Category: Blog

Meh?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

winter-dayThe twinkly lights are gone. The tinsel is packed away in the attic. It’s that time of year when the year stretches alarmingly in front of us with more work on our schedules than entertainment. We’ve made resolutions to avoid all of those yummy but unhealthy foods that we secretly love so much and find ourselves munching on raw carrot sticks and celery. The days tend to be dark and dreary with winter storms popping up again and again. Here in my hometown a series of training storms dumped several inches of rain yesterday leaving roads flooded and impassible in many parts of the city. The memories of the recent holiday seem to be in the very distant past rather than just a couple of weeks ago. It’s back to the routine with a vengeance and for some of us it’s the time of year when we have the most difficult time being enthusiastic.

We have taxes to pay and have to face those bills that we accumulated over the holidays. We get notices that our heath insurance premiums will rise once again. We wonder if we will even have health insurance with all of the arguing in Washington D.C. We hear of layoffs in businesses near us and watch the price of gasoline rising again. Some of us look forward to the inauguration of a new president with the same level of excitement that we would feel in undergoing a root canal. We dream of hibernating like a bear until the sun returns in April. Even better are thoughts of escaping to a tropical paradise.

In the schools so many teachers are noticing that their students have seemingly shut down. They arrive unprepared and listless. Their grades are tumbling and they appear to not even care. Motivating them is sometimes a Herculean task. Frustration abounds.

What is it that causes us to become so lethargic and sometimes even depressed each year as January rolls around? Only days after making all of those noble promises to be better so many of us lose interest. It feels as though we are in our sophomore year of high school once again. The best part of the year feels so far away and seemingly endless piles of work loom ahead. Why is it so ingrained in our natures to hit the doldrums in the grey days of winter?

We’ve all heard about people who become so despondent in January that they are said to have SAD disease, seasonal affective disorder. It is the tendency of some individuals to suffer with deep feelings of melancholy at the same time each year. Notably there appear to be more cases of SAD disease when the days are short. It is often linked to a surfeit of sunshine and one of the recommended treatments is to spend time under lighting that mimics the rays of the sun. Somehow this therapy actually works in many cases because we need a certain amount of daylight to feel balanced. As with almost anything, some of us need more than others.

I suspect that most of us experience particular days or times when we don’t feel as energetic and enthusiastic as normal. We feel a certain sense of dread when we face tasks that appear to be almost insurmountable. We have a difficult time envisioning how to break down our demands into doable chunks. We are often overly doubtful about our abilities to maintain the strict routines that we need to ultimately lead to successful conclusions. When the days are long and we have opportunities to end our work days with rewarding relaxation in the sun, we feel a bit better about our responsibilities. When our days begin and end in the dark it is less likely that we will be able to shake the feeling that life is filled with drudgery. We get low and just want to crawl under our blankets and wait out the long winter months.

The trick to finding the happiness that we seek is to keep moving forward, one step at a time. Each of us has more power within ourselves than we have the capacity to imagine. We just have to push ourselves enough to free the talents that are always there. We also need to accept that true achievement is rarely easy.

I saw a news item about a young man who was born with no arms or legs. He has pushed himself to overcome his disabilities from the time that he was a young child. In the process he has mastered a number of athletic skills. He runs with prosthetics. He learned to use the stubs that should have been his hands to type and catch and throw. The one thing that he most wanted to do was climb a mountain. It at first seemed to be an impossible goal but with the help of skilled adventurers who had reached the summit of many a peak he began to practice moving over rugged rocks. He had to literally crawl using the four stumps of his appendages. He wore specially designed leather covers to keep from tearing his skin as he slowly pulled himself along. Because of his disabilities it took him four or five times longer to cover the same ground as his fellow climbers. Even with the protective gear that he wore his skin became raw and excruciatingly painful. For many it seemed as though he was embarking on a hopeless task that was far too dangerous to even try but he was insistent that he only needed to concentrate on making one small bit of progress at a time. With a will of steel he not only made it once but has now climbed multiple mountains and has no intention of stopping. Instead of drowning himself in sorrow and regret he has constantly pushed himself to accomplish his dreams by realizing that all that it really takes is a willingness to face each day with a spirit of can do optimism, rather than wasting time worrying about what he lacks.

My husband’s famous words to our family have always been, “Stick with the plan.” That doesn’t mean that there will not be delays or that our routes will never change direction. It simply implies that we need not give up in frustration when things get really tough. Realistically we can all expect to have some days when our energy wanes and we just don’t have the oomph that we need. There is nothing wrong with giving ourselves a mental health vacation now and again. Sometimes that may take the form of sleeping in and staying in our pajamas all day long. The important thing is to get back on the path again and follow our individual yellow brick roads. Happiness really is to be found inside ourselves and nothing makes us feel better than overcoming our fears and realizing that we are capable of far more than we had imagined.

We’ve all experienced the elation of a wonderful moment when we manage to tame the voices inside our heads that hold us back. For me it was connecting a bat to a baseball and watching it soar over an open field. I have known that feeling of elation when I managed to bring true understanding to a struggling student. Getting to the end of a difficult road is as wonderful as the merriment of Christmas. As we begin our journeys anew each January we need to remind ourselves that it will be spring before we even know it so there is nothing to frown about in the dreary days of winter. Instead, embrace the moment. Enjoy the diversity of the year and never forget that there will always be fellow travelers to help us as we crawl along. We’ve all got this no matter how difficult it may seem, so don’t grumble with a “Meh,” just smile.

A Better World With Simple Hacks

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Grant's jeans 2.JPGWhen I was first married my mother-in-law gave me a book entitled Hints from Heloise. I learned so much from the pages of that modest text. I don’t know what eventually happened to it. I moved it from one apartment to another and then to my first home where I resided for well over thirty years. I eventually became confident and adept enough at cleaning and repairing things that I no longer needed to refer to the dogeared tome and eventually the Internet provided me with all of the answers that I needed to take care of everyday household problems so I wasn’t too worried when I was unable to find it.

I’m a firm believer in keeping my appliances and purchases in good order so that they last longer. I seriously want to get the last possible dime out of every investment that I make and so I’m always puttering about attempting to prolong the life of all of the items that occupy my home. I learned all of the basics from Heloise but I find that there is always something that I did not know. Luckily I have friends who seem to be experts in the trivia of home maintenance.

I recently purchased one of those shower caddies that hold shampoo, soap and such. It kept falling onto the floor of the stall and I assumed that I had just made a bad purchase. I had used it a few too many weeks to return it but not enough to make it worth the money that I had invested in it. It wasn’t particularly expensive to begin with so I wasn’t too worried about having to purchase a new one, just a bit annoyed. I happened to mention to a friend during a phone conversation that I was irritated at having to find another style that would hang more securely when she suggested that I wrap a rubber band around the shower head to create enough friction to keep the hanging shelf from slipping off. Since I had nothing to lose I tried her idea as soon as I finished our call. It’s been four months now and my shower caddy is still in the exact spot in which I placed it on that day. My problem was so easily solved and I felt as though I had won some kind of lottery by being so clever.

I have often suggested that my friend who provided me with the successful hack should  write a book outlining the many ideas that she has. She is the type of person who is able to take a seeming pile of junk and turn it into useable items. She operates on a strict budget and somehow appears to live like a queen because of her uncanny knowledge about how to use virtually everything in unusual ways. She has shown me how to use lemon juice to get rust out of an antique tablecloth and peanut butter to remove gum from my daughter’s hair. She has memorized hundreds of healthy recipes and is like an encyclopedia when it comes to using everyday items in ways that nobody ever thought of doing. I find her insights to be quite interesting and hope that she one day finds the time to write a blog to share her ideas.

Just after Christmas my automatic ice maker simply quit making ice. I drink lots of cold water during the day and I was gravely missing the convenience of having those lovely cubes proliferating in a bin for my use. I was thinking of calling a repairman but chose instead to enter the world of YouTube videos that seem to run the gamut from music to relationship advice. I found a plethora of guides to troubleshooting an ice maker. Mike and I followed the instructions that I found by first turning off the water supply and unplugging the refrigerator. We then checked the water tubes for signs of blockage. When those appeared to be operating properly we focused on the ice making mechanism. We found frozen ice cubes stuck in the mold. It appeared that the little arm that determines whether or not ice is dropped or not was bent and in the wrong holes. We adjusted it a bit and reset the entire mechanism. I guess we will know in a few hours whether or not we have fixed the problem or need to purchase a new ice maker. Since we now know how easy the installation process is we will come out ahead either way.

I can’t really explain why I get a kick out of knowing how to perform such simple repairs. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and makes me feel as though I am doing my part to keep our planet from becoming a gigantic junkyard. I find that as people we tend to be a throwaway society. We would rather just go get something new than take care of what we already have.

It hasn’t always been that way. People would live in the same house for most of their lives. They would drive their cars until the wheels fell off. Most folks ate dinner at home every night and used every scrap of food for something useful, even creating compost heaps with the less edible parts of food. Which brings me back to my friend who is so creative in her habits. She told me recently that she saves all of the peelings from her vegetables in the freezer until she has a bag full of such items. Then she simmers them in water to make a lovely broth that she uses for making soups. I think we might all learn from her frugal and planet conscious habits. After recycling and using things to the maximum she has very little garbage and less expense that most of us.

Our ancestors made quilts from the fabric of feed sacks and old articles of clothing. Everything was used and reused. Tin cans held nails and screws. Paper bags wrapped gifts, covered books and sometimes even became makeshift suitcases. Cardboard was a special gift that covered windows or lined shoes that had holes in the bottom. Every woman had a grease jar to hold fat from bacon that might be used in recipes. Tea bags were used multiple times. Baking soda was a household miracle cure for a multitude of problems. My friend has studied all such things and created many more ideas for household maintenance from her own experiences.

I think that we all enjoy learning about ways to save money and our planet all at the same time. We really should think twice before simply tossing our refuse on the curb. There are so many ways that we might give our items new life or even new homes. I think that if we were all to consider such saves before rushing out to purchase the next new thing we might soon find that many of our planets’ environmental problems would begin to dwindle. If we think of ways to keep those trash bins as empty as possible we will all be better for the efforts. We might also learn a thing or two about saving our hard earned money in a world that seems to be on the verge of bankruptcy.

Find yourself a copy of Hints from Heloise or locate a friend who is already an expert at such things. You will declutter your life and have fun at the same time. There is nothing quite as rewarding as repairing a problem that may have seemed impossible to fix. We humans like doing that but haven’t been as skilled as we once were. Perhaps its time for all of us to learn how to do such things again.

We Are Our Own Narrators

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

come-with-me-7-2011_1-1024x671There is a certain irony that my grandson Jack performed in his last musical with the varsity theater group at his school this past weekend and that the play was Into the Woods. The piece was wildly popular on Broadway in the nineteen eighties about the time that Jack’s mother was ending her own days in high school. It is a profound story of relationships and the consequences of the choices that we make. It is a study of the fine line between childhood and becoming a true adult. Nothing is as it really seems or as simple as we would like things to be.

Jack played both the narrator and the mysterious man, a rather fitting dual role whose significance for me he may not fully understand until I explain. I found myself enthralled by the brilliance of his performance and his ability to nuance the subtleties and complexities of the parts. All in all Jack and his co-actors ultimately moved me to both tears and reflection which is as the authors of the play no doubt intended. 

Jack is named for a man that he never met, my father who would have been his great grandfather. The two Jacks are far more alike than almost anyone might suspect. My grandson like his long dead ancestor is a kind of renaissance man, someone who is as comfortable in a world of mathematics and science as in the domain of artistry. Like my father he is a sensitive soul who often finds himself questioning the ways of the world. He has so many talents and interests that he might follow a variety of paths in life just as was the case with his namesake. Both are known for looking at the world from many different angles. At the same time they might both be described as having a kind of innocent boyishness and joy of living that has made them attractive to others.

My father Jack loved to read and he passed that hobby down to me beginning when I was very young. He purchased two volumes of fairytales that he read faithfully to me. Those stories created a secret bond between the two of us and kept his memory alive long after he had died.

At first my thoughts of my father were romantic and childish much like the first act of Into the Woods and the stories that he read to me. I missed him terribly and often found myself having foolish dreams that he would one day return to guide and comfort me. Sadly reality never really works like that as is so profoundly revealed the second act of Into the Woods. There comes a moment when we all realize that we must cross over from the fantasies of our childhood into the world of reality. We learn that each of the choices that we make have consequences not only for ourselves but also for the people around us. We can only rely on our parents for so long and then we must face the fact that as we make our own ways we will undoubtedly make mistakes just as they did.

My grandfather was a kind of narrator, just like Jack was in his school play. Grandpa was the father of my father Jack. He often told stories of his own childhood and related history as he had lived it. He gave me great comfort any time that I was feeling down. He was a living link to my own father. His stories were not as lovely as the fairytales of my youth. He spoke to me with honesty because I was an adult and he understood that I must face even dark stories. He admitted to overcoming alcoholism and enduring profound depression and loneliness before encountering my grandmother and starting a family of his own. Like the songs in Into the Woods he found ways of bringing humor to situations that were actually quite tragic. He had developed a wisdom that allowed him to realize that sometimes we laugh and cry at the same time. Sometimes we are both frightened and curious. He had lived long enough to see that no person or situation is usually all good or all bad. He taught me that life is complex and we can neither run away from it nor tackle it alone. Like the mysterious man that grandson Jack also portrayed in his play, my grandfather had faced up to his own demons and conveyed to me the wisdom that he had learned from those battles.

I suspect that my grandson Jack has little idea how much his musical affected me. I thought of all of the times when I wanted to run away from the very adult responsibility of caring for my mother that was thrust upon me even before I had begun to explore the world. I had believed that she was supposed to be my rock and foundation but instead our roles were often reversed. I found myself making silly wishes with regard to our difficult relationship when she was very sick. Time again I had to rely on the kindness of others to help me through the most trying situations. I learned that I was much stronger than I had ever imagined and that I really didn’t need a narrator to tell me how my story should go.

I want to share my thoughts about his play and his role in it with my grandson Jack. I want to tell him the tale of his family thus far and how we all worked together and with an odd assortment of friends in reaching this day and time. I want him to know that we have seen triumph and tragedy, jubilation and bitter disappointment. Ours has been a very imperfect family but somehow we have managed to keeping traveling in and out of the woods, overcoming giants and wolves. We have been as human as the characters in the musical in which Jack had a starring role.

Hopefully my grandson will have learned more from his acting experience than just his lines and the melodies that he performed. If he reflects carefully he will see that there is an important message for each of us contained in the wittiness of the words and songs that he and his friends executed so very well. I wish for him to reach the depth of wisdom that is to be found in this musical that is not so much for children as for the child that lives inside all adults.

I suspect that Jack does indeed understand. He would not have been as convincing in his acting if he had not realized the power of the message that he was conveying through his expressions and the tenor of his voice. It is a good way for him to step out of the world of children and onto the pathway that will lead him into the adventure that he will one day call his life. I hope he knows now that he and only he is the teller of his story. How it proceeds and where it ultimately ends is up to him. It is an exciting journey that will not be without its misdirection and loss but will also bring him the realization of some of the most wonderful wishes that enter his head in the quiet of night. Along the way he will have unexpected encounters with people who will both help and hinder him. If he has truly learned his lessons well he will be ready for whatever comes. He will realize that all of us have a once upon a time that is only as lovely as we work to make it be. The magic is not in witches or beans or potions but within our own minds.

Love Is Still The Answer

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

two-people-holding-hands-connection-love-vulnerability1I was nineteen years old that April when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. died. I felt as though I myself had been attacked by a bullet when I heard the news of his assassination. I was shocked, devastated. He was and remains my hero, a larger than life figure who made a lasting imprint on my life when I was only tentatively entering adulthood. That was almost fifty years ago and in the years that followed his murder I have lived through a lifetime and become what society views as an old woman. Still the memories that I have of Dr. King are as fresh and vibrant as if they had occurred only yesterday. I cherish the fact that I was old enough to remember the world as it was before he so courageously sought to change it. For it is in knowing the impact of his influence that I am able to understand why he is perhaps the most important figure of the twentieth century.

I am a child of the south who saw the injustice of segregation. I used to ride a bus to downtown Houston with my mother from our home just a block away from what was then called South Park Boulevard. I enjoyed those adventures on public transportation far more than simply jumping into our car and riding to our favorite shopping spots. My mother had grown up taking a bus into town from her childhood house near Navigation. She regularly jumped aboard the carrier that transported her to shopping, movies and her first paid jobs. It felt natural to her to take a bus to get around the city rather than to fight traffic and so we often waited on the corner until the great big conveyance stopped to let us on.

There were not usually many people on the bus when we first stepped aboard but by the time that we reached our downtown destination it was packed. Back then I was only five or six years old and thought little about the seating arrangements that were literally dictated by law. There was an invisible line of demarcation separating those of us with white skin from our fellow Houstonians with darker complexions. They mostly joined us on our journey as we got closer to downtown, usually around Scott Street, obediently moving to the seats in the back, quietly enduring their humiliation.

As a child I was curious to know why such traditions existed but the way in which my mother would silence my inquiries told me that there was something secret and painful about the situation that I was not deemed old enough to understand. I remember sneaking peeks at my fellow travelers and wondering why we needed to be set apart from one another. I was still an obedient child and dared not question my elders but the whole thing seemed rather silly to me.

Our city was filled with shameful rules that prohibited those same folks who sat at the back of the bus from eating in the restaurants where we enjoyed lunch. There were separate water fountains and bathrooms for them as well. I didn’t understand but I complied with the unjust directions while questions began swirling inside my head even back then. I suppose that I have always been a bit of an old soul and my five year old mind felt the wrongness of what was happening even while the adults around me seemed not to even notice.

I came of age in the nineteen sixties, turbulent times defined by war, violence and open protest and questioning. Television had become a commonplace way of viewing world events on a nightly basis. I was educated by nuns and priests from the north whose points of view were often more radical than those of the southerners who were my neighbors and fellow citizens. I had eagerly watched the civil rights movement unfold from the summer when I took my last vacation with my father before he died. I was seven then and those weeks were punctuated by an awakening within my mind. I had overheard discussions between my father and grandfather about integration efforts in schools in Arkansas. I saw African Americans mingling with whites during our trip to Chicago as though there was nothing more natural. Somehow I realized that the way of doing things in my hometown were wrong and I audaciously announced my feelings to my parents who urged me to be cautious in pronouncing such radical ideas to strangers who might not take so kindly to my thinking.

By the time I was a teenager my sense of justice was full blown and I was no longer afraid to speak my mind. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had become the embodiment of all of the values that I held dear. He was a hero of enormous magnitude in my mind. His was a message of love and tolerance. He was noble and brave and seemed to follow the teachings and example of Jesus Himself. Little did I truly understand the depth of this remarkable man. I worshipped him only superficially without knowing how human he was and how difficult and dangerous it was for him to assume the mantle of leadership in a cause that would ultimately lead him to his death. I would be nearer to the age that he was when he died before I would truly understand his greatness.

I have read many books and stories about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He was thrust into a battle for justice that he did not seek. He was given a gift of oratory that was able to put the frustrations of his brothers and sisters into unforgettable words. Time and again he had to pray for the strength to endure the hatred that followed and threatened him wherever he went. He might have turned away from his destiny but somehow he soldiered on again and again. Always he spoke of unity and tolerance and the power of love. The more I learned about him, the larger his influence loomed in my mind. He was undoubtedly one of the the greatest Americans of all time, deserving of a place in history alongside the likes of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.

Martin Luther King was struck down before his work was finished but he had accomplished so much. Young people today can’t even begin to imagine the horror of segregation that I witnessed and thankfully didn’t have to endure simply because I was born with white skin. We have truly come a long way from those days but there is still divisiveness in many circles. While it should not make the least bit of difference, there are still those who make judgements about their fellow humans based only on the color of skin or texture of hair. A residue of the kind of hatefulness that prompted the assassination of Dr. King remains even almost fifty years later. When, I wonder, will the ugliness be completely eradicated from our thinking and what will it take to get us to a place where there are no more Dylan Roofs who slaughter innocents peacefully going about their lives at church?

I am almost thirty years older than Dr. King was when he died. He never got the opportunity to see the changes that I have seen. He did not live to witness the first African American President of the United States. He never realized the ultimate power of his legacy. He was instead quite weary on the day that he died. His energy and enthusiasm were severely taxed because there was still so much more work to be done. He experienced profound agony in understanding that man’s inhumanity to man is an evil that must be overcome one person and one situation at a time in an almost endless cycle. Still he held fast to a belief in possibilities, reminding us again and again that “love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.” He fully believed those words as do I to this very day.

Our world is in a state of tumult once again. Our young in particular are questioning the way we do things just as our children have throughout history. They look at our society with fresh eyes and wonderment. They are searching for answers to the questions that daunt them and redress to the unfairness that they see. I pray that they too will find a hero as magnificent as mine. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was imperfect like those who founded our country but he rose above his fears and his flaws to lead us in a cause that was far bigger than himself. He did so with grace and sacrifice and showed us what we can accomplish if we put love at the forefront of our lives.

Someday

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

maxresdefaultAll of us are guilty of procrastination at one time or another. We promise ourselves that we will design a plan for healthy living but never quite get around to doing so. We have a bucket list of places that we would like to visit but always have some reason or another why we can’t quite find the time or the money to take that trip. We resolve to spend more time with a family member or friend who has a difficult time getting out of the house but the someday that we intend to do so never quite comes. We have the best of intentions but our follow through is often lacking. Sometimes we find ourselves filled with regret because it is truly too late to fulfill the dreams that have filled our heads. Excuses all too often preempt actions. Tomorrow never quite comes.

The realities of life are often hectic and unpredictable. It is not that uncommon to become so involved with the routines and surprises of our lives that we never have the time or the energy to actually accomplish our goals and desires. We are often so responsible that we put our own wishes at the bottom of long to-do lists. We believe that so many other people must come first. Our children need us. Our elderly parents require our attention. Our homes need to be cleaned or organized or repaired. We have to pay the orthodontist or the car mechanic. We find hundreds of thousands of dollars to send our kids to college but see that cruise to Alaska as a luxury that we can’t afford. We tell ourselves that someday everything will work out but as the years go by we begin to realize that we may never actually do so many of the things that we had at one time thought we might experience. Sometimes we have to grab the moment and put ourselves first, as selfish as that might seem.

I have found that there has never been a single time when I decided to just go for something that I wanted to do that it did not turn out fantastically. I had the crazy idea of going to graduate school at the same time that my daughters were in college. I had little idea how I was going to pay the tuition and fees or buy the books but I knew that I needed to take the risk or I would one day be quite unhappy. I had to attend classes after a busy day at work and spend entire weekends reading and writing papers. I was exhausted and low on funds but I was also driven to accomplish the task. I refused to give up even when my goal seemed almost foolish and impossible. It took me four years but when I was finished my higher level of education opened up doors that provided me with the happiest times of my work life. I knew that I had done the right thing and that all of the sacrificing had been worth the effort.

Once both of my daughters were grown and living on their own I decided that I was going to visit Europe no matter what it took to get there. I was one of the few people among my friends and relatives who had never been there. I was in my mid fifties and I worried that if I didn’t make a move I might soon be afflicted with health problems that would preclude such a journey. I convinced my husband to take a leap of faith and spend some of our savings to travel across the Atlantic. We accompanied friends to a ski resort in Austria during the Christmas holidays. The vacation was enchanting from beginning to end. It was without question one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I vividly and happily recall every second and treasure the memories. I’d hate to think that I might have somehow passed on the opportunity to see the wondrous sights that were part of that trip.

Most of the time if we carefully consider a particular situation we find that with just a bit of planning and a willingness to work a bit harder we are capable of doing far more than we might think. With a solid goal in mind we can save a bit of money here and there, reschedule our routines, find ways to do the things that excite us.

Some people are so good at prioritizing their lives. If they want to travel they forego less meaningful luxuries and religiously set aside the funds that they will need. If they desire a particular job or lifestyle they put in the time to get the education or training for the work that will get them where they want to be. If their goal is to volunteer more they make certain that doing good works is built into the calendar of their daily routine. Those who wish to be more spiritual find a time and place to pray or reflect. Some get up an hour or two earlier so that they might exercise. All worthy dreams are fulfilled with a bit of ingenuity and effort.

Our somedays are far too uncertain to gamble them away. Don’t just have a resolution. Have a plan. Literally sit down and determine how you will make a goal become a reality. Talk with your family and friends for insights and don’t feel shy about asking for their help. Create a reasonable timeline for doing the things that you wish to do and try to deviate from the plan as little as possible. Keep track of how well you are doing in meeting your expectations. Make adjustments as needed. Try not to get distracted with events and situations that are unimportant. Have someone who is willing to encourage you when you become frustrated. Most of all keep telling yourself that you deserve as much of your time and attention as anyone else. You don’t have to ignore yourself to be a good person. It really is okay to pamper yourself by checking off those desires on your bucket list. In fact you will be happier and healthier and more likely to be of use to the world if you learn how to give to yourself. Make those somedays happen. There is no better time to start than today.