Funny thing. I have wanted to write this blog for several months and couldn’t seem to get started. No surprise, it is about facing something in ourselves, limitations that stop us from doing what we most want to do. The metaphor of a glass ceiling is quite apropos.
As I sit here, feeling cozy back at home, my mug says “Alaska, the last frontier.” I am trying to keep the spirit of the amazing month of July alive in my thoughts.
I am not the only person I know in my sixties who had a bad work experience at the end of their career. One friend was in his hospital bed after cancer surgery when his boss told him he was being forced to retire. Another friend worked for years as a successful paramedic and was then given the worst shifts in attempts to squeeze him out.
My father turned 90 in May. We had a small birthday party at his house, which I filmed on my phone. He was blowing out candles on a cake, although he could not eat the cake. He has a feeding tube and has not eaten normally for over 20 years, since his last cancer surgery.
In our 60s, we are old enough to remember the days when the scourge of AIDS seemed to hover everywhere. Many of us have known someone who was dying or have lost someone to the disease.
How many times do we avoid doing something because we decide that it’s impossible? My sister, Ruth, came up with the following amazing example.
Here we learn the other three more ways to apologize: making restitution, repentance or commitment to change, and asking for forgiveness. I am proud to share my sister’s article and so lucky to have a wonderful sister and be so close to her. Here is the second part of her article…
I recently published a blog on the Five Languages of Love, based on the work of Gary Chapman for Sixty and Me. Subsequently, I discovered that my sister, also an author and therapist, had written an article on the Five Languages of Apology, also based on his work. I am so happy to be able to share it here on Sixty and Me. Here’s what she said…
It is so easy to take things for granted – the ground under our feet, waking up in the morning to a new day and, far too often, our relationships. It is so easy to be critical or to notice what is missing or makes us crazy about our partner, parents, children, friends or coworkers.
The setting was a small town in the heart of the Nicaraguan jungle along the San Juan River. The large room was full of women, seated in chairs draped in white with huge pink bows. They were women of all ages, dressed in simple blouses and skirts.