When I got the following email, it brought back many fond memories.

Several years ago I took a job in a remote part of Texas.  I was not happy about moving there, but I needed the job. I met someone, we fell in love and got married. I told her before marriage that my plans for living there were short-term, and she said she had no problem moving with me when the time came. It’s now been two years later, and I am blessed with a job that will allow me transfer just about anywhere.

Now she tells me that she doesn’t want to leave until her son graduates in six more years.

I probably could stomach it that long, but I won’t be happy at all. Just to be clear, I absolutely love her and I am very happy with her. We enjoy each other immensely and are always doing things together. I’ve never met anyone like her.  However, I just can’t see myself in this place for 6 more years. I will go crazy.

I feel that I have a decision to make. Do I make the move without her and hope she’ll change her mind? Or do I stick it out here and be miserable? I’m no stranger to being in places I don’t want to be. I was in the military for twenty years, and I learned you have to make the best of it wherever you are. But I feel she’s holding me back from something I’ve wanted most of my life. My happiness is important to me. She is part of that happiness but not the sole source of it. Am I being too selfish if I decide to leave without her? – James

Dear James,

Roughly 17 years ago, I met a young man and I fell in love. We were liberal fitness enthusiasts who loved to eat just as much as we loved to sweat, meditate and do downward facing dogs. But our town was conservative. Italian fare was the extent of the exotic dining, and the yoga classes were few and far between.

We both dreamed of living somewhere else—in a trendy liberal town such as San Francisco, Austin, or, most likely, Boulder. We loved the food in these cities. We loved the culture. We loved the people, and we loved the surroundings.

I felt I needed to be in one of those cities to be happy.

Flash forward a couple years. Now I’m married to that young man. I’ve left my job as an editor at Runner’s World magazine. I’m a freelance writer and editor. I can work anywhere. There’s no reason for us to stay.

Yet when I suggest a move, my husband tells me that we can’t. The house is too new. We’d lose money if we tried to sell. “We can’t go anywhere for 10 years,” he says.

“Ten years?” I cry. “I’ll never last that long.”

I mope. I incessantly bring it up for a while. He stands firm.

I decide to pay down our mortgage as fast as possible. Every month I put extra money toward the principle. I make it my secret mission.

Life goes on. I turn into an amateur gardener. I obsess over plants, bulbs, seeds, and small trees. Neighbors walk by while I am gardening. They tell me they love the sunflowers, my newest addition. They mention that deer won’t eat flowers that smell like garlic and rotten eggs. Some drop off gifts: clippings, plants, bulbs, and flowers that they’ve dug from their gardens so I can plant into mine.

Eventually I adopt a dog. When I walk with him, my neighbors tell me how handsome he is. Soon I know all of my neighbors who have dogs.

The dog comes with me when I run errands. As a result, I get to know the tellers at the bank, and the woman who works the register at the post office.

A farmer’s market opens near me. I go every week. I get to know all the farmers.

We have a baby and I get to know all of my neighbors who love babies.

It’s not long before I can’t go anywhere in town without seeing someone I know. Some of these people are liberal fitness enthusiasts like us. Others are conservatives who tell me that kale is a four-letter word. And many others are different in some other way. I realize that I don’t have to be like people to like being with them.

Eventually my baby turns into a toddler. The house is dangerous for a toddler. We decide it’s time to move.

Now everything is different. The housing market is booming. Thanks to all my extra principle payments, we hardly owe anything on the mortgage, either. We’ll walk away from our house with more than six figures in our pockets.

We could move anywhere.

You want to know where I decided to move? You want to know where I just had to live? The new house that I fell in love with?

The one on a corner lot that seemed too perfect.

Where there were hardwood floors that I just had to have.

And the where our kid could ride a bike without getting hit by a car and even walk to a playground and to her school.

The neighborhood where kids went trick or treating, and where every one seemed to have a dog.

The little town that had a Thai place and a Middle Eastern restaurant and a yoga studio, too.

It was a house just two miles away. We didn’t even need a moving truck. I just put a couple boxes in my car at a time and drove back and forth until the deed was done.

We’re happy here, in the town that I thought I absolutely had to leave.

James: Things change. Places change. People change. Attitudes change. Restaurants change. Stores change. Main streets change.

But most important of all: minds change. Happiness is not found outside of ourselves. It is not something that you will discover in a new house, a new neighborhood, or a new state.

Happiness comes from within.

If you can’t be happy in Texas, I’m guessing you won’t be happy somewhere else, either.

If you can be happy in Texas, you can be happy anywhere.

And once you can be happy anywhere, chances are, you’ll never want to leave.

Readers: I don’t think I answered Jame’s question. Is he being selfish? Should he move? What’s your advice? If you are reading by email, click through to comment.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

Four years ago, I wrote a post called, “Is a celibate marriage ever justified?” In the post, I argued that it wasn’t.

Until very recently I believed this. Then I got the following email from a reader.

We’ve been married for 14 years, and our relationship is envied by others. Seriously,  people comment on how well we get a long, and I love that about us! However, we have been through much, much more in our lives than your average married couple: My mother and best friend killed herself a year before I met my husband; I suffer from major depression and have to take antidepressants; We had a beautiful baby girl who got sick with a terrible illness that could never be properly diagnosed and then died 2.5 years later; We got pregnant again, but this time the child had missing limbs and the brain was not developing normally; Ever since our daughter died, my husband has jumped from job to job for various reasons; He is depressed, too.

We never have sex anymore. Granted, we are both on anti-depressants and neither of us have the desire, but it bothers me. He says he’s still attracted to me, and I know I’m still attracted to him. My fear is that this is the symptom of some underlying problem, like he doesn’t love me anymore. My other fear is that I’m overreacting. He doesn’t see that we have a problem. Our 14th anniversary was last month and he got me a card and wrote the sweetest thing in there “You are my everything.” Got any advice?

This is not the kind of celibate marriage I had in mind when I wrote that post four years ago. As a result, this is what I wrote back:

Your problem sounds very normal to me. I don’t think it has anything to do with him not being attracted to you. You’ve both been through an awful lot. Meds coupled with depression and stress can wipe out anyone’s sex drive. There are two ways to look at this:

1. Is there really a problem? It sounds as if your mind is projecting a problem that might not really be there. If you are both content to snuggle and be emotionally close, maybe you don’t need intercourse.

2. Is there really a problem? I know. Same question. But perhaps explore why you see this as a problem. What is it really about? Is it about lack of intimacy? Or are there unresolved problems that stem from all the stress you mentioned? Or do you need to look inward at the emptiness or weakness inside that causes you to shift the blame to something outside of you? Or maybe you really do miss having sex, in which case, this IS a problem.

You can’t cure an illness if you don’t know the diagnosis. So explore this some. 

Right around the same time, I got the following email:

I am in a generally respectful, companionable marriage that is completely devoid of any affection or sex.  Our sex life started out being absolutely incredible. After a few years my husband started losing interest. It is so painful. No sex is really lousy but no hugs, no curling up together at bedtime is making me feel unloved which is harder to bear than merely being unsatisfied.

I begged. I cried. I got mad. I dieted. He just doesn’t have any interest. He went to our doctor who prescribed Viagra, and then my husband didn’t bother to take it. I am at the point where I am jealous of our dog who seems to be the only creature on this earth that my husband cares to touch, and jealous of our television because that’s the only thing that he seems to hear.

I have never been unfaithful, and for a lot of reasons really do not want to get a divorce (money, kids and, yes, love).  However I am starting to wonder if I am truly willing to go through the rest of my life with only an occasional peck on the cheek. Therapy has not helped either of us to deal with this, and I don’t seem to be able to just get over it as my husband thinks I should do.– Gertrude

This is the kind of celibate marriage I was referring to in my post so long ago. It’s not normal for one spouse to give up on intimacy, especially when the other spouse so desperately craves that very intimacy. Yes, you might argue that the guy has equipment failure. That’s understandable, but good, old-fashioned intercourse is not the only sexual trick in the book. There are many different ways he could satisfy his wife in bed. He’s not refusing to have sex because he can’t. He’s refusing because he won’t. There’s a difference.

Love isn’t one pleasant day after another when everything comes easily and never is heard a discouraging word. That’s not love. That’s convenience.

No, love is about continual growth. It’s about sacrifice, and it’s about compromise. Part of the compromise of marriage means that sometimes we willingly agree to be uncomfortable, do things we don’t like, and to stretch our limits.

When you listen more to the television than you to do your spouse, you are not acting from a place of love.

When you know your spouse craves being touched but you choose not to honor that craving, you are not acting from a place of love.

When you know your spouse wants to connect with you sexually and you do nothing to create that connection, you are not acting from a place of love.

I could recommend that this couple see a sex counselor, but I suspect their problem really isn’t about sex. The problem here is complete emotional disconnection, with lack of sexual intercourse being one of the symptoms.

Dear Gertrude: I understand your feelings of frustration. You deserve to have a husband who wants to connect with you. That said, it doesn’t sound as if you are married to that husband. This has nothing to do with you not being loveable enough or attractive enough. It has everything to do with him not trying. Why isn’t he trying? That’s the million dollar question. Maybe he’s depressed. Maybe he’s ill. Maybe he’s having an affair. Maybe he’s content to cuddle with the dog and watch television alone for the rest of his life. The maybes could go on forever. It sounds as if you’ve tried everything, and that your husband refuses to change. If that’s the case, it looks like your choices are to find a way to accept the current situation or to give up on your marriage.

Perhaps other readers here might suggest something else. Readers: What’s your advice? When is it okay to have a celibate marriage? When isn’t it? If one spouse is content to never have sex again and the other spouse isn’t, what’s the answer? Remember: if you are reading by email, click through to leave a comment on the blog.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

Five different people wrote me this week, all with the same problem. Their spouses had told them, “I love you, but I’m not in love with you anymore.” In many cases, their spouses had already left. Here’s just one of those emails:

My husband is planning to leave me. He told me that nothing can change his mind now. He has been thinking about this matter for a long time, he said, and he dared not speak out to me because he was afraid that I would mentally break down. I’m so in love with him. I can’t stand the feeling of losing him. I’ve cried and begged him to give me a second chance but he refuses. He said that I don’t need to bother to let our families to know about our problem. He will tell them on their own. Can you please give me some advice? I do not want to lose him.

The other emails are similar and also different, but the end result is the same: the spouse is leaving and signs of a possible reconciliation are minimal.

As each letter came in, I felt sad. I wanted to help. I wanted to offer a magical piece of advice, something, anything. “Here’s my fail proof formula for getting your spouse to fall back in love,” is what I wanted to say.

But I couldn’t say that because I don’t have such a formula.

Many people on the Internet claim to have such a formula. The so-called spell casters who spam my site all the time are a great example. Just hand over some cold hard cash, they tell you, and their guru will cast a magical spell that will make your spouse come to his or her senses. I always tell people to try everything, but I’d much rather you gave your disposable income to a charity than a spell caster. Giving to a charity might not get your spouse back, but it could at the very least allow you to feel better about your spouse leaving, as research shows that generosity leads to inner peace.

I can’t help anyone get a spouse back, but that doesn’t mean I have nothing to offer.

My advice to everyone whose spouse is leaving: Find happiness. Right now you think your spouse is the key to your happiness. That’s a false belief. You were happy before you ever met your spouse. You can be happy again.

Now is a painful time. Accept that now hurts. It will hurt today and it will hurt tomorrow and it will hurt for a long, long time. You will feel a lot of things: rejected, unloved, unheard, unsupported, angry, guilty, the list goes on. You might feel a lot of fear, too. Those feelings are normal. Give yourself permission to feel them. Cry. Think of the tears as a total body cleanse. Let them wash the negativity out of every cell in your body.

The tears will come and they will go. One day you will smile. Then, if you are like me, you will feel guilty for smiling, telling yourself, “Now is a sad time. I’m not allowed to be happy.” Give yourself permission to smile during sad times.

Give yourself permission to feel everything even if you think what you feel is inappropriate.

Shift your focus away from craving love from one person and over to searching for the kind, the beautiful, and the awesome that is all around you. So many people love you. Notice their love. Countless beings are kind to you every day, several times a day. Pay attention. Beauty is a state of mind. Appreciate the rain just as much as you appreciate the sun.

Soon you will grow stronger. When you do, give back. Don’t wait for happiness to find you. Give your happiness away. Make it your goal to make just one person smile, to make just one person’s day a little easier, to leave just one thing better than the way you found it. This will bring meaning to your life and, perversely, by giving happiness, you will find it.

I can’t help you get your spouse back. Your spouse might come back. Your spouse might not. Either way, no matter what your spouse decides, you’ll be better off. Find happiness, my friend. That is my wish for you.

Readers: Have you been through this before? Have you watched others go through it? Can you imagine how you would feel or what you would do? What’s your advice? If you are reading by email, click through to comment.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

If giving is the secret to happiness, then why does it leave us feeling so drained? If love is the answer, why don’t people love me back? What’s the difference between loving all beings purely, consistently and without exception and just being your common everyday doormat?

Those are questions I’ve pondered a lot, and, now, as a meditation teacher, they are also questions I field a lot from others. The answer to those questions: There’s difference between pleasing others and truly loving them.

It’s the effort to please others that leaves us drained and feeling resentful and unappreciated. That’s because pleasing comes from a place of inner weakness. We might tell ourselves that we’re really doing it to make someone else happy. In reality, we please others because we want something in return: attention, ego stroking, validation, affirmation, and gratitude. We please because we crave being liked, and we also do it because we feel guilty, limited, inadequate and scared.

Pleasing is also fleeting. It’s about the short term. When we please others, we give them what they want in the moment. This is why pleasing is so unsatisfying. The results just don’t last.

Love is very different. Love expects nothing in return. Love does not need others to love back, nor does it come with conditions. Love flows no matter how others receive it.

Love spreads happiness, and it soothes away suffering.

Love also lasts. Love looks into the future and thinks about how today’s behavior will affect someone tomorrow, next week, next month, next year and next decade. Think of pleasing as the 100 meter dash and love as the ultra marathon.

When you pair love with wisdom, you know that you can love others and not always give them what they want. Sometimes people want things that would destroy the peace of mind of others around them. Sometimes people want things that are bad for them. Cigarettes, for instance, give people a quick rush, but they also destroy your health.

And, let’s face it, many people, myself included, want a lot of things that don’t lead to lasting happiness. For instance, right now, I want a chocolate chip cookie. But would that cookie make me happy? Perhaps I might feel satisfied for a few short moments when I’m eating it. But how about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or next year? Not so much, right? Too often we try to love people in the short term, and this is how we deplete ourselves.

Lasting happiness is a reservoir of inner peace that each of us must build inside our own hearts. Sometimes short-term suffering is exactly what we need to nudge us toward long-term happiness. Complacency motivates no one. Pain? It gets people moving, doesn’t it?

Now, I’m not telling you to intentionally torment people and say you are doing it for their own good. No, I’m not saying that at all. All I’m saying is this: learn how to love skillfully and purely. If you do so, you will never feel like a doormat, and you won’t feel depleted, either.

Ask yourself: Am I motivated to do this because I really want something in return? Am I giving out of fear or guilt? Or am I loving from a pure place? How will my actions affect the greater good both in the short term and in the long term? What is likely to happen if I do nothing? Is it possible that my inaction will nudge someone else out of the prison of complacency?

If I say “yes” to this, what must I then say “no” to? Will that no cancel out the yes?

Will happiness grow in my heart if I do this? Or will I only end up with a nasty pot of resentment?

Is this action pure? Is my intention a good one?

Will this action deposit more happiness into the world?

What questions do you ask yourself when deciding whether to give? What’s your definition of pure love? What do you think the difference is between loving someone and merely pleasing them? Click through to comment.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

 From a reader:

I work part-time; My husband works full-time. We both earn minimum wage. It’s very hard to pay the bills. For about 3 months, my husband has been angry, seemingly with me for not making more money. It does not go one day that he does not tell me I need to make more money or find another job. I like my job and I take care of our 2 little kids. He is not seeing any other good things that I do like cook, clean, and take care of the kids. – Unappreciated.

Oh, unappreciated, I feel this maternal urge to reach through the computer screen, hug you, and tell you that you are doing a great job. I’m guessing that you are working every cell in your body to exhaustion.

I’m also guessing that your husband is exhausted, too. On top of that, you’re both dealing with any number of negative and somewhat scary emotions, ranging from the fear of not being able to pay your bills to the inadequacy that comes from not being able to give your children everything you wish you could.

It sounds as if your husband is seeing you through the lens of that negativity. Think of it like a scary hallucination. When he looks at you, he doesn’t see the real you. Rather, he sees his own unhappiness, projected outward.

To understand this, think back over your life. Have you ever assumed a negative thought, intention, or motivation into someone else’s head that turned out to be completely unfounded? Most of the time when we attempt to read other people’s minds, we’re way off. This is partly because people’s minds are not easy to read, but it’s also because our own negativity gets in the way. For instance, when we’re stuck in a horrendous traffic jam, many of us become unhappy (the negativity) and then falsely assume all of the other drivers on the road are there just to torment us. It rarely occurs to us that these drivers are merely trying to get somewhere, and that they have problems, worries, stress, and sore rear ends just as we do. If it did, we wouldn’t honk or tailgate or cut people off at a merge. No, we’d be a lot more civil, right?

I wish there was a simple, fail-proof remedy that anyone could use to purify another person’s negativity. There just isn’t. What follows are some things I try to do when people are projecting their negativity onto me:

• Get my mind in a pure place. I know I can’t pacify anyone else’s delusions until I’ve first pacified my own.
• Separate the delusion (the negativity) from the person.
• Understand how this negativity—and not the surrounding circumstances–is making this person miserable. In other words, understand that it’s not about me.
• Behave in a way that is opposite of what their delusion would have them expect. This is important. Often we assume we should retaliate when people treat us badly. Usually, however, this only strengthens and adds evidence in favor of their delusion.
• Gently point out the negative remark, such as, “Wow, that hurts” or “Ouch. I didn’t realize you saw me that way. I don’t see me that way. Would you like to tell me more about what you see?”

Then, when your husband is in a good place and not under the influence of his negativity, talk about it. Say something like, “I know this is so hard for us right now. I feel like you blame me for our financial troubles. Is that true?” Chances are that it’s not true all the time. It might not even be true most of the time. It could be that he doesn’t even realize how much his remarks sting. You won’t know, however, until you ask.

Readers: That’s all I’ve got. What has worked for you? What advice do you have to share? Remember, if you are reading by email, click through to comment.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

I do a lot of things badly. I don’t call the people I love as often as I’d like. I rarely initiate dates with friends, leaving them to chase after me. I can’t seem to keep my calendar conflict free, so I’m frequently backing out of commitments. I sometimes give more attention to my computer than I do to my family. When I’m tired—which is a given at the end of any average day—it’s hard for me to give any living being my full attention.

I could go on for pages.

The point is this: I want the people I love to know that I love them back, and I’m not always sure that they know this from my actions. The people I love can’t hear me thinking about them as I’m falling asleep at night. They can’t see the memories that surface inside my brain at random moments—memories that cause me to think of them and feel grateful. And they can’t feel the warmth in my heart.

That’s why one of the things I try to do well is this: surprise the people I love with thoughtful somewhat random and definitely haphazard gestures.

This week my thoughtful, random, haphazard gesture was this: write a letter of gratitude for my mother.

I had no idea what I was going to type when I first sat down at my computer. I only knew my intention: to write something that would make Mom feel good. I sat and pondered for a long time. I wrote and then deleted and wrote and then deleted.

Eventually, however, I wrote an email and hit the send button. Mom responded within the hour saying, “THIS IS THE BEST MOTHER’S DAY GIFT EVER.”

With my mother’s permission, I’m reprinting my letter here. I’m not printing it because I want you to pat me on the back and tell me that it’s a great letter. I’ve reprinted it for this reason: I’d like to encourage you all to write a similar letter of your own. Maybe you write it to your mother or father. Perhaps you write it one of your children. Or maybe you put into words how you feel about a friend, relative, colleague, or teacher.

To get you started, think about the following questions:

1. How has this person helped you to become a better person?
2. What do you admire about this person? What qualities does this person have that you wish you could cultivate in yourself?
3. If this person had never been in your life, where would you be today?

Mull that over. Then think back over your life. Think of a memory  that best supports your answers to those questions. Then think of a more recent story that helps to show how this event shaped you. Once you do that, you have all the material you need to pen your letter.

Start with an opening line that is polar opposite of the point you will soon make. Then make your point.

Describe the first memory.

Describe another memory or add more details, if applicable.

Contrast that memory with how it shaped you.

End by thanking and wishing this person happiness.

With a few edits to protect the privacy of others, here’s the letter I wrote, broken up by headers that show how I applied the above structure.

The Opening

We joke that, in our family, complaining is an art form and negativity follows us like a shadow, but that’s really not true. When I think over my childhood, I see that negativity is not the legacy I inherited.

The First Memory

One example: When I was in middle school, you chaperoned a school trip to Sesame Place. There was a poor girl that no one liked and therefore refused to be paired up with. I no longer remember why she was the school pariah. I only remember that she was. You treated her as if she was just as important and lovable as everyone else. That moment shaped a lot of my views to this day.

The Additional Details

You emotionally adopted so many children who didn’t have the home life they deserved. You did your best to give them the love they should have been getting from their mothers. You didn’t sit back and sigh and think, “The world is a sad place. What can be done?” No, you did something about it. You made their lives better.

How it Shaped Me

I thought of that as I chaperoned a school trip to the science center. One girl was too scared to crawl through the tunnel maze. The teacher said, “That’s okay, you don’t have to do it.” There was something about the look on her face that told me that she really wanted to crawl through the maze. I thought, “No way is she sitting this out.” I put down my bag and said, “Will you go through the tunnel if I go through it with you?” She smiled with relief and nodded her head. So into this pitch black tunnel I crawled. “Just keep one hand on my ankle,” I told her. She did. I hate dark places and small places and mazes and crawling and everything to do with what I was doing. I was scared. If the little girl wasn’t behind me, I would have backed up, especially when I got to the first dead end and couldn’t figure out which way I was supposed to go. But, all the way, I could feel her little hand on my ankle. At every turn, I asked, “Are you okay?” “Yes!” she yelled with exuberance.

Would I have done that if you had not modeled the same behavior in front of me decades ago? I don’t know, but I think I probably wouldn’t have.

Later, on the bus ride home, I was feeling worn out and counting down the minutes until the bus pulled up next to the school and I could part with those kids. But a little girl was chattering away, telling me how she wished she’d been able to ride on the gyrosphere. I said, “Well, you just have to get your parents to take you back so you can do it.” She said, “They can’t take me. We have no money.” Then she launched into a story of how her dad had promised to carry her on his shoulders a couple blocks to a given destination, but he hadn’t done it. When she’d reminded him, he’d said, “Next weekend.” Next weekend came and went. And so had another weekend. I said, “Sometimes parents get busy. We don’t mean to let you down. It happens by accident.” She said, “My dad is not busy. He watches TV all day. He doesn’t even have a job.” I thought, “I’m taking this girl back and I’m going to let her ride the gyrosphere 8 million times.”

Would I have wanted to emotionally adopt her if I hadn’t seen you adopt all those kids over the years? Probably not.

The End

As adults we walk around with views and opinions as if were we born with them or came up with them on our own. But, when I stop to think about it, I know my open mindedness and ability to accept people’s differences came from you. The desire to give back and help others: that came from you, too. And so did my love of reading.

We don’t come out of the womb fully formed. Our parents mold us into who we become. I thank you for giving me values–compassion, open mindedness, kindness–from an early age.

I hope you have a wonderful mother’s day. Feel good about the three official children you raised–as well as the many unofficial ones as well.

Now go write your letters, people. Post them in the comments area.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

I’m not a fan of expensive gifts. You all can psychoanalyze why you think that is. Perhaps there’s a Freudian explanation.

At any rate, I prefer to receive and also to give gifts that are both meaningful and personal. For instance, my husband knows I’m a doofus when it comes to using the television. That’s mostly because I don’t watch much TV. If he and my kid weren’t around, I probably wouldn’t bother paying for the cable service. I’d just read or sleep or stare at a wall for my evening entertainment.

But we do have a TV and, occasionally, I’m too tired to read, but not in the mood to sleep or stare at a wall. So I’ll turn it on and that’s when my problems begin because the number of channels on a modern television are overwhelming for me. I usually just flip through them until I find a rerun of Big Bang Theory or Storage Wars or some show that I don’t even like but that is one step better than staring at a wall for fun.

At any rate, my husband frequently arrives home and asks, “Why aren’t you watching that in high def? And why are you watching that?”

I’ll answer, “I don’t know how to find the high def channels.”

He’ll tell me, his words sounding like Chinese. As they drift into one ear, I nod as if I’ve heard. Then a month later, the whole conversation takes place all over again because I am continually drawn to the same three channels—the very channels that were on TVs when I was a child—like dogs are drawn to sunny spots.

Well last night, just before leaving to meet a friend, my husband said, “I have the TV set to play Modern Family for you, and it’s set to play on the high def channel. After Modern Family is over, another comedy will come on and I’m pretty sure you will like it. All you have to do is sit on the couch and watch. As long as you don’t change the channel, everything will be fine.”

You would have thought he’d just told me he was taking me to Paris.

That’s the kind of gift I adore.

This Sunday is Mother’s Day. No matter what kind of relationship you have with your mother or adult daughter—close or distant, loving or cantankerous, serene or anxiety producing–consider going the meaningful and memorable route. Write her a letter. Offer to spend the day with her. Call her. Help her clean out a closet. Give her the day off.

Think about that thing that she’s always saying she wants to start doing and get her started on doing it.

You get the idea.

Because I love to both read and write books, I think books are wonderful gifts. They do much more than provide hours of entertainment and bestow important knowledge. They are beautiful and they have personalities. They become keepsakes. My mother, for instance, gave me Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends” when I was nine years old. Inside she wrote, “For my favorite little poet, Alisa. Love from Mommy.” The cover is now stained yellow and I do believe there is mold growing on some of the pages, but I still treasure this book now much more than thirty years later.

If you are searching for a last minute gift, here are some books I recommend (other than my own, of course).

Parenting Without Borders, by Christine Gross-Loh

Gross-Loh has lived in the US and also in Japan, and she’s traveled the world and interviewed parents and educators in many different countries. The result is an eye-opening look at many different parenting practices. This book, however, is not a divisive rant about who is wrong and who is right. The voice is warm and the tone understanding. It allows us to drop the guilt so we can learn from the unique ways people around the world raise their children.

The Spark, by Kristine Barnett

Barnett’s son Jacob was diagnosed with autism at age 2, and Barnett was told that Jacob would never read, talk or tie his own shoes.

Barnett chose not to believe in that prognosis, and she did everything possible to nurture Jacob’s strengths. End result: at age nine, Jacob was doing much more than reading, writing, talking and tying his shoes. He was attending college, and he was working on an astrophysics theory that may soon earn him a Nobel prize. He’s considered smarter than Einstein and now, at age 12, he’s already a paid researcher in quantum physics. The story of his turn-around is amazing, and it provides lessons for all parents.

 Life in a Marital Institution, by James Braly

Men often ask me to recommend a marriage book written from the husband’s perspective. This memoir is that book. Braly and his wife are opposites. She’s an Earth mom who believes in birthing naturally, family bed, and the locavore lifestyle. Braly, on the other hand, is a hamburger eating man who wants his kids out of his bed so he can, for once, have sex with his wife. Braly comes off a bit shallow in the beginning of the book, but be patient. If you read on, his likeability shines through and you find yourself rooting for him. It’s a great book to start off a discussion about how men and women see things differently.

The Business of Baby, by Jennifer Margulis

The Business of Baby is exactly the kind of book James Braly’s wife would want to have on her bookshelf. This investigative work explores the pros and cons of prenatal vitamins, hospital-based childbirth, baby washes, circumcision, diapers, formula, and even well baby visits. It’s the kind of book every parent—no matter how liberal or conservative—should read. It’s stunning, and it’s bound to make you think long and hard about certain practices.

If I were James, I would give it to my wife. Just saying.

I’m giving away several awesome books with this post. I’m not going to tell you which books because 1) I’m lazy. 2) I want them to be a surprise. And, yes, I’m behind. I DO need to still pick a winner from a couple posts ago. I have not forgotten. Trust me. I’m good for it. So, to win one of any number of books (but not in time for Mother’s Day), just comment here and tell me about the best gift you ever gave or received. Or tell me your idea of a perfect gift. Or just tell me about your favorite book. Or tell me about the weather in your area of the country. I’m easy. Remember, to comment, click through if you are reading by email.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

A few nights back, my kid and I were leaving a kung fu event. It was getting late, we were both hungry, and I was debating whether to drive home before grabbing dinner at a restaurant. Driving home would add 10 or so minutes to our journey, but it would allow me to close the blinds and flip on the porch light before darkness descended.

I called my husband to check on his timing.

“Just go straight to the restaurant,” he said. “I’ll be off work in 10 minutes. I’ll take care of it.”

Roughly an hour and a half later, our bellies were full and I was pulling up next to the house. I could see straight into the living room as well as a bedroom as well as pretty much every room in our house that has a window.

The yard was dark.

The irritation surfaced so quickly that I couldn’t stop the words, “I don’t know what is wrong with your father” from charging out of my mouth.

I called. I got his voice mail.

Ten minutes went by. Irritation turned to worry. Had he ridden his bike to work today? Had he been hit by a car? Was he in a hospital?

Or had he just gotten side tracked?

As usual?

Another five minutes went by.

He arrived home.

“That was a long 10 minutes,” I said.

My husband seemed confused, asking, “What do you mean a long 10 minutes?” I calmly fed him the facts as I saw them: I’d called. He’d told us not to bother coming home to close the blinds and turn on the porch light. He’d take care of it because he’d be home in 10 minutes. It had now been an hour and a half.

“It’s only been an hour,” he said.

Something about him quibbling over 60 versus 90 minutes made me laugh. Suddenly, we were merely debating rather than arguing, and we were having fun.

He explained that he’d intended on being home in 10 minutes, but then two friends had stopped by and they’d chatted for a while.

“Just so you know, I really did think you’d been hit by a car, especially when you didn’t call me back,” I said.

“You called?” he asked. He pulled out his phone. “Oh, look at that. You did call. Sorry.”

“Do you remember the time when we were on the cruise and I was hanging out with some friends? I told you I wouldn’t be more than a half hour but then I ended up having a good time and hanging out with them longer than expected. I couldn’t call you because the boat was out of the country and we didn’t have an international calling plan at the time. By the time I got back to the room you were so livid that you yelled at me for a good five minutes. Do you remember that?”

His silence told me that he did. His facial expression also told me that he completely understood, and that, in the future, he would call if he were running late.

Now, in the past, this conversation would have gone differently. For one, I would have called him roughly every 60 seconds until he picked up the phone. Then, once he did, I would have yelled something inflammatory into the phone before he had a chance to say, “Hello.” Then I probably would have hung up. Then, as soon as he got home, I would have launched into a discussion about his many faults: lack of timeliness, taking me for granted, insensitivity, selfishness, and so on.

Those huge, anger fueled altercations never once solved the problem of him being late, though.

Yet the much calmer discussion from the other night definitely sunk in. What made the difference? I’d like to say it was all because of this: skillful speech.

Several weeks back, my mom gave us a wooden sign that says: “Before you speak: Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?”

I now ask myself these questions a lot, especially whenever I’m tempted to communicate anything—even a text message—with negativity floating around in my mind. These questions keep me from saying a lot of hurtful things and they’ve caused me to realize something important. Many of us think that we need to be heard. In reality, what we most need is this: to shut up so we can hear what other people have to say.

Or maybe this only applies to me.

At any rate, I’ve learned that, by saying less, I listen more. When I listen more, I ask better questions. When I ask better questions, I understand people on a deeper level. When I understand them on a deeper level, I’m better able to figure out just the right thing to say to lift their spirits, help them solve a problem, or motivate them to change.

Skillful speech emanates from a pure, compassionate mind. Anger not only clouds my judgment, it also clouds my speech. From anger comes blame. From anger comes retaliation. From anger comes hurt feelings.

So the first step toward skillful speech: anger management. There are some people who would say that I have this backwards and that the only way to soothe away anger is to voice it. You know? I’ve tried that. When I voice my anger, what happens is this: I end up with an anger hangover and the situation generally gets worse.

Whether you are attempting to talk skillfully to your spouse, mother, in-laws or a friend, consider the following:

• Most of our anger comes from fear: of not being understood, of not getting what we want, of not being adored, of not being listened to, and so on. You can reduce both fear and anger by emotionally severing your attachment to a given outcome. Think of all the possible ways a conversation could go. Make yourself okay with every single possible result. Then make your words about understanding and being understood, and not about getting what you want.
• Skillful speech takes practice. Start small and work your way up the big stuff. Never stop practicing.
• Skillful speech starts from compassion—from wanting to ease the suffering of others. It also comes from wisdom—of knowing how to ease another person’s suffering. You can only get to wisdom if you seek to understand. Often that’s done not by talking, but through listening. During my most effective conversations, I voice not one declarative statement. Out of my mouth comes only questions.
• If possible, create a reservoir of love in your heart before you open your mouth. Allow that love to transport your words. When your heart feels tight and cold, stop talking.
• You don’t have to be completely free of anger to be able to talk skillfully, but you do need to feel as if you have the anger under control. If you go into a discussion thinking, “I’m going to show him,” your anger isn’t under control.
• If the anger isn’t under control, say, “Wow, I’m angry. I’d like to talk about this after I calm down.” Then shut up and go do something to calm down.
• Occasionally we need to say words that will make other people uncomfortable. We assume that we can’t voice such words because they fail the “Kindness” test, but this is flawed thinking. Ask yourself: Will these uncomfortable words eventually nudge this person toward happiness? That sounds kind to me. On the other hand, if they will they merely weigh an already beleaguered person down even more, the words may not be kind at all.

What do you do to make sure your words are skillful? Do you think anger ever serves a purpose? How do you seek understanding?

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

I got mixed reactions from “How to Reconcile with Mom, part 1.” Some loved it. Others were confused. They have such wonderful, loving relationships with their mothers that they were floored that not everyone shares the same experience. Still others were left feeling some sort of negativity—anger, inadequacy, fear, frustration—because their relationships with their mothers seem beyond repair.

Whatever your reaction: It’s valid. It’s real. Don’t discount it. Your history is your history, and no one—not me, not someone else—can rewrite it for you. Wherever you are is where you are, as I’m sure some zen monk probably once said.

If your experience is one of pain, you might wonder: Why reconcile at all? Can’t I keep my relationship with my mother in a safe emotional box, one with the strongest of emotional padlocks? The answer: Sure, you can. But if my last post stirred up any type of negativity, regret, or anxiety, then I’m guessing that your safe emotional box isn’t as tamperproof as you think. The negativity is there, and it’s weighing you down. It’s draining your energy. It’s probably preventing you from loving purely and completely.

Perhaps most important: it’s hurting you much more than your intended target.

What follows are three techniques. Practice what resonates with you the most. Note that these techniques work for all relationships. The more often you do them, the less irritating everyone—friends, neighbors, coworkers, teens—will seem, and the happier you’ll feel.

Document kindness. Think back over your life with your mother (or some other difficult person) and search for positive, loving memories. Each time you come up with one, save it to your mental flash drive by telling yourself, “That was kind.” If you are anything like me, then your negativity will try to abort this process, arguing, “That was an isolated incident…,” “That wasn’t really all that kind…” “Anyone would have done that…” and so on. Just smile and laugh at your negativity as it bubbles up, talking back to it with comments like, “How interesting!” and “You might have a point, but I’m going to call it kind anyway.”

Also document kindness in real time and for the smallest of things. Your mother didn’t make a quip about your haircut? Kind. She sent you a card on your birthday? Kind. She planted flowers in her garden that you happen to love? Even if she didn’t plant them for you: kind.

And don’t only document your mother’s kindness. Document the kindness you see all around you. Someone smiled in your direction? Kind. The grocery bagger separated your meat from your veggies? Kind. Your neighbor marveled at your garden? Kind.

See suffering. We often mistakenly assume that people hurt us on purpose. In reality, the vast majority of people in this world hate the idea of ever harming another living being. That’s why so many of us justify our hurtful actions: I had no other choice! I only did that because….! If you hadn’t have said that, then I would have never been compelled to….!

Most people hurt others not because they are sadists. They do it because they are suffering. Their minds are filled with negativity—fear, anger, envy, greed—and that negativity drives them to say and do hurtful things. It blinds them to reality. It causes them to truly believe that there is no other choice.

To understand this, think of times when you’ve hurt others—especially actions that you regret. What drove you say or do what you did? This isn’t about beating yourself up. It’s about understanding suffering. Once you can understand your own suffering, you’ll be better able to understand the suffering of others.

Once you can see the suffering behind someone else’s negativity, you’ll feel less threatened and less reactive. To see that suffering, try mentally exchanging yourself with the other person. Try to see the world from her perspective.

Grow. Think of the difficult people in your life as teachers who are helping you see reality clearly, grow stronger, and improve important life skills such as the skill of assertiveness. Part of growth comes from seeing our part in the dance of life. Look for patterns. For instance, I used to harbor anger at how my mother treated her own mother. It was an incredibly humbling moment when I realized that I was treating my mother in much the same way I’d wished she hadn’t treated her own.

Also, realize that nothing ever stays the same. Life is constantly in a state of flux from one moment to the next. People change, and they often change for the better. The problem is that they change so slowly that we often fail to notice.

Next: How to heal a relationship with skillful speech.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

Roughly four years ago, when my meditation teacher suggested we concentrate on the kindness of our mothers, the class revolted.

“Can I think of the kindness of my dog instead?” one student begged.

“Or how about my children?” asked another.

There was a pause. Then the teacher asked, “How many of you think your mothers are unkind?”

Nearly everyone raised a hand.

That day, the teacher was firm. No, we could not meditate on the kindness of our pets, nor of our children, nor any other people we found easy to love.

It had to be our mothers, she said, because if we failed to see the kindness that emanated from the woman who gave us life, we would fail to see it in everyone.

“Your mother didn’t have to give you shelter inside her womb,” said the teacher. “She didn’t have to care for all of your needs when you were a helpless baby. She choose to do those things, and she choose to do them because she was kind.”

Let me tell you: I struggled with that meditation. We all suffer from a negativity bias, one that causes us to hoard hurtful memories and easily forget loving ones. As a result, as I meditated on the kindness of my mother, I kept thinking of times when, in my opinion, my mother wasn’t kind at all. I thought about the award ceremonies she hadn’t attended, the wicked arguments she’d had with my beloved grandmother, and the years she’d threatened to divorce my father.

Usually meditation turns me into a warm pot of happiness, but this one did the opposite. When it was time to open our eyes, my hands were clenched, my head was tight, and I was prepared for battle.

I wasn’t the only one.

Unlike other religions, Buddhist teachers don’t expect you to believe or practice everything they suggest. Rather, they often compare the religion to a grocery store. When you go to the store, you don’t buy every single thing they offer. No, you put some things in your cart and you leave others on the shelf.

I decided to leave the “kindness of your mother” meditation on the shelf.

But much like decadent junk food, it kept calling to me. Was the teacher right? Was my mother kinder than I realized? Was I a thankless entitled little worm? Each time I asked myself such questions, a piece of evidence in my mother’s favor would arise.

When my eight-grade boyfriend dumped me and I’d been reduced to hysterics and snot, hadn’t she comforted me in precisely the way I’d needed? When I’d called from college, telling her that I was a failure and a sorry excuse for a human being, hadn’t she sent flowers?

In fact, in all the times I’d sobbed about my failuredom (yes, there have been many), hadn’t she listened with patience and love? Had she ever once snipped, “Like I said last time and the time before that and the time before that….” No, she hadn’t. If she’d felt bored by reruns of “I’m a Failure,” she’d never shown it.

At first as such evidence surfaced, I did my best to discount it. “Isolated incident,” I’d tell myself. But over time, I had to admit: there was much more evidence of kindness than there was of the opposite.

And now today, roughly four years after that meditation, I know my mother is kind.

She calls to see how I’m doing: Kind.

She leaves messages telling me she loves me: Kind.

She restrains herself from questioning my parenting decisions: Beyond kind.

She supports my career: Kind.

She forwards links to my blog to all her friends: Kind.

Our relationship has transformed so much that I now wonder: How did I ever see her as unkind?

Here’s more: now I’m teaching meditation, which means that now I’m the person who must encourage students to meditate on the kindness of their mothers. Every time we do the meditation, it’s the same. Roughly nine out of 10 people swear that their mothers don’t posses a single kind molecule in their bodies.

But then I tell them the story that I just told you, and they stare at me in disbelief. Then they try the meditation. Some cry. Others emerge pissed as all get out, and, yes, some smile.

But the exercise is worth the effort. What my teacher said four years ago is true. Once you can see the kindness of your mother, you can more easily see the kindness all around you and, once you can do that, you’ll be filled with love.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.