Tag: Growth

Posted on

The Loss of Time in an Age of Stress

It’s been two <million> years since my last post. The time warp that COVID caused has me feeling simultaneously like I aged 10 years and paused life entirely. I am still, much like you I presume, scratching my head. What actually just happened.

Today, I finished watching Netflix’s version of Jane Austen’s Persuasion starting Dakota Johnson. There are several scenes that have me like “yasss queen” to Anne Elliot. Note to the bibliophiles – this is a loose adaptation, and it doesn’t have great reviews. But, if you want my opinion, WATCH IT. It’s funny, charming, endearing, and has great music. Anyway, Anne has a broken heart and pines after this guy for YEARS. Her guide to getting over him:

  1. Cry
  2. Keep reminiscing
  3. Listen to friends
  4. Drink
  5. Look for a rebound
  6. Insult/compliment your ex
  7. Make prolonged eye contact

She obviously gets that universally mandated second chance (because, Jane Austen), she laments a few things, enumerated because that’s what I do:

  1. “Nobody tells you when you’re young that life keeps going. It keeps going whether you approve of the progression or not. And, eventually, you find yourself wondering ‘How did I end up here?’”
  2. “The truest evidence of an inferior mind is to allow oneself to be persuaded away from one’s deepest convictions.”
  3. “How is it that life can remain static, almost obstinately resistant to any change for years at a time, and then, without warning, become flooded with so much newness within the course of a few weeks?”

Some of this stuff bounces off the walls of my rib cage, careening right into that intersection of heart and throat constriction. My last post was about love – and really looking for that balance of choosing to love someone and choosing to love oneself. And really, I learned that if you have to make that choice, it’s a major indicator of fatal flaws. Actually, that is a fatal flaw itself. Wanting something, even badly wanting it, is not sustenance. Hope is not nutrition. Dreams are not a foundation. And as much as it hurts, it’s ok to recognize the limits of hope and dreams. I think now, that hopes and dreams are the airplane flying you to a joint destination. It’s exciting to head out on that adventure and absolutely nothing wrong with coming home alone. Just don’t be afraid to pack your bags and get back on that plane.

Metaphors aside, life can be really hard sometimes. I had a psychic reading this fall, in the midst of my life change, and she said that my chakra was frozen. Excuse me, what. That can happen?! That explained why I felt numb all over. Even my brain felt like it was suspended in a different time-space continuum. After reading about this, I recognized the power the brain exerts over the body, especially during trauma. If our limbic system arm wrestled our prefrontal lobe, it would punch the prefrontal lobe and then run away, leaving the prefrontal lobe wondering what the EFF just happened. Literally. This is how your brain responds to extreme stimuli. The definition of “extreme” is pretty subjective: if we operating on a 10-point scale for stress, and you are regularly at an 8, then you will likely engage your fight or flight faster than someone who operates at a 4. The way this happens is a series of neurons fire pathways leading you to either a reaction or a response. Staying present and grounded supports the response pathways to the prefrontal lobe (mindfulness and meditation are instruments here, but you can also use ice cubes on the wrist, breathing exercises, naming what you hear/smell, etc.).

Aside from the science, I want to share a few other things that may be helpful too. Life has been extraordinarily stressful these past few years. Politics, wars, climate change, inflation, a global pandemic. If you used to be a 4, it’s ok if you are a 6 now. Give yourself grace, and give some thought to my list (Angie’s List, if you will):

  1. When you are in a heightened state of stress, one of the first things to go is ability to speak. During 2018, when I was unemployed, my dad died, my boyfriend and I broke up, I got a new job, and my best friends got married and moved out, I stopped wanting to speak to people in the same way. I remember thinking “talking seems pointless.” After spending a bunch of time unpacking that, I was able to cut myself some slack by realizing that my brain was eliminating unnecessary work by scaling back my communication. Cool, thanks brain. This was incredibly frustrating to me.
  2. The brain works quickly, but it also likes its normal channels for efficiency’s sake. If you feel you are in a rut, you may be wearing the tread on your favorite ways to tear yourself down or stress. One way to break this is to disengage from that thought/feeling. This is called noting: acknowledge the feeling or thought, and gently let it float away like a puffy cloud in the sky.
  3. If you are operating at a stress level you aren’t comfortable with, you don’t have to stay there, even if the stressors don’t decrease substantially. Meditation is incredible. 10 minutes a day to hear yourself think, or not, and find your footing.
  4. If you are heading into a stressful moment, bring an icepack. Touch it whenever you find your heart rate accelerating to keep you in the moment.

Love you all. Find grace, set your boundaries, give grace, and breathe.

Posted on

What does love really have to do with it?

After my divorce, curiosity became my driving force. Alongside fear, which is an interesting combination. See earlier posts (and future posts – my crystal ball is spot on with this one). I grew up in the same city that I attended college. In fact, I want to school in the same two block radius for all of my education. I followed the rules – go to school, meet man, get good job, get married, buy house, have kids, buy bigger house, blah blah blah. Except I stopped at the “buy house” instruction. And to be honest, I wasn’t really following the prescribed order of things. But I felt like I was still being true to what I knew to be my life path. Except.

I shed that skin and felt air enter my lungs. The veil was removed. I yearned for new experiences, new places, new people, new ideology. There started my wanderlust. Since I am a rule follower, I did not jump straight to backpacking through Asia, living in Bali, learning to macramé and teaching yoga. I still dream of that. But I felt like paying bills so I found a job, moved away, and travelled the world.

This is a really long fucking way of telling you about this time I was in London. See, I didn’t want to just start with that because I didn’t want you to judge me for being so pompous. Anyway, I was in London and went to see Tina Turner, the musical in West End. Tina had a rough life – but she kept the absolute of who she was regardless of who wanted to demean her, condescend her, beat her, and keep her from her true potential. Tonight, What’s Love Got to Do with It? is on replay in my head. Not because anyone is treating me the way Tina was treated – but because, what the fuck is this emotion. No question mark. I know you all agree.

It is also on replay because I was there with one of my best friends and my favorite travel buddy. I was dating another man, but the man I was travelling with seemed to understand me. He guided me through crowds when I was on sensory overload; he let me ramble about my hopes and dreams; he danced with me; he laughed at my jokes; he even picked bookstores that he knew I would love. He felt like coming home. At the time, he didn’t live in my city. He lived in a different time zone in fact. Had his own life. Had a beard and long hair or not, mainly I didn’t know his daily decisions and that was fine by me. But when one of his emails hit my inbox or his endearing text messages arrived on my phone, I felt warmth radiate through my body.

It’s obvious right – I love this guy. So when he moved to Seattle, I broke up with my guy. I took a break from dating, thinking I was losing my fucking mind. But I wasn’t – I loved him. And I loved me enough to tell him. We have loved each other in the motherfucking public for over a year now.

But I think we may kill each other. Don’t worry, it will be a coffin built for two (thanks Jessie Reyez + Eminem). What I mean is – we are going to eat each other alive. Again, a la Jessie Reyez:

Love you in the worst way,

You knock me down like a heavy weight

We fell in love got KO, oh oh

Too damn young so we broke up, no go

So much for a wedding date

I know nobody gets out of love alive

We either break up when we’re young or we say goodbye when we die

For a moment at least, I know you were mine and it was beautiful

But winter comes and roses don’t survive

It’s getting late and I should go

But I wanna hold ya like its June in the west end

Back when you were my best friend

Before love came to kill us

We’re not supposed to

But I can’t learn my lesson

I miss when you were my best friend

Before love came to kill us

Under the mask of the moon, can we dance in the past

Before love, before love came to kill us

I am scared of this ending. Is it quarantine? Did we move the relationship too fast? Am I flawed? Is he flawed? And if all of these played some role, can we course correct? Or, is it just done. And I need to now analyze what my lessons are.

Aside from these very basic, elementary questions on blame and guilt, I guess I am really digging dip on how romantic love changed everything. Before the “I love you” was uttered, we were a really beautiful enigma. Like, really beautiful. Full of flaws and acceptance. The unicorn of relationships. I miss when he was my best friend. But now it all feels so complicated, and I can’t unwind the yarn to determine what’s just plain bullshit and what is still at the core of this relationship.

Do you find yourself wondering about your most intimate relationship? I find myself pulled between the investment and getting out alive. Maybe if we pull the plug now, we can still be friends. But if we pull the plug now, are we ultimately missing out on the return of the investment.

And let’s just talk about being of a “certain age” and still dating. Words that come to mind: broken, damaged, sex-addict, closeted, project. No offense needed. But we have been there, right? Swiping on Tinder, judging people without knowing their circumstances. I am 35 and divorced. And this is the only relationship since that has lasted a full year. Barely. SPINSTER. There’s a word for ya.

Ok. But really. What does love have to do with life? We all want to receive love. We tend to be wary to give love. We desire acceptance, understanding, listening, connection. We are scared of rejection, judgement, manipulation, distance. For the math lovers in the room, we = me. Without putting words in any of your mouths, I am guessing some of you relate.

I want love to be my core tenant. The reason for life itself. Love, curiosity, growth. A challenging moment in a relationship fits all of these core elements – be curious about your partner, love yourself and that person, and regardless of where the relationship goes, one thing is certain, you are growing. Congratulations.

Posted on

When the Universe has a Message: Listen

Once upon a time, there was a little redheaded boy, named BW, born to a man who was figuring out his life and a woman who took on Responsibility as if it were created only for her. BW was the cutest kid you have ever seen – flaming orange hair. Technically he qualified a redhead, but a true artist would say the blazing orange of a sunset, the heat from a roaring bonfire, and the best mix of ketchup and mustard for sublime tator tot dipping. BW was the apple of his daddy’s eye. Life had some struggles but all seemed smooth when along came another baby – a teeny tiny little girl, with large, dark eyes and dimples that could melt even the most frigid. Sweetheart, she was called by both her mommy and daddy. It was clear from the beginning that she would be the star of her mommy’s story. The family seemed ablaze – full of life and love. But, as with all tales of wisdom, these two young people could not make it work. They fought and created cuts, scabs and scars in each other, until the bond broke, and the two children of fury and flame were left in the middle.

Fast forward over the next 15 years. BW and Sweetheart were best friends. Daddy remarried and adopted two older sons. Mommy remarried and had another baby – with large dark eyes fringed by lashes so dark, they appeared to be cut from a single piece of cloth. Growing up was difficult – between parents fighting, new marriages blooming, and all-American families blending. Needless to say, roads diverged. Sweetheart and BW lost their friendship, and Sweetheart stopped calling, coming to family functions, ceasing to exist in the world they had created.

Fast forward 15 more years. Daddy gets sick. It appears as though it is an intestinal blockage. But it is that C word. That horrible life taker, misery maker, leaving questions in its wake. But Daddy beats it! He comes out the other side, where esophageal cancer is waiting. Again, he fights his battle. His head held high, hope and humor his armor. One day, Daddy starts cursing like a sailor. Trying to escape his house. Forgetting his phone number. It appears this battle cannot be won. That damned C word has taken refuge in his brain, on his adrenal gland, in his bones.

For the last weeks of Daddy’s life, Sweetheart stayed by his side. Washing his face, sharing stories, holding his hand, watching old Westerns. BW joins and the two converge on memory lane where the 3 Musketeers roam once more. Where life seems to have a vintage quality but the characters are more grown up, mature, and facing a mountain of pain and despair. That mountain they will climb as a two-some, as BW and Sweetheart, because Daddy is now in the sky, illuminating the mountain with his brilliant rays, casting out demons, cleansing, warming the soul and shining from the laugh lines and dimples, bouncing off that beautiful orange hair.

This is where “control” doesn’t exist. In this land, there is no word for it. There is only day-by-day. A journey of remembrance. In this world, it is apparent where “control” misled, demanded, judged, forced, and demeaned. And it is in this world where love and laughter, living side by side, accepting people as they come that exists. The message is simple – Love and Be Loved.

I miss you Daddy. I only needed “One More Night” or “Another Day in Paradise” to see your “True Colors”. I “Can’t Stop Loving You” with this “Groovy Kind of Love”. “You’ll Be in My Heart”.

<Phil Collins and Genesis are a family favorite. Please listen to these songs and honor my Daddy.>

Posted on

Confessions of a Protagonist

I am going through a rough patch. There. I said it.

My word of the year is “temperance” but I am finding “control” to be much more applicable. 2017 was a year of stretching me. I quit my public accounting career, choosing not to become partner but instead choosing my own personal “road less traveled”. I went to work for a small nonprofit at the convincing of a friend of mine, who happened to be the CEO. I started traveling to upstate New York around 30-50% of each month. I learned new things – things I had never worked on before. Budgeting, modeling, forecasting, bookkeeping, efficiencies, policy setting, deferred revenue accounting, human resources, payroll, technology implementation, workflows. I learned about whistleblower policies and how detrimental poor leadership can be for the culture of an organization, how limiting selfish leadership can be for the growth of an organization. I learned that people can mask themselves under any façade, but ultimately it is typically a short-lived manipulation of the audience. I learned that I am indeed capable of love. I learned that my family means more to me than I had ever expressed. I learned that I have a lot of walls up, and while I am communicative, I tend to lack grace in those moments. I learned that it is true – if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. I have also learned that there is a time limit to accepting grace, comfort and interest from those around you when a hard period lasts too long. And then I have learned that friendship, for me, is defined more intimately by those who are willing to pick me up when I fall.

Have you experienced a year of this much transition? This much growth? Did you remain hopeful, optimistic, and even charming? Or did you find yourself swirling around the drain of defeat, knowing you likely wouldn’t be sucked in but wondering all the same what it would feel like to have the current take you away?

I wholeheartedly believe that a “breakdown” means that a rebuild is coming. I know the horizon is beautiful and that the sun is coming up. I can practically feel the morning dew now 😊

All allegory aside, this is still (yes, still) a post on control. In nearly all those lessons learned above, I had very little control. 2017 was a choose-your-own-adventure book! It had the elements of a great story – a classically beautiful heroine, a surprising antagonist turns villain, a love interest, and a dog. And what do we learn from good books? The plot generally thickens through the main character’s choices as reactions to external factors. Why? Because those outside factors are WAY MORE FUN. If this was just about the protagonist, it would be called a “diary”.

I have tried for the past month to make myself ok and “just enjoy” this time. On good days, I can manipulate my thoughts into creating a positive environment which is slightly manic, to be honest. It feels fake, like I just put on my mom’s lipstick instead of my own. Might fool people on the outside, but I know inside it is a shade I would never wear. And that makes me uncomfortable. My attempt to control my feelings is not mastery over my thoughts, it is short term manipulation. Right now, I am accepting this position. This is not WHO I am; this is WHAT I am going through.

For anyone reading this, if you are going through a particularly rainy season in life and find your umbrella bending in the wind, here are my suggestions:

  1. Do not force yourself to bury your feelings. Acknowledge that something is difficult, upsetting, unfair, bullshit, and just plain fucked up. That is your own internal high five. Outside validation is unnecessary because those are someone else’s feelings. By giving someone else priority, you are devaluing your own perception.
  2. Do not bury yourself in your feelings. Acknowledgement is one thing. Stewing is another. If you find yourself ruminating, you have a couple options. See #3.
  3. Deal or distract. You can journal – because maybe you just need a listening ear and no one is doing the job as well as you need. Or maybe you need to journal because you need to sort through the swirling thoughts. If that doesn’t work, identify a friend that will listen to you. Not a friend who will placate you or make you feel guilty because “you should be <fill in the blank>.” And finally, find something that is truly fun to you – yoga, running, cooking, spontaneous road trips, hiking, painting. Meditation is where it’s at, but these activities induce a type of meditative mental state. Lose yourself in joy that is unattached to your circumstances.
  4. Accept that this is a season and find some hope in that. There is nothing less hopeful than running 13 miles and hitting mile 5. You are in the middle of some shit, my friend. There is no turning back or undoing. There is only forward progress, one foot in front of the other. So take one day at a time. No need to move faster than that (unless, of course, if you want to!).
  5. Focus on your hopes and dreams and not your fears. Ever watch Patch Adams? It is one of my favorite Robin Williams movies (I miss him, don’t you?). Remember that scene in the beginning of the movie where he is in the mental health ward, talking with another patient about how many fingers he is holding up? “If you focus on the problem, you can’t see the solution… Look beyond the fingers.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBDgLL2de_c

My final suggestion – message me. I am happy to be a ray of sunshine. Together we can make a rainbow.