Living Life on My Terms

I am a fan of Maria Shriver, daughter of Eunice Kennedy Shriver. Eunice founded the Special Olympics and was a phenomenal woman as was most of the family of Rose and Joseph Kennedy. I, like many, thought that anyone who grew up as a Kennedy has it made and their life is like Utopia. But that family has suffered so many tragedies some say they are jinxed.

My life was always dictated by others, it seems, until I was middle aged. My authoritarian father and opinionated four brothers left little wiggle room for my own thoughts and ideas to be heard. My older sister learned early that she had to leave home to be her own person. So did my youngest sister.

Both of them lived in various locations and had adventures I only dreamed of. Gay moved to California and worked with Western Airlines. She traveled to any place Western flew. She often went alone and met interesting people. She wrote letters to me about her trips.

June, the oldest, met an Air Force Lieutenant and eventually left for California where they married.
She had a successful career herself, and helped her husband further his education at Emory University after his stint in the military. I enjoyed visiting them in places near enough I could drive or close enough they could take Gay and me home with them.

Meanwhile, I went to college, earned my BS in Education and came back home to teach. I hated being at the mercy of administrative men who had no idea what I needed in my classroom to help children who came to my fourth grade classroom  not knowing how to read.

I married a great guy who eventually went to work with my brothers. A huge mistake for me because I became caught in the middle between him and family when things went wrong. To make matters worse, we lived on the same farm where I grew up, where my parents and brothers called all the shots.

So how does this relate to Maria Shriver? Through following this extraordinary woman who has taken center stage in her own life, I see much of myself.

She was the only girl in a family of five. The boys were given opportunities she was not. She felt she never had a voice. (So much like me)  She lived a life trying to be the person her mother and father wanted her to be - a good daughter, a good wife, a good mother. When she tells of the rules she had to live by in her strict Catholic family, my heart goes out to her. She watched her mother develop the Special Olympics which debuted the same time that her brother, Robert Kennedy was assassinated and buried. Maria talks about this on a podcast that I have listened to more than once.

Who would think that a rich person who had all kinds of opportunities would grow up thinking she didn't matter, her opinions didn't matter. Now, as an older woman having endured the public humiliation of her husband's affair and divorce, she is writing books, holding meetings with people all over this country, important people who want to talk to her. 

She posts on Facebook and has a Sunday post that I subscribe to and read every week. She has created a powerful organization for Alzheimer's cure and is an advocate for that and many things.
She says we should never think our thoughts, our voices are not important. I agree.

When I moved away from home in my fifties, I found that my voice does matter. I found that the ideas and values I always had were appreciated. Although I had been a great worker in organizations I supported, I had no confidence that I could be a leader, a person who was sought out for my opinions or respected as a person of influence.

I urge my readers to follow and read the books and posts by Maria Shriver. She has overcome her lack of confidence in herself, her embarrassment by a failed marriage that she did not see coming, and the expectations of others who, because of her family name, want her to follow traditions and be like her cousins although she is her own person.

I admire that attitude. The first time I stood up for myself and my opinions against my brothers who expected me to appear and present a program about our family history caused a major upset. I was accused of being mean and selfish, but I was standing up for myself when one of my brothers told me that the family history book I spent 10 years compiling was inaccurate. I was hurt beyond words. I had my doubts that my book had been read, but was appalled when I was told that my research on my grandparents was all wrong.

Some family members will always remember that incident as my fault. But in some ways it was my last stand for myself.

This happened after I had moved away. Would I have been as determined if I had been near my brothers? I was accused of throwing one of my brothers under the bus because he had to give the presentation. He was forced to read my book to deliver the history he had promised to provide.

I grew up, like Maria, in the shadows of brothers and other family feeling I had no voice. But it is never too late to speak up. We don't have to let others, husbands, family or community stifle us.  As long as we are of sound mind, we can control our lives. I will not move out of my home because others think I should. But when I cannot take care of myself or afford to hire help, I will consider making a move. I will not stop teaching and helping writers who need me unless I feel that I have nothing to offer. I will not end my leadership of my writers' organization until I feel that I cannot make a difference.

Visit Maria Shriver here. Read her Sunday Paper by subscribing.