A love letter to people who just pull in like normal humans.

 

There are a lot of things in this world I don’t understand, like why socks disappear in the laundry or how eggs can cost more than my dignity.

 

But perhaps the greatest mystery of all is this: Why are so many people backing into their parking spaces like they’re gearing up for a high-stakes getaway?

 

You’ve seen them.

 

You’re driving through the parking lot, full of hope, when suddenly you’re trapped behind someone who’s decided that now — right now — is the perfect time to rehearse their NASCAR pit crew routine.

 

They break.

 

They signal.

 

And then they begin the delicate dance of backing into a spot that could’ve been entered, oh I don’t know, maybe normally?

 

There’s always a dramatic pause and theatrical turning of the wheel, and then — wait for it — a correction.

 

Because no one ever backs in perfectly the first time, not even the people who pretend they do. They’ll reverse, adjust, reverse again, maybe accidentally take out a bush, then finally land in the spot in a way that’s maybe technically correct, but spiritually just offensive.

 

Meanwhile I’m sitting there behind them, stuck in a line of cars, watching the reverse parking opera unfold.

 

It’s like a one-man show called The Art of Inconveniencing Strangers. In the meantime, I have aged.

 

I’ve reconsidered my life choices.

 

I have had time to learn Spanish.

 

And they’re still not out of their car.

 

What’s the reason?

 

Some say it’s “more efficient” when leaving. Others claim it’s safer.

 

And sure, maybe if you’re planning a high-speed escape from Costco, that 30-second head start matters.

But for the rest of us fine folks who just want to grab paper towels and forget our problems in bulk, it’s merely an exercise in unnecessary driving drama.

 

And don’t get me started on the smugness.

 

Oh, the smugness!

 

The way they climb out of their car like they just defused a bomb.

 

Look at me, I’m parked in reverse and perfectly aligned with the painted lines. Congratulations sir or ma’am. You are the Michelangelo of modern parking!

 

Meanwhile, I could have already pulled in, turned off my car, and been halfway through my errand before your gearshift even hit park.

 

Not only is this just annoying to me, but it’s like 69 for cars. (Sorry to be crude.) It’s just not right — not to mention anatomically incorrect. Our driver seat doors can’t open properly. Your trunk does not belong by my hood.

 

Just no.

 

While it makes leaving the parking spot for you easy, it disturbs the copacetic rhythm for the natural balance of parking.

 

I know, I know — it’s a personal choice.

 

Some people alphabetize their spice rack. No judgment. Some people iron their socks. Who doesn’t like a bit of starch in their toe tents to make them crispy?

 

Some people back into their parking space like they’re about to rob a bank. But just once, I’d like to roll into a grocery store lot without feeling like I’m watching someone perform a three-minute TED talk on parking.

 

To those of you who do this, I still respect you.

 

I still love you.

 

But I’m watching you. Quietly.

 

From behind my steering wheel.

 

Wondering if you’re OK. Wondering if maybe — just maybe — you could pull in next time like the rest of us mere mortals.

 

Another tale of mild inconveniences that make me spiral and definitely test the limits of my patience …

 

People who get into their car, clearly see me waiting for their parking spot, and then … just … sit.

 

Let’s paint the picture.

 

You’re driving through a packed parking lot, tense and hopeful, when suddenly a person walks to their car.

 

The clouds part. The angels sing.

 

You found your Wonka Golden Ticket — a spot that could be yours. If only you just wait a moment.

 

So you do. You put on your blinker, like a civilized human being.

 

You stop.

 

You give them space.

 

You sit there, full of joy and trust and maybe a little satisfaction that fate has smiled upon you.

 

And then …

 

They get in.

 

And they sit.

 

And sit.

 

And SIT.

 

What are you doing in there? Filing taxes? Writing a novel? Deep conditioning your soul?

 

Cause from where I’m sitting (in my legally idling car, trying not to lose my patience), it looks like you’re just scrolling through your phone. You were in such a hurry to get into the car; where did that sense of urgency go?

 

I start wondering: should I honk? Is that rude? Is that aggressive? Would it make me look like the villain when clearly the villain is a person leisurely scrolling TikTok while holding my entire afternoon hostage?

 

And let’s talk about eye contact — or rather, the complete and total avoidance of it.

 

They know I’m there.

 

They know I’m waiting.

 

But suddenly, they’ve adopted the blind faith of someone who thinks if they don’t acknowledge me, I must not exist.

 

In the meantime, I’ve aged six years.

 

And then that thing happens — you know what I’m talking about, right?

 

You finally make the dark choice to simply leave and face the shame of driving away with your tail between your legs — or for today’s purposes, your tailpipe between your tires.

 

Slowly.

 

Sadly.

 

Like a character in a French film who just left the love of their life in a parking lot.

 

The embarrassment so strong that your ancestors feel it.

 

I don’t wanna be dramatic (too late) but I’ve had emotional breakups that hurt less than losing a parking spot after waiting for it like a hopeful idiot.

 

So if you’re one of those people: I beg you. I’m not asking for much. Just 10 seconds of a situational awareness and the decency to move your car so I can take your spot and continue living my life with some decorum.

 

Or at least pretend to put the car in reverse and give me some hope.

 

A gesture.

 

A wink.

 

A smoke signal.

 

Something.

 

Otherwise …

 

I wish you peace, love, and a drive home filled with red lights, road construction, and traffic backup.

 

With warmth and gratitude, that’s my Reveal.

 

Love,

Karin

Why aren’t more people marrying?

That was the topic of a New York Times article by journalist Anna Louie Sussman in 2023.

I’ve wanted to respond for a while but really needed to do a bit of research prior.

So Anna, let me tell you my opinion about why women aren’t finding good men to marry.

Let’s talk about the slow, quiet shift that no one really wants to admit out loud:

Women are expecting less …

Period.

And men….

Well to be honest…

They are just are opting out.

Ya know- like see ya later alligator.

Not because love is dead or romance is canceled — but because something deeper (and weirder) is happening.

We’re in a cultural moment where the dating pool feels more like a kiddie pool, and the bar for partnership is buried somewhere between “he texted back” and “he’s not actively ruining my life.”

Why are women expecting less you may ask?

Well….

It’s because they’re tired.

Because they’ve been told not to be “too much” or “too picky.” Because every time they had standards, someone called them high maintenance. And because unfortunately, many learned that if you want something — companionship, attention, even half-hearted affection — you have to make yourself smaller and settle for less.

It’s not just emotional labor anymore — it’s emotional bargain shopping where women are negotiating trauma like it’s on clearance.

Meanwhile …

Why aren’t men marrying?

Well, depending on who you ask, it’s everything from “the decline of tradition” to “why buy the cow when you can scroll Tinder.”

But at the root of it, there’s a growing number of men who either don’t see the value in marriage, don’t feel equipped for it, or are just burnt to the crisp from the last relationship.

Commitment is scary when emotional availability isn’t in the starter pack.

And if women are starting to ask for less, and men are still backing away, then we’ve got a whole generation quietly ghosting the institution of marriage while doom-scrolling relationship memes.

But hey, if many are confused together, maybe there’s hope.

So now what?

We joke, we swipe, and we lower expectations like we’re training for the Olympic limbo finals- gold medal in disappointment management.

And deep down, a lot of people still want connection — they just don’t know how to find it in a world that rewards detachment, fear, and ironically … endless options.

Go figure …

But maybe — just maybe — we’re not as jaded as we pretend to be.

Maybe all it takes is one person brave enough to say, “I actually want more than casual chaos and mutual ghosting and a relationship that is going nowhere.”

“I want connection. I want real.”

Because here’s the truth.

(Well, maybe not the holiest of grails “kind of truth” but more like my own opinion kind of truth.)

Women aren’t asking for too much.

Nope.

Actually quite the opposite.

They’re just tired of asking for the bare minimum and still getting less.

And men…

If you’re not ready to build something, at least be honest up front about it.

Marriage isn’t dying. It’s just waiting for its come back.

So what’s it going to take to raise the bar again?

Let’s be honest — the bar isn’t just low.

It’s buried somewhere deep in the earth’s crust, spooning accountability and ghosting habits.

But if we actually want to change the way modern relationships look, if we want better partnerships, healthier dating, and real connection, then it’s time to raise that bar like our emotional lives depend on it.

Because honestly?

They kinda do.

For starters, women need to remember they are the bar. And not in a “do everything, be everything” kind of way. But in the sense that they get to set the standard.

For too long, women have been told that asking for the basics — communication, consistency, clarity — is “too much.” That having needs is needy. But what if we flipped that?

What if “too much” is actually just enough, and being “low maintenance” is code for chronically overlooked?

Asking for effort isn’t demanding. It’s called having self-respect.

At the same time, men have to do the inner work.

Not just talk about growth or reposting motivational quotes about “grind mindsets” and “high value energy” — but actually learn to sit with discomfort, take accountability, and show up emotionally.

You can deadlift 200 pounds, boo, but can you carry a conversation about feelings without spontaneously combusting?

The new flex isn’t stoicism. It’s self-awareness.

We also need to normalize healthy expectations again. We’ve gotten so obsessed with being “low drama” and “chill girl” that people now think having boundaries is aggressive.

Needing communication isn’t a red flag.

It’s called being a functioning adult.

We need to stop acting like expecting basic emotional self care is asking for too much, when it should be the starting line.

And this isn’t a one-gender job.

The bar only raises when we all raise it together — no more competitive finger-pointing, no more passive “it’s just how dating is now.”

Culture shifts when people collectively stop settling, start speaking up, and model relationships that don’t require emotional acrobatics to survive.

We’re not here to be rehab centers for people who refuse to grow or commit. Loyalty shouldn’t mean surviving dysfunction in the name of “love.”

If the relationship feels like a full-time job and you’re not even getting dental, it’s time to clock out.

At the end of the day, the bar rises when we all stop being impressed by the bare minimum.

Effort is attractive.

Emotional maturity is attractive.

Being present, self-aware, and consistent is attractive.

Honestly, that’s hotter than a six-pack and a verified checkmark combined.

We don’t need perfection — we need partnership. Real, messy, evolving, intentional connection. So yes, the bar can rise again. But it starts with us refusing to step over it to avoid being alone.

Women need to stop accepting scraps when in reality they deserve the table, the meal, and truthfully, the chef’s cell phone number.

That’s my Reveal.

Love,

Karin

Is crazy contagious?

Asking for a friend …

I’m not talking about “real” mental illness because obviously that’s a serious diagnosis and

NOTHING to joke about.

Ever.

I’m talking about the distortion of reality for otherwise sound and mentally stable

individuals who all of a sudden have bat sh*t crazy views.

Did you know it’s going around? Kinda like the flu. Or worse yet, an incurable illness.

UGH…

I need to emphasize once more — this isn’t about true mental illness.

This is about a kind of “crazy” that has reached a whole new level in society.

Let’s call it actually what it is:

HATRED.

People are so angry. So, so angry. Like scary angry.

Think teenage hormonal daughter who hasn’t eaten — but worse.

At this point, I’m half-expecting the CDC to issue guidelines: “If someone near you starts

ranting about conspiracy theories involving leprechauns, a microwave, and their neighbor’s Wi-

Fi —maintain a healthy distance and offer snacks …

Snacks deescalate most situations.

Well, at least they do for me. But they have to be the right ones.

You know what I mean, right?

Honestly, it’s like we all slipped into an alternate dimension where logic took a sabbatical and

left chaos in charge.

One minute you’re discussing what secret ingredient makes banana bread softer, and the next,

someone’s declaring war over certain religions like it’s a NATO summit.

And the worst part?

You can’t even tell who’s been exposed until it’s too late. They look normal … they smile normally … and then — BAM — they casually drop a line like, “Birds aren’t real and btw, Israel needs to be taken off the map.”

So I ask again:

Is crazy contagious?

Because if it is, I need to know if I should be burning sage or just locking myself in a room with

Grey’s Anatomy reruns until the storm passes. And sadly, if this is literally our new reality, I

wouldn’t be surprised if “crazy hatred” shows up as a syndrome on WebMD:

Symptoms include: extreme outrage over so many things, nonstop shouting into the void of

social media, and an irresistible urge to cut off your cousin because he liked the wrong

Instagram post. And oh yeah, the biggie: religious intolerance and thinking bigotry is the new

cool kid on the block.

While we’re on the topic of this contagious brand of crazy, can we talk about how

antisemitism seems to be making a comeback like it’s a vintage fashion trend?

Except it’s not fashion.

Nope.

It’s hate.

Ugly, tired, recycled hate.

Suddenly, blaming Jewish people for the world’s problems is back on the menu in

some circles — as if we haven’t literally been down this dark road before. It’s not

“edgy,” it’s not “just a different perspective,” and it’s definitely not new. It’s

ancient, it’s ignorant, and it’s dangerous.

People are dressing up hate-fueled messages in memes, misinformation, and faux-woke

language — and too many are eating it up like it’s last night’s leftovers.

Spoiler alert: It’s not.

So no, antisemitism isn’t popular. It’s just louder right now. And if we don’t call it out — loudly,

clearly, and often — it only gets bolder.

Hatred isn’t a personality. It’s not a vibe. And it’s never the answer.

If you’re out there jumping on that bandwagon?

Unfollow me.

Block me.

Do what you need to do — but take your hate somewhere else.

Because over here, we still believe in decency, humanity, and calling BS exactly what it

is.

I mean honestly, is there a vaccine for this? A booster shot? A salt circle I can draw around my

house?

Because it’s starting to feel like we’re living in a group project run by people who think

TikTok is a primary information source and emotional maturity is optional.

People are out there ending friendships like they’re unsubscribing from an annoying email list.

People are cutting off lifelong friends like they’re expired coupons.

Families are imploding over group chats.

You can’t even say “I liked that movie” without someone accusing you of destroying democracy

and three endangered species.

So yes, I think crazy is contagious. And no, I don’t want what they’re having.

We live in a world where there are more sheep than shepherds, more followers than leaders,

more mirrors than windows.

We have Bluetooth connection but no inner compass.

Go figure…

I’m seriously tempted to hide under a weighted blanket and avoid eye contact with humanity

until further notice. And if anyone starts a support group for the Sane & Slightly Sarcastic,

count me in.

Honestly? I’m tired. But in all seriousness I will never hide.

I’m watching people I respected suddenly morph into keyboard warriors with the

emotional range of a dial tone. Like — where did you even get this angry? Was there a

half off sale?

I didn’t sign up for this emotionally unstable version of “Survivor: Society Edition.” I just want to

binge-watch baking shows and occasionally disagree with someone about whether the person

in the passenger seat gets to control the music.

But hiding has never been the answer, and it’s not now. So while crazy and hatred seem to be going around — I don’t know if they’re in the water, the air, or the algorithm — I am not

participating.

I’m just over here trying to protect my peace and my religion like it’s the last avocado at Trader

Joe’s.

I’m sidestepping drama like I’m on Dancing with the Stars, preserving my sanity and

family like they’re a limited-edition Journey vinyl, and politely declining the invitation to

your hate parade.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be practicing kindness, deep breathing, setting boundaries, and

resisting the urge to respond to that one Facebook comment.

That’s my latest Reveal.

Love,

Karin

As my 55th birthday approaches (I can’t even believe it, btw) I find I’m a bit taken aback by how many different emotions I’m experiencing simultaneously. 

 

While I feel incredibly blessed in so many aspects of my life, I also find myself feeling a little sad.

 

Sad, because this will be the first year I am completely parentless.

 

My father passed away eight years ago and my mother passed away unexpectedly last September, just 3 weeks before my oldest daughter’s wedding. 

Blow to the gut for sure. 

 

My mother was the first to call me every year on the morning of my birthday recalling in great depth all her childbirth details with me…

Year after year…

I know in great detail that I was an 8-pound baby born with an entire head full of dark hair. 

And lucky for you, you now know it, too. lol 

I know that my hair was so long it required a bow. Pink to be exact. 

 

At this point I’ve heard the story so many times I could probably recite it after two martinis while juggling balls of fire.

 

However — and I say this with sadness — I would give anything to hear it just one more time.

 

Just one more.

 

However, for the first time in my life I find that while I’m still looking in a forward direction through the windshield of my life and in a very happy and peaceful place in my life, I’m now also simultaneously seeing life in the rearview mirror with great reflection. 

 

Both the good things.

the not-so-good things.

the pain.

the love.

the joy.

and the lessons-

Ahhh, those good ol’ lessons we’re so fond of. 

All of it. And at one time.

 

I’ve learned so much in my lifetime. And I am emphasizing the word “learned.”

Some would use “evolve,” “growth,” progression,” or whatever it’s called these days.

 

The fact is, when we go through struggles and obstacles and pain, that’s when those valuable and insightful lessons force us to acclimate and learn.

 

You know, you evolve. (Hopefully)

Or as I like to say …

 

You either sink or swim.

 

One thing is for sure …

 

The gratitude I feel for my husband, our children, our siblings, extended family and friends is just so profound.

 

I realize it is deeper and more encompassing than just being merely thankful. 

 

I realize, more today than ever, that health, family, and friends are the most valuable commodities anyone can have. 

 

And you are truly wealthy if you have all three. 

 

BTW, the circle of friends I have cultivated is one to be treasured. There’s not a single one who wouldn’t bake me a cake with a knife in it if I were in prison. But in all seriousness …orange is not my best color and that fact is a deterrent in itself.

 

I accepted through the years my skirts have gotten longer and my nails shorter. 

 

And I’m okay with that.

 

I take good care of myself and try to be the best self I can be, but I have no interest in trying to look 30 years younger. I had my time to shine, and hopefully I’m still shining for my age but I’m handing the torch over to my children because it’s their moment to really glow. Not to say that I don’t want to always be the best version of myself, but I also find it necessary to always look like me — 

Even if it’s an older version. 

I’ve mastered the art of forgiveness for those who deserve it while also gaining an understanding of how equally important it is to say “I’m sorry” to those I have hurt.

 

I’ve learned how to stand up tall and proud after having been knocked down through divorce, breakups, and lost friendships.

 

I’ve withstood the pain over the loss of both my parents while still managing to stay strong for my children and provide a safe and secure foundation for them throughout it all.

 

I’ve acquired the skill it takes to overcome betrayal. And I do mean deep and profound disloyalty from friends and from other people I have loved. I’ve also embraced the fact that while disloyalty disguises as shattered trust at first … It also can be the catalyst for resilience. 

 

OK — in all transparency, I’m no Mother Theresa here. Just keeping it real. There are still some grievances that can never be remedied no matter how much time has passed. 

  

I’ve come to the realization personally that while it’s incredibly important to stand up for what you believe in and so forth, — your circle of peeps are still the most important.

 

Ending friendships and cutting family connections due to differing opinions is shortsighted.

 

Just my opinion … 

After losing your parents or loved ones, you rather quickly understand that nothing should ever break those connections.

 

I’ve mastered the art at keeping my walls high and my circle small. There’s something to be said about having four quarters rather than 100 pennies.

 

I embrace the motto that the four pillars of a “rich” life are health, love, happiness, and relationships — and that social climbing is definitely not considered a cardio exercise. 

Just ask the American Academy of Medicine. 

 

I’ve become proficient in the fact that there is an honorable way of doing almost everything …

 

And I do mean everything. 

Well, I take that back- mostly everything. 

I mean can you really have honor while robbing a bank? But you do understand I mean mostly everything- legal that is.

 

Breaking up, divorcing, firing an employee, walking away from a friendship …

 

All of these can be done in a dignified matter… 

If you try hard enough.

 

I’ve gained an understanding that the seeds we plant, whether good or bad, grow in that same direction. Some call it karma but for me it’s about doing right by others because life is an echo.  

I’ve also come to accept the fact that not everyone will like us in life and that’s ok. Doesn’t mean we ar bad people. It means if we’re not someone’s cup of tea than perhaps they are coffee drinkers.

 

And finally …

 

I’ve become who I am for my children and I work hard at honoring the morals my parents raised me with. 

 

Especially for my Dad.

 

I hope they are proud and celebrating with me as I ease my way into the second half of my 50s.

 

Happy double nickels to me and happy birthday to all fellow Aries this month. May your lives be blessed with all wonderful things in the upcoming year.

That’s my Reveal for the week.

 

Love,

Karin

I was a very young kid when I first listened to “Put on a Happy Face,” an old but popular

song introduced by Dick Van Dyke in the musical Bye Bye Birdie.

I can still hum the words in my head.

Humor me for a moment as I smile in my recollective state of mind singing the very cute

but simple words that make up this darling melody.

Gray skies are gonna clear up

Put on a happy face;

Brush off the clouds and cheer up

Put on a happy face

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy

It’s not your style;

You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad

Ya’ decide to smile!

Sadly to say as I grew up (some might contest that last statement, but do we ever fully

grow up?) …

Anyway moving on…

As we all grew up, we learned pretty darn fast that nobody’s gray sky clears up by

simply putting on a happy face.

While I’m sure dreams were shattered over this (I’m being a little dramatic here) …

I know … I know …

And high hopes were smashed into smithereens …

We’ve all learned that happy faces are more like happy meals, in that they do absolutely

nothing to ensure our happiness.

Not a single thing.

(I left out happy endings on purpose. That’s a different kind of happy, so it doesn’t count

for today’s point.)

However, I’d like to tack on an addendum to my happy face statement: Sometimes

happy faces help to make “OTHERS” happy.

So bear with me for a moment while I take you down my rabbit hole. Because I like to

write about things that preserve anonymity for others, I’m going to continue to stick with

my moral compass.

I have attended a “workout place” several times a week for the past two years. Let’s just

call it for the sake of this piece: Flab-U-Less Fitness.

Not to toot my own horn, but I did just make that up on the fly.

Back to my story …

There is one instructor who is really so unfriendly (to answer your question: yes, I’ve

been to her classes multiple times).

But now, I don’t go to her classes at all anymore because of her unfriendliness.

Whenever I walk into the studio, she never smiles or says hello.

In fact, she “appears” to turn her head away or look down, immediately provoking a

negative feeling.

You might think I’m being overly sensitive, but I’m really not.

I decided to look up her reviews on Yelp and it turns out I’m not the only one she’s been

rude to.

Shocker.

One would think that a fitness studio that is focused on health and wellness would

stress the importance of being friendly and how crucial it is for building trust, fostering

loyalty, and enhancing the member’s experience.

I’ll go even further by saying interactions that focus on personalized care and

provide a welcoming environment — in any industry — build value and can be a

core component in leading to loyalty and long-term relationships.

When you work for a person or company I feel you are a representative of that place.

How you make people feel has a direct link to whether they will come back or continue.

Customer service and a friendly face are what distinguishes excellence from mediocrity.

So back to the grumpy instructor whose cheeks look like they would literally

crack if she smiled …

The other day upon my walking in, she looked up at me and once again didn’t say hello.

I took the high road, smiled, and said, “good morning.” She could barely utter the wordsback, but she did indeed respond. However, she was annoyed by it, almost as I had

changed the ecosystem she had grown comfortable with.

I thought, what the heck — maybe I’ll just be the bigger person.

My theory about putting on a happy face is real.

Sometimes a happy smile is the olive branch of connection in a relationship, whether

romantic or professional.

This is especially true when you represent an industry or business.

The culture of an organization permeates in every interaction with guests, from the initial

greeting to the final farewell.

Cultures that seem to prioritize happy guests (hello, goodbye, have a nice day,

whatever) really does ensure a personalized connection that leads to empathy and

professionalism, and a positive overall experience that really matters in the end.

Like, a lot.

Chances are, I will most likely never go to one of her classes because of this

constant negative interaction.

Not because it affects me so much but because the environment an unfriendly person

sets up is not the environment I want to be around.

The good thing about smiling is that everyone can hide their crazy behind a

beautiful smile.

As far as I’m concerned, life’s short, so smile while you still have teeth.

That’s my Reveal for the week — delivered with a smile.

Love,

Karin

The slow and brutal demise of any relationship, friendship, or employmentship (I just

made that word up, if you didn’t notice) doesn’t usually occur in a “one and done” kind of

moment in which one broad swoop miraculously causes the end.

Nope.

Far from it.

It’s more along the lines of the culmination of tiny brush strokes made out of a

steel wool pad, which over time (think Chinese water torture) eventually erode the

entire foundation that the very relationship was built on.

Then one random day, that’s it.

You wake up … and you just know you’ve had enough …

and kaboom …

Game over.

Finito.

Adios.

Ba and bye.

Did you ever play the game “Don’t Break the Ice” as a child?

I did.

Well, the premise in short is after each turn of hammering down one ice cube …

BTW, you do realize I am making a metaphorical analogy to show that the ice is-

Drumroll…..

lack of satisfaction,

lack of respect,

lack of trust,

lack of consistency,

lack of commitment,

lack of feeling prioritized.

But you knew that.

Anyway, back to the game …

Eventually, after multiple turns, someone’s hammer winds up being the last amount of

pressure that the remaining ice cubes can handle, so all the ice breaks and the game

ends.

We all get to that one point where the “pounding of the ice” eventually breaks all of the

ice (our resolve), leading to the destruction of the entire relationship.

A wise friend once told me that all relationships, whether romantic, familial, or

professional, come down to one truism:

They either grow or die.

When you think about it, while rather morose, it’s super true and accurate. Not a deep

thought or one I can see Confucius saying, but one that captures the essence of what

we’re talking about.

Even through tough times, if a relationship can adapt then it’s growing and

elevating to something deeper and stronger.

If someone were to ask me what causes failure to any kind of “ship” I would have to say:

continual unmet expectations met with serious disappointment.

Take, for example, my friend “Bob.” Bob had an employee who worked for him for

almost three years. Let’s call him “Steve.” Over the course of that time, Steve

called in sick at least six days a month. On the days Steve would show up, he’d

occasionally do what his job demanded of him. But more often than not, he

slipped into habitual tardiness, lack of follow-through, and non-stop excuses. He

put everything in his life over his job, never balancing out the sick days with over-

the-top job performance. And yet, he still wanted to be paid the same and keep

his job.

In this professional scenario, Steve was not maintaining what I like to refer to as “the ol’

reciprocal exchange program.”

(I added the ol’ for dramatic effect; did it work?)

A reciprocal exchange program in relationships refers to the idea of a balanced give-

and-take between parties, where each person actively contributes to the relationship by

providing support, affection, monetary value (if it’s a work relationship), and/or putting in

an effort in a way that is roughly equal to what they receive from their partner/friend/

relative/employer/employee, creating a sense of mutual benefit that fosters a healthy

and fair reciprocal dynamic.

Mind you, fair is the important word. This is because the minute one party feels they are

being taken advantage of or devalued, that’s when things start to unwind.

The most important thing in any “ship” — other than not sinking — is RESPECT.

When you respect your partner, your parent, your friend, your employee or employer, or

even yourself, you’re more inclined to try harder and have fewer excuses as to why

you’re underperforming.

In each relationship there is a getting-to-know-you period.

In this timeframe you learn about that person.

You can sense what is important and what needs to be acknowledged —

what efforts need to be made to effectively meet the needs of that someone important in your life.

Continued failure to meet these expectations, which are often the “basic principles” of

the reciprocal exchange program, are usually met with what I mentioned earlier: the

slow demise of that “ship.”

Basically, if something or someone is important, really and truly put the effort in.

By…

Being consistent.

Being respectful.

Being honest.

Being trustworthy.

Hidden from far view, too many ships are listing with disappointments that get stuffed

away, feelings that are not expressed (and maybe even suppressed), and apologies

and forgiveness that are forgotten.

Accumulated anger is worse than overstaying houseguests and the fish analogy.

You know, the longer it goes on, the worse the stench.

If you find that your ship somehow or someway is sunk or is sinking, it might be time to

find a lifeboat or life vest, or identify the hole and patch it up.

However, when all else fails and you find yourself in the middle of the North Atlantic …

remember, if there was room for Jack and Rose on that door, chances are there’s room

for you, too.

That’s my Reveal for the week.

Love,

Karin

I try to find humor in the most outrageous situations.

Trust me, I’ve had many.

My motto:  if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.

Sometimes that’s not so easy; other times it’s a breeze. I try to look for the silver lining to find a way to make difficult things seems easier, lighter, more palatable.

Today I am trying to find the funny in the interesting climate we now live in.

But guess what? I’m struggling to find it.

Think desert  — no water and wondering how we become a cactus. Ya know, a living thing acclimated to flourish in the most unlikely element.

I would do anything to go on social media again and see pictures of my friend’s celebrations.

I would pay anything to see posts showing lavish vacations, family get-togethers, children’s school pictures, good times …

Anything.

Anything other than political advocacy.

Last fall between September and November my husband and I both lost our mothers. The losses were devastating and impacted us greatly.

But these losses taught me that what is important still remains under our roof, within our four walls, and in our home.

Family is everything to me. And while raising my children, I taught them to respect authority.

I taught them to respect their elders, to listen to their teachers and coaches and professors. When they received the worst instructors, I encouraged them to power through …

somehow,

someway,

and turn those moments into learning moments.

You know, turning lemons into lemonade.

Right?

After all, isn’t that how we learn to be resilient?

Aren’t we supposed to hit obstacles and hurdles in our life in order to learn to adapt, get stronger, surmount difficulties, and conquer challenges?

Kinda like our immune system when we’re young. We face viruses and infections so our natural defenses can kick in.

You can’t learn resilience without facing adversity and growing from the challenge. To be able to thrive and flourish in the worst of circumstances can be called not only resilience, but true flexibility.

If we are always fighting against something, continuing to spew hatred and fear, what example does that teach our children? How does that teach them to rise above?

Even more concerning, why is it okay for people in the world of social media — on both sides of the coin — to continue to perpetuate non-stop alarmism every day of every week of every month of every year?

I feel like I’m Bill Murray in the 1993 movie Groundhog Day. ( I just aged myself but that’s fine)

Phil: Do you ever have déjà vu, Mrs. Lancaster?

Mrs. Lancaster: I don’t think so, but I could check with the kitchen.

Of course I like to go on social media and each day I pray just to see a silly cat picture. But instead I am inundated with hatred, cynicism, and staggering fear from people who are pillars in my community, friends, respected advisors.

Where I sit in the political hemisphere is my business. Where you sit in the political hemisphere is not my business.

But many people who are not experts seem to weigh in daily and are flooding my newsfeed with just plain fear. They are using their platforms to further their own opinions without realizing how far down the rabbit hole they’ve gone.

And in my opinion — I know, I know, opinions are like a##holes and everyone has them —but being part of a social solution includes acceptance, peace, and kindness.

And I do mean this is happening on “both sides.”

Who can say it the meanest?

Who can say it the smartest?

Who can say it better because they have more people to say it to?

You really think this is activism?

Because I don’t.

It’s one thing to talk about your feelings, if you really need to, and share who you voted for, etc. It’s another thing to continue the rant even after an election- followed with encrypted messages to, in fact, elicit reactions.

If you want to talk about your views incessantly, get a podcast or a subscription newsletter where likeminded people can come to you.

But the continual debate and inner fighting have left me both disgusted and sad.

Sad because we are the reflection of the very thing we’ve been subjected to by our own candidates.

We watched the political process with both sides just completely spewing hate and now many are continuing to do the same thing.

Oh yes, there are those who hide it behind the veil of just wanting to “preach love.” But this is anything but love.

Our country lives and thrives on drama.

Everyone trying to prove why they’re right, non-stop anger and hostility on display for all your social media platform to see. Each person getting angrier, more indignant, meaner.

When did our country become a room full of elementary school children?

People unfriending their friends, offending their colleagues, using their highly respected platforms for their own agenda.

Then we stop and ponder what’s behind the extreme increase in mental health problems.

Could it be possibly that while each person is defending their position, they’ve forgotten that politics, while important, aren’t the only aspect of human daily living? Sitting behind your device and spewing hatred and rhetoric from both ends doesn’t make you right or a hero.

It makes you part of the problem, not the solution.

Back in the day, fear came from scary movies, getting sick, losing our job, our homes, our lives — or having that happen to those we care about.

While I can’t change the loss of my mother, I can honor her by living a life that is actually honorable.

It’s in living a life that starts with kindness from my own heart.

It’s in allowing myself permission to find joy even in a rainstorm.

Resilience is a muscle that must be strengthened. And like a muscle in our body, we must subject it to outside factors that allow us to work it out.

Think lifting weights or resistance training.

The more we use our resilience to allow us to acclimate to outside factors, the stronger we get, the better role models we become, and the less fear and hatred we share. If something has already happened, we need to accept it.

This is what’s happened and it is not changing.

The longer we hold onto the wish that it didn’t happen, the longer we hold onto the anger and prolong our own suffering.

Be the beacon light you wish to shine from.

Be the role model you want to have.

And most importantly, stop mixing up activism with hollow shouting from the cheap seats.

Please, stop the hatred and live your life.

Find joy and love within your own life even if you feel scared and lonely.

We all have times in our lives when it’s gray and raining inside us. The good news: happiness can always be found within ourselves where hopefully some laughter still resides.

That’s my Reveal for the week.

Love,

Karin

To be honest, I really feel I live in a world that I don’t quite understand or can relate to any more.

I’ve been told that my intrinsic values and morals are dated and obscure.

Obscure?

Like what on earth does that even actually mean?

Obscure like the Old Testament in the Bible?

Or worse yet, obscure because I am asleep at the wheel?”

I’m not really sure I even care, to be honest.

Either way I can assure you I am not asleep – maybe just sleepy and in need of a good nap.

I’ve learned some tremendous lessons in my years and I would like to pass those lessons on to my readers.

I grew up in a time I believe was really wonderful.

It was the ‘80s.

There were no cellphones and no social media.

While I do use social media for certain things, I find that I don’t love how the world has changed so much because of it.

My compass is the same, has been the same and I’m sure will always remain the same, but my cardinal direction has evolved.

Compasses don’t change, by the way. Destinations do, however.

It’s almost like a standard has been set by a new generation that knows how to handle life so much better.

But the real question: Will this new set of rules and initiatives really keep one from divorce, cheating, breakups, heartbreak or setbacks?

The answer is simply no.

In fact, I’ll go one further. I actually think because things were harder to achieve in the past it made us more resilient.

You know, tougher, thicker-skinned.

We had to work harder to get things, harder to contact people, harder to reach our goals.

Life wasn’t being presented at our fingertips with simply a scroll.

The past predicts the future and each generation actually thinks it has got the answers better than the one that preceded it.

While we may have more ways of solving problems today, I still believe the same problems continue to exist, no matter what generation you are in.

More importantly, in the world’s current state of mind – Covid, politics, war, viruses, vaccines, world division (maybe even aliens, but who knows) – resilience is more necessary today than ever.

And resilience, the very thing needed right now in every aspect of our lives, is the very thing that nobody seems to have anymore. It’s not like it’s some commodity that you can drill for.

You gotta dig deep in your soul to find it.

Reach in there and wake it up.

If you’re down on the ground – get up. Stand tall and dust yourself off like you just baked a cake.

Think Julia Child.

Do anything. Anything. But pout.

The way to make the world better begins with making ourselves better people.

Now mind you, I might say things that my readers don’t agree with.

And that’s OK.

You know why?

This is why …

“Different strokes for different folks.” (OK, I know that sounds like a Progressive commercial.)

We are allowed to debate.

We are allowed to see things differently.

But since this is my blog, right now the platform is mine.

All mine.

My bottom line to this entire post is about toughening up and becoming more resilient as the world is changing.

Since relationships are ever-changing, we, ourselves, must become more adaptable and resilient, much like a house withstanding varying weather.

And since it takes a village to raise a child, sometimes it takes a village to support one another during good times, bad times and different philosophies.

Not just for our own personal agendas.

I’ll be writing about ways to find resilience.

But rest assured, it ain’t for sale at Trader Joe’s.

It’s a deep personal dive into our own history with the love and support of family.

It’s about continuing to try to fix things that are broken.

It’s about falling but also getting up.

It’s about cheering on our family, friends and community to rise above the ashes and learn to acclimate.

It’s about second chances, third chances, and rolling with what is.

We are all evolving and learning and a work in progress.

And I guarantee those who point fingers at others for having differing opinions are probably living in a glass house one step away from a bird flying into the window.

So be supportive of each other, give people their room to fail, to recover and to express their own feelings.

And most importantly….

Be kind.

That’s my Reveal for the week.

Until next time, Love,

Life, simply put, in the most basic of terms … 

 

Is a series of what I like to call …

 

Reveals. 

 

Or as this generation calls it, spilling the tea.

 

Or as my generation called it: babble, blab, let the cat out of the bag, sing like a canary, talk, tattle, spill. 

 

I still question the canary one, but that’s a discussion for another day. 

 

Many of these reveals can change our own life in literally the blink of an eye.

 

The correct definition of reveal, according to Webster or Google – pick your poison – is the ability to show, disclose or admit something. 

 

Revelations can, more often than not, lead to betrayal, failure and deception …

 

Ya know, the things good soap operas are made of.

 

Haven’t we all experienced that split second when a revelation altered, if only slightly, the very path we were so confidently traveling down? 

 

Nothing like surprise intel to shake sh&t up. 

 

So, what do I mean when I say that everything boils down to a “reveal”?

 

Hear me out … and I’ll reveal my reasoning. (Catchy play on words, right?)

 

We wake up every day (thank Gd) perhaps alone, perhaps with a partner, children and/or pets.

 

Regardless …

 

We never really know what lovely twists and turns this new day has in store for us. 

 

Will it be an uneventful day with rainbows and butterflies? 

 

Most likely doubtful, but then again, let’s think positively.

 

Or will it be a day ending in need of an IV-infused vodka straight to the veins?

 

Ya just never know.

 

Our health is unpredictable and so are the ailments that we will develop, which eventually are revealed to us …

 

In time.

 

We marry or have partners or stay single … 

 

Will these relationships with others or ourselves flourish and thrive? 

 

We have no clue. 

 

The complexities of everyday life, the depths of true friendship, the secrecy of romance or affairs, the anxiety of health crises, the sense of hopelessness from worldly gossip and news, and even seemingly mundane everyday occurrences … 

 

Are all revelations that eventually make their way to … guess who?

 

Us. 

 

Time is a precursor to the “reveals” of our lives. 

 

Sounds kind of like a Bravo episodic drama, doesn’t it?

 

Revelations these days are now a minute-by-minute newsfeed … 

 

Just ask TikTok.

 

And while we can only control our life to “some degree,” many “reveals” are actually out of our control and wind up deeply affecting us …

 

Sometimes permanently.

 

Time never stops for anyone …

 

Nor does the next reveal. 

 

Revelations are not just about what is being exposed to us but also what we choose or are willing to expose to others. 

 

Think onion and its many layers, tears included along with the strong smell.

 

We all have things about ourself that only we know. 

 

You know – those crazy secrets we hold deep inside the cockles of our heart that we don’t want to share – and I do mean with anyone. 

 

And if for some reason those private things are shared, they too become a revelation but this time …

 

For someone else. 

 

I believe the correct term is “food for fodder.” 

 

My hope for this new blog, The Reveal, is to share stories, experiences and advice with an honest, self-helpish approach to life, dating and of course the mothership of all: relationships.

 

Acknowledging my desire to continue to write and be heard, along with the belief (irrational or not) that I can help people struggling in different areas of their life, has lead me to finally give birth to …

 

The Reveal. 

 

Easiest delivery yet. 

 

I’m in a very peaceful place in my life where I’m able to look in the rearview mirror and see things more clearly with less emotion. It’s with this clarity I will base my advice in a (hopefully) humorous way.

 

There is a tremendous amount of negativity in this world. If I can bring the funny while helping others find the funny, that’s all I can really hope for.

 

I look forward to sharing my weekly thoughts …

 

And hoping you’ll reveal what’s on your mind, too. 

 

Love,

Karin