Letting Go

So much of mid-life and beyond means letting go...

Letting go of the burdens of youth. You go from feeling that "Everyone is watching me!" to the freedom of no one watching you. You're no longer wondering if you'll ever find that one special relationship. By midlife, you've found and experienced love. You may have lost that love by divorce or a breakup or by death -- and have experienced all the anguish that has gone with it -- and yet you have survived. Perhaps you're optimistic that you can find love once again, but you know that you can survive, even thrive, on your own.

Letting go of children as daily responsibilities. Of course, you'll always love and care about your adult children. But there comes a time in midlife or beyond, when you relinquish daily responsibilities, financial responsibilities. Many people I know have one adult child who isn't doing well on his or her own and who continues to demand or expect parental help. There comes a point, however, when loving parents stop rescuing and start encouraging self-sufficiency for the good of all concerned.

Letting go of old dreams. When you turn 40 or 50 or 60, you no longer have a shot at being a young prodigy, of playing professional sports or aspiring to the New York City Ballet. Those old childhood, adolescent or young adult dreams have become outdated and irrelevant to the person you are today. Letting go of the old dream to be a star in a now impossible field or even your current occupation can make room for new dreams and strategies for achieving them.  As you mature, your dreams begin to line up with new priorities: personal growth and learning new skills; finding new, more effective ways to achieve professional goals; finding new satisfaction in who you are now, in family, in friends.

Letting go of outgrown needs. Think about how your needs have changed in the past few years. Are you traveling with less baggage in life? Perhaps when you were younger, you needed more stylish clothes and a greater variety of outfits. Maybe you spent a lot of time and money on makeup, hair color, and shoes. Maybe the concept of sitting home with a good book on a Saturday night was just too depressing to imagine a few years ago -- and now seems not such a bad idea. Maybe, only a few years ago, if you weren't the life of the party or the center of attention, you felt that you had somehow failed. Now, though you still enjoy lively discussions, you're more likely to listen to another's point of view or hear about their achievements without feeling diminished.

Letting go of judgments. This can be a major life-enhancer in mid-life and beyond.  Perhaps you're finding that you're more tolerant of differences, that you can be friends with people whose worldviews and life experiences are quite different from yours.  Maybe you find yourself enjoying people you would have found tedious or worse when you were younger, seeing the goodness under the annoying or eccentric or alien-to-your-way-of thinking veneer. It could be that you've let go of your desire to change the world, to convert everyone to your way of thinking and come to the conclusion that you enjoy people more when you leave them alone and allow them to be the unique individuals they want and need to be.  And you find yourself learning from many of these differences.

Letting go of old hurt and anger. This means finding your way past old grudges and decreasing the burden that carrying old anger or hurt can place on you.  Even in extreme cases, this letting go can be a blessing.  Even in recent years, I could feel the anger rising whenever I thought about the husband of a dear college friend of mine.  My friend Marie Traina -- an award winning young journalist who had incredible enthusiasm for life, who sang and played the guitar beautifully and loved her family and friends unconditionally -- was murdered in her sleep by her husband, a young lawyer suffering from bipolar disorder.  Because he was found not guilty of her murder due to temporary insanity, he has had a full life -- practicing law, remarrying and raising a daughter.  Marie, who was 28 when she was killed, has missed all these years and experiences that we have all enjoyed. She would have been a wonderful mother, an outrageously great Italian grandmother.  She would have achieved so much professionally and would have continued to bring so much joy to her family and friends. But one can't be angry forever. Anger won't bring her back. I've made efforts in the past year to let go to the bitterness I feel toward Marie's husband. It isn't forgiveness and it isn't for him. It's for me and for Marie.... so I can stop thinking with anguish about all she missed in this life and go back to thinking of her with the warm and joyous memories she so deserves. Whether the pain is an old grudge, a slight, or the untimely loss of someone you love, letting go of old hurt and old pain can greatly lighten your load and bring new energy to your life.

Letting go does not mean giving up.  It means opening up your life -- to new dreams, to new possibilities, to new hope -- as you let go of what no longer fits the person you've grown to be and
welcome all the joy that is to come.

Giving Your Children Roots and Wings

The phone call, coming in early one morning on the telephone line I used for my part-time Northwestern University admissions work, was startling in its urgency and insistence. The caller was a woman I'll call Patti, whose daughter Madison I had interviewed a year before. Madison was now enrolled as a theater major at Northwestern.

"Kathy, I have to ask a favor of you," Patti said, her voice tense. "Madison has a problem. The acting teacher in the class she was assigned this quarter is not top notch. This is unacceptable. I have issues with the way she is being taught. I need you to to fix this."

Before letting her know that, as a part-time regional admissions representative, I had no power -- or business -- in trying to influence academic assignments, I asked the question most on my mind: "How does Madison feel about this class?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "Oh, she likes this teacher a lot," Patti said at last. "I just think she could do better."

"As long as Madison is happy in the class and feels she's learning something, do you really want to try to change things?" I asked.

Another pause. Another sigh. "I thought you would understand and be more helpful," she said, before hanging up the phone.

I thought about her bright, talented young daughter who, after a rocky, tearful first quarter of learning she was one among many talented young people in her class instead of an automatic star,  was beginning to settle in, eager to learn and grow. And I thought about how hard it is for parents to let go and trust that all will be well with their young adult children.

I thought back to the day that I left home to attend Northwestern. It was a radical concept. I had never seen the campus, never known anyone who went there, had never flown before, had never traveled alone. My parents couldn't afford to accompany me from Los Angeles to Chicago.

My mother kissed me and hugged me tight, then stepped quickly away as my father and I left for the airport. My father, true to form, regaled me enroute to LAX with one of his famous melodramatic Irish father "death speeches": "You know I'm not well and I may die before you come home for Christmas. If I do, I just want you to know that I love you and am proud of you." I squeezed back my tears and willed myself not to cry. As the plane was boarding, he held me one last time. "My baby," he said, his voice breaking slightly. Then he let me go.

Once on the plane, I broke into wracking sobs.  A kind older woman -- an angel for sure -- moved from two rows behind to sit beside me and hold me, reassuring me that college would be a wonderful adventure, that I'd just love Chicago, that it was O.K. to be scared. My spirits rose even more when volunteer Northwestern students greeted me warmly in the baggage claim area of O'Hare and transported me to campus. Once I met my roommate Cheryl, a kindred spirit, I cheered up considerably. Together, we went to a welcome address given by the Dean of Students, who concluded his comments by saying "In all the excitement of starting your new life here, don't forget the people who made this possible by letting you come here. Your parents are missing you tonight. Go back to your rooms right now and write to your parents. Tell them another Dad said 'Hello.'" I thought about what it had taken for my parents to let me go....and went to my dorm room immediately to write a letter thanking them and telling them how happy I was (leaving out all the crying stuff).

The scenario is somewhat different today. Young adults are, in general, more sophisticated, more well traveled. And yet, it seems harder for many to leave the nest. During my 20 years of part-time college admissions work, I spent a lot of time before and after college fairs trading stories with reps from other schools about the separation difficulties that students and parents seemed to have. And at Northwestern -- as with most other schools these days -- there was talk of the dreaded helicopter parents who, in some extreme cases, would want to sleep in their kids' dorm rooms for the first week or, like Patti, seek to influence class assignments or call professors about a problem instead of letting their sons or daughters resolve the matter.  Such over-involvement was actively discouraged, though parental concerns were respected. It was a delicate balance.  And, at the same time,  Student Services was reporting an expansion of student mental health services.

For some young adults, going to college or getting that first tiny, shared apartment is a step down from the way they've been living. For someone who has always had his or her own room, laundry and meals provided by Mom, dorm living can be a shock. For someone who has been praised non-stop by proud parents, arriving on campus to find that just about everyone they meet has similar if not more stellar achievements can be a tough dose of reality. For young people leaving home to work and live on their own, adjusting to work schedules, employer expectations, the realities of living with non-relatives and doing all the tasks of daily survival oneself can be, at least initially, daunting. But it's all essential preparation for the demands of adult living.

But many young adults today seem stuck in childhood and, at times,  parental collusion is obvious.

Not long ago, while visiting a friend who is well known for her independence, competence and general "I don't take any shit from anyone" attitude, I was shocked when her 19-year-old daughter (still living at home, taking an occasional community college course and vague on her plans for the future) came into the kitchen, interrupting our conversation and barked one word at her mother: "Artichokes!" Her mother got up immediately.

"Oh, you want artichokes," she said. "I'll make some right away."

My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. And I wondered when, how or if this young woman would ever fly free of the nest.

Even though economic realities make independent living more challenging for young adults today who may face the triple whammy of low-paying first jobs, high student loans and steep rents, leaving home emotionally can be even more of a challenge.

As parents, we need to love our kids and trust their competence enough to let them go. We need to recognize the consequences of holding on.

My childhood friend Mary, the mother of three adult children now on their own, told me recently that "it can be very painful to know that your children don't really need you anymore, at least not on a daily basis. But I didn't want to do to them what I've seen too many people doing to their children -- insisting on remaining the center of their universe -- which can really limit their lives. And so, as hard as it was for me,  I let go."

The old saying about the necessity of giving our children roots and wings is so true. Giving children a firm sense of values and a sense of who they are and where they come from before sending them out into the world is critical.  And so is giving them wings to fly.

There are many elements that build these wings.  There are independent living skills to learn when they're still at home, increasing responsibilities for their own daily survival so that doing for themselves is second nature.  There is the growing sense of competence in fighting their own battles, resolving their own problems -- perhaps with your encouragement and advice but no more than that.  There is the gift of your letting go, letting them know that it's O.K. to go, to be scared, to be unsure, to be excited as they venture out of the nest.

My sister Tai, who is ten years younger than I am, recently told me that my departure for college was one of the most vivid memories of her childhood.  It was interesting to hear about that memorable day from her perspective: how our mother had cried after I walked out the door, how our father had wondered aloud if he would ever see me again, how in awe she had been of my resolve to go to a college 2,000 miles away.  "I thought that it was the bravest thing I had ever seen anyone do," she said. "When you walked out of the house to get on that plane for Chicago, I thought it was just incredible. You were so brave!"

I thought back on the moment and, with the perspective of time,  just how much it had cost my parents emotionally to let go and let me fly away. I felt the love and tears in my mother's hug. I heard the love and fear in my father's unique goodbye.  And I thought about how brave my parents had been, how trusting in my competence, to let me go.  And, all these years later,  I whispered a heartfelt thanks to them both.

Parents and Adult Children: Finding The Balance

I spotted a bitter letter to the editor in The New York Times the other day. Commenting on a proposed new law in China that will require adult children to visit their parents regularly, a reader wrote that she had long "railed against the way the best of parents become 'bit players' (if that) in the lives of their adult offspring".  She referred to adult children's neglect of parents as "this most heartbreaking and also unjust 'family apartheid.'" The pain in her letter made me wince -- and wonder how she came to feel the way she did.

I also thought of friends and acquaintances with happy relationships with their adult children and of patients who have complained of either intrusive, nagging parents or patients who were parents feeling left out of their adult children's lives.

And I remembered a tearful conversation with my own mother years ago, when I was a busy and occasionally clueless twentysomething.  A close relative had suggested, with more than a trace of anger,  that I should be doing more, much more for my mother -- then in her fifties -- who had a stressful life.  I rushed to my mother and apologized to her for my thoughtlessness.  She dried my tears and embraced me. "But you're already doing so much," she said. " It brings me such pleasure to see you happy and hear about your adventures. The best thing you can do for me is to be happy and live your life. If I need any help down the road, you can be sure I'll ask."

I see many friends who are like my mother: my friend Georgia, who dearly loves her two daughters and the grandchildren they have given her, but who has built a new life for herself hundreds of miles away and my friend Tim who is tremendously proud of his four incredibly talented, accomplished adult children, but who also finds daily satisfaction in his own life and pursuits.

And I hear, especially from patients, about the dark side of parenting an adult child.  One patient I'll call Diana has a number of challenges in her daily life -- an ailing husband, a toddler,  a disabled child and a demanding home-based business. Her situation is complicated by an elderly widowed mother who lives nearby and who calls multiple times a day, not with offers of help or support, but with demands of her own as well as unsolicited advice and opinions on every aspect of Diana's life. Diana struggles to find a balance. She loves her mother and wants to be helpful, but she also feels besieged, criticized and unappreciated. There is so much love and so much pain between this mother and her adult daughter that a reasonable balance of needs and expectations is, so far, elusive.

What can help keep adult children from feeling besieged and aging parents from feeling like they are, as the New York Times reader complained, "on a socially accepted ice floe when it comes to offspring"?

Limit your expectations

The fewer expectations you have for your adult children, the less likely you are to be disappointed when they're so busy with their new lives that they don't call or visit as often as you would like.  

Think back on your young adulthood for a moment.

How much time did you spend with your own parents? 

Even young adults who feel close to their parents can get so busy with the demands of building an independent life that they don't notice the time passing. 

What to do?

Keep in touch in ways that are meaningful to them.  

My friend Sharon has two delightful and busy adult children in their thirties.  "But we keep in close touch because I communicate their way," she says. "I'm good at texting. I had to learn in order to keep up with my daughter Carrie."

And my friend Tim, whose four children range in age from 27 to 35 and lead busy lives far away from home, keeps in touch by phone and email and also on Facebook -- which he set up at their urging. The loving messages posted by his kids on his Facebook page warm his spirit -- and also the hearts of his friends reading the messages.

Reframe feelings of being on the sidelines.  

The woman writing to the New York Times complained about being a "bit player" in her offspring's lives.  There does come a time when our children grow up  to enjoy busy young adulthood: they're building careers and relationships, starting families, reveling in their independence. It's their day, their moment, just at the time when we're feeling that some major parts of our lives are beginning to wind down.  Instead of feeling diminished and left out, one can get in tune with the rhythm of life. We can reframe being a "bit player" to "having a front row seat" or "cheering them on."  Letting the pleasure of generativity flow over you as you marvel at the accomplishments of your children and grandchildren can be life-changing.

Reclaim your life. 

As a parent, you've devoted many of your adult years to nurturing your children. And, as long as you live, they will always be central to your life.  But now that your kids are grown and on their own, you have opportunities you haven't had in years to pursue interests long neglected, to enjoy new intimacy with your spouse, to imagine and create your own future.  While you may feel pleasure watching your children find love and success, they may also feel pleasure watching you thrive in your own way.  A dear family friend, Orlie Laing, who lived next door to us when I was growing up, was a particular inspiration.  After retiring as a college professor and seeing his two children into independent young adult lives, he devoted himself to music, learning to play the violin, and to re-discovering his passion for figure skating. He became a competitive ice dancer and enjoyed the sport into his nineties.  His children -- and those of us who also loved him -- were thrilled for him.  Having your own life and interests can be a great gift not only to you, but also to your children.

Let warm memories sustain you as you make new ones.  

Remembering your son or daughter as a baby or toddler who considered you his or her whole world can warm your heart. There may be times when you miss being so central to your children's daily lives. There may be times when you feel life passing you by.  My Aunt Molly used to say that, as you age, "you're welcome at the party, but the party isn't for you."  That can be a matter of perspective. But participating in the party, minus the burden of being the central focus, can be even more satisfying. Now is a time to let go of old responsibilities and expectations.  It is a time to celebrate your own independence. It is a time for new adventures of your own. Life isn't over by any measure.  When your life is full and happy, your children will be even more inclined to want to share time with you and to cheer you on, too, as you all explore your new phases of life. 

The Gift and Challenge of Time

They were a study in contrasts: a woman in the locker room at the gym this morning, who gasped as she changed to run from dance exercise to water exercise class "I've never been busier than I am in retirement! How did I ever find time to work?" and the woman who lingered over a leisurely game of solitaire at the local cafe this afternoon.  She smiled when she saw me though we had never met. "Want to play cards, hon?" she asked, hopefully. "It sure helps to pass the time if you know what I mean."

We all have highly individual concepts of time.

For some of us, there is never enough time to do all we want to do. For some, energy and interests combine to create a perpetually busy schedule. For some, being busy is a habit and activities expand to fill all the hours in a day.

There are others who drift through life, bored, listless and searching for something to fill the long hours of the day. While chronic boredom can manifest itself throughout life, it can particularly evident after retirement when the old structure of commuting, working, and free time give way to a new concept: creating a new structure for your days. Time hangs heavy for some and is never enough for others.

If you find time hanging heavy, feel bored and dissatisfied and don't know quite what to do with yourself, see your doctor for a check-up, especially if these feelings are new to you. Depression can slow your days to a crawl -- and, conversely, sitting rooted in a lounge chair getting no more exercise than clicking the t.v. remote control is depressing.

What can you do when days seem endless? Discover or re-discover some new or renewed passions. Did you love making music once upon a time? Enjoy a sport? Were you handy with needlework? Dust off your equipment and try it once again.  You might also focus on giving some of that too abundant time to others as a volunteer -- in your community, in a local hospital, or schools or in animal rescue or a political cause that interests you.

If you're finding you don't have time to do all you want to do, stop and think for a moment. Are you enjoying life? Or are you feeling trapped and stressed with a lockstep schedule? If you're starting to feel stressed, practice saying "No" when you feel the need. Limit activities -- as much as possible --to those you really enjoy. Make sure you have enough time for yourself:  quiet time to read, to think, to meditate.

Finding a healthy balance between time alone and time shared, between time spent working and time to relax and replenish your spirit, is a challenge whatever your time of life. In our younger years, huge chunks of time were devoted to building our careers, raising our children, nurturing our relationships as well as our evolving selves -- and, too often, there wasn't enough time for relaxation and self-care.

As the children grow up, as our careers begin to wind down, we may find ourselves bewildered by the sudden infusion of time in our lives and the need to re-balance our priorities.  Some of us may continue to have our time filled with the need to care for aging parents or an ailing spouse -- and find ourselves struggling for a bit of time for respite and self-care.  For others, this newfound free time is a precious gift or a formidable challenge -- or a bit of both.  The challenge is to fill your days with a balance of responsibilities and pleasures. The gift is having the freedom to determine for yourself just what those responsibilities and pleasures will be -- and how these will balance in this very special time of your life.

Older vs. Younger: Taming the Tension Between Generations

Generational conflicts are a fact of life. Throughout history, older people (even in ancient Greece) have complained about the irresponsibility or rudeness or general cluelessness of the young. And the young have found their parents and generations beyond totally out of touch, hopelessly old-fashioned and obtuse.

However, lately the traditional conflicts between older and younger generations have taken some unsettling turns. It is obvious when reading newspapers, magazines and listening to television or radio news. There are letters to the editor ranting about Baby Boomers and what a drag they are and will be on society's resources. There are seniors who complain publicly about having to contribute to the education and general well-being of other people's children, after they have raised their own. It is also painfully obvious in some communications from younger friends and former co-workers -- who talk angrily (or wistfully) about how nice it must be to be retired and how upset they are that this phase of life may be profoundly different when they're 67, 70 or beyond.  And there are media pundits on all sides talking about generational wars. Media, left, right and in between, fan these generational fires because conflict sells newspapers, magazines and advertising space. These media-fanned tensions can also obscure the realities and challenges we all face -- and need to address together.

We need to sit back and take a collective deep breath. We need to get a grip. And then we must remember how much we all depend on each other -- and on past generations and those yet to come.

Seniors who say "I've got mine!" -- whether this is Social Security or a pension or the fact that their children and maybe even grandchildren have their educations secured -- need to reflect on the reality that having yours is not enough. Looking at the matter pragmatically, your future security depends not only on your own prudence, foresight and luck in life. It also depends on having educated, functional younger generations who will pay taxes and provide goods and services.  This means that younger generations need good food, good medical care and good educational opportunities.  We may have worked to finance our own college educations (more possible before the current explosion of college costs) and those of our children.  But other generations -- from our parents to countless strangers -- also worked and paid taxes to help educate us throughout our years in school.  We paid Social Security taxes for 30 or 40 years or more of employment to support current retirees and to secure our futures. And younger workers, in turn, will do the same.  How can we not contribute to the resources needed to educate them and help them to prepare for the challenges of the future?

Younger generations who bemoan the sheer numbers and needs of Baby Boomers and other senior generations  may be overlooking contributions older generations are making to your lives even as you rant about their greed.  Many young graduates live with parents far longer than previous generations as they struggle to get a foothold in today's job market.  Some recent studies show that younger adults are much more likely to ask for financial help from their parents or grandparents than the older generations are to request help from the young.  So it may be prudent to think twice about advocating for slashing or privatizing Social Security or Medicare -- or you may find yourself needing to contribute to the support of elderly parents or grandparents even as you struggle to support yourself and a growing young family.

Some of the tensions seem to be rooted in stereotypes: greedy golfing geezers taking resources away from younger generations struggling to survive and younger people without the work ethic or drive necessary to make their way in the world.

The trend in retirement these days is less about endless vacations and days filled with golf than it is about older people working part-time or launching new careers or making a major difference as volunteers in schools, hospitals, charities and causes. Most seniors are not independently wealthy and the majority do depend heavily on Social Security benefits.  Most aren't trying to live lavishly, but to maintain their independence and not burden their children.  And some seniors make major sacrifices to help their children.  For example,  Renee, a former co-worker of mine, took a lifelong, major cut in her retirement benefits to leave her job several years earlier than she had planned because her young married daughter had a baby and couldn't afford to stop working or to pay for good daycare.  Renee is now providing unpaid daily loving care for her granddaughter. Despite the financial sacrifices this has entailed for her, she sees it as a wonderful opportunity to nurture her family's newest generation and to help her daughter.

And younger people bring so much to the daily lives of their elders.  It's a pleasure to mentor or encourage a younger person. There are so many talented, hard-working younger people who simply need a chance to show what they can do.  It's a joy to share perspectives and grow through being open to each other's wisdom and expertise.  Yes, the young have much to teach us.  Our children and grandchildren have an understanding and ease with emerging technology that we will never have. (My 16-month old niece Maggie can navigate through an iPAD with lightening speed as I watch in awe.) Need help setting up a new computer system? Getting on Facebook? Learning to Twitter?  Chances are,  someone younger will be there to help.  Sometimes they challenge us.  My younger friend Donnell insists on texting me rather than resorting to "old-fashioned" email -- as part of a goal he has to drag me into the technology of the 21st century.  Well beyond technology,  younger and older generations have differing life experiences, different strengths and weaknesses. But these differences can work wonderfully when shared in positive ways to enrich all our lives.

The fact is, we all need each other. We all need support, compassion and understanding. These needs are quite independent of our political beliefs, our ethnicity, or our ages. Instead of focusing on our differences -- and allowing media to fan the fires of conflict between us -- we need to work together to find creative, compassionate solutions to the very real social and economic challenges we face today.

The Urge to Run Away

Some years ago, I picked up the phone to hear a friend I'll call Gina sobbing on the other end.

"I want to run away!" she cried. "My two daughters just had a screaming, 15 minute fight over a 65 cent packet of barrettes. I'm so done with this! I want to take a week off from being a mom! Can I fly out and stay with you? Just be totally irresponsible for a week?"

How could I refuse? We had a wonderfully irresponsible week together -- lazing around the community pool, strolling on the beach, laughing and telling stories. It became an annual tradition: Gina's break from the demands of motherhood.  Her yearly escapes ended only when her daughters grew up -- morphing into lovely women whose company she treasured. Once the grandchildren came, there was no chance of luring her away again.

And yet, the urge to run happens to many people in a number of circumstances.  You may feel like running -- for even a few minutes -- when the evening noise pollution with the kids, the dog, music and t.v. converge into a mind-shattering cacophony. You may feel like yelling "I'm done!" and stomping out the door when your teenager is impossible.  You may feel like running when your aging parent overwhelms you with expectations, demands and criticism.  You may fantasize about a quick escape when you realize that you're so busy meeting others' needs, you haven't done anything for yourself in months or years. You may start looking for a temporary exit when, in retirement, you and your husband find yourselves together all the time, every day, for the first time in your marriage.

What does the urge to run mean? It is a signal that you're exhausted, depleted and desperate for some kind of respite. How can you give yourself a respite if you don't have the time, the means or the opportunity to flee for a significant chunk of time?

Take mini-escapes right where you are:  Arrange with your family for you to take a time out -- perhaps for half an hour after dinner. Take a cup of herbal tea to the patio or the privacy of your room. Plug in your iPOD to music that pleases you.  Practice mindful meditation -- a half hour of relaxation and concentrating with your breathing, letting your tension melt away. 

One couple I know who had six pre-teen and teenage kids had a half-hour coffee break every evening on the patio with no kids allowed. They set a timer in the kitchen and all the kids knew that, short of the house burning down, their parents were off-limits until the chime went off. Once established, this time-out worked well for this busy couple -- and their kids.

Realize that self-care can help you to care better for others.  This is particularly true when you have unrelenting demands as the caregiver for an aging parent or as the parent of a special needs child. Make arrangements with a spouse, family member or close friend or professional respite care to free you up to have some time just for you. It isn't selfish to want this. It's normal -- and necessary for you to have some time to relax and replenish the energy it takes to care for your loved one.

Make regular time apart a positive for you -- and your relationships.  In our new community, we often see newly retired couples struggle with constant togetherness.  While some, like Bob and me, welcome time together after so many years of juggling work responsibilities, others find themselves in turf wars. One woman I know who was always a homemaker chafes under her husband's constant suggestions about how she might do her housework more efficiently and at his expectations for three formal mealtimes in a lock-stop daily schedule. "I'm not used to having him home all the time," she says. "I used to have a life. Now I don't." What seems to work for many people is a compromise - coordinating time apart to pursue individual interests.  Our neighbors Larry and Louise -- another two-career couple only recently retired who treasure their time together -- have scheduled Monday afternoons for separate interests. Louise heads to the ceramics workshop while Larry comes over for a guitar lesson from Bob.

Another couple, Bill and Susan, schedule his golf and her gym workouts at the same time.  

During a stressful time of life, make time for little pleasures.  This may mean a date night out for you and your spouse. It may mean an evening with girlfriends while he watches the kids.  It may mean a hot bath, healthy food, an exercise routine, a time set aside to smell the roses, cuddle with the cat or dog, whatever pleases you.  Taking time for yourself and/or your marriage is critical, especially during difficult times. It may be as brief as a dinner out or as long as a weekend or more away. When you're feeling overwhelmed and that you're losing touch with you or your spouse, you absolutely need to make the time to replenish your energies and your relationship in order to gather strength for the next challenge.

It's not selfish. It doesn't make you a bad parent, spouse or daughter.  Running away -- for a few minutes or a week -- may be just what you need to survive and even thrive through the inevitable challenges that life can bring.

Making the Most of Each Day

A man named Stuart Bridges (stuartbridges.alscommunity.org) died recently in Phoenix. A formerly active, successful man, he spent the last few years of his life bedridden with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) also known as Lou Gehrig's disease. Laurie Roberts, an Arizona Republic newspaper columnist,  followed him through the course of the disease -- from his initial diagnosis when he felt all the joy in his life was in the past to weeks before his December 13 death when he told Ms. Roberts that he still felt joy in life. Perhaps it was the smile of a family member or friend or reading kind words sent from a friend or stranger or feeling a tender touch, hearing the sound of rain or seeing the sunlight of a new day. As his world became smaller and more confined, Stuart Bridges rejoiced in the small blessings of his life.

In our more expansive, healthy lives what are the blessings we can count every day? Everything around us, everyone we meet, every experience we have can be a blessing.

What are yours today?

I feel blessed for a sunny and warm Arizona day. For the kindness of neighbors and our acceptance of each other, eccentricities, pains and quirks included. I feel blessed with the unconditional love of three cats whose ability to soothe and delight never wavers. I feel blessed by friendships -- old and new and new/old, some friends who were dear decades ago, in what feels like another lifetime, who have appeared again recently to bring joy to my life. I feel blessed for the chance to exercise and to build a healthier body. I feel blessed by family whose love is expressed in so many different ways, each treasured.  I feel blessed with old memories and new experiences, to be older, rather than younger, with a lifetime of adventures -- and more to come.

It's so easy to overlook our blessings, to accept them as our due, and to focus instead on the negative: that persistant ache or pain, the waning physical abilities despite our best efforts, so many losses that we experience at this stage of life. The firm, sleak beauty of our youth is elusive now. Our mates age along with us and we fear, in whispered tones or private anguish, losing them. Our health, impacted by genetic and lifestyle factors, may never be perfect again. But simply being alive and living with joy and gratitude is a blessing. My physical heart may be problematic, but the heart that is my essence still sings.

As well as counting our blessings, we can give generously to others each day. Did you smile at someone today? Extend a hand, a kind word? Did you try to brighten another's day?

Living fully with love can overcome so many of life's limitations.  Isabella was a dear friend from college with whom I lost contact after she went into the Peace Corps and then enjoyed a career in journalism and diplomacy that took her around the world. We were reunited online by Marcia, another long-lost dear college friend, and enjoyed renewing our friendship through emails and dreams of a friends' reunion. I was stunned to read her husband's post-Christmas note two years ago, telling me that Isabella had died of ALS, that the disease had taken a rapid course with her so that at least she didn't suffer long. As her life, like that of Stuart Bridges, became ever more limited, Isabella still communicated only joy -- in her life adventures, in her beautiful and talented young daughter, in the unwavering love and support of her husband, in nurturing friendships.

We're all living with limits, all with the relentless march of time. But still, we can choose joy in the simple and the most important aspects of our lives to make every moment a blessing.