A Link On The Laurel Chain

March is National Women’s History month.

This is a recent honor for the month better known for its lion and lamb-like qualities.

I have spent some time assessing how to approach a posting about this honor to females. I considered everything from erudite musings to feminist debates to just plain snarkiness.

Then yesterday a headline caught my eye and I knew what I wanted - needed - to say.

In January, 15-year old Phoebe Prince, committed suicide allegedly as a result of vicious bullying by students at South Hadley High School in South Hadley, Massachusetts.

Up to the moment I read that headline, the name of that bucolic town in Western Massachusetts represented to me a community of female empowerment, intellectual enlightenment and all things good.

I attended Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley, Massachusetts. Mount Holyoke is a women’s college and next door is Smith College, another bastion of female education. While the two institutions exhibit different personalities they share the same mission of creating a space for growth and leadership of women, for women.

To know that just down the road from my beautiful school, recently a young women was so lost from her own self-worth that she gave up, is heart wrenching. And to know that other young women played a part in destroying her self worth is even more disturbing.

Bullying has become an extreme issue in our schools. What was once a mild playground initiation has become a physical, sexual and mental torment that is resulting in an alarming pattern of teen suicides and hospitalizations. While states are stepping up and passing anti-bullying laws and schools are implementing bullying education, there are other factors impacting kids that encourage them to bully.

We can impact society’s youth. By our example, our vigilance, our ability to recognize another woman for the value that she is.

How lucky was I to spend four years in an environment that showed me what I could accomplish and prepared me for the slings and arrows of the world - to be immersed in a history of women leading, fighting, solving and inventing.

And down the road was South Hadley High School where young women were maybe not (I dare say probably not) getting that same message.

This is March, Women’s History Month. We would not have a history if there had not been women before us who linked arms with one another and said “You and I are worth it!”

So, what have I done to share this power with another young woman to continue the laurel chain?

Not nearly enough.

The Road I Wish Was Less Travelled

"Sometimes it's a bitch; sometimes it's a breeze." - Stevie Nicks

I have been in a funk.

I find that the rhythm of my life leads me through this funk with a certain predictability. I am one of those people that needs alone time - time by myself to gather my thoughts, my sense of self and sense of place. While this sounds rather enlightened, it merely means I need everybody to clear out so I can just be by myself for a minute. If I do not get that time on a regular basis things really go out of whack.

The path always starts out the same – my schedule is on overload. I am double-booked, Plan B’s are called in to action, my sanity savers fall by the wayside and soon ain’t nobody happy cause Momma ain’t happy.

Then begins the potholed and rutted dirt road of discontent. I am irritable and cannot be pleased because while my life is full and vital, I HAVE NO TIME FOR MYSELF. Ah, the inevitable blow up (the sign reads Bridge Out). I start ticking off all the stuff that needs to get done before I can relax. Because here is the kicker, I do not delegate. My name is K and I am a control freak. The love of my life, with the “here we go again” weary voice asks what he can do to help only to hear me shrilly remind him that only I know how to fold laundry. You see how this goes…

Then I hit the long, two lane highway of procrastination. Piles are so high, lists are so long, my guilt is so strong, that I cannot muster the wherewithal to do anything. My brain merely circulates the phrase “I am a sloth.” over and over and not even hearing an annoying song on the radio can dislodge it.

I soon arrive at the winding mountain road where each hairpin curve alternately represents self-doubt and guilt. Hairpin curve #1 – My proposal just got rewritten three times at work so I am frantic that people are wondering if I can do my job. Hairpin curve #2 – I am a terrible mother because today I would rather come home from work and take a hot bath and go to sleep than cuddle and play with my toddler. Hairpin curve #3 – I go ages before checking in with my friends and live in fear that one day they’ll get tired of it. Hairpin curve #4 – I snap at the love of my life, then spend the next 24 hours agonizing over how many more snaps he’ll put up with.

Eventually, the road ends at the ocean. I have a couple of hours or a day to myself to do what needs to be done for me. Often this entails a day of organizing closets. Really, that is all it takes. However, I never underestimate a mindless moment that erases, for a brief instant, any reminders of obligation. On a recent girl’s weekend away, I left my friends and returned to my hotel room in the afternoon to just be – essentially, I stalked around in my underwear eating Funyuns from the bag and watching reruns of the King of Queens. And I felt like a million bucks.