angie, come meet me. This is terrible.” It was my friend, Meg. I walked outside, climbing over fallen trees and navigating the destruction. Our townhouse was spared, but many homes in the neighborhood were not. Once I found Meg, we spent the day walking every street. Cleanup had already begun. I was only 15, and I had never seen anything like it.

We all know Hurricane Hugo is not the worst storm our country has seen. But living through it, even at a young age, taught me to strike a balance between fear and panic. Some people aren’t so lucky. They don’t have time to prepare. So yesterday, my husband reserved a hotel room out of town, just in case. And I hope I have the pleasure of canceling that reservation.

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 This summer, I gave two talks on work/life balance. And since the second speaking engagement was just last week, I think it’s only fair to show you a photo my desk.

(I should probably put some tea lights in those candle holders.)

Until a few days ago, this is how it looked. If you’re a neat freak, relax. I’m typing this post on a now-tidy surface. I don’t thrive in this type of environment. And in fact, this picture is a good illustration of my tipping point — when I’ve neglected a particular area of my life long enough.

As I prepared my most recent presentation, it became crystal clear why balance is so important to me. I came to the conclusion by first defining what balance is not. A balanced life, in my opinion, is not the Hollywood standard of a perfect body. It’s not wishing you were a size zero, forgetting the star — who’s already beautiful — has been airbrushed.

A balanced life is not a magazine cover life. Not even the latest issue of Real Simple or Martha Stewart Living.

Trying to define balance is tricky. Wikipedia (my first go-to source, because it’s always at the top of my Google search) calls balance a “broad concept.” And Merriam-Webster has nine definitions of balance — most describing an equal distribution of weight. Not one definition refers to time and how we spend it, which I found interesting because I’m always comparing my to-do list with the number of hours in my day. And it doesn’t add up.

But the 9th definition of balance, according to madam dictionary is the clincher: Mental and emotional steadiness. Think about that.

I’ll admit, working at a messy desk does not create a feeling of mental and emotional steadiness. Which is why for the last few weeks of summer, I stopped working there. Never underestimate the power of avoidance. The stuff strewn across the glass surface needed my attention, but it was not necessarily “work” (at least not work that serves my ultimate big picture), and it was definitely not anything I considered a top priority.

Here’s why I let the mess pile up:

About midway through summer break I realized I was exhausted and stressed. A big red flag. And you might think it’s because I have two little boys. Well, yes. And no. I was not feeling my best, because I have a habit of thinking I have to respond to everyone and everything at the very second the request comes in. That I have to tackle every goal right now. All at once.

But finally, I remembered something important. The struggle I was feeling was self-inflicted. It wasn’t coming from anyplace good. Call it the big giant “yes” demon that aspires to take us away from our main purpose. Our higher calling.

As I let some things pile up on my desk, here are some things I didn’t neglect:

• sleep
• exercise
• my children
• my husband (hubs may disagree, but I was a lot more present at the end of summer than I was at the beginning)
• my real work, which involves a column, this blog and the book. (Full disclosure: The book got the short end of the work stick, when I decided to make sleep a priority. But I saw this as a short-term “problem,” knowing I’d gain daytime office hours next month when both kids are in school.)

I could still give myself more quiet/meditation/prayer time, but I’m pretty sure God listens even when I’m moving about my day… which has been my typical method of communication lately.

It’s hard to believe and trust that less = more. That shaving away the less important things makes us more efficient and productive in our most important work, our top priorities and values. Letting stuff go is difficult. Being polite as I say “no” is tough.

But, here’s what I noticed when I returned to my overflowing inbox: After giving it some breathing room, I came back to the mess with a better frame of mind. And I was able to quickly determine one of two things:

1. Deal with it
2. Delete

Guess how many times I hit delete?  Or scored two points when I tossed something in the trash?

How do you create “mental and emotional steadiness” in your life?

You may or may not have noticed I took a short blogging break. Blog experts say you’re not supposed to announce you’ve taken a break. But really, if I don’t say anything, does it mean it didn’t happen? Did it make the time off any less necessary?

But what do I know? So to honor the experts, let’s keep this confession between us. This is me not admitting my brain was begging for a break.

I rarely give my brain a rest. This can be a good thing when the thoughts are sprouting from an inspired place. Not good when they’re sputtering from a tail pipe of a car that’s about to run out of gas. (Not that I’m comparing myself to a car.)

This weekend, my husband said, “It’s nice to be 37 and finally settling in.”

“Settling in to what?” I asked.

“Just a day when there wasn’t really anything to do.”

Friends, we have reached the stage of life where bored = bliss.

This was one of those rare weekends when we didn’t feel inundated with “stuff.” I cleaned the house, shopped for groceries and wrote a little bit. And even now, I’m thinking, “Wow, that’s still a lot of stuff.” But on a typical day — even on weekends — there are usually so many other things on the list. But by midday Saturday, the chores were done, Blake was napping and Dillon was down the street playing with a friend. Shawn was sitting on the couch watching something on Comedy Central. I decided to join him.

“This movie is pretty stupid,” he said. “It’s about this guy who didn’t get accepted into college, so he created a campus of his own.” I walked in on the scene where the parents were helping him move into his fake dorm, and they were clueless. Shawn was right, it was really stupid. But neither one of us changed the channel. We kept watching.

It’s been a long time since we sat down together in the middle of the day and watched stupid TV. It was awesome.

Do you need to unplug your brain? Have you occupied your time with any mindless activities lately?