On Christmas Eve in Mountain Pose – the Gift of Perspective

Posted on 12/24/2025 by Esterina Anderson

5:34 a.m.
December 24

I always note the time when I begin my morning yoga. Mostly to keep an eye on it. If I let myself go, I could move, chant, breathe, and meditate far longer than I intend to. Now that I’m no longer working, I try to keep it to an hour.

But that’s beside the point.

It’s Christmas Eve.

I was going through the asana (movement) portion of my practice when, as happens every morning no matter how cold it is outside, my body warmed enough that I cracked the window—just a hair. I always welcome the exchange of outside air. If air were visible, I imagine I’d see it doing what it naturally wants to do: balancing itself. Not unlike the balancing of breath and energy moving through my body.

I stepped back into Mountain pose.

Suddenly my ears woke up to the outside noises now creeping in.

It was still dark. Across the lagoon, a few houses glowed softly, their lights scattered in the darkness. Cool air brushed my skin. And then—an intrusion. A siren, distant but unmistakable, cut through the quiet.

Years ago, when I was a newer yogi and throughout my 500 hours of teacher training, I practiced in a studio where sirens passed by regularly. Every single time—no matter the teacher—the class would pause. The teacher would acknowledge the sound and offer a moment to send good thoughts to whoever was on the receiving end of that siren.

I’ve kept that habit.

But this morning, standing in Mountain pose with the window cracked and the siren echoing across the water, I was suddenly ten years old again—on the eve of Christmas Eve.

Brooklyn.

School vacation had started, and I was giddy with the thought of no school until after the New Year. I was standing by the front door of our building, the one at the bottom of the stairwell that never locked properly. I was alone, waiting for my parents to come home. I don’t remember where my brothers were.

Before going downstairs, I had been at my parents’ window, looking out into the dark at the buildings across the street—some windows lit, most not. Now I stood behind the door. Cold air slipped through the cracks. Somewhere, a siren wailed.

And in that moment, I remember truly feeling the Christmas spirit for the first time.

I thought about Mary and Joseph, traveling, searching for a place where Mary could give birth. I remembered a teacher once asking us whether, knowing what we know now, we would open the door if they came knocking. I shivered, imagining them walking the cold streets of Brooklyn and stopping at the door in front of me.

I reached into my pocket and found a brand-new ChapStick. My lips were always chapped, though I never paid much attention to it. My mother was constantly handing me ChapStick, and I was constantly losing it. This one was new. I applied it.

Mint.

The first mint ChapStick I’d ever tried. It cooled my lips further, but in a way that felt clean and refreshing. To this day, that scent takes me right back to that moment.

Alone in the dark. Cold air. Mint on my lips. A siren passing by. And the quiet awe of Christmas.

And then—almost immediately—disappointment.

Earlier that evening, I had overheard my mother arguing with my grandmother on the phone. I heard my mother tell her she was not welcome for Christmas. I remember thinking that Christmas wouldn’t feel like Christmas without Grandma there.

Standing in Mountain pose this morning, holding that memory, I briefly wondered what that fight had been about. What could possibly have been so terrible that my grandmother wasn’t allowed to come?

I started doing the math.

I knew that these bans happened—arguments, cutoffs, declarations that someone was “no longer welcome.” And then, eventually, everyone would reconcile and move on. But some holidays passed while the ban was still in place. And those holidays are gone forever.

Now, in this moment of my life, my son—whom I have always been wildly close to—has declared no contact.

Perspective.

For the first time, I truly understood how my grandmother must have felt.

I don’t have grandchildren yet, but I can only imagine how much deeper the pain goes when they’re involved—when you long to see them as much as they long to see you.

Back then, I didn’t understand my parents’ issues with my grandmother. I think they thought she meddled too much. Something about money. I don’t really know.

What I do know is this: my grandmother was the single most important positive influence in my life. I don’t know who I would have been without her.

As a child, I listened to her talk for hours. She loved to talk. As an adult, we spoke for hours each week while I cooked on Sundays. Sometimes we argued—but never in a way that interfered with holidays or love.

She died in 2007, but her words live on. And as I get older, they take on new meaning.

As I continued my practice, I thought about how much I love this time of year, and how different morning yoga feels in winter compared to summer. I thought about what Christmas might be like next year in Italy.

I imagined Christmas in Rocca di Neto, where my father was born. I thought about what it means to be a foreigner—how everything looks familiar and unfamiliar at once. I thought about what it must feel like to go “home” when home is no longer where you live.

Only after visiting Rocca a few weeks ago do I think I can truly appreciate the depth of that difference.

Doing the math again, I realized that on that Christmas Eve in Brooklyn, my father had only been in the United States for sixteen years.

Sixteen years.

At this point in my life, sixteen years ago feels like a blink. It’s nearly as long as I’ve been with Daren, and he still feels new in my life. In the scope of my father’s life then, he was—figuratively—fresh off the boat.

He told us stories about Italy, about traditions, about his parents. But my brothers and I didn’t really understand. It all felt distant, foreign. The grandmother I cared about was here. And that Christmas, I was devastated that I wouldn’t see her.

That year, my grandmother must have been fifty-nine. Around Daren’s age now. My mother was thirty. My father thirty-six. All young adults, really—raising children while still trying to understand themselves.

Over the thousands of hours I spent talking with my grandmother, she often sounded genuinely baffled by the arguments with her children. All of them, at one point or another, cut her off. She often didn’t understand why.

Lately, as my relationship with my son has unraveled, her words echo in my mind—especially around money. The confusion. The pain. Her insistence that she gave out of love, not control. That adults are adults. That gifts are not entitlements.

I’ll leave it there.

I’m turning fifty in two months, and I understand elders now in a way I simply couldn’t a year ago. Losing my father—and intentionally and unintentionally stepping into his experiences—has changed how I see him, how I see family, culture, and the chaos we sometimes mistake for normal.

I understand, in a small way, what it’s like to live inside someone else’s world. To speak from memory and have those memories land on deaf ears—especially when those ears belong to your children.

And Grandma… yes. I get it now. The money. The bafflement. The heartbreak of being shut out for something that was meant only to be loving.

My greatest gift in 2025 is perspective.

Perspective on many things—but most of all, on my elders.

I know there is more to learn. Things I still can’t see. And things my children will someday learn for themselves in their own experience.

You can’t replace experience.

Thanks to yoga, fresh air, sirens and memories for a new perspective this morning. While in Mountain Pose.

Maybe I should go buy some mint ChapStick??

Namaste

A text from my cousin in Italy this morning

On Lessons from Pops

Posted on 08/17/2025 by Esterina Anderson

For those of you who don’t know, my father passed away on Wednesday. And for those who don’t know, my relationship with him was far from a beautiful “daddy’s little girl” type of scenario. I loved and hated him. I was afraid of him, yet I felt protected from the outside world by him.

My father was an alcoholic, mean, misogynistic, childish, and a bully. But he was also full of life, energy, and joy. He was strong—crazy healthy despite himself—and had the strongest work ethic of anyone I’d ever met. Just as strong was his play ethic: he worked hard and he played hard.

He lived a full life of ups and downs. He made money fast and spent it even faster. He loved drinking, gambling, and chasing women. He didn’t believe women should work or that education mattered. He believed you should take care of yourself and your family with food, shelter, and clothing in a basic sense. There was always enough, but always with the constant worry that maybe there wouldn’t be, the weight of bills looming.

From him, I learned a lot—what to do, what not to do, who I wanted to be, and how I wanted to show up in the world. This both served me and hurt me. The two main lessons I took from him were how to be productive and how to live fully at the extremes of emotion.

He hated the word “relaxing,” unless everything else that could possibly be done was already done. Before he came home, my brothers and I would scour the house for anything out of place, dirty, or unfinished. Yes, it was unhealthy—but it taught me to scan my environment, make lists, remember details, prioritize, and execute with whatever time I had.

This shaped me: I don’t know how to rest. I’m constantly doing, doing something, or several things at once. I am incredibly productive, and I think I like it that way. It’s a blessing and a burden, because I often don’t realize when I’ve pushed myself too far or taken on too much. My father, in an unhealthy way, taught me this.

Another word to describe him: loud. When the work was done, it was time to play and let loose. He had no qualms about body image, running around shirtless with his big belly. He sang at the top of his lungs, danced like a giant silly human without a care, and enjoyed food like there was no tomorrow. He loved sports—football mostly, the NY Giants in particular, but also soccer and basketball. Watching games with him was full of antics and superstition. The whole neighborhood knew if the Giants were winning or losing.

But with his intensity—whether excitement or anger—came loss of control. Things broke. People and animals got hurt, physically or emotionally.

Some of you who know me now might not realize that “loud” was once how I lived too. I still like to dance, be silly, and LAUGH—only now without the drinking and the overkill of noise.

Ultimately, I didn’t stick around to live like he lived or under his rule of thumb. I got the #$&* out of dodge and started a path of my own in the world.

I’ve learned over the course of the past 31 years that I struggle with boundaries. I was never taught them. I didn’t even know they existed. Particularly with extremes of work, play, and emotions—at first I had none. Everything was to the extreme. I’m now at a point in my life where I realize I can detach from those automatic reactions I was taught, and instead have healthier boundaries around rest, relaxation, and emotional highs and lows.

I am not perfect (who is?) and often struggle with doing too much without realizing it, or failing to recognize when I’m overwhelmed until it shows up as anxiety or panic. A lot of yogic work, mental health work, and a little medication have helped keep me balanced most of the time.

I sit here on my front porch on an August Sunday morning with my coffee and thinking about my dad.

There isn’t much rhyme or reason to this blog—just a moment to reflect on how my father shaped my life and who I am right now because of it. If I stay healthy, it’s not unreasonable to imagine living another lifetime beyond the years I’ve already lived (49). I can’t change the past, but I can absolutely change the future and how I choose to show up and react in it.

One day, those who are in my life when I pass will likely reflect on how I lived, what I taught them—whether it’s how they want to live, or how they want to avoid living. My hope is that whatever I put into the world, people experience it in a way that makes them pause—whether positively or negatively—and reflect on how their own experiences shape their behaviors and ultimately guide their decisions about who they want to be in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, that is the truest way my father continues to live on—through the ways he shaped me, both in what I carry forward and in what I’ve chosen to do differently. In that way, his life reminds me that even the hardest stories can become soil for growth, and that the future is always wide open for choosing a new way to live.

Seventh Floor, Going Down

Posted on 06/12/202506/12/2025 by Esterina Anderson

I know if I don’t capture the feelings now, I still might be able to later — but they will never feel as they do now.

Today.
My last day of work.
That elevator — the sound made me want to cry.

A hot day, not too different from today.
23 years ago.

5th Floor, Building 2 — right outside my door was the elevator bank.
Mary Susie Conti — the woman I was replacing — was loading up my head with all that I needed to learn.

I was paying rapt attention, but every so often I sussed out the environment. It felt so different to be in an office in the middle of the day instead of home with my two small children, who were now 45 minutes away in a new daycare. Every time I thought of them, my heart hurt just a bit, and I had to intentionally put it out of my mind.

The feel of the air with the open window (at a time when we were allowed to open windows — now I can’t imagine), the humidity in the office, and the sound of the elevator’s electronic voice blathering all day:

“Fifth Floor Going Down… Fifth Floor Going Up.”

Over the next few days and weeks, I slightly startled the 50 or so times a day I heard that electronic voice announcing the floor it landed on and which direction it was going.

Eventually, it became background noise and I didn’t hear it at all. But when I did tune in, no matter the day or time of year, I was transported back to being 26 years old and learning my new job from Mary Susie Conti.

For the past 8+ years, I haven’t come into the office much. I was on a reasonable accommodation and working from home long before COVID. But I have to say — it always felt like home when I did go in.

I honestly believe one of the reasons I got the job is because of that “home”-like feeling.

When I interviewed for that first job, I went through a series of interviews back to back.
Martha Shea was the first person who interviewed me.

Right off the bat, she made it known that if I didn’t pass her muster, the two doctors I would soon interview with would take her consideration into account.

She also made sure to tell me she was prior military and instantly started off by asking about my own military experience.

I was slightly intimidated, but something about her already felt familiar. She was my kind of people — I could tell.

I don’t even know how I wasn’t prepared for the question:
“Why do you want to work here?”

I mean — for heaven’s sake — if a person can’t answer that, they shouldn’t get the job!

Martha asked me that question and my truly unprepared, but terribly raw response — when I looked around — was:

“Because it feels like home.”

Martha cracked a genuine smile and asked me why.

I looked around, asking myself the same thing to understand why I had that feeling.

I saw the government-issued 3-month calendar, where you save paper with the months on both sides. The chairs. The carpet. The signage. The halls. The overhead pages. Men with military regalia ambling down the hall. The feeling I always got crossing from a state line onto federal property.

So that is what I said.
I first pointed to the calendar on the wall, then the chairs. I mentioned something that was broken in a corner and talked about how it all felt familiar.

I didn’t think about puffing everyone up with “helping veterans,” giving back, stories of grandfathers who fought in wars — or all the other things I subsequently heard over the years when I eventually became the interviewer.

My answer was candid and from the heart.

If my interview were a cartoon, Martha would have started off in a knight’s costume — complete with armor — to intimidate me.
Then it would have fallen off, and you would have seen her heart literally melting.

She proudly walked me down the hall to the person who would eventually become my first supervisor at the VA.

With a hand on my shoulder, she introduced me in a way that made it clear she liked me and wanted to take me under her wing.

I already felt protected — and that I was with my people.

Today, I drove into for the last time.

The sunrise down the street from me. A new dawn to a brand new type of day for me.

I saw people parking, taking out their bags and lunches, putting on badges.
These people were donned in suits, scrubs, lab coats — and everything in between.

I vividly remembered those early days of parking in that same lot. The uniforms, cars and smells were so unfamiliar at the time. Now they are all second nature. All these years I have been taking the same steps into the same building and heading to the elevators —

“1st Floor, going up.”

Today, I ran into one of my coworkers walking into the building.

We got on the elevator together, and I heard that same electronic voice, unchanged in all these years.

I asked him about his two young girls. He filled me in and then asked how old my children were now.

28 and 26.
My youngest is now as old as I was when I first started working there.

I worked there for their entire lives.
In some ways, I missed their lives because of that place.

I don’t know who I am without it.

Some people would say I worked there a lifetime (23 years).

Others, who have 40, 45 years in the government, would still consider me a newbie.

It’s all relative. But for me — between the military and the Department of Veterans Affairs — it’s been my whole life.

I had jobs in different buildings and offices. Not too many were close to an elevator bank.

Today, as I left, it was:

“7th Floor, going down.”

It felt like:

“Esterina, now going down and out — into the wider world.”

I sat in the parking lot for a long time.
I read the cards I was given, sitting in my car with the air conditioning blasting.

I felt nostalgic — but very excited.

Driving away was the hardest part.
No tears, but a large lump in my throat.

A piece of my heart will always be there — in those buildings, carpets, walls, files.

And just like that — “7th Floor Going Down” — one chapter closes, and another begins.

On Being a Federal Government Employee: Fork in the Road

Posted on 05/02/202505/03/2025 by Esterina Anderson

April 27^th, 2025.

As I sit here on the Metro North Railroad next to my husband on this very sunny, very windy Sunday, late April morning, I’m filled with wanderlust and a sense of possibility. As we speed by I notice trees, mountains, houses, cars, waterways, docks… so many ways of living and modes of travel.

The subway this morning, leaving New York City, back home to Connecticut

My heart aches to experience it all. I sit and watch, feeling stuck where I am; on a moving train that is going too fast. I am unable to really see, experience or touch any of it. Destination known.

I marvel at how at any stop I could really get off. How I could take another train to another destination and experience something new. I could…. Why don’t I? Why haven’t I?

I am a government employee.

A Fork in the Road.

That is the title now infamous email sent to government employees on January 28^th. It quite possibly could open doors, new roads, endless possibilities. However, the doors and possibilities are soured by the ruthless ways civil servants have been discussed in the past few months.

I am government employee with a possibility of taking early retirement. I am 49 and was not planning to retire for a while. But the possibility cannot stop lingering on my mind. I want to see the world! I want to get out from under the grind, off the crazy train. The past few years, but particularly the past few months have dampened the passion of flames I once had for work. It was long burning down, but the new administration has left but the smallest of sparks still attempting to burn.

I have given my entire adult life to the United States government. At 18 I went into the Coast Guard. At 22, I continued into the active reserve pool and became a weekend warrior while raising two babies. At 26, I became a civil servant where I have worked ever since.

I’ve been on a train, on the path set out by many. Get an education, get a job, start a family, get the bigger house….

In the past 31 years with very little help from the supposedly educational funds and benefits that tempted me into the military in the first place I obtained a Professional Secretarial Certification, a Bachelors in Business Administration, an MBA, and a certification Healthcare Analytics.

There were countless other trainings I took through work or on my own. Regardless of where I took these trainings, I immediately gave everything I learned back to the government through my work. Up to and including teaching yoga.

I chose the government because like many undiscussed Americans, particularly second generation Americans, I grew up not have basic securities met. We always had food, though food security was something my parents often struggled with. There were enough clothes and enough help to feel ok. We did not have healthcare and my parents did not have jobs with paid vacation or sick time. Retirement is still out of the question for my 74 year old father. My mother passed away at 49, in part to smoking; but more in part to not having access to healthcare.

I chose the military for the benefits. Paid education, vacation days, and healthcare. The military also seemed as if it were fair and just, that there were rules that had to be followed and consequences for breaking those rules. My home seemed to be a place where there were no consequences and no rights for women or children. As a teenager with looming uncertainty of my future, the military recruiters at the tables stationed around my high school looked healthy, happy and secure in themselves. I wanted that for myself too.

I still don’t know if recruiters purposely mislead or they themselves do not know, but many of the things I was told were only partial truths. Healthcare is not for life unless you are destitute once you separate from the armed forces. The Montogomery GI Bill hardly paid for a semester let alone an education. I was not able to apply for specialty school right out of bootcamp as an E-3, a benefit I personally took advantage of because I had spent 3 years in junior ROTC. The immediate bump from E-2 to E-3 wasn’t a huge benefit, but the one that likely made what was a tough decision at the time for me. A decision that ended up being a very good one for my life.

Swearing into the United States Military at MEMPS in Brooklyn NY August 9, 1994

From that time, and into my career, and until this very day; there were spouted benefits. Benefits that lured me in, but were not what they seemed to be. Benefits that few who are the gatekeepers to obtaining these benefits even seem to know about.

My earliest experience was the lack of knowledge at my first duty station on being an E-3. Then seemingly gregarious barriers to putting my name on a wait list for specialty school. I did everything I was supposed to as quickly and efficiently as I could. It seemed to surprise people that I had the oomph to push through the barriers and keep pressing until I got the answers I was seeking. It seemed unnecessarily difficult, but that was only the start of many years ahead of pretty much the same.

I met and married my first husband who was also in the military at the age of 19. We had no plans of having children anytime soon, but I did know about the benefit to females of taking two years off to raise a child and coming back to finish any required time that was owed to the government.

When my husband and I were re-located and co-located from the west to east coast, the new dispensary that I was assigned did not carry the birth control pill I had been on for years. I was prescribed a new pill and immediately experienced unwanted side effects. When I went to the dispensary to discuss these issues; they took some bloodwork to ensure I was not pregnant, prescribed a new type of pill, and asked me to not take any pills until my next cycle.

My newlywed husband and I were careful, but obviously not careful enough because I never did start that next cycle. I was unintentionally pregnant at 20 years old. My new duty station (which was for the first time in my career on land [opposed to on ship]) helped me to apply for the two year program to raise a child. The administrators and I could not foresee my request being denied because I owed 2 exactly two years and my husband was also a service member.

The request was denied without an explanation. We were flabbergasted. The men and their wives at my at my station were so supportive and helped me and my husband with taking care of our newborn child. I will forever be grateful for the rallying and support provided.

October 1996, pregnant with my first born

My baby Thomas at just over a year old with his daddy

Two years later my owed time was up and I had the option to reenlist. For the majority of non-Air station based jobs, most Coast Guard members were required to be stationed on a ship alternating with land stations. Unless they specifically wanted to be on ship duty or if circumstances called, folks were allowed to be stationed on land for back to back tours.

The military does married couples the honor of trying to station couples together or close by. My husband’s tour was also up. His job required him to be at an Air station which were far and few between. Air stations at the time also required a 1 in every 3 or 1 in every 4 evening overnight obligation. My job as a cook was one of the few jobs in the Coast Guard that did not require overnight stays at all. It was the only way we were able to get by raising our son until that point. That and the help from the members of my station.

Service members have some input on where they would like to go by filling out what was referred to as a “Dream Sheet”. We filled out our dreams sheets and requested to go anywhere in the world as long as I could be stationed at a land station nearby an Air station so I could be home every evening with our son. It should not have come as a surprise when this reasonable request was denied. Yet it was a surprise and felt like a blow.

The Commanding and Executive Officers who were fond of my hard work, impressed that I finished a secretarial certificate and was taking college classes, and who were already upset from the denial for the maternity leave I asked for were also infuriated. The Commanding Officer (unprompted) wrote a letter asking for my request to be reconsidered because he felt I was just the kind of person that the Coast Guard should want to keep. He received a response back saying that it was my turn to go on a boat and if I didn’t like it, I did not have to re-enlist.

I did not reenlist.

I enlisted into the Active Reserves for four years instead. My husband stayed in and I became a military spouse. We had another baby and I finished my bachelor degree.

Four years later in 2002, both my husband and I had completed all required obligations to the military. It was not long after 9/11 and we decided to take a plunge into the civilian world.

Finding work in your twenties hot out of the military with little other work experience and family obligations is not easy. I was interested in federal employment because of the benefits and pension.

I applied to dozens of government and private sector positions. It took about 6 months to find a temporary grant funded government position.

During my first few years as a civil servant I applied for the programs and leadership trainings that were available, but I was denied participation because I was not a permanent employee. I went back to school (out of pocket) while working full time and raising 2 children for an MBA.

I used the information I was learning in school and my personal drive constantly to make my job, my role, and in turn my organization a better place. In 2007 I finished my Masters degree and landed a full time permanent position. About 5 minutes later I was asked to teach and mentor students in the programs I had never taken and had been denied access to. I was not snarly or punishing because I paid for and took my own initiative to learn what they denied me access to. I excitedly obliged because I wanted to provide my organization with the passion and knowledge I myself wanted to share.

I cannot believe that was 18 years ago. Since then I’ve learned even more. In my journey as a government employee I’ve changed as a human, but maintained exceptional performance reviews for every single rating period for 31 years without fail. I have given the government every piece of knowledge I learned, and for many many years, many more hours than I was ever paid for.

I have since been divorced and remarried. My children have grown and left the nest. I’ve taken many other trainings at work and outside of work. I trudged a personal journey of experiencing C-PTSD from childhood which involved drinking, recovery and a lot of therapy.

Very typical office set up I had (back in the days I had an office that is)

At my ‘hands down’ favorite position I held in Primary Care

Group of lady work friends I had for many years

I’ve been on the path. I was not planning to retire now. I have more to give. But do I want to give it to the government anymore???

My heart has not been in it a while. And the current administration seems to admonish and mock employees like myself.

Until this very day I am dealing with “benefits” unknown to those who are the gatekeepers. My latest escapade involves healthcare. I have been paying for health insurance for a family through the Federal Employee Health Benefits (FEHB) since 2002. A few years ago while I was undergoing intensive outpatient therapy I was part-time and we used my husband’s insurance because the employee share for part-timers is unaffordable. We switched back to my insurance over 4 years ago, but the government has a stipulation that upon retirement in order to keep the FEHB for life, you have to have paid FEHB for the 5 consecutive years prior to retirement.

This is what stopped me from Taking the Fork in the Road back in January. Healthcare. One of the very reasons I entered into the federal workforce 31 years ago. The lack of which (healthcare) I attribute to my mom passing at 49 years old. The very age I happen to be at the moment.

The only time I did not pay for healthcare was for the short period of time I shortened my work hours to deal with mental health issues.

Most veterans have mental health issues. Most individuals enter the military because the benefits outweigh the personal risks. Most individuals who join at a young age do not have many other options. Those lack of options, lack, limit = mental health issues that if not already experiencing, will likely show up later in life when the dust has settled. Like it did for me.

Back in January when the Fork in the Road email was sent, I read all over the place in OPM guidance and other government sources that under VERA authority (when early retirement is being offered) the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) waives this 5 year healthcare payment requirement. I asked about it at the time. No one has ever heard of it. Of course they haven’t. I’ve been down this sad road before. Benefits that are there but unknown or in some way inaccessible.

My Department is offering VERA again due to impending RIFs (Reduction in Force) and this time it specifically states that OPM is waiving the 5-year requirement.

Why am I still here? What do I have to gain?

I think I want to get off the train. I watch the world literally and proverbially whizzing by. A world I long to see and experience.

I am not one of these mystery civil servants you hear on the news. One of these lazy people who is just taking from the population and needs their job to be cut with a sledge hammer. I gave the government more than I gained from it. I know my job can be involuntary cut in a few weeks. If I get to keep a job at all, there is no guarantee it will be at my salary level or that I enjoy.

Yes, there is waste in the government. There is waste in all organizations. The fairness I had been seeking when entering the federal workforce is not on everyone’s side. As employees under the rule of the law, we are mostly indistinguishable from one another. All kind of being lumped in with the bath water that our administration wants to throw out.

As I reflect on my journey, I realize that my experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. The highs and lows, the challenges and triumphs, have all contributed to my growth and resilience. While the uncertainty of early retirement looms, I am filled with hope and possibility. I am ready to embrace change and explore new horizons. My dedication to public service has been unwavering, and I am proud of the contributions I have made. As I contemplate the next chapter of my life, I am reminded that there is so much more of me to give. The world is full of opportunities, and I am eager to seize them.

Last photo I have with my mom (far left)

On Giving Gifts that Heal this Holiday Season

Posted on 12/21/201701/03/2019 by Esterina Anderson

After food, shelter and clothing; true lasting joy and peace can ONLY come from within. No toy, car, phone, pet, room, house, grade, job, college, friend, significant other, anything… can ever bring true happiness. It sounds so cliché, but it’s true and sages have been saying it for thousands of years.

Advertisement and modern society tells us something different. A few gifts can help to bring this inner joy. This is my own concoction of gifts that can help bring forth that inner joy. The secret is that you have to be willing to give these gifts to both yourself and others.

Acceptance

Acceptance of what is.

When I was 15 I found a Yin Yang charm on the beach. I didn’t know what it was, but I liked it. I strung it along some fishing line with black beads I somehow had, and held it together with a safety pin as a clip. I wore it for years around my neck, like a thin choker that was popular in the early 90s. A few years later one evening at my church’s youth group, I sat across a boy who was in my circle of friends but I had never talked to very much. We both sat backwards on some chairs off to the side while our friends chatted and danced. At some point during the conversation he reached over to my neck and touched the Yin Yang. He asked me if I knew what the symbol meant. I didn’t. He explained. I loved it even more. We dated all through my senior year.

It is my favorite symbol because it says it all with a simple circle. The world is made up of opposites, and they always circle back to one another at their extreme. We can only understand an expression through the existence of its opposite (hot/cold, dark/light, happy/sad, health/disease, love/hate, summer/winter, life/death etc). These things all exist naturally, are a part of the universe we live in; they ALL belong, and we should expect them to show up. That means there is nothing wrong with disappointment, sadness, anger, something not working, or any “negative” expression or feeling. It should come as no more of a surprise as joy, love, things going as planned, or “positive” feelings. There is no fighting this natural, universal law, and expecting anything different only causes disappointment.

How does that translate into real life? When we aren’t happy it doesn’t mean there is something wrong with us. When someone is grumpy or annoyed (even if it’s with you), it doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with them or you. Pretending a negative feeling isn’t so, or trying to change an outcome or a mood is unnatural; not to mention completely exhausting.

Acceptance of what is doesn’t mean accepting nonsense in your life OR that it’s ok to make the same mistakes over and over. Accept, learn, & grow. That means changing what you have control over, letting go of what you can’t and having the wisdom to know the difference. Someone coined that long ago.

Let go

Let go of contempt and forgive.

Oh… so much easier than it sounds. Regret and lack of forgiveness can seriously block true inner happiness. Like a dam blocks the flow of water. This is true whether or not you are holding onto contempt for yourself or others.

Regret can be about anything that would represent ‘woulda’, ‘shoulda’, ‘coulda’. Lack of forgiveness for yourself is often about regret. Consider being compassionate with yourself and recognizing that you are human, but learn from the experience. Accept how it went and move on. If you don’t forgive yourself, you will often make the same mistakes over and over.

Lack of forgiveness towards others is often about being angry because another individual did not act in a way you wished them to. Consider accepting that it is about them, not you. and let it go. Holding onto contempt only stops you from being happy and wishing you could change a person you cannot.

Both forms of not forgiving will block you from being happy. Forgiveness is the greatest gift you can give yourself. It’s absolutely NOT about making the same mistakes over and over, or allowing certain behaviors in your life. Forgiveness is about acceptance of what is and not fighting against things you cannot change. Accept yourself, others, and the world for what it is. You don’t even have to let another person know you forgave them to feel the benefits of letting go. Whatever you might be holding on to with anger, regret, or contempt: give yourself the gift of letting it go. It’s freeing.

Not everyone is ready to forgive. If you can’t, at least wish that you could want to. And if you can’t even do that, at least wish that you were the type of person who could wish they could want to. But be honest and reflective of where you are: ready to forgive, wishing you were ready, or wishing you could wish you were ready to forgive. The sooner you are honest with your private self (you can’t really lie to your most private self), the sooner you will move on, come closer to forgiveness and the sooner you will set yourself free. But only you can do that.

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Give

Give gratitude. We are human and as simple as it is, it’s hard! There are thousands of quotes, articles, podcasts, movies, songs, apps etc that talk about how gratitude can change your life. And I can attest to it. Living in gratitude makes life miraculous and SOOOOoooooooo….. worth living.

Look around. Stop living in lack. I listened to a Podcast on the way home from work on Tuesday about Oneness. To sort of, kind of, steal the lines from the person giving the Podcast, she talked about how we live and focus on lack constantly. From the moment we open our eyes in the morning we live in lack. Before another thought enters our mind; more often than not we think we didn’t sleep enough, weren’t enough yesterday (didn’t exercise enough, ate the wrong things, drank too much, didn’t do enough), and that we don’t have enough time in the morning to get ready to start the day. This is before we even get out of bed! This is the story we tell ourselves throughout the day. We focus on all that isn’t rather than ALL that is. Giving gratitude and being grateful for what is doesn’t come naturally.

Most of us are healthy and have several functioning relationships in our lives. We have food, shelter and way too much clothing… in fact we feel confused about choices on what to eat and what to wear when we are lucky enough to have those choices to actually make! But we focus on what doesn’t fit, the people who have slighted us and who we don’t have a relationship with, the poor food choices we made, the fact that there is traffic, a bill we didn’t expect to come… and then we beat ourselves up then for not being thankful.

On how hard this is –

We are human. We are animals. In a totally unrelated, yet totally related story… I’m in a 300-hour yoga teacher training and there is a student who comes to many of the classes at my studio where I teach and train. He is in his 70’s, legally blind, and a retired psychologist. He is awesome. He will often stay behind after community classes that are open to the public and share some of his insights about yoga and the way the mind works. I’m going to share one of his stories. I will call him “Harry”.

Harry was involved in a study with chickens all not too long ago. Basically, they taught the chickens how to find a pellet in a maze. Before you read further, try to take a wild guess about how long it took the chickens to find the pellet in the maze. Flabbergasted? It’s normal! From the folks I’ve told this story to, they’ve all guessed between 2 and 50 times. I believe the answer was somewhere around 9.

Then Harry’s study changed something in the maze that required the chickens to adapt to a new pattern. The pellet came out in a slightly different way and the chickens had to learn that doing the same thing over and over didn’t work. How many times do you think it took them to determine the new pattern? Flabbergasted again? Again… it’s normal. Most of the people I’ve talked to and told this story to after learning it was 9 times guessed anywhere between 9 and 40. For all those folks I’ve told them it’s much, much higher and it would blow their mind moved their guess to between 50 and 500.

The actual answer is over 42,000 times. It’s mind-boggling. I would hate to be the person who counted that study! Harry told us about that study, and I share this study with you because it’s freeing to know that it’s very difficult to change patterns and the way our neurons fire and give us direction. There is nothing wrong with us if we can’t change a habit in a heartbeat. We aren’t failures, we are living creatures with wiring that makes it so. Again & again, not an excuse – but an opportunity to accept the nature of what is, forgive ourselves, and give gratitude that we have the mind power to change patterns since we have a little more thinking opportunity than chickens, and can be self-reflective.

It’s all good.

Closing Thoughts –

So be good to yourself and others. We are just frail little humans. We think materialism, acquiring more things, brings joy – but it doesn’t. Use this season, this beautiful solstice, to learn something new. Focus on acceptance of what is, letting go of the past, and being grateful. These are some of the most beautiful gifts we can give ourselves and one another.

As I stated at the beginning of this blog: true inner joy & peace can only come from within.

Happy Winter Solstice 2017.

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2017 Anderson-Messeder Holiday Greetings

Posted on 12/15/201701/03/2019 by Esterina Anderson

2017

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The kids

I will start with the kids because when I see people I haven’t seen in a while, it’s the first thing they ask me about to break the ice.

Starting with the oldest.

Tom is now 20. He has been going to college at the University of Southern Maine for 2 ½ years, majoring in English. He met a sweet girl the fall semester of last year named Aisy. I had the pleasure of meeting her for the first time on my birthday this year. Tom spent the summer with Aisy and her family in Rhode Island while working at a tent/party set up company. He says it was the best summer and job of his life. He’s had a myriad of jobs in college and is currently working in Whole Foods. But only temporarily. As of today he will be moving back home and finishing school here in Connecticut. Aisy is also moving back home with her folks to finish school in a more economic manner. We are very much looking forward to having Tom back home with us, Koji & Devin. It’s rather quiet in our house these days!

Tom, Aisy & Koji at the beach in Rhode Island this summer

Gabby. She is now 18. She finished high school last June and is currently a freshman at the University of Rhode Island (URI) studying Geographical Oceanography. She is challenging herself the first two semesters with several lab classes and an intense course load. She is also in the Honors Program. The last days of senior year brought all kinds of fun and memorable activities like prom, award ceremonies, trips and of course graduation. Gabby worked at Panera Bread for the past year through the time she started college. She is still a seasonal employee and will be working through winter break. It will be nice to have her home for the next month too. Other than one of the cats, I’m the only girl left in our house. Gabby does add a nice feminine flair!

Prom!

Last visit to URI where Gabby decided she wanted to attend this school

Last fending tournament last March

Kieran. He will be 18 in just 14 days from today. He is a senior at Hopkins High School and just got into Harvard! Yes, Harvard – wow! 3^rd generation (both his parents & maternal grandmother). We found out just Tuesday evening after his winter concert while my in-laws were visiting. Kieran has many highlights this year. Most notably he made it to Nationals for singing. He was in Disney with the nationals group just a few weeks ago following the Thanksgiving holiday. He had many roles in school plays and recently was cast as the lead role in Heathers for the Spring 2018 Musical at Hopkins. For a variety of reasons he hasn’t been spending considerable time at our house, but we are very proud of his accomplishments.

Kieran and his good friend Michele on the college visit circuit we took them on in March. On that trip we visited many schools including Brown where Michele learned yesterday she has gotten into!

Devin. He is now 14. He finished up IDS (the elementary/secondary school he has been in since he started school) this year in June. It was emotional as he said goodbye to teachers and friends he has known since he remembers pretty much anything. Of course in this day and age it’s not goodbye – as he is pretty much on a perpetual group chat with his old friends on a daily basis. Devin is now a freshman at Cheshire High School (CHS, where Tom & Gabby went to school). He is also in his last year of playing hockey with the Whalers. Next year he will transition onto the high school hockey team. He is still playing the trumpet and we were treated to yet another great holiday concert at CHS last night.

At the Muse & 30 Seconds to Mars concert we went to at Jones Beach this summer. On the left is Anna Sara – beautiful relative from Sweden we had the pleasure of spending time with

Trips

Daren and I traveled quite a bit this year. We started the year on a work trip (Daren’s work) to Newport CA. In April we took Gabby and her good friend Kelly to Disney for their senior year. Devin and his friend Cole joined us. We also took some day trips & weekend trips to Long Island and around New England to Kingston RI, Portland, ME, Stowe, VT, Grafton, VT… to name a few. But our biggest trip was definitely to Africa! We went to Africa to celebrate Daren’s 50^th birthday. We visited Cape Town, South Africa, Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe and then went on an overland safari that started in Zimbabwe – went all through Botswana; and landed us back in South Africa in Soweto.

At Disney in Anaheim during the Newport Visit this year

Victoria Falls!!

Chobe National Park Botswana

Random beer tasting trip in Rhode Island

The Hubby

Daren turned 50! He is still working at CHC (Community Health Center), rocking it with doing 3 jobs and writing grants and papers left and right. In the off time he still runs, reads and plays piano. This summer he spent quite a bit of time working on the lovely boat the Melanie’s parents (Melanie & John – our good friends) no longer wanted. After fixing it up he got down to Branford as often as possible to take her out on the water. And the ol’ piano needed some serious fixing. All the keys recently got replaced last month in a serious several day long event.

Branford boat

Daren & I putting up backsplash at Summer Island last winter

I would say this year was even more about yoga for me than last year. I started the year out by opening my own LLC (Yograzia Balance). At first I was holding classes at a home studio. It was going well until someone complained twice about zoning. I’ve taught at a variety of places throughout the year. Most notably I became certified to teach trauma informed yoga at domestic violence shelters. It is the most rewarding teaching I do. Currently, I’m enrolled in a 300-hour yoga teacher-training program, which will finish in June. I’m loving every minute of it, as the material transfers immediately over to my personal life and practices. I’m continuing to work part-time at the VA. My job is not quite as challenging as others at the VA have been, but it works perfectly for our lifestyle at the moment. I also take care of the house & rentals in Branford. More below.

Summer Island

The rental house in Branford has been a success to date! We had over 25 renters this year and got nothing but rave reviews on both vacation rental sites. We used the house ourselves for 2 weeks in the summer and almost every time it was empty. In 2018 we have it blocked for 4 weeks in the summer and hope to make it down more often in the off season. Turning it over and answering calls and texts on the weekends from the renters is not my favorite thing. However; I learned a lot this year, made many adjustments and changes, and hope to have a better handle on the rental process and turnovers next year.

The Reality

That’s all the good/positive stuff. On a more realistic note –

I’m still struggling with stress, anxiety and PTSD. Being 100% honest, it’s been the most challenging year I’ve ever faced with treatment, medication(s), and my own personal growth. Grades are a struggle for some of our brood. Work, school, and home challenges often get in the way of a mood, sometimes an evening. We’ve have blended & biological family struggles, hurt feelings, and harshness exchanged. We had a flood from our dishwasher into the basement this summer that knocked our kitchen and basement out of commission for a while. We had contractors in the house almost every day for about 6 weeks. Devin had emergency hernia surgery. Tom’s car broke down on the Fourth of July holiday.

My ex (John) moved away to Tennessee to start a new job and life. My brother Mario has been staying with us when he can while trying to start a new life away from Long Island. Our pets bring us so much love and joy, but they also destroy stuff, throw up, cover our homes in hair, scare away guests and delivery people…

But we are so blessed. We have food in our bellies, a warm place to stay every night, healthcare, clothes in our closet, JOBS, and as the late Dr. Seuss would say, brains in our head and feet in our shoes. No one likes a struggle, but I’m actually thankful for them. They bring insight and make the good times even more sweet. I’m learning that struggles are as normal and expected as joy, and to not be so thrown off when they show up knocking on the doorstep. Learning…. Not there yet – but I am enjoying the path to learning to be ok with whatever I wake up to face each day.

Here’s to the closing of 2017. Onto the next!