Author: Admin01

Not long ago I was out to dinner with friends. We had ordered and were waiting for our drinks when one of my friends immediately pulled out her phone and began scrolling.

When the food arrived, my friend set down her phone and picked up her utensils.

At first, I was caught off guard. We hadn’t seen each other in a month, and I had been looking forward to catching up.

“Sorry about that,” she said between bites. “I had over 200 work emails, and I wouldn’t have been able to relax until I got through at least some of them.”

While I was waiting for her to disengage from work and join in with the conversation, I noticed that I was also fighting the urge to check my own phone.

That moment stayed with me. It made me realize how much technology has changed the way we live and how rarely we allow ourselves the simple act of being present.

The Sheer Speed of Communication

When I first started working, we typed letters and mailed them, often waiting weeks for a response. Now we fire off a text or email and find ourselves staring at the screen, waiting for a reply. Everything moves so much faster than it did even a few decades ago.

But there’s a downside to that kind of speed as we are always connected. Work, family, and the outside world are always within arm’s reach.

Studies suggest that we check our phones nearly 100 times a day and for many in business, it can be far more. What began as a tool for convenience has quietly become an obsession.

I can remember when even having a home phone was a luxury. Contact with the outside world was daily and for the most part, enjoyable. Any news you receive comes from TV, newspapers and the radio. You would actively need to tune in to get updated on events.

Now, we live with the steady infusion of local, national and international news in real time. The majority of which is negative and can lead to anxiety, emotional fatigue and fear.

Falling Victim to the Computer in Our Pocket

I have good friends I haven’t spoken to in years. We exchange texts, admire photos and have discussions without picking up the phone.

Even when we are together, I feel that often we are not fully present. Phones come out to share a picture or look something up, and before long, we are responding to emails or checking messages.

We can hardly get through a discussion without someone reaching for their cell to look something up or fact-check, turning what should be an easy exchange into something that feels more like deposition testimony than a chat.

Have you noticed how difficult it has become to go even a few minutes without looking at your phone? Many of us don’t even bother to tuck it away in our handbags or pockets.

Unless you are a trauma surgeon or a stockbroker, it is unlikely that you need to be constantly connected and yet, leaving home without creates a feeling of disconnection or FOMO (fear of missing out).

The effects of constant cell phone use are not just emotional but can be physical as well: eye strain, neck pain, reduced attention span, and the subtle but powerful pull of the need for constant stimulation.

For older adults, there is an added concern. While we may feel more connected, we may actually be engaging less. The illusion of connection can sometimes replace real interaction, contributing to loneliness and isolation.

So, What Can We Do?

Give Yourself a Phone Curfew

Phone use at night can cause insomnia and the blue light can disrupt circadian rhythms.

Don’t Text and Drive

Put your phone away while driving unless you use a navigational app. Even having the phone in the holder and a text message coming up can be dangerous as you glance at it. Also, resist the urge to scroll at traffic lights and in congested areas.

Never Walk and Scroll

Older people have less flexibility and stepping on an uneven surface or into a hole can lead to an injury.

Do Not Sleep with the Phone Next to You

It makes it too accessible if you are having problems sleeping. An old-fashioned alarm clock should be used instead.

Resist Scrolling During Down Time

Don’t reach for your phones when you are waiting in line, in an elevator or at a crossing. Look around and engage with your surroundings.

Cellphones can make an amazing contribution to the quality of our lives when used correctly. Unfortunately, they are extremely addictive, and we often lose minutes and sometimes hours doomscrolling when that precious time could be used to connect with the outside world.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

How addicted are you to your phone? Have you changed the way you use your phone and how did it make your life better?

Photo: @rachelzoe

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Originally posted at: Rachel Zoe’s Leopard Maxi Dress

Have you had this moment – yet?

Your children are grown.

You’ve spent decades caring, guiding, and showing up in ways that required constant emotional availability. And yet, instead of feeling lighter, you may feel more unsettled than ever.

Because while your children have grown up, your role hasn’t quite caught up.

You’re still responding the way you always have.

Still stepping in.

Still carrying.

Still trying to keep everything steady.

And it’s exhausting.

The Hidden Emotional Cost

Many women over 50 find themselves navigating complicated dynamics with adult children.

There may be:

• Increased expectations
• Emotional dependency
• Tension or distance
• Moments of disrespect
• Or simply a lingering sense of responsibility that never seems to end.

What often goes unspoken is how deeply this can impact your emotional health.

You may feel anxious before conversations.

You may replay interactions long after they happen.

You may struggle to relax, always wondering what might come next.

And quietly, you may begin to feel like your life is still revolving around your children – even though they are fully grown.

Why Boundaries Matter Now More Than Ever

This stage of life is not just about your children.

It is also about you.

Your well-being.

Your identity.

Your peace.

Healthy boundaries are what allow both you and your children to grow into this next chapter.

They are not about pushing your child away. They are about creating clarity around where your responsibility ends – and where theirs begins.

Without that clarity, it becomes very easy to over-function.

• To take on emotions that are not yours.
• To solve problems that are not yours to solve.
• To sacrifice your peace in order to maintain connection.

Redefining Your Role

One of the most important shifts in midlife motherhood is this:

You move from being a manager… to being a supporter.

You are no longer responsible for directing your child’s life.

You are invited to witness it.

That shift can feel uncomfortable at first.

It can even feel like you’re doing less.

But in reality, you are doing something much harder.

You are stepping back in a way that allows your child to step forward.

What Healthy Boundaries Actually Look Like

Boundaries are often misunderstood.

They are not rigid rules or emotional distance.

They are clear, respectful communication about what you can and cannot take on.

In everyday life, they may look like:

• Not answering every call immediately.
• Saying no without a long explanation.
• Choosing not to engage in heated or disrespectful conversations.
• Allowing your child to handle their own challenges.
• Taking time for yourself without guilt.

These are small shifts – but they create powerful changes over time.

The Emotional Benefits of Boundaries

When you begin to establish healthy boundaries, something important happens.

You start to feel more grounded.

More calm.

More like yourself.

You are no longer constantly reacting.

You are choosing how you respond.

And that creates emotional stability– not just for you, but for the relationship as well.

Because relationships that rely on over-functioning are often fragile.

But relationships built on mutual respect are much more resilient.

Letting Go of Guilt

One of the biggest obstacles to setting boundaries is guilt.

You may worry that you are being selfish.

That you are pulling away.

That you are damaging the relationship.

But healthy boundaries are not about withdrawing love.

They are about expressing it in a more sustainable way.

A way that allows both people to grow.

Creating Space for Your Own Life

Midlife is an invitation.

An invitation to reconnect with yourself.

To explore what brings you joy, meaning, and purpose beyond your role as a mother.

Boundaries create the space for that.

They allow you to step into your own life again – not in opposition to your children, but alongside them.

A Healthier Way Forward

If you are feeling overwhelmed, drained, or unsure how to navigate your relationship with your adult children, it may not be a sign that something is wrong.

It may simply be a sign that something needs to change.

And that change begins with small, steady boundaries.

Not perfect ones.

Not dramatic ones.

Just honest ones.

Because you deserve a relationship with your children that includes connection… and peace.

If you struggle in this area, I have a free resource called 5 Truths to Let Go With Love and I’d love to send it to you. You can get it HERE.

Let’s discuss:

What is one small boundary you might adopt with your adult child? How might that improve the relationship?

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Originally posted at: Kyle Richards’ Black Off The Shoulder Mini Dress

There’s a familiar conversation that happens whenever I go out to eat with certain people in my life. It begins the way most dinner plans do.

“What do you feel like having tonight?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Really, anything is fine.”

“You pick.”

“Whatever’s easiest.”

This is meant to be helpful. It’s offered with the best of intentions. But somewhere around the third “I don’t care,” I begin to suspect that it actually matters quite a bit, because now I’m responsible for choosing a restaurant or meal that satisfies everyone, including the people who claim not to have preferences. If the tacos are too spicy or the pasta not as good as “that other place,” the quiet disappointment will somehow still be traced back to the person who said, “Sure, let’s try that place.”

Maybe indecision isn’t really low maintenance after all.

Enter, My Father

My father, who would have turned 93 this year, belonged firmly to the “don’t be a bother” generation. When he was in his 70s, he had his first surgery. He was nervous about the procedure, but almost more nervous about the attention. Being fussed over was not normally found in his natural habitat. After the surgery, the nurse came in and asked if he’d like something to eat. They had already brought him a Sprite and offered some Jell-O. My father waved the idea away.

“Oh no,” he said politely. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

The rest of us looked at him. This was a man who had just had surgery. Being a bother was literally the point of being in the hospital. The nurse nodded and said she could bring something else like pudding.

“No, I’m fine,” he insisted.

Eventually, I think they brought him chocolate pudding anyway. Hospitals run on a surprisingly simple nutrition plan: pudding, Jell-O, and optimism. But something shifted after that. Because later, when he finally decided he was hungry, my father pushed the call button again and announced that he would, in fact, like something to eat. What followed in our family is now known as The Club Sandwich Incident.

The Club Sandwich Incident

So, my father pushed the call button, and the nurse came in with the same pleasant efficiency nurses everywhere seem to possess.

“Yes, sir? What can I do for you?”

Well. It turned out my father did have something specific to eat in his mind. He sat up a little straighter in the bed and began describing what sounded suspiciously like a full deli experience.

“I was thinking maybe a sandwich,” he said.

The nurse smiled and nodded. So far, so good.

“Maybe toasted whole wheat bread,” he continued. “Really crispy. Maybe rye?”

This might still be manageable.

“And some bacon. Really crispy bacon.”

The nurse’s smile stayed in place, but I noticed her lips now seemed a bit forced.

“Maybe a little turkey,” he added thoughtfully. “Lettuce. Tomato. A little mayonnaise.”

By now the rest of us were sitting around the hospital bed, staring very intently at the floor, the ceiling, the curtain, anything that might prevent us from making eye contact with each other. Because the moment anyone did, we were all going to lose it.

My father, meanwhile, was just getting warmed up. By now the sandwich had moved beyond “a post-surgery snack” and into full architectural planning.

“Maybe not mayo. Do you have any whole grain mustard?” he politely asked.

The nurse then looked at him with the kindest expression imaginable.

“Sweetie,” she said gently, “I’m thinking we’re probably not able to make a sandwich like that just now.”

She handed him a pencil and a paper hospital menu that appeared to suggest his expectations should be adjusted immediately. My father studied it quietly, quickly realizing his choice needed to shift from neighborhood deli to post-surgical nutrition.

My Mom chimed in, reading the menu over his shoulder, “You might like a nice bowl of tomato soup… and look! There’s even a granola bar!”

Eventually, he ordered something far more modest. But the transformation had already begun.

Finding Middle Ground?

Watching my father move so quickly from “I don’t want to be a bother” to outlining a fully engineered club sandwich made me realize something. There is apparently a very fine line between disappearing politely… and requesting a handcrafted deli experience from a hospital nurse who has access to exactly three food groups: pudding, Jell-O, and regret. Most of us are trying to live somewhere in the middle.

We don’t want to be demanding. We don’t want to be high maintenance. Many of us, especially those of a certain generation, were raised to believe that the nicest thing you could say when someone asked your opinion was, “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

But here’s the problem. It does matter. When someone says, “What do you feel like eating?” and we respond with “I don’t care,” we haven’t actually solved anything. We’ve just handed them the responsibility of guessing what might make us happy while pretending we have no stake in the outcome.

That’s not being easygoing. That’s outsourcing dinner.

I’m starting to think the goal as we get older is not to become the person who designs a sandwich layer by layer for a hospital nurse. But it might be nice to stop pretending we don’t have preferences at all. Somewhere between refusing pudding and designing a deli sandwich is the healthy middle ground of simply having an opinion.

It turns out being a bother isn’t the worst thing in the world. Especially if all you’re asking for is lunch. And if that feels like too much pressure, there’s always chocolate pudding.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

Do you think saying “I don’t care” makes things easier… or does it just shift the work to someone else? Are you more of a “pudding martyr” or a “club sandwich architect”? Has that changed over time? When did you first learn not to be “a bother?” Is that still serving you? What’s one small thing you could start having an opinion about this week without going “overboard” like my Dad?