Author: Jennifer S. White

We Can’t Expect More from Someone than They Can Give.

  By Jennifer S. White It all began with my four year old, really; this lesson that we cannot expect more from someone than they can give. The thing is, that sometimes I forget she’s four. She’s kind and she’s beautiful, and these two things are much beyond the measure of her lifespan. This said, I can’t expect more from her than she’s capable of giving—and this goes for all people. We all have people who challenge us. Sometimes it’s childish temper tantrums, sometimes it’s spouses and sometimes it’s co-workers. Regardless of the nature of our relationships, we need...

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The Tattoo of Spring: A Love Story.

  By Jennifer S. White Her fingers are coarse from the dry winter air. She rubs them together absentmindedly; running the careful grooves of one finger whirl against another. She spreads her arms out wide to her side—her thin, forming wings—and then drops them limply—suddenly—back to her sides. A casual body prayer—as she inhales and raises them and exhales and lowers them again—that her life is moving forward; that she’s dropping the flimsy slipcovers of her past, right here, right now. Right now is sunshine through the large window pane that she looks out, dancing with one hand cockily...

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Throwing Away “I’m Sorry” & Teaching Empathy.

  By Jennifer White These days, it seems that I meet more and more narcissists. While I’m not a psychologist, it is commonly believed that a true narcissist doesn’t have the ability to feel empathy for other people—and more—that this personality disorder is largely connected with how a child was raised. That said, I’m sure all of us have at least one friend who throws around “I’m sorries” for anything and everything. Not only can this be annoying, it also makes these words meaningless when over-used (without even mentioning the self-esteem and mindset of the frequent “I’m sorrier.”) And, in this day...

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Becoming the Enemy.

By Jennifer S. White We can only be treated like the enemy for so long before we become one. I thought this to myself as I dealt with my daughter this morning. Jealous of the new baby, she’s decided that I’m no longer always her wonderful mother. No, sometimes I’m the traitor, the one who (she thinks, of course) loves the baby more, the one who pushed her lovely self aside to bring someone else home, to share our lives. But this story isn’t about her jealousy or how we’re handling it. Instead, what I want to tell about is how,...

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