Women: Your expectations are too high

My mother has a strange wedding gift to give brides in our family before their big day.

It’s a book called “Marriage Shock: The Transformation of Women into Wives” by Dalma Heyn. She loaned me the book before my wedding more than three years ago and also to my sister-in-law before she married my brother.

I’ll admit I didn’t read it thoroughly — I skimmed its pages to get the gist of it, but I didn’t think it applied to me. I had already taken numerous sociology classes in college on gender and women’s studies. I get it. But the concept probably rings true for many young women who feel like their lives will be complete from the moment they say, “I do.”

Now I’ve loaned it to my colleague DeeAnna Haney who will be tying the knot next year. I’m not assuming it will apply to her either — it was just a precautionary measure, of course.

What I took away from it was simple: women’s expectations of marriage are often unrealistic and you can’t rely on a man (or anyone for that matter) to make you happy. And this isn’t a man-bashing statement. Men should actually be thankful that such a book exists to take some pressure off of them — we’re only human after all.

From the time we are little girls, we dress up and play house with our Fisher Price kitchen sets, Easy Bake Ovens and baby dolls. We pretend Barbie doll and Ken get married, have a baby and will live happily ever after. Boys are not conditioned to even think of such things — their games and toys revolve around exploring and adventure.

Courtesy of Knittingparadise.com

It isn’t completely our fault that we think about getting married from a young age and think it will be all sunshine and roses. But the truth is every marriage is different. Your marriage doesn’t have to be like your parents’ or your best friend’s marriage. You can chart your own course and break the stereotypes that need to be broken.

In the book, Heyn talks about ways for women to acknowledge and overcome those deeply ingrained social and personal expectations so that a woman can be a wife and still maintain her sense of self.

I don’t blame my mother for giving what could be perceived as a pretty rude gift to rain on a bride’s parade. After seeing many of my friends in their 20s divorced or on their second marriages, I am now the first to badger them with “Are you sure?” “Have you talked about money?” “Have you talked about kids?” “Religion and politics?”

Many couples seem to overlook these factors when they're head over heels and planning a wedding. Not to say a difference of opinion on these big topics is a deal breaker, but it’s better to lay it all out on the table beforehand instead of five or 10 years down the road. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce — a pretty scary statistic.

Marriage has enough surprises on a daily basis without having to worry about whether your spouse will ever change his or her mind about having children or whether you and your husband will raise your child Jewish or Methodist.

Maybe it’s because my husband and I both came from a long lineage of divorce (and dating for nine years couldn’t have hurt), but I felt like we entered into our marriage with eyes wide open. I didn’t want to have any doubts, but I was doubtful that day would ever come. How can you ever be sure? But one day it did come. It was a peaceful moment of clarity. We made an absolute commitment to not only love each other but to stand by each other and take this journey through life together. 

It’s not always easy — but I know nothing worth having in life is ever easy.

I’m by no means and expert on marriage. However, my one piece of advice for women would be not to focus so much on the happiness of your wedding day but on how to sustain that happiness with your partner for the rest of your life. 

Courtesy of Empowernetwork.com

Journalism loses fearless reporter

Michael Hastings, 33, died June 18 in a car crash in Los Angeles. While I’m sure his death is a great personal loss for his friends and family, it’s a greater loss for a dying breed of journalists.

His name may not ring any bells for you, but I bet you remember his work of exposes’ — most notably “The Runaway General.”

Hastings’ is the Rolling Stone journalist who is credited with ending Gen. Stanley McChrystal’s career after his profile on McChrystal was published in 2010. The general, who at the time was the commander of the Afghanistan war, was exposed in the article for his arrogance and failures.

Michael Hastings and his book/Courtesy of Salon.com

He is quoted criticizing President Barack Obama, Vice President Joe Biden, foreign ambassadors and other military personnel. Hastings’ portrayal of the untouchable general cost McChrystal his position.

Hastings was known and respected in the world of journalism for his unwillingness to “cozy up to power.” A decision to print an article like that is not made lightly. Fact checkers pour over the information, managing editors weigh every possible outcome, but in the end it comes down to telling the entire — sometimes ugly — truth.

Too many reporters today are more concerned with gaining and maintaining access to those in power that they are willing to close their eyes and ears to the truth. At best they will report watered down versions of the truth and at worst they will regurgitate a press release provided by a politician’s public relations machine.

Even though McChrystal’s aides disputed that the printed comments were “off the record,” they never argued that he was misquoted. 

We’ll probably never know whether the results of the article were intended to be off the record or not. The question readers and journalists have to ask themselves is “does it matter?” Are those rules worth breaking when it’s the right thing to do? Is the public better off knowing the truth about how our leaders act in a critical time of war?

As journalists, we must remain honest and loyal to our readers first and foremost — that’s who we work for and that’s who matters. That said — I believe Hastings did the right thing. Even in his short life, he is one of the lucky few who will leave behind a respectable legacy of journalistic integrity.

That is what all journalists should strive for in their reporting. There are three pieces of advice given to me by trusted mentors that I live by professionally.

My first journalism teacher told me:

“Credibility is the only thing a journalist has. Once you lose it, you can’t get it back.”

Objectivity — a crucial part of establishing credibility — is hard to come by in today’s media. The so-called TV news personalities aren’t even expected to be objective anymore. You know their leanings within the first few minutes and instantly lose all credibility with viewers.

My father told me:

“Never burn your bridges; you never know when you may have to cross them again.” 

While I try to avoid bridge burning whenever possible, I must always be prepared for that outcome when I write a news story that I know may upset someone. But I can’t let that outweigh the importance of the truth.

My first editor told me:

“We’re not here to make friends; we’re here to report the news.” 

This doesn’t mean I don’t like the people I write about. It just means I can’t let my personal feelings toward someone affect the outcome of a story.

Journalists are not perfect — we’re human and we often make mistakes. We can only learn from those mistakes and be honest with ourselves about our shortcomings. I strive every day to create a consistent record of reporting accurately and fairly. Hopefully that will allow me to leave behind a legacy that speaks for itself and inspires others to seek the truth. 

Read the complete article, "The Runaway General."

My sister's watcher

“Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.” 
― Louise Glück

My little sister just turned 20. It was 20 years ago I was so happy to finally have my wish of a little sister come true. Be careful what you wish for sometimes. I still remember the day she was born, how she was obsessively attached to her pacifier until she was 3 and a half and how she ate handfuls of sand the first time she went to the beach.

Being eight years apart in age and lightyears away in thinking presents many challenges for sisters - even more than others endure. I watched her when my mom went back to work and I watched her grow up. I've watched her go through every phase imaginable — every hair color, new piercing and angry punk band.

I've been happy to watch her talents bloom and to watch her try to find out who she is — who she will be. I watched her walk across the stage to get her high school diploma and play her first gig. My husband taught her her first chords on the guitar and watched her take off on her own.

Some things I witnessed I hoped were phases, but years later there are still undesirable parts of her that remain. Parts I will never understand. I guess I should just be thankful that she at least doesn't listen to the Spice Girls anymore and doesn't pick at her underwear in public.

She does still pitch a fit when she doesn't get her way. She says things that hurt the ones who love her most. She has the most unrealistic sense of entitlement. Sometimes I wonder how we can even have the same parents. She won't heed my advice.

I can't say it's all bad. We have shared countless laughs, countless shots and embarrassing moments. I'm so proud of her for knowing what she wants to do and moving to Delaware to get the best education she can for the career she wants. But I know she still has a long way to go. She's not there yet. She wants to act like an adult when it is convenient for her but act like a child when she needs something.

I know I push too hard at times. I never hesitate to say what I'm thinking. I know the mistakes she is making, but I should know I can't stop her from them. She hates my input — until she needs it. I rarely feel like her sister but more like a naggy mom or aunt.

But what choice do I have? You would think it would be easy for me to throw my hands up and stop trying to be the helper. I should accept the fact that her life is her own now. I'm the watcher after all — one sister has to be. She will keep dancing — oblivious to those around watching her every move and just hoping she won't fall.

But when she does, I will be there to pick her up, dust her off and tell her to get her ass back out there.