Tag: experience

A Hairy Decision

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 7 Comments
baby me
Baby me.

God blessed me with a head of hair—in fact, I was born with so much hair that the nurses put a gauze bow in it for the first time my dad saw me (back in the day when dads hung out in the waiting room). My hair is thick, and it has a mind of its own.

I started going gray at 21, and I didn’t give it much thought. At 29, my “thought” was to wait to do anything about my hair until I was 40…and then I would color it and look so much younger people would think I’d had a facelift! (Good plan, Lis!) At 30, I decided to have my hair professionally colored…once…because I was getting married, and I figured a few photos might be taken. At 35, looking at photos of me in the hospital after giving birth to my son, I decided he needed a mom who didn’t look any older than she already was, so I began to color my hair via my personal stylist Ms. Clairol.

Why the hair backstory? Just to frame a little episode I had this past summer. I was in a long-hair phase (I, like many women I know, have spent my whole life either growing out my hair or thinking about getting it cut shorter). I was pretty dedicated to this phase, growing it all out for a couple years. Long, thick hair + needing to color it every three weeks (yes…that’s right…unless I want to be confused with a skunk, I need that kind of color upkeep) was wearing on me, though…but I didn’t know just how much, until “the incident.”

Early one morning, we were headed out as a family to Six Flags, and I was hustling to try and get everything ready—including myself. I was at the point where I had just put product in my hair and was getting ready to wash my hands when my son called me into his room as though a limb had just fallen off. After immediately running in to check on him and learn that the crisis involved finding a particular shirt, I gave him a little what-for, and then promptly took what was left on my hands at the time he called me and ran it through my hair. There was just one tiny little problem.

In less than a moment, I had forgotten that what I had on my hands was not hair product but liquid hand soap.

By this time, my son had left the room and my husband stood there to see me begin to twitch and wail over this recent development. He offhandedly said, “What’s the big deal? Can’t you just rinse it out?” Well, what followed was an eruption of what I later realized was “latent hair anger.” It came bubbling forth like Mt. Vesuvius. My husband stood there slack-jawed as phrases like “you have no idea what it’s like to blow dry this hair every day!” and “not to mention that I have to color it every three weeks!” shot out of my mouth. He just slowly backed out of the room and said, “Uh, okay…I’m just gonna close the door and let you be for a while…” Wise man.

I realized in that moment that maybe it was time for a change. Very soon after that I got my hair cut to shoulder length. It still is a lot of hair, but it takes less time overall to care for. Long-hair phase #258 was now over.

But the gray issue was still to be figured out. There were several shades to it, though probably less than 50 (…sorry…like I was gonna talk about this and not make a bad pun about that damn book?) I went on a fact-finding mission about what it’s like for a woman to let her hair go gray. Pros: Freedom! Time! Money! No chemicals! Cons: The process is a bitch, and you’ll look way older.

I brought it up in conversation to numerous people to hear their opinions on it. Lots of opinions. Many, many opinions. They fell into two main categories: “I think you’d look good gray” vs “Are you out of your freakin’ mind?!” Lots of food for thought.

So, you may wonder…what was my decision? To table it. I’m blessed to have hair to color–this I know. So I’m going to keep calm and color brown. For now. But who knows? Maybe Hair Vesuvius will blow again and cause another change to happen.

Do you have an opinion on the matter? I thought just maybe you might.

Once This, Then That

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 5 Comments

I missed the bus on the first day of high school. Oh, I was on time and waiting at the corner, and it even stopped for me, but since my school had two campuses (one for freshman/sophomore, the other for junior/senior), I thought the bus number was the route number—which wasn’t mine—and so I told the driver to go on…

After waiting for several minutes, I walked home crying, and my dad drove me to school. What an awesome way to start that new life chapter! Aside from fostering a lifelong anxiety for successfully catching public transportation, it also is a bit of a metaphor to me of an unhealthy mentality that I battle called “once this, then that.”

It’s not an exact metaphor because I missed the damn bus, but doesn’t it make my little 14-year-old self sound pathetic? Yeah, I know. Listen, I never missed the bus again, so don’t cry too long, okay?

Please do not be confused--this is NOT me.
Please do not be confused–this is NOT me.

The “once this, then that” mentality goes something like this: “Once I get through this next ‘thing,’ then all will be better” (as in, once I get on the bus to high school, then all will be well…though you gotta actually catch the bus first!)

The “thing” could be a project, an event, a challenging time—whatever. It’s the belief that once a certain hurdle is crossed, then the road will be much smoother. But the truth is, the road never is…the bumps and ruts never go away.

Yet it’s a terribly tempting way to get through things. Once I make this job transition, then I’ll be able to get to the work I’ve always wanted to. Once I get through the holidays, then I’ll start eating healthier. Once I get a more workable schedule, then I’ll exercise regularly. Once I make this deadline, then I’ll take a deep breath and be more patient.

For me, the reason this kind of thinking can be so deadly is because there is enough truth to it that it lulls you into thinking it will be so. And the problem is that it’s still up to me to make it happen. There is no magic once the hurdle is crossed. And the truth of it is that, yes—we do get through things and come out the other side, and often we are able to take our necessary next, better steps. But the danger is in waiting for the hurdle to come and in thinking that all it takes is that—the mere passage of whatever.

And so I try to balance the feeling of reassurance that once I get through something things will be better with the awareness that…well, once I get through something, things may be…the same…unless I do what needs doing to make them different.

After the missed bus, I never again assumed I knew the difference between something like a route number and a bus number—I learned a little preparation in that regard can go a long way—literally—it can go so far as to successfully take me to school! And once I caught the bus, it didn’t mean that the rest of my life was gravy, either. High school was one heck of a ride, indeed—but not simply because I arrived there—it was because of the steps I took after I got off the bus.

Once this, then that…but only if I do my part to make it happen.

The Sandwich Generation – If Only It Were as Simple as a Turkey on Wheat

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Hold the mayo.I am so representative of the Sandwich Generation that I may as well be salami with a nice slice of provolone. The “Sandwich Generation”—the term that has come into use to describe those of us who are taking care of both children and parents—is a growing reality, and I suspect several of you reading are card-carrying members of this special club. You know you are in this group if someone asks you for your date of birth or Social Security number and you have to think hard because your parent’s or your kid’s numbers come to mind first.

It’s just a fact of life, but some days are more “sandwich-y” than others. Having my octogenarian mom living with us can make for a 3’ submarine sandwich, where some days I’m dealing with “the sick kid shuffle” (you know—the rearranging/redefining you need to do with your day when your child is sick and home from school), while I’m on hold with my mom’s doctor to have test results sent Somewhere Else, trying to deal with a barrage of emails, then there’s that pesky thing called “work,” and the dogs are whining to be let out. (The dogs don’t play an “official” role in the Sandwich, thankfully…they just add color to the situation.) On an average day, it simply means scheduling her doctors’ appointments so they don’t conflict with having to pick my kid up from school or some other activity…just another consideration in the juggle struggle.

Overall, it means seeing to the parent’s well-being in a similar way that you do your child’s. But. There is a big but, my friends (just one T on the big “but”…this time)…It does NOT mean treating said parent AS the child. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. That will buy you a heap o’ trouble. It is an art in which I frequently fall short. Can you relate? An aging parent needs support and care, while at the same time they do not want to admit that they need the support and care because it means they are diminishing in some ways. And trying to find the fine line to walk, wherein you are helping without being too helpful can be like walking a minefield.

A classic rough spot for me is doctors talking to me rather than my mom, though she is sitting right there. For the life of me, I don’t know why doctors don’t have better technique in this respect, but I know I would not like being the third party subject of the conversation while someone looks past me. So I find my diplomacy skills grow, as I redirect the conversation to my mom, while at the same time gently filling in any blanks that she may leave. Even with my diplomacy, though, we often leave the doctor with my mother fuming at being treated like a child…and since her generation doesn’t typically spout off to doctors, guess who gets the ire? Ah, life.

There is so much more to say on this topic, but my intention is not to bore you (really—I mean it). I’m just scraping the surface here because I merely want to say that for those of you going through similar challenges, you are not alone. And sometimes just knowing that helps. Some days you want to just curl up and say “enough,” but we keep on carrying on. Because we have to. And hopefully you have someone in your immediate world who takes care of you now and then. Remember to let them do that for you. And if you feel guilty when, for instance, your understanding spouse (like mine) tells you to go have a girls’ night out, remind yourself that you can’t take care of anyone else if you’ve fallen apart.

So if not for yourself, then for those who depend on you: don’t forget to be a caregiver to yourself, too. 

And for those of you who aren’t officially in the Sandwich Generation, you better buckle your seatbelt because odds are your bumpy ride is right down the road. Don’t worry, though—we who are living this now will try to draw you a map—it’s just that it might have some missed turns, wrong directions, and a few unnecessary detours. It’ll be like a Garmin in need of an update. Hey, what do you expect? We’re doing the best we can.

The Guilt Trip Trap

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ Leave a comment

While I have already shared my sure-fire recipe for success for New Year’s resolutions, the new year is also a great time for reflecting on some of life’s “haunts,” as well. Those things that we let plague us in one way or another, diminishing our overall quality of life. And today I want to visit a very common one. Most women I know—and many men, too—are on a long voyage of sorts within their lives: the Guilt Trip—and I don’t mean the Rogen/Streisand movie currently at the theaters.

All fall short.
All fall short.

This blog is anchored in acknowledging and sharing—and perhaps even finding some community in—that juggle struggle that so many of us are mired in. Frequently along with that struggle comes a big, fat dose of guilt. Come on…you know what I’m talking about…That grand feeling that you are shortchanging EVERYTHING in your life. Need to work? Fine, but your kids aren’t going to be this age forever, you know. Quality time with the kids? Great. Guess that report will have to wait another day. What lovely weather—let’s go downtown! So…it looks like cleaning out the garage will have to wait until next weekend…or the next…or…

It is an endless series of trade-offs where something that should be getting attention…doesn’t. It’s where phrases like “Mom, you said ‘soon’ a while ago…but when are you really going to be done?” and “We are way passed deadline on this project” get pasted into a lovely scrapbook of “Not Enough.” And if you cannot relate to this scenario that I am trying to illustrate, then you are reading the wrong post, my friend. As for me, if guilt were people, I’d be China.

So…I just totally bummed myself out writing this. Is there any hope? Well, there are certainly countless places where you can find information on time management and organization, and many have some very helpful tips and ideas that can indeed result in better use of time. But I have yet to find an escape from this Guilt Trip I’m on. So why am I even writing on this then? Because I want to share with you a saving grace that I try to remind myself of when I feel particularly pulled in the juggle struggle: It’s okay. You are blessed to have so many tugs in life. Don’t let it push you over the Insanity Cliff. Maybe to the edge…but not over. You are still okay even if you universally suck at everything. 

See??? See how that does the trick?? Okay, maybe I won’t win any awards in motivational speaking, but the truth is, it is okay. Really, people. We cannot be all things to all people. hbrnI_SlMa_80Quit trying to kick your own behind. God made it physically impossible to do that to yourself, so why are you trying to go beyond God’s design? All we can do is try and love, and get up tomorrow and try and love some more. So as the start of 2013 makes us magically feel like we have a chance at a clean slate for many things in our lives, let one of them be that it’s okay to fall short. Just get back up and keep trying and loving some more.

Fra GEE lay

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

Thanks to A Christmas Story, I can never see the word “fragile” without pronouncing it fraGEElay in my head. And on this Christmas Eve, things can indeed be fragile…huge ToDo lists…family gatherings…full schedules…exhausted parents trying to provide the “perfect”  Christmas for their kids…It can get messy and broken pretty quickly. So as you would with fragile things, be gentle. Continue reading “Fra GEE lay” →

Making Non-Sense

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

Though The Juggle Struggle aims to be a generally lighthearted and hopefully humorous blog, I just can’t bring it today.

Often what we juggle as people isn’t the least bit lighthearted. Charlotte, Daniel, Rachel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Dawn, Madeleine, Catherine, Chase, Jesse, James, Grace, Anne Marie, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Avielle, Lauren, Mary, Victoria, Benjamin, and Allison aren’t here anymore. Their lives—so many of them only just beginning—snuffed out by one person’s unfathomable actions. And their families and loved ones are dealing with devastating losses that have forever changed them. I, like the rest of the world, am struggling to deal with the recent horrific tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

I struggle with my feelings of both deep sorrow and fierce anger.

I struggle with what to tell my child about such an abominable event, knowing I can’t protect him completely from the harsh and bitter realities that life sometimes presents.

I struggle with what this all means in our world, and what we need to do to make it harder for another lost soul to wreak such havoc.

I struggle with feelings of helplessness.

And I struggle with the guilt of knowing my life will absorb this blow a lot differently than the parents of the 20 children who watched all the other families get reunited with their kids while they waited…and waited…and then were told that their little one was dead. My heart breaks over and over again as I try to put myself in their shoes.

The families of the heroic adult victims, too, are also dealing with such painful loss.

So where do we go from here?

I’m not really sure, but I know that in today’s rabid hyper media attention of such tragedies, I am thankful that one of the aspects they are reporting on is that the Newtown area is steeped in faith. And though faith won’t “explain away” such horror, I believe it is what sustains us and is the foundation to rebuilding broken lives. And hearing our president, as he offered his sympathies, quote Psalm 147—reminding us that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds”—was something I needed to hear in that moment.

Though I don’t fancy myself to have “the” answers, I do know that we need to be better to one another. We need to love and listen. We need to give and support. We need to forgive and remember. We need to work together to provide a safer world for all of us.

And we need to remember that life is a gift and not a guarantee.