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Author, Historian, Storyteller

Life, Live and LearnOne comment so far

I’ve been making a concerted effort to pay attention to the things that I say to myself in my head.  Now I realize that that sentence makes me sound a little “Looney Bins” but go with me on this one.  I’ve been trying to notice the word choices that I make in my inner monologue.  I’m a word snob. I love the way that different words feel in my mouth and sound echoing through my head.  Words are so powerful and as Mark Twain said:

Mark Twain Quote

So I’ve been paying attention to my word choices.   This introspection was brought about because I realized that I kept calling myself a dumbass.  I forgot to put more paper in the printer before printing – “Dumbass!”  I accidently hit the 30 second button instead of the 1 minute button on the microwave – “Dumbass!”  I grabbed the wrong book off of my nightstand – “Dumbass!”  I tried to send an email before I put in the recipient’s email address – “Dumbass!”  And so on and so forth.  My days were filled with one dumbass quip after another.  Here’s the funny thing; I don’t believe that I’m a dumbass.  Quite the opposite.  I know that I’m very intelligent.  I’ve been accused of being elitist much more than I’ve ever been accused of being dumb.  So why call myself that?  And why put up with that?

If anybody else treated me like that, I wouldn’t associate with them.  I wouldn’t want anything to do with them, and quite frankly I would probably think that they were an asshole.  So why do I treat myself in such a way that I would never tolerate from anybody else?  In fact, I would never treat anybody else like that either.  I was basically being an asshole to myself.  Good times!  So I’ve been working on that, which has been quite the task because calling myself a dumbass has apparently become an ingrained habit.  So my inner monologue has sounded something like this:

“Dumbass! Shit!  Stop that!”

“Dumbass! Don’t say that!”

“Dumbass!  Stop being an asshole to yourself!”

“Dumb . . . hah!”

“Dum . . . well what am I supposed to say?”

“Du . . . Argh!”

“Genius!  Hey, that works better.”

“Genius!”

“Genius . . . well if I’m saying it sarcastically, isn’t that just as bad as dumbass?”

“. . .”

“Dumbass!  Damnit!”

“#@$#%#”

“. . .”

It’s a work in progress, but I am determined to be as nice to myself as I am to others.  And yes, my inner monologue does tend to swear like a sailor.  One of my many quirks.

Happiness, Life, Live and Learn, PermissionLeave a comment

I recently drank the Pinterest Kool-aid and opened up an account.  I am officially on the Pinterest bandwagon.  Now I had been avoiding doing this ever since it came out for a number of reasons.  First and foremost because I was fairly certain that the moment I started I would lose HOURS of time on there . . . and I was absolutely correct.  I am a collector.  I LOVE collecting things.  As a child I had a troll collection.  I’m sure at one point I knew the exact count, but all I can remember now is that there were more than 200 of them.  Now I collect elephants; figurines, stuffed toys, pictures, etc.  I try really hard to limit myself, and they’re still everywhere.  I like to think that they blend in pretty well, but if you look . . . EVERYWHERE.

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I am also very organized.  I once saw a throw pillow that had “A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place” in needlepoint on the front.  I wanted to make fun of it with my friends, but I couldn’t because secretly, deep down inside, I totally had a place where it could go.  So a website where you can collect things that you like, and organize them into categories speaks to my very soul.  And now that I’ve joined, it is everything that I ever hoped it would be.

Then a funny thing happened.  I have a board called “Beautiful Pics” where I pin mostly landscape photos that I think are beautiful.  Well the other day, I had pinned about ten pictures on there of sunsets when I came upon another one that was pretty, but not breathtaking, and my inner voice actually said, “You should skip that one.  After all, it’s not as good as the rest and you’ve already pinned too many today anyway.”

What?!?!?  When did that happen?  When did I start to internally limit myself?  As if there is such a thing as too much beauty.  The Pinterest police will come banging on my door because I have pinned too much and that is more beauty than one person has the right to collect.  Yes, there is such a thing as having too much of some things.  Ice cream for example.  If you eat too much ice cream, you’re gonna get sick and you’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe.  So yes, by all means, limit the amount of ice cream you eat.  But there is no such thing as too many sunset pictures.  There is no such thing as too many pictures of adorable puppies – yes, that’s one of my boards too!

I feel like this is a societal thing.  We’re taught that too much of a good thing is bad.  Not just physical things, but emotions as well.  We’re taught to “play it close to the vest” and that we shouldn’t “wear our hearts on our sleeves.”  And quite frankly I call bunk!  Why should we hold back?  We should be telling the people that we love, not only that we love them, but also why we love them.  We should be telling them this early and often!

One of my best friends does this.  She regularly tells me how much I mean to her.  She regularly points out little things that I do that make her happy and I try to do the same.  Guess what?  Neither of us is hurt by this practice, nor does it ever get old.   Instead, we’ve become confidants and never tire of the other’s company.  No subject is too private, no topic too sacred to discuss.  It’s amazing, and I wish that all of my relationships could be this way . . . which I guess they can.  All I have to do is start telling people what they mean to me.  Not in the hopes of reciprocation, but because they should know that my life is better with them around.  So dear reader, thank you for making it this far: it means the world to me that you take the time out of your busy day to read my ramblings.  I hope that they brighten your day!

Life, Live and Learn, WritingView all 3 comments

I find that it is so easy to get caught up in our day to day lives and where we’re trying to go and what we’re trying to achieve that we can lose sight of what we actually have in front of us.  I feel like I’ve been doing this a lot lately.  So today I wanted to stop and pause for a moment to think about the things that I do have.  Today I am grateful.

I am grateful for the people in my life that have moved beyond friends and are now a part of my family.  My band of sisters that I have collected through life and can’t remember what life was like before they entered, because it feels as if they have always been there.  I am grateful that I have a job.  It is not the job of my dreams, nor is it a job that I ever aspired to have.  But it’s a job and it’s a job that pays all of my bills.  That is more than a lot of people can say. Heck one year ago, it was more than I could say.  For that I am grateful.

I am grateful that I have the time to put words onto the page and spin tales of life, history and the theatre.  That I have an audience for those words, no matter how big or how small and that maybe some of those words will affect someone in a positive way.  For this I am grateful.  However, today I am most grateful for some advice that I allowed myself to hear.  Upon expressing frustration that I felt as if I was simply spinning my wheels and getting nowhere fast, a friend pointed out that maybe I wasn’t spinning my wheels. Maybe I was still in the same place because I was busy building a foundation around me.  Maybe I’ve already made it to where I need to be, but I’ve been so busy running for so long that I failed to notice.  So maybe, just maybe, I need to stop running and start enjoying the build.

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.  I am not a religious person, never have been.  My mother was, and it didn’t seem to do her much good . . . but that is a conversation for another day and that conversation will take place between me and my god.  In the meantime, my spirituality remains ambiguous, but anchored in the notion that everything happens for a reason.  People, events and experiences come into and out of our lives to serve a purpose. We may not know what that is today, or next week, or ever, but on some grand cosmic scale there is a reason.

Maybe we needed to be low so that we won’t take the highs for granted.  Maybe we needed to start over because the path that we were on was no good for us.  Maybe we encounter more obstacles in the road than most because the wisdom gained in getting over each one transforms us into the person we need to be to do our best work.  Or maybe everything is so hard because we’re so focused on an outcome instead of the journey that we’re blind to the fact that we’re scaling a wall to get to the top when there’s a set of stairs three feet to our left.

Today I choose to take the stairs, and for that I am grateful.  What are you grateful for?

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A bit of a rant, but at least I numbered it for you!

1 – Obsessing over zits, blemishes and that tiny little scratch.  We’re all adults. We all know that outside of Photoshop, everyone gets these things.  Unless it is the actual size of Rhode Island or it is a shape/size/color that should be seen by a medical professional, no one cares.  If you are hanging out with people who do, they are not your friends.  They are petty, vindictive assholes.  Find new people to hang out with.

2 – Asking if a piece of clothing makes you look fat. I hate to break it to you, but if you get the impulse to ask, the answer is yes. Anybody that tells you differently is lying to your face. So do yourself a favor, save your boyfriend/husband the trauma and throw away that pair of spandex pants with the horizontal stripes and put on a pair of jeans.

3 – Letting your dog run around in public off leash.  Just because you love your dog does not mean that everyone else does.  This is not only one of my biggest pet peeves, but a potential nightmare that I have to live out almost every time I walk my dogs.  Inevitably the dog owner will holler from 100 yards away, that their dog is “friendly.”  Well that’s great, mine isn’t.  My little girl Zoey has been attacked so many times in her seven years of existence that she has taken up the attitude of “bite first, ask questions later” should a strange dog get a little too fresh.  So unless you can guarantee me that your “friendly” dog will remain so after Zoey bites him, get your dog on a leash!  Because when that dog fight starts, it’s gonna be my two dogs against yours and it’s gonna be up to me to break it up because you’re 100 yards away and I’m attached to the fight by two leashes.  Not cool!

4 – French kissing at the end of a first date.  Unless you’re looking for a one-night-stand, or are unable to control your raging hormones because you’re 16, save this for later.  I have three reasons for this.  1. A little anticipation really does make things better.  2. If that’s how you expect a first date to end, how are you expecting the second date to end?  If I’m not ready to take that plunge and I’m on the fence about you anyway, I very well may just bypass the second date completely to avoid the hassle of having to say no.  3. Should I ever have kids – it might happen – and one of them asks me to tell them the story of our first kiss, “He walked me to my car, looked into my eyes, smiled and gave me a quick kiss,” makes a much better story than “He pressed me up against my Chevy Malibu and stuck his tongue down my throat in the parking lot behind McDonalds.”

5 – Making a habit of treating people horribly, then coming back around later to apologize for treating them horribly and thinking that this makes everything better.  Seriously, why do people think that this is an acceptable way to interact with people?  After the second consecutive time you’ve done this to me, I no longer accept your apology.  You may be sorry, but I don’t care.  If you were truly sorry you would try to change your behavior so that you don’t have to apologize for it all the time.  Don’t expect me to provide you with forgiveness and assuage your guilt because you were an asshole.

Break a Plate

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I know that I will sometimes fall into the trap – and I’m quite certain that others do the same – of getting caught up in a mood or situation and thinking that you’re all alone.  No one else has ever been in the position.  No one else has ever grappled with these thoughts or can relate so I’m going to stew in my own juices and be maudlin.

Well I’ve come to the conclusion that no one is that special!  Other people have been in your situation, other people have grappled with you same issues and it’s actually a bit of a relief!  It’s good to know that you’re not alone.  It’s comforting to know that there are like-minded people in this world and others have had your same struggles and come out the other side only a little worse for the wear.

More than anything else, this blog has taught me this.  I’ve lost track of how many times a post will talk about thoughts I’m struggling with, or a situation I’m in where I really feel a bit like I am on an island all by myself.  Inevitably it’s those posts that I get feedback like, “Yes!  I’ve been struggling with that too!” or “How true!  I’ve been dealing with that a lot lately.”

At first I didn’t know how to react to this.  After all, their emphatic feedback proclaimed loud and clear that I was not alone in my thoughts and feelings.  They did not make me special . . . and that’s what we all strive for right?  We want to feel special, that there is something about us that makes us stand out from the crowd.

Then it occurred to me, sometimes you’re just not that special, and in instances where you are struggling or feeling alone, it’s a really good thing that you aren’t special in that.  Sometimes it’s nice to know that you are part of the crowd; that you fit in.  Because as much as we want to be special, don’t we also strive to find a place where we fit in?  Maybe the trick is finding a balance between the two.  Fit in when we are weak, and shine when we are strong.

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Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, but life seems to me to function in chapters.  Sometimes one chapter closes and you move on to the next with no warning.  Something big happens unexpectedly, or you just look around one day and realize that without you knowing it, you’ve moved on.  You’re in the next phase of your life, the next chapter.

Other times you can see it coming.  You can sense that things are starting to come to a close; things are wrapping up to move you on to the next great thing.  That’s when the impatience sets in.  You can see it, what lies over the next horizon, and you can practically touch it, feel it, taste it, but you’re not quite there.  You want it so badly, you start moving on prematurely, jumping ahead and skipping steps.  Which inevitably leads to falling flat on your face because you moved too far too fast.  You weren’t ready for that step; the universe wasn’t ready for that step. So discouraged you get up and head down the road again.  Maybe this time you’re more cautious.  Or maybe this time a seed of bitterness has set in, you’re tired of this chapter and can think of nothing but the next.

But you can’t do that.  You can’t skip ahead.  Dues must be paid and every step that is required must be taken.  Just because you can see the next chapter does not mean that you get to stop writing your current chapter.  I can see my next chapter, but I’m not done with this one, not even close.  I’ve simply found enough clarity to see where this road leads, and I like what I see.  But I have to finish this chapter first, and I have to finish it the way that I started it. I’ve made the journey by myself.  One step at a time, through the brambles and bushes, and I have to continue up the hill until I see the top.

Of course I’ve had my life-lines, and there have been stretches that they have carried me part of the way, but when all was said and done they put me back on my feet and let me stumble my way forward.  Nobody held my hand. Nobody laid the path out neatly before me.  They let me find my way on my own, and so it is partly to them that I owe it to finish this out on my own.  Finish this chapter first, and then move on to the next.  Look to the here and now, focus and do the work required to finish this out.  Finish like I started.

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I had an epiphany today.  I’m a member on an online dating site.  Yes, I’m a single woman in the . . . the . . . this day and age – seriously what is this day and age called, does anybody know? – so of course I’m on a dating website.  No, I have not found Mr. Right, truth be told I haven’t even found Mr. Good Enough For Right Now.  For the most part I’ve found invites for Internet sex or sexting and requests that I send pictures of myself in a bathing suit.  Which officially begs the question, do women actually send pictures of themselves in a bathing suit to men that they’ve never met? Crrrreeeeeeepy!  At any rate, I’ve tried out a couple of these sites and they all have these questions that you answer so that they can match you with guys.  Without fail, there is always a question similar to this:

So far has your life been motivated by?

  1. Love
  2. Money
  3. Commitment
  4. Dedication

Honestly, I think they’re missing the real answer for a lot of people: fear.

I know that for me it is true. I think for me it was something that was learned very early on.  My childhood was spent in a state of anticipation, a state of fear waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have no studies or testimonials to back this up, but I’m going to guess that this is probably a pretty universal experience for kids that grew up with a sick parent.  There was always a fear of what was to come next.  Was she going to be okay, was it going to be a good day or a bad day?  Would she suddenly take a turn for the worse?  My mind was filled with fear.  No matter how much reassurance I was given, the fear remained.  When she died, mixed in with all of the other sundry emotions was a palpable relief; relief that I no longer needed to wait for the other shoe to drop, because it just had.  It was as if I was Atlas and the world had been lifted from my shoulders.  Shortly thereafter a heavy helping of guilt replaced it, but that’s another topic all together.  The fear was gone, but only fleetingly.  Like all old habits, it came back and I found other things to fear.

I was afraid that if I was my own person no one would like me.  I was afraid that I wouldn’t be good enough . . . at anything.  Even in jobs that I knew I was doing good work and that I was a valued employee there was still this underlying fear that one day I would do something that would upset the applecart so egregiously that they would fire me on the spot.  I thought that I had tackled these fears years ago and moved on, but traces remain and pop up in the weirdest of places.

I’m afraid that I’m not taking care of my dogs properly.  I’m still afraid that I will get fired from my job suddenly.  I’m afraid that somebody will find out that I like Taylor Swift’s music more than Beyonce’s.  Whoops, let that cat out of the bag!  I can’t help it Swift’s music is catchy and quite frankly, “Cause I’m not your princess, this ain’t a fairytale, I’m gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well“ is a much more interesting lyric than, “If you like it then you should have put a ring on it” repeated ad nauseum – no offense intended to the Beyonce groupies out there, I just don’t get the hype.  With how much money she has, she couldn’t afford to buy another lyric?  C’mon!

My point is, why live in fear?  How is that profitable?  Which brings me to my Shakabuku – for those who are saying “What is the world is that?” see here or here.  You can’t live in the moment if you are perpetually afraid of what might happen in the next moment.  It’s impossible.  Go ahead and try it, you can’t do it, and the key word in that sentence is MIGHT – it’s not even a fear of a definite.  So this living in fear has got to stop.  Right. Now.  I believe that everything happens for a reason, the good, the bad and the really shitty.  I don’t regret anything in my past, because it has made me who I am today, and I am strong.  I can take anything that life throws at me, because quite frankly I’ve probably already been through worse.  So bring it.  After all, if everything happens for a reason, what is there to fear?  How’s that for a swift kick to the head?

Inspiration, Live and LearnOne comment so far

I was supposed to meet my cousins at Disneyland last night.  I haven’t seen them in a really long time, they’re in town, so I braved the traffic and after work drove down to Disneyland.  Where I discovered that I couldn’t actually get into the park itself because it happened to be a black-out day on my pass.  It hadn’t even occurred to me that I needed to check blackout days – it was a Thursday night after all – but there you have it.  So I drove for three hours round trip to give them a hug outside of the main gate and chat for half an hour.  Not exactly the evening that I had imagined, but it turns out, that it was exactly what I had needed – perspective.

This could have easily ruined my night, and after the rough week that I’ve had at work I’m honestly kind of proud of myself that it didn’t.  Let’s face it, it was an EPIC Disneyland fail and there was no one to blame but myself.  But you know what, it gave me time to decompress.  For two hours driving through rush hour traffic I was present, I was in the moment.  I wasn’t worrying about my to-do list at home, I wasn’t worrying about work or all of things that I need to cram into my weekend and accomplish.  I drove.  I changed lanes, I accelerated, I applied the brakes and I listened to music.  I was blissfully disconnected from everything except for the immediate presence of the traffic around me.  Yes, I did just use the word blissful in a sentence describing LA traffic and yes I am probably crazy, but the jury’s still out on that one!  Then I got to catch up, commiserate with family that I wouldn’t have had a chance to see otherwise.  It was short and not at all as planned, but it was novel and novelty has a charm unto itself.

One of my favorite movies is “Grosse Pointe Blank” and one of the characters talks about Shakabuku.  “It’s a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.”  Now I’m not saying that my reality has been altered forever, but I feel like last night was my Shakabuku – kick to the head/LA traffic, yep that’s a much more accurate description.  I spend way too much time planning and working through all of the possible outcomes of a given scenario instead of simply living.  Taking the world on as it comes, making the best of what I am given and accepting the outcome.  I don’t need to think out ten different scenarios of how a situation may turn out because that’s nine scenarios that will never exist outside of my own head – assuming of course that one of those ten is what actually happens.  What a huge waste of time!

So new goal: embrace my Shakabuku.  Let go of the incessant planning and worrying and live right here, right now.  After all, the best laid plans generally go awry anyway.  Oh, and go to the library and get an audiobook.  A good audiobook would have totally rocked last night!

Live and LearnLeave a comment

I made the decision that I wanted to start incorporating more exercise into my weekly routine. After all I sit at a desk for 40 hours a week at work and I would prefer if my ass didn’t start to resemble the chair that it sits in! I already walk my dogs on a daily basis and truth be told keeping those little monsters at bay is an arm workout combined with a walk, but I felt the need for more. So I sat down and came up with a workout routine that would slowly ramp myself up into strenuous, healthful workouts several times a week …

 

Wait a minute, that doesn’t sound like me AT ALL! Which would explain why I instead dove in head first and did a P90X workout followed up by an intermediate pilates class. Yeah, that definitely sounds more like me, because I am smart!  S-M-R-T smart!  Which means that I now have been introduced to a whole new level of pain.  Forget saying that it hurts to move, at this point it hurts to exist!  The very act of breathing is painful.  Apparently out of shape at 31 is significantly different than out of shape at 26.  And I only did half of the P90X workout, I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t be able to walk if I had done the whole thing!  Good grief!

I believe that it is time to regroup, maybe do some yoga, or a hot bath with a glass of wine and handful of ibuprofen.  Maybe approach this whole exercise thing a bit more gingerly, a bit slower.  A beginning pilates class.  Because while I was an instructor, that was 8 years ago and just because I know the exercises does not mean that I can still do them.  Lesson learned!  However, thank you to the puggles, my arms are perfectly fine.  The little monsters!

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I am currently in a funk, have been for a couple of weeks now.  This is nothing new to me.  I have been clinically depressed since I was eleven-years-old.  I know that this is not PC, not “appropriate for polite conversation,” but I don’t believe that people should be ashamed of mental illness.  It doesn’t make me any less of a person, it doesn’t change the way that people look at me after they find out.  The people that matter at any rate.  In fact, I’ve found that talking about it helps.  When the people around me know, I don’t feel the need to put on the act that I do around others.  You see I am a very high functioning depressive.  A common reaction that I get from people when I tell them, is that they had no idea I suffered from depression.

Actually, I don’t like to say that I suffer from depression, because suffer has always implied to me that I am a victim, that I have no control.  I decided long ago that I’m not a victim.  I battle depression. It is a war and one that I will likely fight for the rest of my life.  I take it head on and I take no prisoners . . . most days.  However, like any war I lose battles, and then I’m in a funk.  Sometimes I can identify what caused it, sometimes I can’t.  Some days are simply funkier than others.

And no, that week or two that you felt really low does not give you an adequate frame of reference for what the past 20 years of my life have been like. So please don’t tell me that you know how it feels. You don’t. That would be like me telling a marathoner I know all about it because I ran track in high school.  To a certain extent, it’s insulting.  It belittles my reality.

I know that you want to help, I know that you want to fix the problem and I appreciate that this desire comes out of concern and from a place of love.  But please understand, that this is not your problem to fix.  Suggesting that I get more exercise, or eat healthier, or get daylight lamps, or investigate the different meds on the market is the opposite of help.  I’m doing the best that I know how to do and you giving me all of these suggestions tells me that my best isn’t good enough. It layers funk on top of the funk.  Not to mention, I doubt very seriously that you have come across a study, approach or new theory out there that I haven’t already read about and very probably tried.  I have worked my way through the advice, strategies and gamut of meds available. I know what’s out there.  If there was a med that offered a benefit that was greater than the side-effects, you can bet your sweet ass that I would already be on that sucker!

This does not mean that you can’t help, you can definitely help.  Here’s how.

  1. If we live in the same city, get me out of my house.  Let’s go for a hike, or a movie, or lunch.  Get me out of the house and don’t take no for an answer.  I will have a billion reasons why I can’t; I have to clean the kitchen first, I have no money, I have a bunch of emails I’m behind on, I have to blah, blah, blah, etc.  Come over and keep me company while I clean the kitchen, then suggest we go for a walk because that’s free! Get me out of the house; even if it’s only for 30 minutes.
  2. If we don’t live in the same city, call to say hi, to check in, but don’t make it all about me.  If the entire conversation is fixated on how I’m doing, how I’m feeling, what I’m doing to feel better, I’m going to start to feel like a monkey in a cage.  Ask how I’m doing and if I want to talk about it I will, if I don’t let’s move on with the conversation as normal.  Please don’t tip toe around like you’re walking on egg shells, because then I feel the need to put on an act that all is well and good to make you feel better and to put you at ease.  That is EXHAUSTING, and depression is exhausting enough all by itself.
  3. This one’s counterintuitive, I know, but tell me about an issue you’re having and ask for my advice. It reminds me that there are issues in the world other than my own. The German’s call it schadenfruede, it works. But a word of warning, make it a lighter issue that you don’t need critical advice on, because depending on the level of funk you might get some really crappy advice!
  4. If you do come across an article or study that is interesting and that you think would be of benefit to me, email me the link. That way I can read it when I am in a head space to receive the information and benefit from it. Telling me about it will more than likely feel like you’re forcing the information down my throat.
  5. Understand that sometimes I have to embrace the funk, the silence, wrap myself in the dark clouds and get drenched by the rain before the sun can shine through again. So if I don’t answer your call, please don’t take it personally. I still love and care for you, the clouds have just filled my head so thoroughly that there isn’t room for anything else. Try again tomorrow.  Send me a picture of a monkey hugging a puppy or a sarcastic meme.  All good things that show you care, but give me some space.
  6. Accept, like I have, that this is a part of my reality and I’m going to have down days and down weeks. Don’t be alarmed. However, if I’ve ignored 4+ calls in a row or spent 4+ calls in a row crying and I am cancelling all of my plans except the bare minimum to survive, then some alarm is warranted. I have crossed the threshold into the benefits of the meds now outweigh the side-effects.  Feel free to remind me of this. But if not, if I’m functioning and working through it, let me function.  Support me at my current best so that I can get back to my normal best.