<p><em><strong>Tan Le talks about leaving Vietnam with her sister, <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a>, and grandmother</strong></em></p><p>Tan Le is a scientist, entrepreneur, and activist<span class="redactor-invisible-space">. </span>In 2011 she told her story at TEDxWomen, <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/tan_le_my_immigration_story?language=en" target="_blank">Tan Le: My Immigration Story</a>. A refugee at age four, Le recounts how three generations of women in her family—she and her younger sister, her Solo Mom, and her grandmother—fled Vietnam, joining millions of “boat people” to seek a new start in Australia. Le’s immigrant story reminds us of the strength children can draw from the courage and determination of an immigrant Solo Mom.</p><p>Here’s an excerpt from her TED talk:</p><p><em>“How can I speak in 10 minutes about the bonds of women over three generations, about how the astonishing strength of those bonds took hold in the life of a four-year-old girl huddled with her young sister, her mother, and her grandmother for five days and nights in a small boat in the China Sea more than 30 years ago, bonds that took hold in the life of that small girl and never let go—that small girl now living in San Francisco and speaking to you today? This is not a finished story. It is a jigsaw puzzle still being put together.” —Tan Le, 2011</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><iframe src="https://embed-ssl.ted.com/talks/tan_le_my_immigration_story.html" scrolling="no" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" width="640"></iframe><p><strong><br></strong></p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 11px;">Photo credit: Screen shot from Ted Talks "Tan Le: My <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/immigration" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Immigration</a> Story"</span><br></p>
<p><strong><em>A conversation on widowhood, <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/bereavement" target="_blank" class="wordlink">grief</a>, raising twins, and finding joy </em></strong></p><p><em>“I wish I could have placed an arm around my thirty-seven year old self and said, the veil of sadness will lift. The death will linger for a time, but you will endure it. For now, go where you need to go.”</em></p><p><a href="http://www.nancysharp.net/" target="_blank"><u>Nancy Sharp</u></a>’s memoir, <em>Both Sides Now</em>, has garnered numerous awards. She writes for the <em>Huffington Post</em> and her work has appeared in many media outlets including <em>The Good Life</em>, <em>Marie Claire</em>, <em>Self</em>, <em>The</em> <em>Denver Post</em>, and <em>The Manifest-Station</em>. Internationally renowned Dr. Mehmet Oz writes of Nancy’s memoir: “I adore this story because it speaks to something so important in being healthy: resilience. Nancy could have become stuck in her own sadness but decided to move forward instead. That takes courage, which can be scary but it really does contribute to a good life.” </p><p><em>Both Sides Now</em> explores the journey toward healing that Sharp began after her first husband Brett’s death from cancer in his late thirties. Nancy was left to raise two-year-old twins, born prematurely on the very day they learned that Brett’s cancer, which had been in remission, had returned. After his death, Nancy moved to Denver, Colorado, where she met and married Stephen Saunders, a widower with two sons. Nancy is now a speaker and writer. Her twins are currently thirteen and the older boys are twenty-two and twenty-three. </p><p><strong>Tara: When your status shifted from being married to being a widow, you became a <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a>. Did you feel a shift in your community? In other words, did you feel as though you still belonged in the community you had known? Did you feel understood? </strong></p><p>Nancy: After Brett died things felt very different. Regarding “community,” I felt “other”—not isolated, but different. The feelings of <em>who I am</em>—I don’t think I felt them right away. I <em>was</em> searching for community. I had people who were there for me consistently. At the same time, something had shifted in me. I was thinking a lot about the concept of “otherness.” This was the thing of dissociation—where everything felt surreal. It was like walking on a movie set you did not really belong on. Brett and I got to say goodbye—and this was a gift—but nothing prepares you for the black hole after he died. Certainly I was searching for community and a spiritual connection as I tried to feel understood again. </p><p><strong>Tara: How did you navigate finding a new community of Solo Moms? What practical problems did you find especially difficult in those early days? </strong></p><p>Nancy: I guess when I think about this, there was so much “at once” in my story. I was in survival mode—with the twins and Brett’s death at the same time. I did not realize how truly exhausting grief was, and I was <em>exhausted all the time</em>. It would have been helpful to feel permitted to rest every day. I felt guilty that the physiological effects of grief would carry over into everything. There is now a lot more of an online community than that which existed at the time of Brett’s death. Things that were pressing to me were things like child care. What I think I would have found helpful, had this existed at the time, would be the ability to meet others in my situation online. Then it would have been possible to connect with others while not having to leave home.</p><p><strong>Tara: Given that you were simultaneously tasked with raising twins who had been born prematurely and caring for a terminally ill husband, I can only imagine how your sense of time, urgency, and priorities were shaped. Can you speak to this? </strong></p><p>Nancy: Everything was about the now. I was living moment-to-moment, hour-to-hour, and day-to-day. All of my abilities to plan and to prioritize went out the window. Something changed in my brain—the part of my brain that was the multi-tasking, planning part shifted. I could not do these things with the same efficiency. When I went back to work—I had to for health insurance and financial reasons—I found the details and management to be just <em>too much</em>. Whereas these had once been strengths of mine they no longer were. Perhaps I am being hard on myself because we did manage somehow. </p><p><strong>Tara: You used a financial planner you found around the time your husband entered hospice. How did this person help you in the days leading up to your husband’s death and shortly thereafter? </strong></p><p>Nancy: I found a financial planner through a social worker associated with a program I had been put in touch with after Brett’s cancer diagnosis. I found managing money scary. Since Brett was in business and finance that was something he had always done. In the therapy I was receiving during Brett’s illness, it became clear that money was a huge source of anxiety and worry to me, and for this reason, I was connected with a financial planner. She and I worked with Brett to have him hand over the financial reins. It was clear that his cognitive function was declining. But it was difficult. We did this gently and together. By the time Brett died, I felt I would not be alone in this way. </p><p><strong>Tara: In your personal opinion, what is the first thing a Solo Mom should do to protect her <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/work-and-finances" target="_blank" class="wordlink">finances</a> following a partner’s death? </strong></p><p>Nancy: Pay attention to things like wills and life insurance. If you have a will, make sure that it is current. Buy life insurance when you are young and healthy. Try to imagine every logistical challenge and situation and plan as much as possible. Consider ways to have an emergency fund. Many women have to return to work for reasons of finance. This can be so overwhelming. I remember feeling panicked by things like a lack of life insurance. Plan ahead as much as you can. </p><p><strong>Tara: You took a grief trip after Brett died, and you’ve described the “widow’s curse” as being abruptly seen by others for what you had become: a widow. You write about the awkwardness of being perceived by strangers—how you felt that they could see the sadness and the brokenness in you. I relate to this because after the death of my son I had trouble trusting that I was reading people correctly when I saw them. I know I made people uncomfortable. Did this trip give you time and space to grieve? Is this something women could do to support the newly bereaved—take up a collection to send mom on a grief trip? </strong></p><p>Nancy: I am not sure the grief trip was the best option. I was really overwhelmed. I felt I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t parent. I couldn’t take care of anything. The trip was lonely. I think now that I like the idea of a retreat better. Something like what is organized by <a href="http://www.campwidow.org/" target="_blank"><u>Soaring Spirits</u></a>. My own trip was a short respite, but it was lonely. And it was not restorative. </p><p>The larger question you ask has to do with how I internalized being a widow. There was this sense of otherness about me, how you are on the inside. Nothing rids you of how you perceive yourself in the world. It took time. I realized I was always identifying myself first as a widow, “I’m Nancy Sharp and I’m widowed.” It was holding me back. It was not so much outside of me as it was inside of me. I had to stop identifying myself first and foremost as a widow. I had to learn to reframe my narrative. </p><p><strong>Tara: You write movingly of how your life changed in New York City after your husband died. What specifically made you pick up and move across the country? You had a dear friend, I know. But still. This felt very bold to me. What was your first thought when you moved to Denver? When you got off the plane? </strong></p><p>Nancy: I wanted to go to the mountains. I considered the Catskills, even Italy [laughs]. There is something so sturdy and permanent about the mountains. And I think that there is something so good for people in grief to be able to cast their eyes outward, to gaze beyond. I came from New York City to Denver, in part because I had a dear friend. When Brett was alive, we had visited the city and liked it very much. After he died, I knew we had to leave New York City. Denver is many things, and among them, it is more affordable than other places, especially coming from New York City. Everyone has a different vibe and pace. I knew I needed to slow it down. While some have wondered at how we picked up and moved and even said it was brave, I remember thinking: What’s the worst that can happen? </p><p><strong>Tara: How did you meet your second husband? </strong></p><p>Nancy: When I moved to Denver, so <em>many</em> people were trying to set me up. One morning I was reading <em>The Rocky Mountain News,</em> a local paper (now defunct), and it was referencing the area’s most eligible singles. Stephen Saunders, a local anchor/journalist, was billed as a hot catch. I was a Solo Mom to five-year old twins, and I did not have time to watch television. But that night I watched television, and thought Steve was very attractive. So I just e-mailed him. I did not hear back. For two weeks I did not hear back, and so I re-sent the e-mail, wondering if it was possible that it landed in a spam folder. <em>Why not try again? </em>This time, he answered right away. Steve was a widower and had two sons. We quickly began a relationship. We had a lot in common beyond our losses. You cannot build a relationship on loss because it can’t be sustained. We married and blended our families in 2008. </p><p><strong>Tara: When my son died, my older son was so young that I struggled with how to permit and promote memory of our baby. Since then, my oldest is growing up and other kids have since been born. It is both a weight and a curious blessing to try to be someone’s memory. How do your children, who were little when their father died, remember him as they grow up? </strong></p><p>Nancy: My twins, Casey and Rebecca, have no memories of Brett. Rebecca still sleeps with her memory quilt stitched from pieces of Brett’s clothing. Mourning has evolved a lot for both of them. At times, Brett has felt like an apparition looming too big, almost. It can be a little scary. I keep his memory alive by telling stories. Sometimes silly stories like how much he loved cheese steaks. Brett’s best friend George assembled a collection of letters to the kids from different people in Brett’s life about who he was. These letters are collected but the twins have not read them yet. You take your cues from them. </p><p>Memory is one of those things that is elusive yet tangible. It evokes feelings about a person, but it can also be stirred by touching a wallet or a watch, for example. To me memory is like love—it’s always there. </p><p><strong>Tara: I have found that my children have taught me to grieve better. I want to model for them the idea that it healthy to be present in joy and in sorrow at the same time. This is full tilt authentic living. What have your children taught you about grieving? </strong></p><p>Nancy: Kids teach us to grieve by being incredibly patient. Kids carry grief in a different way. Because Brett made these children, they carry his loss all the time. Once I was driving in Connecticut, and we passed a graveyard. I mentioned this and Rebecca asked about Brett. Casey told her Brett was in the sky. “Where is the sky?” Rebecca pressed him. Casey said, “The sky is everywhere.” I thought this was beautiful. They teach me to be really present in their feelings. There is no end of pain for loss. It is always there. But I try to model <em>living</em> for my kids. Brett would have wanted this for them. While they have an ever-present grief in them, they are <em>happy children</em>. </p><p>They have a wonderful father in Steve. For myself, I know that widows can rewrite their story and not be paralyzed. You can own your own story without being owned <em>by</em> it. Make the past a part of your living present. Do this without letting it become the whole part. It is OK to go forward and to love and live. You will carry your loss forward. But you can’t let it dominate. Let it breathe. Let it sit. <em>But live your life.</em></p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 12px;">Photo Credit: Books &amp; Books Press (February 1, 2014)</span><br></p><p><span style="font-size: 11px;"></span></p>
<p><strong><em></em></strong><em><strong>A son of separated parents gives advice to other kids like him</strong></em></p><p>I’ve always been a curious person. So when my parents told me they were separating, I approached it with curiosity. I had spent my whole life with them together, and I wondered what to expect. My whole life only amounted to about six years, but ask any six-year-old: that’s a long time. I’d heard living with separated parents could be bad, but I figured it couldn’t be that bad. Some of my friends’ parents were divorced, and they were fine. And it would be a new experience. I liked new experiences.</p><p>Fast-forward a few years, and some more of my friends’ parents were getting divorced. My mom told me that I needed to talk to them about it and make sure they know it’ll turn out OK. It turned out OK for me, right? </p><p>“Tell them that when you have two houses, you get two bedrooms and twice as many toys!” she said. This wasn’t really true, of course. I had the same number of things; they were just split between two houses. At one house I shared a room with my sister, and at the other I shared with my mom and my sister; so, if anything, I had gone from having one room to only 5/6 of a room. But I was still young, so I went with it. Nothing like toys to cheer up a sad kid, I guess. </p><p>That was the first time I really thought about what it was like having separated parents. Well, I guess you could say that I thought about it every day, going between houses, and giving the “they’re both my moms, and they both raise me, but separately” spiel whenever I met someone new, but I never really <em>thought</em> about it. I guess I was lucky I was still so young when they split up because small children adapt well, and separation became the new normal. I didn’t feel like I had a good baseline. Without knowing what “normal” really was, I wasn’t sure what to say.</p><p>Unfortunately, that sort of advice-giving event repeated itself a couple more times when other friends’ parents split up or divorced. I thought about it more, but I was still young and unsure, so I tended to repeat some variant of “It’s not that bad; you just have two houses.” With age comes perspective, and I’d like to think I’d have more genuine, helpful advice for my friends now than I had 10 years ago. </p><p>Now I would tell kids that living between two houses does, in fact, mean you get two rooms. Having two rooms presents its own set of challenges, though: sometimes you leave the new <em>Harry Potter</em> book on your bed at one house before going to spend the weekend at the other, and you spend the whole weekend wondering what becomes of Professor Snape. Sometimes your friend is late to a playdate because his parents dropped him off at the wrong house, not knowing that your parents are separated. Sometimes you need to pause to remember where you’re supposed to be: “Sunday and Monday were Mom nights, but Tuesday and Wednesday are Mary nights, so I’d better call her.” It’s been confusing for me, but it can also be fun.</p><p>I would also tell them to be prepared for arguments. I’m lucky in that my parents get along relatively well, but the words of my mom ring true: “Don’t worry if we fight sometimes. If we got along perfectly, then we wouldn’t be exes.” When arguments do happen, they can be stressful to you as the son or daughter, especially if you get pinned down with the dreaded “I can’t talk now. Tell your mother that . . .” I would tell my friends they needed to remember that nine times out of 10 the issue had nothing to do with them, and they should let their parents work it out. It can be hard, but, generally, it will work out.</p><p>I would tell them that they need to be prepared to explain things. People were often surprised to find out that I have two moms and that they are separated. I tend to get a lot of questions, and I am used to explaining something that seems so normal to me but odd to other people. I have even gotten some questions that seem unthinkably indiscreet, things like “Why did they break up? Did it have to do with you?” or “Do you think that affected you, you know, like negatively?” As a kid, you just have to learn to roll with it and decide whether to take the quiet “it’s none of your business” approach or the sassy “sounds like solo parents teach better manners than ‘regular’ ones” approach.</p><p>But every cloud has its silver lining. You learn which parent will let you have ice cream on school nights or sign the permission slip to go Xtreme Trampolining. On a more serious note, though, you really do get a special relationship with each parent. For me, each mom’s house was a sort of microcosm with a certain feel. I feel like the common figure of speech of a family “breaking apart” wasn’t the most accurate. My sister and I have two tight families, each run by a wonderful <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a>. We have the privilege to belong to both.</p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 11px;">Image via Shutterstock.com</span></p>
<p><em><strong>Recovering from abuse, a discussion with Susan Lemere, ESME’s Guide for <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/addiction" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Addiction</a></strong></em></p><p>One of the great challenges of leaving an abusive relationship or surviving sexual assault is the feeling that one faces a lack of support. Because abuse is isolating and shaming, it contributes to feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy. Additionally, abusers frequently use external measures of power, such as controlling <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/work-and-finances" target="_blank" class="wordlink">finances</a> or time spent with friends and family, which can make it especially difficult for survivors to leave.</p><p>One of the most important steps in leaving an abusive relationship or healing from sexual assault is to seek out the help of a mental-health professional who has experience working in the fields of <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/domestic-violence" target="_blank" class="wordlink">domestic violence</a> and sexual assault. Not all mental-health professionals are created equal, and it is important for survivors to feel they are heard and understood.</p><p>My colleague, Susan Lemere, has worked in the mental-health and addiction field for the past 20 years, and she also has worked with several abuse survivors, so she understands the unique issues facing survivors. Lemere also has an MFA in Creative Writing from Pine Manor College, and as a <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a> to two children, she understands the difficulties and struggles that single mothers face.</p><p><strong>Q: Could you take a moment and describe how it feels when an abuse survivor comes to you for help?</strong></p><p>A: Well, in addition to being a therapist, I’m also a woman and a survivor, so when it comes right down to it, I have some of the same feelings my clients have during sessions. Often, it’s a mix: glad the person is asking for support, worried about their situation, angry about the prevalence and harmfulness of abusive behaviors, and hopeful that things can get better, especially now that the client is not trying to go it alone.</p><p><strong>Q: When you’re helping an abuse survivor, what are your priorities?</strong></p><p>A: That’s an interesting question. I think the No. 1 worry a lot of clients have about seeking help is this idea about conflicting agendas—the worry that someone will try to pressure them into a particular action or force a particular opinion on them. But a good therapist or counselor doesn’t approach the work that way.</p><p>Let’s say I have a new client who tells me she has been raped by a coworker. Knowing how devastating rape is, I will probably have the wish the rapist is arrested and convicted, and that these actions will hopefully deter him from ever doing it again. But the client may not want to go to the police for any number of reasons, including mixed feelings about the person who raped her (which happens often with acquaintance rape), concerns about the job, and fears about being retraumatized by the legal system. My job is to help the client sort out her thoughts and feelings, and decide what she wants to do. I can give her factual information, but I should not persuade her to take one course of action versus another because that’s acting as if she isn’t capable of thinking for herself or managing her own life. </p><p>To put it a different way, my job as a therapist, and therefore my priority as a therapist, is to be helpful. My client and I may not always see things exactly eye to eye, but we should feel like we are on the same team.</p><p><strong>Q: Abusive situations are different, but patterns often are involved. How would you define recovery from abuse?</strong></p><p>A: I define recovery from abuse as a gradual process in which, increasingly often, experiences and feelings of safety and well-being replace experiences and feelings of harm, danger, and negative interaction. Three very common themes in this kind of recovery are learning to trust again (others and one’s self), developing self-compassion, and gaining or reestablishing a sense of personal power.</p><p><strong>Q: What specific issues do you encounter when working with solo mothers who have survived abuse?</strong> </p><p>A: Solo Moms who have survived abuse are dealing with a tough situation on top of a tough situation. This is a subject that we’ll be revisiting a lot here. </p><p>For the short run, let me just say that abuse tends to be terribly isolating, and single <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/parenting" target="_blank" class="wordlink">parenting</a> can be, too. So when it comes to single mothers who are dealing with abuse concerns, the recommendation to get help and support goes double. With that said, I also want to acknowledge that reaching out for help, especially for the first time, can be really hard, and it’s really OK to look for help in whatever way makes sense for your circumstances.</p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 11px;">Photo credit: Shutterstock.com</span><br></p>
