Category Archives: control

Lessons in Control and Empowerment

. Books, Cancer, communication, control, family . , , , , , ,

CI’ve been reading Sheryl Sandberg’s controversial book Lean In.  Chief Operating Officer at Facebook, Sandberg took a lot of heat for her views about women in the workplace.  Many women felt her expectations and ideas were great for a family of a certain means and that her advice is not applicable to “every-woman.” Sandberg writes convincingly and powerfully, but many of her suggestions come with the double-edged sword of a position of privilege.  That being said, the book has wonderful ideas about how both men and women can change themselves AND the workplace to create an environment of equality.

One thing that resonated with me is Sandberg’s chapter on how women need to make their husbands true partners if they want to succeed in the workplace.  By true partner, Sandberg means that division of labor has to be equitable in the home when both partners work.  Sandberg admits that in her house, the labor is divided along gender lines – he pays the bills; she plans the birthday parties. She also says that it’s a constantly evolving balance that they negotiate often.  The key, she says, as with many things in marriage in general, is communication, not always an easy task in itself.

In the chapter, Sandberg encourages, no, instructs women is to empower their husbands.  She cautions that if women are constantly criticizing the way men actually DO the jobs they are assigned in the house, then the men won’t feel motivated to continue doing the jobs and women will be worse off than before – doing their husbands’ jobs themselves when the men give up for lack of support.

This reminded me of a story.  When my son Bailey was born, my control-freaky self went ballistic trying to have everything done perfectly.  It actually took a therapist to tell me that it didn’t matter if I did the top of the carseat buckle first and my husband buckled the bottom latch first – the end result is a baby who is safe in the car.  I had actually been criticizing the way my husband was buckling the baby into his seat! It’s no wonder I was feeling overworked and annoyed all the time – if my way was the best and only way to do everything, then I was causing my own problem by making Marc feel unmotivated to do anything for the baby, or for me. I learned to let go – a little.  Letting go is still an evolving process for me fourteen years later.

But is precisely now, fourteen years later, that this lesson is coming back to haunt me, both in light of the carseat story and Sandberg’s point. I have been in the U.S. since June taking chemotherapy for lymphoma.  My husband took the kids back to Tokyo in August to start school again.  There was no reason to take them out of their “normal” lives in Japan, especially when we don’t have a home in the U.S. and I was in no position to take care of them.  Marc has done an exceptional job of primary parenting so far, with about six weeks to go (if all goes well).  The kids are happy, healthy, doing well in school and haven’t missed a single event. Marc attended back to school nights, grade-level coffees, football games and violin lessons. He does some of these things in our “normal” life, but not all of them.  He has done it all while holding down a full time job.  Yes, we have a great nanny, so that has helped, but the primary responsibility is still Marc’s.

My job, my only job, has been to focus on getting well.  That being said, I generally talk to the kids twice a day and try to help where I can – sending emails and doing any necessary online research.  It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do. There are a thousand things I think of every day I would like to do for my kids – or do differently than Marc is doing.  I would like to handle the homework situation in a stricter way, make arrangements for playdates further in advance and even allow the kids less TV time.  But I would never tell Marc any of that (please keep my secret). As often as possible I sit on my hands and keep my mouth shut. I want him to feel like he’s doing a great job and motivated to continue the hard work. If I criticize, he’ll just feel defeated and then we would all be up a creek.  I mean it when I say Marc is doing an amazing job – handling everything with grace and aplomb.  Even when I don’t agree 100%, I still cheer him on.  From what he tells me, Marc appreciates the support I can give him, and in some ways, is enjoying the experience – certainly enjoying being with his kids more than he ever has been in the past.

This is yet another unexpected gift cancer has given us: Marc has had a taste of primary parenting and consequent juggling, and I have had a real lesson in abdicating control.  Obviously I’m not yet sure what parts of this we will take away from the experience, but I hope we have all gotten messages about control and support – both in giving and taking.  Sheryl Sandberg is right: it’s not about perfection – it’s about empowerment. Marc and I can appreciate each other for doing the very best job we are capable of doing, and thus all four of us are motivated to improve on our best selves.

The High Holidays – At My Home Away From Home

. Cancer, Community, control, Jewish, Washington DC . , , , , ,

The shofar made me cry this year.  I was sitting between Ellie and Steve like any good daughter, and the hush of readiness came over the sanctuary. The Rabbi chanted the first “Tekiah” and the shofar’s clarion call rose through the hall and touched the souls of those assembled.  Without warning the tears jerked forth from my eyes like a faucet turned up too high, too fast.  For centuries Jews have gathered together at this time of year to thank God for the gift of last year, pray for another year of life, confess sins and beg pardon.  It’s a part of my life as much as putting on shoes to go out – whether I’m thinking about it or not, being Jewish is part of my identity and heritage.

One of the things I love about being Jewish is the idea of continuity – of belonging.  I was hearing that shofar at 11am in Washington DC.  At 11am Tokyo time, thirteen hours prior, my husband and children had heard the same call, said the same prayers, heard the same call.  My tears, naturally, were for them, mourning that I was not with them to hear it, nor they with me.  I have such vivid memories of both of my children’s very first Rosh Hashanahs.  I held each of them as babies as the sudden blast of the shofar startled them and I comforted them, whispering the promise of connection they would feel whenever they hear that sound.  It connects them to generations past; it connects them to generations in the future. This year we are not connected physically, but with that shofar blast, I could feel them there with me, reminding me that with God’s good help, we will be together next year at this time.  And so, the tears.

Ellie and Steve’s synagogue, B’nai Israel in Rockville, is a big place – 1500 member families.  I had been there before for various events, so it was mildly familiar with its beautiful wood and stone sanctuary and center area from which the Torah is read.  Having grown up in a large, Conservative synagogue, the atmosphere, as well as the liturgy, was familiar.  In fact, I’d venture to say that despite its large size, the synagogue was welcoming to me.

The two rabbis of the synagogue welcomed everyone to services, and on erev Rosh Hashanah, (the night before – all Jewish holidays begin at sundown the night before) as well as on both days of Rosh Hashanah, spoke of welcoming – of belonging.  Their sermons sounded like they were written for me, aimed at me, spoken in light of my situation.  They spoke of gratitude, of making every second count.  Rabbi Schnitzer referenced a book by Joan Lunden, saying that people might not remember who won the Pulitzer Prize or the Heisman Trophy, but they do remember the kindness of a friend, the encouragement of a teacher or the touch of a loved one.  He gave us the number of seconds in every day and urged us to make every one of those seconds count – every single day.  He spoke of a righteous man on his deathbed not saying that life had been good to him, but rather, saying that he was good to the world.  Rabbi Safra continued the theme, discussing how God had made the world, but made it to be imperfect, and thus God shows faith in man in his ability to repair the world, and so we are in partnership with God. As we are faithful to God, so is God faithful to us.

Perhaps these sermons seem predictable to you, even proscribed. To me, fighting cancer every day, this entire holiday – indeed this SEASON of holidays – reminds me to be grateful for the people around me, the life that I have, and the self-awareness to be so thankful.  Jews around the world are listening to similar sermons, repeating the same exact prayers, and to me it’s a comfort.  These ideas and practices were around long before my birth, and will be around long after I’m gone.  Continuity.

My Grammy used to say that a human being’s greatest need is to belong.  I believe her.  At that moment, hearing the shofar in Maryland while sitting between two extra parents, even though I was sad because I wasn’t with my husband and my children, I still belonged.  Indeed, it was the community that sustained me and nurtured me to reach this point.  Ellie and Steve, my mom and dad, my friends, my family, my doctors – all of them are the community on which I rely for my very existence right now.  I am grateful to each person who comprises that community for helping me along this journey.  I welcome the year 5774 with a grateful heart – grateful to hear the shofar, and grateful to belong.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah –  may you be inscribed for a year of health, love prosperity and peace.

Sometimes Beauty IS Skin Deep

. beauty, Cancer, control . , , , , ,

makeupThe side effects of chemo are getting a bit stronger as I’ve gone through the treatments, but I’ve managed them pretty well so far.  As expected, I lost my hair fairly quickly.  Now I’m losing my eyebrows and eyelashes.  I’m not normally so vain, but I’ve been feeling like my face is a little “blank” as the brows and lashes thin out and disappear.  So today, I took myself to Nordstrom and the Bobby Brown counter, where I met Fiona, yet another angel on my journey.  I explained my issue and Fiona spent at least an hour with me, not just doing my makeup, but showing me everything she was doing, step by step.  She showed me fionacolors and brushes and described uses for each item she put on my face.  She helped me use the brow brush to create natural looking eyebrows to frame my face and line my eyes from the inside to the outside to create the illusion of lashes. She also helped me figure out what I “needed” to create the look as opposed to what was just an extra benefit.  I bought a lot of things, but with no pressure. Fiona made me feel like a million bucks – and definitely gave me back a modicum of control over my appearance.