Being Wrong is So Right

I'm self centered and egocentric enough to know how powerful it feels to be right.  I love it when knowledge, history, and intuition become vindication when others have doubted me.  The flipped coin of that feeling often looks like being wrong. Being wrong can feel wrong. We've all been there.  What starts as confidence takes a swift turn into uncertainty.  You're pulled up short in a moment that sends chills up your spine and raises the hair on the back of your neck.  What felt like a powerful strut through life is suddenly met with doubt and confusion.  What looked like certainty requires a back pedal and that's covered in shame.  How often are you proud of not knowing the answers?

Being wrong is covered in negativity.  What happens when you make a mistake at work? You get written up.  You get fired.  You aren't promoted or asked to lead or teach others. When you're right, it leads to raises and bonuses.  It's a place where you're recognized and appreciated.

Life is rarely about dualities.  There are so many shades and flavors to every life situation. There is too much beauty to simplify any concept.  I mean, even gender is fluid and changeable, and most humans start as either female or male. 

As a student, we're often called on for an answer that we might not know.  I hated standing and giving an answer I didn't believe in.  If I was wrong, I was wrong in front of a whole class.  That embarrassment would have followed me throughout the day.  I would have wondered what my classmates thought and believed they were making fun of me even though no one ever cared.

I remember the first time I walked into Victoria's Secret for a bra fitting after dropping about 40 pounds (divorce diet miracles look a lot like eating like I might love myself). I knew I was going to be larger than average.  I always have been.  I just wanted a fitting to know what my size was and I was prepared to look elsewhere.  I was right about my size but wrong about the sizes they now carry.  It was a good feeling.  I got to buy something cute and the person correcting me upsold a matching panty.

I like being wrong lately.  It means I get to learn from the experience and grow.  It means my understanding and knowledge and expectations are expanded and stretched.  

I'm temping at a company that requires at least an hour commute each way.  I was so set against a long commute for so long but the rewards on this position were big enough for a short term compromise.  On the first day, I accepted the stretch in working at a company so far from home.  On the second day I was grateful that I could see what it was like to work in a huge company that has a basketball court and lactation room for employees with a welcome dog culture.  I was able to see a company that has a lot of the good things I have heard about but never experienced.  By the third day, I realized that sitting in traffic for over an hour doesn't matter when I sing and dance in my seat every time I drive somewhere.  I was wrong.  A long drive isn't a big deal. I expect to have many wrong answers as a mom.  I won't always see the repercussions of my choices. I expect my boys to call me out and they do. 

I grew up with a narrow enough view of the world to believe the news about Muslim people until I met a Muslim couple. She was a dominant A type and he was quiet and respectful. . . Maybe submissive by American standards. I was wrong about who I thought they were. My life was made richer by knowing who they are as people and letting my compassion and love for them show me how to see others in the world that I know nothing about. I was wrong and there is a reward in seeing that. 

I was wrong about a person.  I had my judgements and ideas and I let my know-it-all moment decide the depth and fate of a relationship for me.  I had an opportunity for a do-over.  A few different do overs have made me so happy lately. My ideas were met with understanding.  My perception expanded in empathy.  I can say I was wrong, and I have been so lucky in being able to really experience this person.  I've met more than I knew to ask for in so many beautiful ways.

Be a safe person that someone else can admit they were wrong to. Admit you were wrong and see the many ways it can be right. You get to shift your perception. 

Pulmonary Embolisms

Two years ago I was just getting used to eliminating wheat from my diet. I was prediabetic and eliminating sugar, but starting to walk more. My car was dead. I was working part time and taking the train to get to work, calling it exercise. The mini storage I worked at was 8 1/2 acres and it was inventory day so I was walking to every space to make sure the locks matched our records.  That night I woke up with horrible leg cramps. I figured I just needed more potassium and planned for bananas and avocados from the store the next day. I rubbed out the cramps and went to bed without even waking the ex. 

The next morning I had mild chest pain. It wasn't bad. Every so often it caught my attention and I'd rub that spot without even realizing it. I was also working as a driver for my ex, so I ran to Costco for him to pick up the cookies for resale. I delivered an order. I was going to do a second one when I felt like I should get my annoying little pains checked out. You aren't supposed to feel your chest. 

I drove to the emergency room and walked myself in. I mentioned chest pain but I probably didn't look like I felt it. I have a high pain threshold and have had a few natural childbirths, even with back labor. I'm a badass. 

At first the doctor didn't look at me. He ordered tests and walked away. He'd tell me a result and order more tests, then walk away. After the cat scan he came back and sat next to the bed. He looked me in the eyes and that's when I knew it was serious. 

I had pulmonary embolisms and they covered my entire left lung with a few clots on my right. I was sent up to the cardiac floor with someone to push my bed and a nurse to make sure I didn't die on the way up. My birth control pills, or the hormones in them gave me blood clots. 

Getting into my bed seemed to stress everyone out because I moved too quickly. The danger of a blood clot dislodging and finding a home in my brain or heart means I could have had a heart attack or stroke and died within seconds. I wasn't too worried because at least I wasn't doing jumping jacks. 

The fear of the situation never really settled in me. I had spent a month hospitalized with the twins two years before and I was used to the hum of machines, the squeak of nursing clogs on linoleum, the nurses that would shift between urgency and calm . . . Smiles and detachment. 

I didn't realize this was an anniversary (because I'm not that morbid) until Facebook reminded me (because they have no memory filter) and it looked like: 

Conversations with nurses:

Me: I'm sensitive to wheat. 

Nursing assistant: here's a white roll. It's not wheat. 

RN: I need to clock out for a break and I'll be right back for your history. 

Me: you don't have to cut into your lunch for me. I'll stay up. 

RN: it's just a break and we work through those. 

Me: maybe that's why they forgot to connect me to the heparin IV in the ER. 

Me: can you move the IV? It's pinching my hand. 

RN: that's considered invasive. It's not something I can just do. 

Me: come on, I haven't started the Coumadin yet. Apparently I'm really great at clotting. 

RN: are you a smoker?

Me: I smoked 2 packs a day about 14 years ago. Actually, I bought 2 packs a day. I usually shared my cancer sticks. Worst investment ever. 

RN: do you have an advance directive?

Me: no, but I've thought about it. (I start to explain) 

RN: no! Wait! I can't discuss it with you. 

Getting blood draws and vitals every couple of hours with bad hospital food is not pleasant. At the same time, I get to have a nice view and lounge with no bra or pants. No pants!!!

After being in the cardiac intensive care unit for a few days and gradually being permitted out of bed, I started walking laps around the unit. I was on blood thinners for a few months. I can never again go on hormonal birth control because the risk is too great that I'll have blood clots again and any future pregnancy would be on blood thinners and high risk. I won't say all birth control pills will kill you. I'm just lucky enough to have a body that doesn't like me to live too wildly because then I wouldn't have a story to tell. 

Birth control pills and exercise tried to kill me. Because of this experience, I get everything that's abnormal checked out immediately. It feels like I'm a hypochondriac but when I think of my kids, it's worth a few hours in an ER where I get to meet doctors (that are never my type) and ask:

"Are you here to save my life? I'll be your damsel in distress."

"I hope you don't rush through every single one of my vital signs."

"The nurse took my temperature but I'm sure it's gone up since you came in."

"Do you do this sort of thing with all of your patients, or am I just a lucky girl."

"I know it's the nurse's job, but I'd be happy to let you stick me."

SO TOTALLY KIDDING. 

Humor is important in a hospital. You go in healthy and they poke and prod you with long wait times. You go in dying or think you could be dying and that generally sucks too. 

You go often enough and you learn the lingo and know a heparin lock is coming. You prepare to be exposed and touched and pleasantly surprised when exam gloves hold warmth. You ask for heated blankets and nap when you can. You know that your nurses are your lifeline because your doctors won't really have time to talk. 

You notice patterns in how busy it is. Monday's are crowded with people that wait all weekend for a doctor's note unless it's cold or raining because people prefer staying home, and hot weather brings pregnant ladies kickstarting labor with dehydration. Honestly, I'd rather be boring and healthy. 

This week I will celebrate my life. I'll take myself out for a really great meal. I'll buy myself flowers and pick out lingerie. I'll take a candle lit bubble bath and appreciate the last two years that saw near death, a broken marriage and the opportunity to fall in love with myself again. . . The opportunity to fall in love with someone new. 

Transition and Waiting

I rushed through traffic to see my boys and I'm greeted with both the heater and air conditioner running.  Dishes are on display in half eaten array next to the places they've plopped to game.  I'm greeted with hugs where I get to hold them and they stand as if being hugged is all they need to offer and really it is. I offer up dinner that I schelp through after an 8 hour shift and they get to scarf it down with a request for something that takes more time and more love.  They don't complain where I know I could have done better but they know what to ask for. They ask me to jump and halfway up I get to ask how high, because I actually miss whipping up amazing food joy for someone else sometimes.

Sometime in the middle of the night Kid2 wanted to play with my contact lenses.  He likes to touch and hold them and I need to not freak out because a contact lens means far less to me than he does.  I get to keep calm and let him know I'm not to be feared because I want my kids to respect and love me, not fear and be dominated by me.  I get to teach him empathy because he lost something important to me.  I get to point out that I wear them all of the time and they make me feel beautiful but more than that, when it rains, I don't get raindrops on my glasses. I get to point out it's gross that those suckers sit on my eyeballs all day and now they were in his hands.  I get to let it go.

I wake up and the child that superman flies his arms underneath me, waking me at 3 this morning with little feet marks walking the wall along the bed needed to get up and onto the computer but exhaustion won, so I find him on the floor where he just wanted to rest his head.

"How do you feel about testing out your bed in your brother's room tonight? I'm not kicking you out, but you know, it's there for you." I ask, knowing it'll be a celebration to have my bed completely to myself all of the time.  I ask, hoping he doesn't see my excitement because I want him to finally feel that the security he needed when our world fell apart is no longer necessary.  I want him to know he's safe when he's here.

"Sure mom.  I'll try it out one night and let you know how it feels.  But I can come back to our bed, right?"

Right.  Baby steps.  Being patient.  Story of my life.  But I'm used to waiting for things that I see value in.  My son's sense of security is high on that list. Why would I ever want to give up these precious years that are all mine?  One day they'll move out, or they won't, but this liminal space in their identity is all mine.  I get to be present before I am pushed away by the natural force of growth that is at the heart of parenting.

I was primed and ready to take the next class in the MITT series.  I was enrolled.  I conjured  my deposit.  I stood in the power of being LP 139. Things happened and I was ready to go.  But I had to really look at what I was doing and my motives.

I've always been a strong person.  It's my birthright.  I am learning to find my voice again.  I spent too many years in a marriage where it wasn't okay to be who I am.   I'm standing on who I am, in a way that is brave through fear and courageous through discomfort and always considering the greater good. It's not okay to be last but it's also not okay to be selfish.

Taking the next step when I wasn't financially ready means I was going to step on the toes of my Mom, who is my landlord as well as my Angel and friend who's belief in me put down my Advanced course deposit.  She may have withheld a deadline on repayment but my obligation to her is important to me.

Taking the next step placed a burden on my children.  There's a cost to the life I get to live, but that cost was one my children would have had to pay.  Most of the dates set aside for the conferences and training happened during the 50% of the time I have my kids.  There was only one meeting weekend when I was kid free.  It's not about a babysitter.  I can get one of those.  I have an amazing support system that has shown me repeatedly that they will walk through fire for me.

My older two sons are autistic.  Interrupting our schedule is difficult on them.  My little one was willing to sacrifice his time with me on his 10th birthday and at the end of the day, he only gets one 10th birthday.  He reaches his first decade and I've been present for every single one of their birthdays.  I won't give up this one, even with his blessing.

When my family was falling apart and before we fell into place, I promised my kids that they will always come first.  I won't find a sitter so I can go on dates.  That's what their time with Dad is for.  I won't take on a responsibility that takes me out of their lives farther than I already don't want to be.  I have nights where I want to show up for friends.  I use a sitter for that, but I make sure I'm home for snuggles before bed.  That's not something I want to give up.

I'm postponing the Legacy Program, both with and without blessings from those inclined to offer them.  I'm doing it because I am a woman of integrity with enough sense to know this is not right for me right now but one day soon, things will shift in a way that will be perfect.  I'm keeping my Go Fund Me going because I will take the course in the first half of 2017.  I'm willing to ask for and accept help, but it's not about desperation for a timeline I'm not choosing.  I'm going to set my goal and start saving toward it.  It may be the class with a kickoff date of December 6. It might be later.  But the timing will be perfect.  It always is.

Right now, there are Kid3 snuggles as I type and he shows me videos.  Right now I get random texts that bring a smile to my face because the people in my life are amazing and even the boys that amuse me know how to make a girl smile even though I don't want to give up my alone time for them.  Right now there is coffee.  Right now I'm bracing for a day of picking up around the house because having the kids home means I'm going to be home, and scrubbing walls. Later I will jump into crafts with my boys, assuming they'll join me.

I Know This Place and it Feels Like Fear

Last night I was still in an unhappy place from the latest texting war with the ex.  My voice is still not normal and while it's getting better, allergy season is rearing it's ugly head.  I can finally picture myself being with someone for more than dinner and it comes with fear.  All of this was too much and I realized it when I was at the coffee bar at work, making my cup of tea.  There was honey on my fingertip and I had someone's attention.  It was a predatory moment where sexual aggression meant I enjoyed his discomfort and I needed to shift. It's not nice to say, "I'm being an asshole, here's a boner I won't help you relieve." I've been told I was doing this in highschool and it wasn't intentional then.  It is now and it's never nice because I'm allowing my broken bits to hurt others. I am happy in dating only me.  I opened up to the idea of allowing someone else in my life - not that I've found him and it comes with the fear I have been avoiding.  I really get to face what it means to step into a relationship where I'm aware of my martyr habits and I get to see what I'm doing.  How terribly frightful is that?  It's fucking scary.  My security blanket looks like the confidence of being alone and I get to risk the fall in a way where I get to let someone else mean more than I've allowed since I decided getting married was a good idea.

Eyes wide open.

Sober.

Intentional.

Scary.

I get to be brave.

I planned to reach out to a friend and deepen my friendships but I got to take myself out on a date instead.  I drove to Santa Monica and arrived just after the sunset.  It happens earlier now. I walked the pier.  I felt my unease slip away as I got further out over the Pacific Ocean and the light of the sun slowly faded away.  I stood at the end of the pier and felt the chilled air blowing my hair across my face and taking the weight of my week with it.  I was holding this fear of falling in love with someone and having him mean more than I do again.  It looked like sexual aggression and it felt predatory. I had to remind myself that when it happens, he'll be so special that I'll want to give him my time alone.  Considering how amazing it felt to drive home on the streets with only my company and how much I loved myself in that moment I know that when I find him, he'll be worth it.

What's Opening Up for Me

What's opening up for me is I woke up with more drive and less being driven. What's opening up for me is less being seen and more of the experience of seeing. Standing in the sun today was a new experience and it was more than the heat of the sun or the chill of the wind blowing soft strands of hair across my face.

What's opening up for me is I can ask for what I want and I can state my case.  I don't need to beg and plead because that is what empowerment looks like.

What's opening up for me is the idea that I need to talk to the boys about my dating again.  We had a talk at first.  It was clear, Mom is just having dinner, if even that and no one special is in my life.  I couldn't see more than that but I can see it now. I can see a future that once felt out of reach. I couldn't see anyone being special enough to meet my boys before but I can now.

What's opening up for me is I've always been able to fight and advocate for my boys and there's no reason I can't do it for myself.  That doesn't mean "I'm all about that thug life."  I'm just no longer a martyr and I don't need to make anyone my bitch.  I can just be and know that I'm capable.  I am aware that my inaction was always a choice I no longer have to make.

What's opening up for me is I chose to share my lunch with someone else today (first time since 1999), and we talked and I shared with her how amazing my latest perspective shift has been.

What's opening up for me is I don't need to know the how, I just need to decide what and why.  Everything else comes when and how it's meant to.

What's opening up for me is there's no reason to wait when I know what I'm already eager to step into. It doesn't have to look exactly as imagined and it can surpass my vision if I'm open to that possibility.

What's opening up to me is the responsibility of knowing I am my only obstacle and my only motivation.

Feedback

I'm loving the MITT Advanced class I'm taking but a powerful portion of the class is in the offering of feedback.  It's when we step beyond polite and tell people how we see them.  It's through this feedback I can grow. I show up as fake.

I show up as fearful.

I show up as controlling.

I show up as invisible.

I show up as timid.

I show up as lacking confidence.

I show up as a doormat.

I show up as disconnected.

Fake

I suppose it's impossible to be happy all of the time, but the joy I feel lately is genuine.  It's just not consistent. When I was asked a question and I was finally honest with myself and others, I keep all of my relationships so superficial that I don't allow them to matter.  I've had several friends reach out to hang out or get together.  When it doesn't happen, I actually am sometimes relieved.  I can go on with being solitary and the freedom I dance is is slowly becoming my prison.

Control and Fear

In my fear, I push others away because I can control who I let in.  If things are superficial, as they have been, no one can let me down or hold me back. I've been trying to make deeper connections with one friend, knowing she holds back just as much as I do and that she's safe.  When I walked in on the first day, a woman introduced herself to me.  She was sitting near me and I got back into my phone.  She got up and sat elsewhere and that was feedback.  There was a moment when I saw a friend's mother.  Rather than jumping up to say hello, I decided to wait until the next break.  I was being superficial.

Invisible

I show up by not showing up.  I have been going to events with friends, but not engaging deeply in who they are and seeing where I can show up in their lives in ways that are supportive.  Not really.  It might be a friend or two that gets my time for a while, but once I see my reliance on them growing stronger, I fade away.  I have spent two days with over 100 people . . . all wearing name tags.  And I never got beyond a friendly greeting with more than 10 of them.

Timid

I show up as timid while standing in the back, and not being heard.  There was a moment yesterday when I allowed someone else's anger to silence me.  This is the story of my life.  Every time a dominant man stood before me and made his voice louder and his body was aggressive in his beliefs, I shrunk back in silence.  In my career, I've accepted a job I love doing, for compensation that tells me anyone can do it, I'm replaceable, and not valued.  In romance, I've been doing my best to sabotage myself.  While dating online, I saw so many men looking for hookups or real relationships and I wanted somewhere in the middle.  I wanted one person to really hookup with.  He had to be my age or older. He had to be beautiful, athletic and smart.  If I couldn't find him (and I didn't), I preferred being alone. I am so great at this self sabotage that I found the most attractive man to be my partner so we could be real and vulnerable and never date.  He is everything I would love to date.  He's also gay and we even connect in not liking boobs.

During the feedback exercise, I had a really hard time giving feedback.  It felt like I was being asked to give the abuse I have received, only supercharged.  It felt like aggressively fighting back, only I couldn't.  I stood back and would watch the person in the hot seat.  I would cry with them and feel all of their pain.

Lacking Confidence

Confidence is more than the way I walk and greet others.  I'm good at that and it's just who I am.  Confidence in my lack means I have a million great ideas and I'm waiting for the right time to put them out there. Not having confidence means I needed someone to open my eyes to the possibility that I live my career, love life, and mothering style as someone who isn't worthy.  I live in just enough because I have not had the confidence to dream for more.  I keep my dreams as little goals.  At the end of the day, a dream, big or small, is still a dream and there's no reason to stop where I have been, except for my lack in confidence.

Doormat

I show up as a doormat.  I stand in the back.  I allow dominant men to silence me. I put others first to the point where I put myself last, even to the point of sacrifice and in terms of an exercise, suicide.  I killed myself because I was so focused on saving others.  How on earth is sacrificing myself for the greater good of the world? How can I be better assistance to my boys and the world if I am dead? Yesterday I spoke out about what I did during my postpartum depression with Kid1.  For the first time in 15 years, I let out my darkest secret about that time.  In all of these years I felt so much shame and sadness for what that looked like.  For the first time, I stood up and believed I had a right to ask for the help I never got.  I saw a man live out the pain of my inaction with my sons.  I was the mother that stood quietly while my sons were yelled at.  I kept my mouth shut when I saw emotional damage being inflicted on them.  In my frustration and inability, I turned to my sons in violence because I was failing and I needed to lash out.  I'm happy that I'm no longer capable of intimidating my sons because I'm no longer living in the aggression they were formed in.  But it's time to stop being that doormat because I can't lead them while I'm still following someone else.

Disconnected

When I was supposed to be giving feedback, I realized that my empathy allows me to fully connect with what others are feeling, but it didn't allow me to be in touch with what I was feeling.  Growing up, my Dad taught me love meant obedience and service.  He would often snap his fingers at me to get me to hustle.  I had someone snap his fingers to try to annoy me because the rest of the world sees this as rude, but it was my normal.  I spent my life worrying about how others are feeling and shutting down how I felt.  My first day was filled with tears, and I was encouraged to not wear makeup.  It was then that I remembered a time in middle school where I was often crying.  That was when my deepest depression started and I used to cry.  I learned how to put on makeup so it was only on the top part of my lids.  I learned to let the tears fall silently so I could wipe them away and lock it away so no one could tell.  Yesterday I wore more eye makeup than the first day.  I cried so much my whole body felt it with paroxysms of loss wracking through my body in waves.  I openly cried and the sound coming out of me was an open wail of true mourning.  I gave myself full permission to be in what I felt and the sound of what I held inside of me was frightening.  For the first time in years, I allowed myself to connect to the darker parts of what I felt.

When I was suicidal, crying too loudly would alert others that might have wanted to stop me from self harm.

When I was in love, my object's feelings were more important than mine because I felt like my happiness was dependent on his (it's always about a boy).

As a child, I had to learn to navigate my Dad's PTSD.  As an adult, I get to see that my parent's happiness has nothing to do with me and I'm not responsible for how they feel.

When my ex left and then my church family and his family abandoned me, I had to figure it out and once the bleeding stopped, I tried to walk in grace.  I had to disconnect from how deeply I was hurt.  I had to put aside the pain and the anger and the sorrow. I found happiness, but there was still this pain underneath it that tried to strangle me if I stayed home alone for too long.  But I got to really connect to that.  I got to let it up and out of me.  I was exhausted and energized last night because I got to feel what I had so stubbornly covered with a  plastic smile.

So much transition, and I get to say, "YES!!!!"

The Most Beautiful Thing

I had a moment with a man. A partner in transition. He opened up in honesty and offered his vulnerability to me. His tears fell quietly as he looked into my eyes. Not hiding. Not ashamed. I didn't feel impatient or irritated. It was humbling. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. 

Advanced 139

I took the Basic 137 Class with Mastery in Transitional Training this summer.  I went in feeling highly skeptical.  I was pushed and encouraged by a really great friend or two and their excitement and the transcendence with which they spoke had me convinced it was a cult.  A google search told me it was a cult.  It looked like a cult.  I went anyway because of my belief in my friend and I got to see first hand, that it is not at all a cult.  But there is brainwashing involved. Emotionally, I can be highly empathic.  I won't watch the news because it makes me cry for people I will never meet.  I walked into the room on the first day and immediately felt this weight of sorrow and desperation.  So many people walked in with a plan for a breakthrough in their life, and I walked in wondering if I could get through without being brainwashed.

It started slow.  There were 5 days that started right after work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and had two all day sessions that weekend. There was a motivational speaker that was powerfully persuasive, but I was intentionally closed off and determined to not be brainwashed.  There were psychological games we played with minimal instructions, and the lesson in who we are unfolded once the game was over.  There were guided meditations and moments where we were pulled out of our busy Los Angeles lives, and we were cocooned in a place where we had no choice but to make our very human connections.  How amazing is it to see who you are as reflected openly by other people who only want the same growth they offer you through their honesty? By Saturday, I could see what they were doing for me as I stood in a room full of strangers that were hugging it out and openly weeping.  It was the most profound shared experience I had ever been part of.

I walked in with so much pride in who I am, and I was called out on the weakness in my inability to be vulnerable.  I walked in as a person working a temp job with the lack of job security it comes with and I felt that I needed to make up for that when I entered a room with doctors, lawyers, business owners, paid writers, finance powerhouses, news anchors, nurses, and even a city mayor.  I walked away with a deeper appreciation of my family and our connections.  I walked away knowing that what has always been accepted as what my life looks like isn't an internal dialogue I have to accept.  I get to choose what life looks like and I get to determine where I'm headed.  It's profound and beautiful.  The community built into the course is amazing in itself.   We have taken the opportunities given to show up for those we care about and stand in strength for the ability and beauty we see in each other.

I wanted to wait until I could afford the class and the time off of work, but a friend encouraged me to set up a Go Fund Me account .  I was surprised at how much support poured in from people that have never met me.  I didn't reach my goal, and yet I didn't let that stop me.  I get to start Advanced 139 today.  I'm starting five - 12 hour days of intense reframing and I'm going in with an open heart and full of expectation.  I'm excited to see the ways it'll stretch who I am into who I am meant to be.  I get to make deeper connections with the world around me and I have the support of friends and strangers alike.  I get to be the mother and leader I want my sons to have and this course will absolutely get me in position for this state of transition I feel is coming.

I get to do epic things and it starts in less than an hour!!!!

Family Day

For the first time ever, my Dad and Step-Dad sat together and talked. My Mom remarried in 1996.  It was typical of divorce and remarriage.  There was anger and pain and it wasn't a mutual uncoupling.  Mine wasn't at first either.  For so long, my parents wouldn't even look at each other if they were in the same room.  For so long, my Dad wouldn't enter a building with my Step-Dad.  Today was huge and amazing, and yet, I tried my best to not make it as big a deal as it was. My sister and brother in law reminded me of deep love and renewed hope without trying. I spent time with my brother in law, and really appreciated how enthusiastic he is about going to work full time now that their nest is empty.  He quietly gave so much of himself so my sister could finish medical school and so their boys could do what they needed in order to become more and do better.  I remember years ago hearing about him filling up her gas tank and getting her car washed.  I'm still shocked that men do that kind of thing.  (I can hear a guy friend 0f mine telling me to raise my expectations.) He's loved her at times when I was shocked at the anger that she could be capable of.  He has done all anyone could ask for and more and he's done it without asking for recognition and tonight I really appreciated all he's done for their family and wondered if I could one day find that.

My cousin was there with her longterm boyfriend and their kids. I've been skeptical about ever trusting a new man around my boys.  I have anxious moments of terror that I would introduce them to someone that might try to harm them.  But I see the two of them and their children from before they met, and there is hope.  They gave me hope.

There were moments with my sisters.  I told one how deeply she is loved to the point where I could see her discomfort.  I hope she understands how earth shattering my love for her is.  I went on about my love and appreciation for my family tribe to another sister and nephew.  I wouldn't be who I am without their reflections on my life and through my soul.

And then there were conversations:

My Mom (from Thailand) : Look at her eyes. She's had enough.

Me: We're Asian.

Mom: Oh, now you're Asian when it's convenient.

Brother: We need a rope for the piñata.

Me: I have one in the car. Don't ask why.

Sister: For all that hiking you do.

Me: Uh. Yyyeeeah.

Me: Do you wear foundation or powder?

Sister: Powder. Why, can you see it?

Me: No. Your skin just has this glowy perfection that isn't normal for my skin.

Mom: I can't finish this. Put it in a water bottle and I'll take it home. . . I can feel it in my face .

(Talking about that really great glass of red wine and the Asian flush. I get it from my Mom.)

It was a tilapia, oyster and shrimp Po Boy fish fry.

Sister: I want some steak. It's good for my low iron.

Me: You should look around for some kale. (Sister) has one of those healthy houses.

Younger Niece to her older sister: Everyone says I look like you.

Other niece: Not when you make that face. . . Stop looking at me. You're ugly.

Me: She looks just like you.

Niece: Not when she makes that face.

Me: You both look like I used to.

And silence.

Niece: (surprised) Your hair has been purple almost two years?!?!!

Me: Yeah.

Niece: I never noticed it. Not until we went to the beach (this summer).

Me: It's purple underneath where I can hide it when I'm a grown up and show it off when I want to be 12.

Sister: I can't finish this. It's dry. Want it?

Me: Sure. (Taking the cigar she lit.)

~Later~

Dad: You are not too old to be obedient. (Directly and indirectly trying to get me to put it out.)

~Later Still~

Stepdad: (Privately) Don't do that. Especially in front of your dad.

~Latest~

Mom: Why are you doing that?

Me: It came all the way from Costa Rica.

Brother: $9.50 American is like $27 there.

Me:And there's shipping. It rode on the plane with them and everything.

Via Text: Hey :) How's your weekend going?

A sad stream of small talk leading up to, "Can you send me a pic? . . . How tall are you?"

Me: You seem like a nice person. (Lies) I wrote you off a long time ago.  (Truth) I hope you have a great week. (Not being honest.)

Because starting a week off with a rejection feels amazeballs when he seems like a sleazeball.

Reliance Damaged

I spend a lot of my free time at Santa Monica pier. During a really dark period it was a place for me to come and find peace. Walking over crashing waves and the sound of laughter and happy screams while I bid adieu to a fading sun was how my faith was restored.  It is humbling to be surrounded by the ocean and under a star filled sky with the extremely affluent and the destitute. 

This week I had been coming to the pier to look for my favorite performer. Night after kid free night, I made the drive and parked my car. I walked quickly to find the elusive solitary guitarist. 

One night a few months ago he was singing a Lit song and I was singing with him and everything was right in that moment. There was joy that forced through the sadness I drove there with. 

Yesterday I decided on a Bloody Mary with a girlfriend. Our plans were postponed and I ended up at the pier, and when I didn't see him, I decided on having that drink alone. I got home safe and there was minimal drunk texting involved. (Plenty of morning after embarrassment though.) 

Today I found him. He was sitting and dejected. The depression around him was heavy. He opened up about his life and being burned out. He talked about his love life and his family. He took me behind the curtains of the image he shows the world. 

I encouraged him to do what was right for him. I told him about unconditional love not coming as an exchange or with expectations. I told him it's possible to love someone even if you're no longer in their life.  I told him about being the parent I want my kids to have. I spoke into his life the way I do when I care. It means there are no boundaries. It means I'm glad I was able to tell him how much his music meant to me. I said goodbye. I may never see him again and the moments of encouragement he offered without knowing will always be treasured. 

I don't think he'll know how much he gave me and I only gave him a few dollars from time to time, not knowing the weight of his existence because I only wanted what he was adding to mine. 

For now I will find another artist to appreciate. I will lean in to what is being sung and appreciate how carefully melodies weave into my darker places and renew hope. 

I'll watch people with puppies in their arms and I'll look from afar because puppy breath is addictive, like crack. 

I'll watch beautiful men watching their phones because they're too busy catching Pokemon to notice me. 

I'll talk to babies and live in the gratitude of knowing they are not mine. 

And I'll learn through moving forward that it doesn't do me any good to rely on any one person to be the balm of healing for my itchy parts. And I'll learn that not everything that itches should be scratched. 

Tweaking a memory from a year ago.

Her morning was marked by sipping tepid coffee, pacing herself alongside the bitterness easing through the brew. She drummed a beat on fingertips, mimicked by the swishing of an otherwise immobile cat's tail giving disdain in waves like the heat threatened to do while the morning cool burned away.  It only took a shift. It was like shifting weight from one leg to another. It was an adjustment, like carrying groceries in one hand but needing to switch hands to fish out a key to gain entrance to an earned respite. Her perspective shifted and like a cloak, this new idea removed the burden from her life and the weight of it's release eased through tension heavy shoulders. 

In the moment after the last gulp of her now bitter swill, she decided the weight of expectations was never her burden unless she wanted to carry it. 

An unbidden flood of memories rushed through her crumbling walls and hushed consternated queries of "what do I do with what I've been given?" the decay gave way to new life. Tendrils of growing vines lifted her to a place of green buds and delicate leaves. The words were emboldened with release and here she found peace and joy . . . With moments of earned laughter. Looking past the wall of judges is where she found grace. 

When she tried to look back, she saw she was no longer there and in that past, all that was left was her pity.

She was asked repeatedly to justify her choices until one day she noticed a beaten and battered bit of sludge at her feet. She lifted it carefully, and tried to dust it off and asked no one in particular, "Did someone leave this little fuck here? It can't be mine. I came with none and have none to give you."

Love Is Not Blind

It's amazing what we will accept in the name of love, isn't it? I mean, there has to be a reason we will accept heartache and pain, loneliness and defiance from those that we love.  We cover their sins by saying we love someone or excuse their poor behavior when they never bothered to excuse it away.  Love isn't blind.  We're not blinded by an emotion we choose. I believe love is a choice.  Lust is more instinctive than love, and we can control lust.  We're not animals.  Rape culture tells us to dress differently and carry ourselves as if we are less so we don't attract men, but I believe we are in control of our lust.  There would be plenty of men in serious trouble if I acted on every single one of my lustful impulses.  My hike this morning put a few beautiful men in my path, with friends, and running.  Amazingly, I didn't assault them.  If acting on an impulse like lust is a choice, then acting on an impulse to care enough to love is also a choice.  You choose to look for the best parts of a person and hold within you an ember of hope that they will be able to step into all of the wonderful things you see in them.  People will fail you.  You see things they can't see and they fail your expectation because they don't hold themselves to the level you do.  It's so much easier to find the amazing in someone else than it is to find it in ourselves.

As a woman that has loved children and men and sisters and parents, I can see stubbornness and laziness.  I can see conditional love and selfishness.  I can see anger and aggression.  I can see people take advantage of kindness.  In love, we can see clearly.  We can also choose to cover them in our love and hope that they will do better.

Love isn't blind.  Love allows us to see our loved ones more clearly than they see themselves.  It allows us to look past their faults with intention and see the parts that aren't yet clear.  Love gives us the space to offer our best to cover their worst and defend the indefensible behaviors that others don't understand.

Love is clarity.  Love is hope.  Love is reaching beyond what is to cull what could possibly be. Love is crystal clear.  Love sees it all and hopes for the vision we hold to come through.

Hiking Runyon Canyon

 

One that is proudly inactive does not simply decide to hike Runyon Canyon.  Unless you're me, and committed to not over thinking anything.  Then I go for it.

I've lived in Los Angeles all of my life and I've recently decided that I can enjoy my city too.  So many people that live here came from elsewhere.  There are people that come and stay in hotels and pay an insane amount of money for the sunshine and beaches and I've spent long enough sleeping in and not going out to explore.

This morning I was up before the sun.  It was my usual morning of my body waking me up for no reason at all.  I looked at my phone, then thought, "I could catch the sunrise . . . go hiking . . . have coffee on the porch." The day was ahead of me because it was still dark outside and I was rested.  Somehow I got sucked into Facebook instead only to look up and discover the sky outside was lighter and the birds were chirping.  I could have tried sleep at that point.  I could have gotten up for housework.  Instead I threw on clothes and told my Waze app to get me to Runyon Canyon.

I parked closer to Vista and used that entrance.  I had my keys in one hand and my phone in the other and didn't bother with water, but decided stretching would be planning enough.  (I also stopped at every fountain for water and sat at every bench to appreciate the view.)  As I started walking with my music in my ears, I was singing.  On the way up, I saw this massive climb with people goat hopping and climbing up and thought maybe I could turn back at that point.  It looked intense.

I started focusing on each step I was taking or the views all around me.  I have never done the trail before, so I figured I would just follow the paved road.  Runyon Canyon Road leads to Mulholland Drive and I was about a third of the way there when I checked my map.  If you were there, I was the crazy woman laughing hysterically on my way back down and to the fork that took me to Fuller so I could complete the loop.

I'm focusing on the fact that the way you do anything is the way you do everything.

From the time I woke up, I sat with the idea for a while before I decided I would just do it.  I bought a sports bra a couple of years ago that is way too big for me now so  I wore a regular bra and found peace with the idea that I would bounce and it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would.  I didn't even think about it.  We do what we commit to do or we make excuses, but at the end of the morning, I hiked a trail I've wanted to check out for a while and didn't have anyone to get me out of bed for it but myself.

I remembered to stretch after watching someone else doing it.  I remembered my post workout stretch when I was sitting in the air conditioning in my car, and got up to stretch and it felt good.  Not gelato good, but good. Doing things properly has latent benefits.  Take the time to stretch and focus on your breathing and being present in the moment.  It feels better than you might imagine.

It was a morning of appreciating the present moment I was in.  I wasn't focused on the really steep climb I could see people struggling through.  I ended up in the opposite direction.  By the time I got there, I was coming down and not climbing up.  Instead of struggling, I was jogging and hopping and it was fun. I hit a crest and realised I was looking at the original ascent I was afraid of.  I made peace with the idea of sliding down on my butt if I had to.  I accepted that I might fall, and hoped I wouldn't end up with a face full of cacti needles because I have plans tonight and want to look cute.  By the time I got down, I didn't fall.  I was able to just enjoy the beautiful view.  I spent some time petting some stranger's dog and we both got lost in a few moments of watching dragonflies.  The dog's owner seemed a bit nervous about the dragon flies and I assured him they might land on you for a little insect porn, but they really don't harm people.

I saw lots of exhaustion and determination on faces, but my face offered a smile and a song.  By the end of the hike, I did more than I planned to. It was exciting and relying on my body felt amazing.  I was more capable than I expected I could be.  I was sweating and really appreciated the fact that I was too lazy to shower first. That post workout shower is a special gift.  I didn't plan, but the adventure made me laugh.  The steep climb looked far worse than it was because it was my descent.  I didn't bring water but I had just what I needed in water and rest stops. And it was a road travelled alone.  It's exactly how I'm living my everything.

My Tiara

I have a tiara.  Let it sink in. 

I was in a silly mood when I bought it. It's cheaply made and entirely frivolous. But I have a tiara. 

There was a whole thought process behind it, but I have a tiara. I was never on any of the royal courts in high school. It wasn't my thing. Leadership Council, yes. Prom Princess, no. But I have a tiara.

The thought was about saddling up and paying bills. If I wear it when balancing my checkbook and paying bills, I can be the Queen that is handling the business of her Kingdom ... Queendom. I'm doing my duties and not getting bent over and robbed at the same time. 

This morning Kid3 was having a melt down. He had one when he went to bed last night and had one in the morning. I stepped outside to discover what happened to half a dozen eggs that disappeared and realized the kids were revolting. I put on that tiara and the extra dose of patience I needed fell softly around my shoulders. 

Queens don't lose their shit. 

I couldn't lose my shit. 

I caught my reflection in a mirror and started giggling. My son started giggling. There were hugs and tickles and silly laughter. And there's a tiara. 

Best $10 I've spent this week. 

Living in the Moment

Being in the moment is something I intentionally work for.  It shouldn't be work, but it often is.  I can tell when I'm not in the moment because time is never doing what I want it to.  If time seems to slow to a crawl, I'm living in the past.  I'm looking at what was and trying to remember it presently and boredom and apathy settle in and around me.  When time is flying and I don't have enough of it, I'm living in the future.  I have too many things to do and too little time to accomplish my goals.  It's not enough time to read or write or tackle my latest project.  I have some deadline that hovers and obscures this moment right now.  I worry about some imagined deficit and have a hard time remembering that I usually have exactly what I need and it falls into my lap at precisely the moment I need it to. I had a brief conversation this afternoon and the statement I heard was a simple reflection about the difficulty of living in the present.  My response was about my daily goal to live in the moment and "BE."  I try to be and do epic shit daily.  It's a happy place to find yourself in.

Once I started heading home, I really had to think about what that means, because as I was driving home, I wasn't in the moment. I wasn't present in traffic.  I wasn't aware of the car I was in or the music on the radio.  My thoughts were on the back patio at work with my favorite sweater holding me and the muted heat of the sun barely caressing bare flesh.  I was observing soccer players in the nearby park and appreciating the beauty of the mountains and superficial conversation with company I always enjoy.

I started to wonder what being in the moment is really about.  Is it actually a subjective concept?  I mean, I was at home, with a dog begging for belly rubs and a cat hoping for a canned meal treat and my mind was reliving and exploring what happened an hour prior.  Was that my moment though? I was physically with my dog and cat, and my kids were gaming loudly inside, but the moment I held onto was being lived again in my head.  I was able to savor and hold the memory and I didn't rush through it.  I didn't feel it slipping by too slowly.  I was present in the moment of a memory and that memory was a moment of peace and joy.

In the last few days I've been flirting here and there.  It's been silly banter or lingering looks and I can appreciate it for a moment, but any longer and I look away.  I'm really not interested.  I'm playing with online dating but I'm not taking it too seriously.  It's really become an audition to see if there might be someone beautiful enough to give up my alone time but I know the answer before I even swipe.  I even let my cat swipe for a while in an effort to be that lonely cat lady.  True story.  I recognize it as a moment with a stranger that highlights other moments I've had in recent months, and those moments are too tempting to fall into with tender affection and slow observation.  In those moments, I'm in the past, but that past still brings a bright joy to the present and those moments are my present moments because of the joy assigned to them.

It's not a moment in the past where I am lost to a dream that I'm trying to change.  I didn't carry expectations that became resentments.  It's not a future I want to create.  It's a moment in the past that still shades my present in rosy tones and floral scents.  It's stepping back into a moment that makes the present moment beautiful and hopeful.  The moment can be subjective.  Right now could be right this day, or right this month, and I imagine it can be the beauty of a good year.  It's a moment.  It's now.  Now can last as long as we allow it to.

And I'm still wondering how long right now is supposed to last.

Excuse me

He said excuse me as I was walking by.  Shoulder to shoulder and our bodies shifted toward each other. 

There's something amazing about a smile that lingers and fades into intensity. 

His was a gaze filled with passionate promise. 

I forgot everything. 

Everything that should have mattered melted at his smile. 

I remembered the hint of a feeling that stirs from a lifetime ago because I was looking from past to future, held only by a smile in our moment. 

I remembered everything and that moment held the promise of a million tomorrows. 

Then I looked away briefly. 

And the moment was gone.