June 1, 2024

By Jessica Masuga 

Judy Blume’s fifth book, It's Not The End Of The World (1972), is about a twelve-year-old named Karen learning to navigate the ups and downs of divorce, new step-siblings, and the challenges of adolescence. I’m not 100% sure that I’ve read it, so it’s going on my summer reading list (I'm not kidding!). I’d like to see how she steers through it all.

The coping mechanisms we develop to get by in life are interesting. When my Grandmother Masuga died, I pretended that she was on vacation. Never mind that we lived in different states or any other logical considerations. I was nearly 30 and Grandma was out of town, but I’d see her soon. 

At other times, I’ve ripped the band aid off, dousing my grief in hydrogen peroxide and exposing it to the fresh air. When my first orange cat, Fresco, was diagnosed with cancer, a popular song on the radio was “Gone,” by Phillip Phillips. As we drove home from his treatment, I’d sing to him:

When life leaves you high and dry 
I'll be at your door tonight
If you need help, if you need help
I'll shut down the city lights
I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe
To make you well, to make you well 

When enemies are at your door
I'll carry you away from war
If you need help, if you need help
Your hope dangling by a string
I'll share in your suffering
To make you well, to make you well 

Give me reasons to believe
That you would do the same for me

And I would do it for you, for you
Baby, I'm not moving on
I'll love you long after you're gone
For you, for you
You will never sleep alone
I'll love you long after you're gone
And long after you're gone, gone, gone.

After I put Fresco to sleep, I started walking in the early mornings again. I could walk the path, surrounded by trees, listen to my music and let my tears run. I mourned Fresco. I worried that I shouldn’t have put him through treatment. Mostly I felt nature making me whole again. 

In my last blog, I shared that Hendrix the cat was at the end of his journey. He was in his 20s (best guestimate) and we’d had nearly 10 of those years together. From January until April, the elements that made him Hendrix started to pass away. He was tired. He needed lots of medicine. He didn’t talk anymore. He lost more weight. 

I made the couch our home base, sleeping with him there. We literally leaned on one another. If I stayed on the couch, working, streaming Netflix, and loving my cat, I could keep at bay the next part. Eventually Hendrix let me know it was time and I cried because I’d let it get to that point. 

Right around this time, I met a family whose mother had passed away, and her four cats needed to be re-homed. I felt like I was cheating on Hendrix, but I met all four cats and let the family know that I’d be happy to take any of them when the time was right. 

Should I have waited? Should I have given myself the space to mourn before taking in another fur baby? I don’t think so, and frankly, I don’t care. No fur ball replaces the other; they simply take up another space in your heart. When I brought Daisy home, I had no idea how sad my home had become. It was a place where no one moved much; we stayed put, holding on for dear life. 

Once Daisy left her safe space under the couch, we’d hang out on the ground, getting to know one another. Daisy does not believe in sitting still; she prefers pacing while you pet her, with her tail waving back and forth like a dog. Sometimes you need to stretch to reach her as she likes to walk out of your reach. 

I have done ridiculous things to help my new friend get acclimated. I’ve crawled on my hands and knees, petting her and then rubbing my hand against different pieces of furniture to spread her scent so she knows that this is her place. I have even said aloud, “Yes, this is Daisy’s couch. This is Daisy’s carpet. You own this, this is yours now.” 

It’s totally worth it. I haven’t laughed this easily in a while. The moment you start petting Daisy, she purrs. When she rubs her chin against different items in the apartment, her purr almost becomes a pant like you’d hear from a dog. And she talks! 

The other thing I didn’t realize I hadn’t experienced in a while is a playful pet. In the morning, after our quality time, Daisy plays with her tail, jumping and rolling back and forth to try to catch it. Later, she takes one of her toys, flips it in the air and catches it or pounces on it, whichever seems best. 

Have I forgotten Hendrix? Goodness, no. I have opened another chamber in my heart to love a new being, and she is helping to make me whole again.

XXOO 

Jess 

Or what can be gained by facing fears head-on.

April 10, 2024 

By Jessica Masuga 

The last 30 days have contained a few life-defining moments, or at the very least, big moments. 

I turned 50. 

I started my own business. 

I’m in the final stages of the journey with my cat, Hendrix.

What I’ve learned: 

It’s okay to adjust your daydreams about where you’ll metaphysically (and physically!) be when you turn 50. Like most things, you need to go with the flow. And maybe the flow is better than what you had planned. Maybe you’re supposed to stretch these daydreams and goals across the whole year. And be more patient and gracious with yourself. 

I’ve wanted to start my own public relations and communications business, but never had the guts to do so. Life made other arrangements, handing me the opportunity on a silver platter: “You’ve been laid off. You have two companies that want to work with you. Get going.” And I'm in love with what I do again. Plus, despite living with anxiety and overthinking things, I'm having a blast.

Hendrix the cat came into my life nearly 10 years ago, just before Thanksgiving. He was an older cat. He’d been adopted by a few families and recycled (I don’t know why because he’s fabulous). He "talk meows." He runs zoomies around the apartment. He purrs like a motor. He snuggles and has soulful eyes. Like me, he’s particular. He has made my apartment a home. And he saved my soul and mental health more times than I can count during the pandemic. 

Being around 20 in human years and 1,000 in cat years, H is an old man. First, we needed to add a transdermal cream to his routine two times a day to get him more Vitamin D, so he would process his food better and stop losing weight. Then we added some kind of powder to help him be less nauseous. We tried a full-blown pill to do the same thing the powder does, but no dice. Then a B12 shot weekly to eliminate his anemia. And now an IV for 10 minutes daily to make sure he’s getting enough liquids. 

Now, let me say that I wouldn’t do all this if he stopped eating, purring, snuggling and having (mostly) regular bodily functions. I would help him over the Rainbow Bridge. On a weekly basis, I confirm with the vet that I’m not torturing him, and he’s not suffering aside from the usual aches and pains. But as the nodule in his throat gets bigger (most likely cancer), we are making the most of our sunset moments. 

I have a whole new respect for caregivers. Whatever kind of caregiver you are, my hat is off to you. If you can’t work from home, and you’re caring for others, you are a miracle worker. I count my blessings every day--that I can WFH, my schedule is very flexible, the vet is a block away, I have the means to afford H’s care and I have so many loved ones loving me. 

Here’s to "loving the one you’re with," as the song goes, as well as navigating each moment you are dealt as best you can. 

XXOO 

Jess 

More about Life-Defining Moments and Grief 

Article: 11 Defining Moments in Life (and the Importance of Each) (locationrebel.com) 

Article: 19 Milestones That Shape Your Life Story (remento.co) 

Article: How to cope with the death of a pet : Life Kit : NPR 

Free mental health resources: LOVEYOURMINDTODAY.ORG 

Grief and loss resources: Grief & loss | Emotions & moods (loveyourmindtoday.org)

March 1, 2024

My first blog post was titled “My Renaissance.” The lowbrow title was “Are You There, God? I Need a Pina Colada.” Oftentimes when you explore new ideas about yourself and the world, you experience big emotions; hence the two titles for my first blog.

Judy Blume is one of my favorite authors. This summer, I watched the documentary Judy Blume Forever (2023) and was delighted to learn that she’s still alive. But I was also sad to realize that I could have written to her, and she would have likely written back.

I regret this missed opportunity. Do you ever look back on your life, if even for just a moment, and try to figure out how to grieve an opportunity that you didn’t even know was available to you? Of course, when we’re young, life is full of possibilities, and we’re less afraid of taking risks. My friend Tara remembers how I introduced myself when I arrived at my new middle school: “Hi, my name is Jessica. I love writing poetry. How about you?” I was lucky not to get beaten up, for sure.

These two ideas spoke to me in Natasha Duell’s article, “The Positive Side of Risk-Taking in Adolescence”: “Establishing one’s identity and independence requires that youth be willing to try things they might not like or at which they may fail.” She also wrote: “People tend to perceive risks as inherently negative. This is untrue. Risks are choices with uncertain potential outcomes that can be desirable or undesirable, like winning or losing money in a gamble…There are incredible real-world examples of adolescents taking positive risks. Consider teen Olympic snowboarder Red Gerard (gold medalist at age 17), female education activist Malala Yousafzai (Nobel Prize laureate at age 17), climate change activist Greta Thunberg (nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize at age 16), and the Parkland High School students who organized the March for Our Lives demonstration in support of U.S. gun law reform.”

While we may come to believe that we take fewer risks as we age solely due to fear, a study published in the journal Current Biology suggests that there’s a biological reason, too: “…The actual explanation behind less risk-taking [as we get older] is likely related to declining levels of dopamine in the brain.” With less dopamine on board, we are less likely to seek rewards. The study showed that older people were not more risk-averse overall, they were less attracted to big rewards and this made them less willing to take risks to try to get them.

You may think that all this risk-taking talk is related to not writing Judy when I was young, and you’re partially right. It also includes a recently missed opportunity.

This January, I traveled with my friend Heather to Key West, where Judy and her husband live, to visit her non-profit bookstore. So that I wouldn’t look like a stalker, I signed up to run a half marathon. As the time drew closer, I cooked up lots of different scenarios. How I’d write to Judy’s bookstore employees ahead of time (I didn’t.). How I’d speak so eloquently when we met (I didn’t do this either).

I wandered her lovely bookstore in a haze, continually peeking at her and the people she spoke with to see when I might get my chance for our BIG and life-altering conversation. Instead of handling this moment gracefully, I interrupted the trio, hurriedly mumbled about how much her books meant to me, and asked if I could take a photo with her. I was the least effective communicator, which is ironic considering I communicate for a living.

Fortunately, I have another chance. I could write a letter now, thanking her for signing and shipping me her first book. What would I say? Here’s a rough draft:

Dear Judy,

This January, I visited your lovely bookstore while you were there. Despite the fact that you are a very gracious and unassuming soul, I was awestruck and babbled before having my friend take this picture (pasted below).

What I wanted to say was along the lines of:

I was so touched by how you wrote to your fans and helped so many of us through adolescence and beyond. I wish I’d written to you and shared how much your books meant to me at each stage of life. I can’t get over how intimately you understand and express things; it’s as if you could peek into our lives.

As an adult, have you ever been so inspired by someone that you say, “I want to be like her/him when I grow up, but I’m already in the second half of my journey! I hope for a long runway, but regardless, I want to live my life as authentically as she/he does.”

I have a confession, I’ve started writing a blog, and I’m using versions of your book titles (I’m just finishing up with my second article). I hope you don’t mind or feel the need to sue me. My first one opens like this: “The highbrow title for this first blog article is ‘My Renaissance.’ The lowbrow title is: ‘Are You There, God? I Need a Pina Colada.’” Here’s the link to it: https://www.jessicamasugaconsulting.com/blog-2.

And finally, I think a lot of your long-time readers would love it if you wrote about life after 45. I’m just putting it out there.

Thank you again for helping so many of us feel seen through different stages of life.

Kind regards,

Jessica

+++

Here’s to taking more positive risks in 2024.

Jess

More about the Concept of Taking Positive Risks

Article: The positive side of risk-taking in adolescence (bold.expert)

Article: 42 Examples of Positive Risk - Simplicable

Article: Five ways parents can help their kids take risks – and why it’s good for them (theconversation.com)

Article: In Business, As In Life, The Greatest Risk Is Doing Nothing (forbes.com)

Feb. 12, 2024

The highbrow title for this first blog article is “My Renaissance.” The lowbrow title is “Are You There, God? I Need a Pina Colada.”

What does the word “renaissance” mean? Renaissance is a French word meaning “rebirth.” It refers to a period in European civilization that was marked by a revival of classical learning and wisdom.

What is a personal renaissance? I like what Joel Zaslofsky has to say in “9 Principles to Ignite and Fast Track Your Personal Renaissance”: “One of our Simple Sages, Colin Wright of Exile Lifestyle, explains a personal renaissance is a time in your life when you feel motivated, ambitious, eager and anticipatory…To me, a personal renaissance is a period of great optimism, strength, and new ideas. You feel everything will work out well…but that's not all. During this period, you can more easily acquire the tools, skills, and resources to achieve whatever goals you need to accomplish. And better yet, you can define with laser focus what your goals actually are…something that can normally be embarrassingly elusive.”

You might be wondering where I’m going with this. In November 2023, I was laid off. I wasn’t taken 100% by surprise by it. I felt the initial gut punch of anxiety, but mostly then (and now), I view this job loss as an opportunity rather than a catastrophe. It’s a chance for growth and self-discovery.

I recognize that I can afford to see my job loss through a positive lens as I’m financially stable. I also acknowledge that I’ve experienced the five stages of grief over being laid off. But when I see titles for articles like this, I want to argue with someone: "A Toolkit for the Worst-Case Scenario: Job Loss" and "Why the Loss of a Job or Work Environment Hurts So Bad." Again, I realize that a job loss can be the worst-case scenario for many, and I’m not minimizing those experiences, but can’t we spend some more ink on the opportunities that become available to us when we’re laid off?

Today when I spoke with my outplacement counselor, we explored what “success” looks like three months from now. In 90 days, I’d love to start one of my dream jobs, but that’s not the only thing I want to have done with this time in my life.

Again, to borrow from Joel Zaslofsky: “For me, this [a personal renaissance] means major changes in the way I eat, dress, analyze, prioritize, and engage the world around me. Each person becomes like the caterpillar undergoing metamorphosis; enveloped in the transformation and determined to fly once they pierce the cocoon. I call it a rebirth. I say it's a revitalization.

It's a time for things like:

• Taking your biggest risk ever
• Awareness of life beyond the little slice you've already seen
• Massive internal growth
• Deep thought about getting off the hamster wheel
• Actually getting off the hamster wheel
• Experimenting just because you can
• Changing your relationship with stuff (wanting more of some and less of others)
• Arranging your physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual existence with heightened clarity and in previously unimaginable ways

Perhaps most importantly, it's a time of determined and intentional action. And once it starts – regardless of how long it lasts – the changes are irreversible.”

Put more simply: When I asked my friend Julie if she took a vacation day to run 19 miles, she shared how she’s currently prioritizing her life, “Family first, running second, then everything else.” How awesome is that? And if you could re-prioritize your life this week, what would you list first? For me it’s “God first, loved ones second (including my cat Hendrix), exercise third, job search fourth, creativity fifth, giving back sixth, and then everything else.”

In the past few days, I’ve been focusing on these priorities and I’m so happy. Not just because I’m checking things off a list, but because as I’m living out my priorities, my life is fuller.

Take care,

Jess

Article: 9 Principles to Ignite and Fast Track Your Personal Renaissance (joelzaslofsky.com)

Articles: Your Personal Renaissance | Psychology Today

Book: Your Personal Renaissance: 12 Steps to Finding Your Life's True Calling

Article: The Personal Renaissance: Listen to your calling and follow | You Have A Calling