Me too.

About fifteen years ago, I had a #metoo experience, while working as the Assistant Program Director of a radio station in Connecticut. My station was part of a four-station cluster, and we shared a large break room/cafeteria space. That space was right across the hall from my office, which meant that I had a high volume of visitors as people from all of the stations came and went to eat their breakfast or lunch. Usually, as an extrovert, I loved all of the activity, but some days, when I was under a deadline, I longed for some quiet.

One day, after I had been working there about a year and a half, I was heating up my lunch during a rare quiet moment in the break room, planning on scurrying back to my office to eat at my desk. The morning show host from one of the other stations came in to get a cup of coffee. He was a large, stocky man, twice my age, with a big ego, and usually, a bad attitude. I never really had much reason to talk to him, but I wanted to be polite. So, we made chit chat, and he drank his coffee while my food heated up. The microwave dinged to let me know my food was ready, and I grabbed it and headed towards my office. He tossed his coffee cup in the trash and continued to make conversation as he followed closely behind me.

I remember that he changed the topic to the upcoming Christmas party, as I put my lunch down on my desk and turned around to try to politely dismiss him so I could eat and get back to work. As I turned around, he was already in my personal space, and before I knew what was happening, he had reached both arms around me, with his hands on my backside and pulled me forcefully against him, asking if I was going to dance with him at the Christmas party. His voice was hot and low in my ear, and a shiver of disgust ran through my entire body. I pushed him away with both hands, and said, as clearly as I could, "I don't think so."

He chuckled, and said, "We'll see." Then, he smirked and backed out of the room, hands up in mock innocence.

I slumped down in my desk chair to collect myself, and immediately, started wondering what I had done to make him think I would welcome an advance like that. I questioned what signals I may have been putting out unintentionally or what I may have said that would make him think I would be receptive to him. For the rest of the entire day, I was distracted, sullen and quiet.

The next day didn't feel any better. Neither did the day after that, or the one that followed. I was anxious every time I heard his voice in the hallway, and I didn't want to go into the break room for fear of running into him again. I could have sworn that he was purposely hanging outside of my doorway having conversations with our co-workers to try to make me uncomfortable.

At the end of the week, I finally decided to say something to one of my fellow female managers that worked in a different department. She listened as I laid out the details, and I asked her, after I recounted them all, "What did I do to bring this on?" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Absolutely nothing" and encouraged me to report him to our General Manager.

I was nervous about going to our General Manager - not because of how I worried that she would respond, but because I didn't want to be perceived as a troublemaker or a tattletale. Working in the radio industry came with certain expectations of big personalities, people that pushed the envelope, actions that were meant to get a reaction or be perceived as funny. As the manager of one of our stations, I was worried that by talking to our General Manager, that I would be seen as someone that couldn't take a joke or was too uptight. We had a very fun, light-hearted environment at work, and I didn't want to do anything that changed that.

After a few days to weigh the pros and cons, I ultimately decided that I needed to speak up, if for no other reason, in case he would do something similar to one of the women that worked for me. The GM could not have been kinder when I did. She listened, took notes, and promised to get to the bottom of it.

True to her word, she conducted an investigation, but the end result was a case of "he said, she said". He claimed complete innocence, saying it never happened, that he wasn't even in my office at all that day. There were no witnesses that happened to walk by to corroborate either of our accounts of the events of that day. There were no security cameras to capture any of our movements that day either.

Our final discussion on the matter was when she told me that there was really nothing that she could do. She said she believed me, but that without any definitive proof, there was too much liability to take any action against him. She had advised him to steer clear of my office and the space outside, and advised me to keep a "buddy" around to avoid any future incidents. That was the best solution to the problem: avoid being alone.

Every day until the day his contract wasn't renewed and left the company, I walked around on edge. Thankfully, it was only a few months after our incident that his contract expired.

In the scope of workplace harassment incidents, mine is very minor. I know that. But I am telling it because I have heard a lot of backlash with questions about "Why did it take so long for them to speak up?" or "Why didn't she report it at the time?" or "What part did she play in encouraging it?" I think stories like mine are a large part of the reason that so many women didn't come forward until now. Even though I did come forward, the burden of proof was really on me to establish that it was a credible story and I wasn't able to do so. So, he was able to skate free, with no consequences.

This guy was not in a position of power over me and had no say in my employment, but I can imagine that if he were, it would be even more difficult to feel comfortable coming forward. I know, for a fact, that I did nothing to encourage this man, either. The women that I reported the incident to could not have been more supportive or responsive, and yet, I still had trepidation about coming forward. I can only imagine what it would be like to have to go report to a manager that didn't have the same reputation for being kind and open.

It's not cut and dry. This is a tricky conversation because we do want to presume someone is innocent until proven guilty, and we do have a statute of limitations on these types of activities. This is also tricky because we don't want men and women to think they can't interact at all without opening the door to being harassed or being accused of being a harasser.

At the time of my incident, the best solution was just not to be alone. I think we can do better today. If the solution to this issue is teaching women how to defend themselves or avoid being harassed, then, we are looking at the problem from the wrong perspective. The answer must lie with teaching everyone how to treat each other with respect, regardless of gender or other differences. If the solution proposed is a system that makes it simpler to report an incident, than we are acquiescing to a culture that allows for these incidents to continue to occur. If we are relying on the victims to start "feeling brave enough" to come forward, then, we aren't taking enough responsibility for our behavior in looking out for those that may be vulnerable and correcting those that show signs of the aggressive behavior. Any solution that involves getting the victims to take different actions is really just clearing away the cobwebs when what we should really be focused on is eliminating the spider that is creating them.

I don't have an answer that will solve all of this, but I do know that part of the solution has to be for anyone who has had an experience to be able to speak up and be heard. Recently, I heard a male colleague say that he wished that we could just get to a place where this wasn't an issue and we all just treated each other respectfully, as the human beings we all are.

Me too.

Warm crow tastes better than cold crow

Have you ever held on to something for way longer than it served any good purpose? A resentment or guilt about something you had done? Have you ever experienced what it's like when you really let it go?

Many years ago, I made a big mistake at work - and it cost the company some money. I exercised some really poor judgement, and to make it worse, I never owned up to it directly. I let my boss think someone else was to blame, and never set the record straight before I left to take another job a few months later.

Instead of looking at what I had done, it was easier to think about what I imagined the management there had done to me (paid me too little, worked me too many hours and many other minor imagined injustices). The longer I let it go without owning up to it, the more I felt justified in doing so. I spent a lot of time, effort and energy thinking about this incident and the people I used to work for - every time I did, shame, guilt and resentment boiled to the surface.

Years later, I had a valued mentor point out that I was letting this incident take up valuable real estate in my head and that I had all the power in the world to make it go away. She suggested that I write a letter to them and own up to what I had done and offer to pay them back. She told me to pray about the situation, pray for the right words, and pray for all of the people involved.

Begrudgingly, I did what she suggested.

I'll admit that I didn't feel better instantly. I kept the people involved in my prayers for weeks. I still thought about that situation from time to time in the months after sending the letter, but then, somewhere along the way, it left me. I am not sure when, but it did and here's how I realized it.

Fast forward to this past weekend, when my sister (who still lives in the same town) ran into my former boss at a concert. She texted me to tell me - and it actually took me a few minutes to even remember who she was talking about. When I finally remembered who she was talking about, I didn't have an emotional reaction or weird feeling - there was nothing. No shame. No guilt. No resentment. Nothing.

My sister followed up with a photo of the two of them together, and it made me smile. My former boss looks great, and I told my sister to share my good wishes to her. It actually made my heart happy to see her smiling face, and I spent a few minutes thinking about the good memories of my time working for her.

If you had told me when the incident happened that I would be better served to own up to my mistake than to stay quiet, I would have told you that you were dead wrong. If you had told me that I could feel that way about my former boss, I would have told you that you were crazy. If you had told me that I didn't have to carry around those negative feelings for so many years, I would have argued with you that I was justified to do so.

I was wrong. It was actually more freeing to tell the truth and to own up to my mistake. The freedom I got from saying a few prayers and sending a letter was a thousand times better than the short term effort of doing so.

I've heard it said that "warm crow tastes better than cold crow" - and I know that to be true. It is way easier to make amends when the incident is still fresh and feelings are still injured. If I let it fester, I can turn it into something bigger and worse than it really is. Worse, if I let it fester, I can make it someone else's fault and convince myself I don't have anything to make amends for at all.

There's a 100% chance that I will make (many) mistakes again - hopefully, they will be new ones and not repeats, but I will make them. This experience was a powerful reminder that the real freedom comes from owning up to them and not in getting away with them.

What I learned after running through the airport

Anyone that knows me knows that I love a good plan and schedule. I live by my calendar and pride myself on being organized. Lately, that has become even more necessary due to my increased work travel. With life getting more and more hectic, it soothes me to be able to look on my calendar and know that everything is "handled".

For the past three weeks, I have been on the road for work and the mommy guilt has been strong. That got kicked up a notch last week when I got a note from Diana's school with instructions for this week's "end of year program". When I put it on the calendar at the beginning of the year, I thought it was some sort of classroom party, so it didn't register that it was, for all intents and purposes, a mini-graduation. I was scheduled to be at a conference all week (and had even told some of my colleagues that I would cover a big meeting at the conference so they could go to their own children's graduations). I figured Steven could bring the snacks or whatever we signed up to bring and that would be that.

Then, when the note came, I knew that I couldn't miss it. Flights were changed, plans were scrapped, meetings reassigned - but it was all going to work out, after a little scrambling. I got up before the crack of dawn to make my flight in order to be home in time, and everything seemed to be coming together until my flight from Phoenix landed in Atlanta.

I knew the connection time was going to be a little tight, but my heart sunk when the announcement came on that we weren't able to pull up to the gate right away. I was in the back of the plane and there were hundreds of people that were going to need to get off before I did. I looked at my phone for the gate for my connecting flight and it was in another terminal. My heart sunk again. I watched the status on my phone change to "Boarding" for my next flight and watched the clock tick forward over and over as I waited for the plane to pull up and the other passengers to get OUT OF MY WAY! (Side note: I didn't actually yell that, which is a testament to some major spiritual progress...)

When I was finally able to deplane, I took off running. Literally. It was not a graceful run, since I was lugging a heavy purse and pushing/pulling a rolling suitcase. Between my huffs and puffs, I muttered "Excuse me!" and "I'm sorry!" to everyone I passed or bumped, but I didn't look back because I was only focused on getting on that next plane. I hobbled down the escalator as far as I could hoping that shaving a few extra seconds off of my time would get me on the next tram to the right terminal, and just in the nick of time, jumped on the tram. When the tram stopped, I shoved my way off and started running again. First, up the escalator, and then, through the terminal, again muttering to everyone I passed.

All I could think was "please don't let me miss this flight, please don't let me miss this flight..." My mommy guilt kept my legs moving, faster than they have in a long time. In my head, I could hear my daughter saying "Mommy, why do you keep working all the days? When are you coming home?" I didn't want to let my girl down.

Finally, I arrived at the gate, right as they were making their last call. There was one woman in line ahead of me, and one person at the gate. Something was wrong with his ticket, so the flight attendant starting working on the computer trying to get it sorted out. I let out a huge sigh of relief and slumped over the handle of my suitcase. The woman in front of me turned around, placed her hands on top of mine, looked me in the eyes and said, "Breathe, baby, you made it." I just nodded and complied. "Take another one, baby. You're okay. I don't want you to fall out and miss your plane after all that running."

I apologized and told her that I didn't mean to be such a mess. I started to explain about my crazy three weeks of travel and having to change everything around to make this flight because I didn't pay close enough attention, and she stopped me and said, "Honey, it's always going to be something. You made it. That's all she's going to even remember. Don't pile on guilt that doesn't need to be there."

The ticket agent figured out the person's issue in front of us and we all made our way down the gangway. My new friend chatted as we walked down the aisle about her travels to see all of her grandbabies that were graduating and how proud she was of them. Her voice was so soothing that I felt my angst just fall away. Right before we got on the plane, she turned around and said, "I mean it, now. No more piling on guilt that doesn't need to be there. Remember to breathe, baby, and you'll be fine." She covered my hands with hers one more time, smiled, and took her seat.

I am so grateful for that woman. She recognized my angst and chose to reach out, instead of ignore. Her kind words of reassurance and the reminders to breathe helped more than she could probably imagine. It was a powerful example for me of the need to pay attention to those around us and look for a chance to connect and offer assurances. She could have been playing on a phone and not noticed or chosen to ignore the panting, hot mess of a mom behind her in line. Instead, she reached out, extended some grace and mercy and it made all the difference.

Back in the saddle

It has been way too long since I have taken the time to sit down and write.

For the past few months, there have been reminders of what I posted "on this day" from Facebook, and it brought back memories of events or moments that I had forgotten about completely. It started tugging at my mind that I needed to make the time to get back in the habit of sitting down to write from time to time. When I take the time to sit and write, I always have gained perspective on whatever has happened and always benefit from taking the time to pause and reflect.

Today, the sermon at church was about the magic that happened when the stone rolled away on Easter to reveal that Jesus wasn't in the tomb anymore and about how we need to let God roll away whatever "stone" is in our way and keeping us from being the person we want to be. One of the things our pastor admitted to struggling with was being in a hurry and not wanting to take the time to stop and reflect. It was like he was reading my mind - I can absolutely relate to that.

So, tonight, after a very lovely afternoon with family when S suggested taking Diana to a movie, I asked him to do that solo so I could have some time to myself.

There's this weird trick that my mind will play on me to keep me from doing something I enjoy - maybe you can relate. It tells me that I don't have time to do it perfectly, so I shouldn't do it at all. If I am not able to commit to writing again on a daily basis, then, my mind tells me that there's just no point in starting again at all. So, a week goes by. Then, a month. Then, because time has passed, I start to tell myself that the next thing I write better be extra significant to make up for the time that has passed. Then, a year passes, and before I know it, it's been two and a half years, and I have squandered all of the opportunities to capture those day to day moments that I have been enjoying revisiting.

This isn't a new phenomenon - I even wrote about it back in 2012 (http://jeanninejersey.blogspot.com/2012/05/its-allor-its-nothing.html). And it doesn't just apply to writing. As I said in that previous post, it's all or nothing with me with pretty much everything, but that isn't going to work anymore. I need to shift my mindset back to doing the best I can with the time and energy I have for the day and ask God to roll away the stones that get in my way.

So, tonight, I am basically breaking the silence. I don't know how regularly I can commit to writing, but the beauty of it is, that no one else is actually asking me to commit to anything! The pressure to do something perfectly or every single day is all self-generated, so if I can extend myself a little grace and take the pressure off, I think I will like being "allowed" to write here again.

Today was a day I want to remember. The sermon and music at the Easter service at church spoke to my heart. The weather was absolutely lovely. S and I took Diana up to Blountsville to spend time with his family, ate a fantastic lunch, and then, Diana got to swim in Nana and Big Daddy's pool. As you can see, she had a blast! When I look back in my memories from this day, I am going to be glad I took the time today to let God roll my stone away and help me to get back in the saddle.

First swim of the year!

Life is good!

What I Know To Do When Tragedy Strikes

Yesterday, when the news broke about the explosions at the Boston Marathon, my heart sunk, and thought, "Here we go again...".  

As a member of the media, it is a fine line to walk when sharing the news about an event like this.  I want to share the facts, but they are often unclear and unsatisfying at the time when people are the hungriest for details.  I don't want to downplay any of what occurred or leave anything pertinent out, but also don't want to embellish or editorialize. 

I remember when 9/11 occurred, in the chaos that ensued afterwards, and the frantic scramble to get information out to those that needed it.  We did the best we could, and yet, still felt drastically inadequate. 

So, this morning, before I came to work.  I said a simple prayer, "God, please help me to share what needs to be shared.  Please help me to know what needs to be said." 

And the prayer was answered.

This morning, as I logged onto Facebook and Twitter, I saw a trend that warmed my heart:  a flat out insistence to focus on the positive.  When tragedies like these occur, it's easy to get mired down in the awfulness, the carnage, the fear, the damage done, or at least, it is for me.  However, today, I am encouraged by the fact that most people seem to be focusing on the positive. 

Hundreds of thousands of people have shared the message from comedian and actor Patton Oswalt (which you can read HERE, in it's entirety), where he sums up his post with:  "So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, "The good outnumber you, and we always will."

Author Elizabeth Gilbert posted this today:  "What I've taken to doing in instances like this is to use my heartache as a motivation to reach out deeper into my own community, offering help to those who are suffering right in front of me. I do this quite consciously in the name of all those who are out of my reach — in the name of all those whom I cannot assist. With Boston's anguish in my heart, then, I will be making offerings in the coming week to my local cancer support center, to my local Habitat for Humanity, to my local food pantry. Does it make sense for me to do this? I don't know, but somehow doing this always eases my heart at least somewhat." 

My friend, Mike, who lives in Boston posted this morning about the incredible bravery of the first responders and other people that wanted to help:  "As Boston gets back to it's feet this morning, I am once again thrilled to see the bravery and humanity of the people of this city...as the first responders did during 9/11, as soon as these bombs tore through the crowds, the heroes ran to help those injured. Did you see former patriot Joe Andruzzi carrying a survivor from the scene, just as his brothers had done in the towers that day in New York? You can mess with us, but the good people outnumber the bad. Try to take us down? You failed. AGAIN."

Another friend, Kevin, made this point:  "To me yesterday was about hero's. Seeing all those people run towards the danger. To help other human beings. It's amazing. It will always overpower those who want to do harm. I wish the people who did this would see what I see - no matter what you do - love always wins. You may temporarily set it back for a moment - but it always triumphs." 

So, THAT is what I am going to focus my energy on today:  the POSITIVE. I think that Mr. Rogers said it best:  

I am going to look for the helpers - and BE one of them, too.  We can donate blood at the American Red Cross (they are always in need), visit the elderly, hug the sick, share a smile with the downtrodden. Kindness breeds kindness...and the world, and my own heart, need that. 

A double standard rears its ugly head

Quite frequently, I feel like I am failing - because I can't find time for all the things I want to do.  I am a woman that wants to do it ALL - and sets a crazy amount of New Year's resolutions to challenge myself to make it happen. 

Often, I feel like I am playing one of those whack-a-mole games where I can never quite get all the moles back in their holes.  If I spend time working out, then, I am not spending time working on getting my real estate license.  If I spend time on my real estate license, then, I am not spending time working on fundraising for Komen.  If I spend time fundraising for Komen, then, I am not spending enough time with my husband.  If I am spending time with my husband, I am not getting the house clean. And the list goes on....

Recently, I had a conversation with my good friend Donna and got very honest about feeling so very overwhelmed and burnt out.  It was the end of a week of my daughter being sick, which had required me to stay home with her and derailed a lot of my best laid plans to check things off my list that week.  I was feeling like I had massively failed - when the reality was that I hadn't failed at all.  I had my most important job:  taking care of my daughter.  And, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back a little:  I had done it well! Instead of focusing on that fact, I was only focusing on the things that hadn't gotten done - and on burning myself out trying to find time to get to them. 

Donna reminded me to slow down, and focus on the care I had given my daughter.  To stop and remember to take care of MYSELF and not try to do it all, all at once.  It felt like GRACE. 

If the conversation had been reversed, and it was her calling ME to share with me the same situation, I would have responded to her with kindness, caring and compassion (exactly like she responded to me!). 

Why is it so hard for us to extend ourselves the grace that we gladly give our friends?  Why do we impose impossible standards on ourselves?  Why do we berate ourselves for falling short of those standards - especially when we know that, in reality, there's really no way to have and do it "all"?  

I wish I had some great, wise answer to share - but for now, I will just share this: When I catch myself being hard on myself, I am going to try to back up and talk to myself like I would to a friend.  When I set my resolutions, they were supposed to be fun goals for the year - not something to make myself feel bad if I don't do it all, right NOW! 

In the wise words of one of my favorite bloggers, Jon Acuff, I am going to give myself some grace today.   In the wise words of Brene Brown, I am going to try to focus on the fact that I am enough! 

Do you have the same double standard when it comes to how you treat yourself vs. your friends?