This New Political Clime

I had hoped that today would be one where angry words,  accusational posts, and articles of hate would have ceased. I should have known better. Another day (or week or month) where I am going to have to skim past my friends angry and hateful posts because people have forgotten to be KIND and loving to each other. Because it seems that hate and fear now rule the media and social network. And reading hate, fear, and anger make me sick to my stomach because I know that I became friends with these people because there was a time when I witnessed joy and love and kindness in them.

Kids, when will it stop? When will we realize that a president cannot protect our families? Our daughters and our sons? A government official cannot cause hate and divisiveness to come into our homes. He/she cannot bring it into our schools. He cannot turn on our televisions and teach our children hate and fear. When will we realize that our children are not born to hate. They do not grow up learning hate because of who's in charge In the White House. They do not learn fear there either. WE are responsible for teaching who our children grow up loving or hating, not anyone else. WE bring hate and fear into our homes with what we say and do and teach. If we hate other people for their political views, our children will too. If we hate other people because their religious beliefs are different than ours, our children will too. WE are responsible. No. One. Else.
If you actually believe this president will cause your children to be in danger, then you have given up the responsibility of raising your children. If you believe that his "warmongering" and "hate towards women, LGBT, Hispanics, Muslims" etc. will be the end of our nation, then you need to look in the mirror.
WHO is in charge of your home?
WHO is in charge of keeping your children safe?
WHO is in charge of your life?
WHO is in charge of your heart, your mind, your ability to show love and kindness to another human being?
Not any president whether man or woman. Not any government leader.
YOU are.
 Just you.
So if you are angry and hurt and fearful and divisive, you are showing your children that that is how it is going to be. And how it should be.
Please stop. Stop the hate. Stop the fear.
Instead spread kindness and love to your fellow human being.
It starts with us.
 It always has.
Not some guy in the white building in another state.
This hate and fear and evil that I see spread across the media and coming from my friends is not who we are.
Please. Just stop.
Stop for a moment and listen to your heart.
Is this who you are?
Is this what you want for your children?
It's up to you. Not anyone else.
Make. It. Stop.

Be the Peace the World Needs

For you younger kids, the world was not always so ugly as it is now. 

I grew up in a time when there was peace. 

You could play outside with your friends until the street lights came on. 

If we got a really good snow, (up in Seattle area) you could play ALL night, sledding (my mom was cool that way). 

You could walk to and from school (1.5 miles, literally uphill both ways. REALLY) without fear of people kidnapping you. 

We walked to the mall, biked all over the place, hung out at friend's house without fear. 

TV was only scary if you watched Dark Shadows (google it), or Nightmare Theater on Friday nights. 

No, there wasn't internet, thankfully. But we still had fun.

And if you wanted to talk on the phone, you had to be home to do it, and attached to whatever room the phone was in. And it was still fun.

We weren't suspicious of our neighbors. 

I didn't care if the kids I went to school with were any different color than I was. They were still my friends.

I didn't care if I had friends that liked someone that was the same sex they were. I never noticed. I didn't care. They were still my friends. 

We had hippies, and guys my dad called "Ferlas" (fellas and girls- they were guys with long hair. My dad thought he was funny haha).

People didn't sue other people because they could. 

If you accidentally bumped into someone's car in a parking lot, they looked at the car, said "No problem!" and drove away.

It was really a very happy, safe place to be.

Guns aren't what has made the world so scary because we had them in the world when I was growing up too. We weren't afraid.

It is humans that have made this world so scary. Evil, mean, thoughtless, hateful humans. Humans who hate other humans because of their lifestyle, because of their color, because of their religion. Humans who prey on the weak because they can. Humans who take pleasure in hurting other people because it gives them power. 

And it makes me so sad. 

We need to be the ones to make the change if we are going to see any change. 

Stop hating other people. 

Stop being rude to other people. 

Stop hating someone because they don't agree with your politics or your lifestyle or your religion. 

Or you don't agree with theirs. 

That is still wrong. 

You want acceptance and tolerance? Then BE accepting and tolerant. To EVERYONE.

Peace starts with us.

Be accepting of other people. Show love for other people. 

We were born to love, not hate. 

When did we decide that hate was a better choice?

Shower Epiphany: Being a Nice Person vs Flirting

           I posted on Facebook recently that I had received a rather lengthy email from an old friend who was concerned that my feelings for him were more than just "friends" status. I was really surprised by this email because I hadn't given any hint during the random times we'd spent together in two weeks that I wanted to be more than friends. Because I didn't.

     One of my Facebook friends commented that I must have been flirting with him.

Hmmmm. Nope.

     You see, this old friend was my ex-boyfriend. You know, the one I've mentioned in previous posts. Why would I even consider going into a relationship with him again that was anything more than just friends?  Some might wonder why I would even want to be friends with him. Because, I'm a nice person. I forgive easily. No, really. I do. I can be trampled over and over again and still stand up and say, "Okay. One more chance." It's what I do. I did it for 22 years (even doing it now, three years later) with my ex-husband. I love so I forgive.

     Anyway, Comic Con was approaching. I go every single time with my youngest son, Luke. It's our thing. But Luke has become a social butterfly so he likes to go wander Comic Con by himself, or with his friends (who wants to hang out with their MOM?), and I knew I would be left alone to wander Comic Con in my little Steampunk outfits. I knew it wouldn't be as much fun alone. It's always more fun with someone who also wants to be there as much as you do. I don't have any other Comic Con friends. You know, the ones who get soooo excited about being there that they buy their tickets as soon as they go on sale...6 months ahead of time.  And I knew the ex-boyfriend was one of those people who did. We had a common interest: Comic Con. Since the first one three years ago that only Luke and I had attended, we had gone to every single one together, the ex-boyfriend and I. That was why I contacted him after a no-contact zone of six months. So I'd have someone to wander Comic Con with. And so that, knowing him, he'd have someone to go to Comic Con with also.  That was the only reason. Nothing more.

     Let me first preface this whole thing (wait, I didn't really preface it, did I?) by saying that I am not lonely. I don't feel alone. At all. It's weird. For a really long time I had felt lonely. I perused dating sites every six months, hoping to find that one person who'd fix my loneliness. Guess what? I fixed it by myself.  Seriously. Didn't need some guy to do it for me. Imagine that. AND I am really confortable in my single status. Really. That scares me a little bit too, but that's a blog post for another day.

     So, two weeks ago I contacted the ex-boyfriend via email and asked him if he was going to Comic Con. He replied that he was and would be interested in doing what we've always done at Comic Cons before: wander together. Between that contact and Comic Con, we've gone to two movies together and a lunch (and I paid for myself which makes them NOT DATES), and the local Italian Festival. Once again, I paid for myself. Once again, not a date. Then we wandered Comic Con. The ex-boyfriend did not fund one part of my personal Comic Con experience. NOT DATING.

     And so, imagine my surprise when I get the lengthy email the day after Comic Con ends telling me that we could only be friends. That he didn't want me relying on him for movies and dinners. That I should also be seeing my other friends and "movie buddies".  And not be surprised if he distances himself when he becomes interested in someone else.

     HUH?

     Yeah. Me too.

    So, back to my initial epiphany: Being Nice vs Flirting.

     I'm a nice person. I treat all humans, male or female, with the same niceness. If you are friendly or sarcastic, BONUS!! We will get along perfectly. If you're nice to me, I am automatically nice back. That's why I've always been in customer service. It's what I do.

     When I worked at the front desk at my hotel, more than once I was told (jokingly) to stop flirting with the guests. It's because I am friendly. I'll act interested in what you have to say. I will laugh at your jokes. It's my job to make you feel good and walk away happier than you were when you first started talking to me.

    Is that flirting?

    Or am I just being nice?

     So is this where the world has gone? Have we forgotten what it's like to be friendly to people? So much so, that when someone is friendly to us, we think they are flirting? Or other people think we're flirting with them?

     My Facebook friend said that he found it hard to believe that I wasn't flirting with said ex-boyfriend.

     I cannot tell you when the last time was that I actually flirted with someone. I almost think I have forgotten how to flirt. Seriously. It's been so long.

     So the other morning when I was in the shower (because that is where all serious thinking - and karaoke - is done), it hit me: Was my ex-boyfriend so un-used to people being nice to him that when someone is, he thinks they're interested in him? Is that why he thought I was wanting to be more than friends? Because I was nice to him?

***Insert eye roll here***

     And is that why he never once asked me how I'd been or what I'd been up to for the last six months? Or showed any interest in my life? Or even smiled the first or second time he saw me after six months? (in fact, he just looked plain pissed) Because he was afraid I'd think he was interested in me?

***Insert another eye roll here***

     Is that where the world has gone? You can't be nice to someone without them thinking you're seriously interested in them?

     That's just sad.

     NEWSFLASH:

     Being nice to someone is not always flirting.

     Sometimes it just is what it is.

     I suppose there are those who are so blind to flirting that they don't notice it when someone actually is interested in them. They have their buddies punching them in the shoulder, "Dude. She was totally flirting with you!" and they still have no clue. (OR, there are those that assume EVERYONE is flirting with them. Big ego much?)

     And there are those, like me, who are just being themselves. Being nice to other people simply for the sake of being nice. No intentions. No ulterior motives.

Just. Being. Nice.

     Maybe, WORLD, if everyone started being a little nicer to those around them, there'd be less wars. Less homelessness. Less hunger. Less anger. Less loneliness. Less confusion. Less judgement. Less hate. Less of everything that is sad and bad.

     Maybe, just maybe, there would be more peace. Imagine that.

You know those little kids who smile at you in the grocery store checkout line simply because you're looking at them?

Do you suppose their flirting with you?

Doubtful.

   
Maybe we need to be a little more like them.

A New Adventure Takes Place...(or "Has she lost her every-loving mind?")

     Over three years ago when I started my new job at the Marriott, I thought I had the coolest job in the world. I remember walking the back hallways where only employees could go and seeing how everything runs behind the scenes. To me, this was an amazing place to be. I loved my job. It was actually fun to go to work and be around happy, fun people. Those were the people I worked with! We were friends! We would laugh over things we dealt with that only we understood, what we experienced. Non-hotel people just didn't get it.  I was excited to go to work more days than not. Even the cranky, entitled guests didn't phase me. It was their issues and had nothing to do with me. Work became my escape from a scary, depressing home life.

     And then I was promoted last December to restaurant supervisor. I was so proud of my new position and the fact that someone thought I could handle a position I'd never even considered taking on. The job was exhausting but I loved it. Loved my co-workers and my employees. I felt like I had a purpose, like I was making a difference. I was proud of my work. I was proud of me. Loved making guests happy when they came into my restaurant, bar, ordered from room service, bought a coffee at Starbucks. I was proud to be in the position I was in.

      I was never bored at work. We welcomed the days or a week of lulls between busy conventions and meetings, because when we were busy, we were really slammed. It was exhausting. Until three months ago, the exhaustion wasn't a bad thing. Have a couple of days off, or a couple quiet, low occupancy days at work, and you recover and were ready for the next slam. We were a team. We worked together, especially during hard times, or when we were short-staffed and made it all work. Those were fulfilling days. I loved being part of a team. Somewhere in the last few months, that opinion, that pride shifted. Going to work was no longer fun. At least more times than not, I didn't want to be there. School was suffering. Creativity was gone. I know, isn't that normal for a "job'? Who really wants to work? Isn't that why it's called "work" and not play? But that wasn't it. That shouldn't be it.

     I was in New York visiting my oldest son and his family for my 53rd (yes, I said it. I'm 53!) birthday last June and somehow it became a time of reevaluation of my current life. I had ten days where I had stepped away from my home, my job. I'm not sure what triggered it. Maybe because it was time. Maybe it was because I was another year older and I was stuck. I felt stuck. I always said that I felt like I was standing on a cliff waiting for someone to build a bridge to the other side. Even before getting this position. Somewhere after my divorce. I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going. I'd lived in Utah for three years, not the place I ever thought I'd spend a year of my life, let alone three. I was planning on moving into a new place because the old place seemed to have become a dark spot in my life and Luke's. Bad ju-ju so to speak. I didn't want to be at work and I didn't want to be at home. I felt like I was lost. I felt like I was just hanging there, with no where to land. It was time. Major changes had to be made.

     I came home from New York and decided that I would be making a pilgrimage next May to Spain. One more thing that I wasn't sure how it had come into my life plan, but it had. I had watched a movie last year called "The Way," about a man who goes to Spain to pick up the dead body of his son who had been walking the Camino de Santiago, but that's a whole 'nother story for another blog post. I knew it was something I absolutely would be doing. I had to do it. Until then, I knew I would stay at my job until next May to save up money and then I would quit to walk the Camino de Santiago for 45 days (because I figured they'd probably never give me a month and a half off for "vacation"). After that, I'd figure it out. Wherever life led me. Or Heavenly Father. You know.

     Then about 5 weeks ago, after an altercation with an employee that was so out of the blue, so unneeded, so ridiculous, it hit me. I couldn't do it anymore. There wasn't one more day, one more hour that I could continue as restaurant supervisor. Funny thing is, I had been warned by this same employee last November that taking this job would be a mistake. She said it was a hard job, one with very little satisfaction and even less pay. She was telling me as a friend, because we were friends at the time. Anyway, this altercation sent me home that night to make a very hard decision. After 9 months of no respect, hearing "You're working alone tonight?", or "Do you know what you're doing?" I couldn't do it anymore. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. An ulcer that had been long dormant and caused as a result of the ex-boyfriend, was flaring up again. I spent many nights crying after work, during work. Not because of angry guests or problems at home. It was because of what I was experiencing right in my own office, my place of work. 75% of the time, depending on whom you were working with, it was a very hostile work environment. Being me, I was taking it personally, and I was taking it home with me.

     I'm pretty laid back. Really. I feel I expect very little from my employees other than doing the job you're paid to do. Work ethic. Most of the time, I prefer laughing with my employees and co-workers, even when we're busy. Especially when we're busy. I feel that part of gaining respect from your employees is that they like you a little bit too. Having fun at work, even while doing your job, makes it easier to clock in. Even when we're slammed from a convention, we could still have fun. That was part of being a team. I saw a sign once: "Being part of a team means making sure everyone is on the bus, not being thrown under it." I was being thrown under the bus way too often.

     That night after the altercation, I laid awake until 5:30 in the morning. I was upset. I was physically sick. I cried off and on for hours. I really didn't take what she said personally. It was that she had cornered me in my office and yelled at me, not over work related things. She was angry over personal things. She said I had changed since getting this position. It was about un-friending her on Facebook, telling her what to do at work (essentially asking her to do her job), "dating" her ex-husband (three dates...over a year ago). Nothing to do with work. Absolutely nothing to do with work. What got me was that it was SO personal. The last straw. I couldn't trust the people I worked with. Backstabbing, gossipy, under-the-bus throwing, lack of respect. Things that had been happening for so long, long before I was hired, that it had become acceptable behavior. Not just to me but other departments as well. This wasn't a job I could stay at. Not even until my trek across Spain. Not even until my one year mark in December. Realization hit. It hit hard. I was done.

     Two days later I was back at work. The two days off had given me time to think and time to talk to Luke to make sure he was okay with my decision. This was his future also. I was quitting a job that helped me contribute to the household. I was still getting spousal support but, without a full time job, things would be really tight. Strangely enough, neither of us were worried about it. We weren't stressed about it. We both knew it was the right decision. Just in case, so I wasn't rushing into anything that I would regret later, I waited two more days of work before sending my boss an email that would end my job as the restaurant supervisor. I told no one. Didn't tell my family, didn't post the announcement on Facebook, didn't hint at it to anyone, didn't tell my co-workers. I kept it quiet. I wanted to make sure it was the right decision. And I cried as I typed up my resignation letter. It wasn't an easy decision to make. Not at all. I loved working for the Marriott. My boss had planned an important trip to North Carolina mid-August. I told him I would wait until he got back from vacation. Then a few days later, when word was out, my co-supervisor mentioned that she had a family vacation that she had planned and she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to do it. I said I would wait until she got back. Essentially I gave a five week notice. I am that nice. It's what I do.

     I realized throughout all of this that my true passion, writing, was something I hadn't done since last November. I had stopped feeling the joy. Stopped feeling inspired. Was there a correlation? Probably. That's when I decided that what I really wanted to do was find a job I could do from home. With that, I could finish college, pursue my writing goals, and even have time for much-needed creative pursuits. With that, I could also avoid the back-stabbing, screaming, angry, rude, drama-filled, throw her under the bus, gossipy co-workers. I could sit at home and do what I had always intended to do: Do your job and go home. No drama. Nothing more than a job. I would figure out how much work I needed to do, how much income I needed to have to be able to pay the bills, and find that job. Every Facebook meme that passed my way mentioning making that risky step, pursuing the dream, or being fearless spoke to me. And I felt at peace. I knew I was making the right decision.

      So, without fanfare, after five weeks of knowing I was leaving, yesterday was my last day as restaurant supervisor at the Marriott. Those that liked me told me how much they would miss me and how much they wished I wasn't leaving. One of my employees bought me lunch, another bought me a Starbucks lemonade as a way of saying goodbye. I was hugged, told I was loved, and wished well by so many. Those that didn't like me never said a word. Just asked when my last day was. Luckily, those employees/co-workers were the minority. Four, maybe five people. That said a lot about who I was. Because a part of me really still loves that place, I went on "pool status," meaning that if they need me in the restaurant department, whether running trays in room service, covering a hostess shift when they are short-staffed, or filling in as "lead" when a supervisor or manager needs time off, I would be there. The fact that they would rather put me on pool status than lose me completely also said a lot about who I am. And I took great pleasure in telling those four/maybe five people who didn't like me that I was going on pool status. (insert evil grin here)

      So, today is more than just another day off. I am officially unemployed. I haven't really had time to fully pursue a new job. I've applied at a few places, even have a virtual interview with one at-home job (that I'm not sure I really want). I still have my painting instruction classes at Michael's and I can increase my schedule there. I haven't fully unpacked my boxes since moving into my new apartment almost a month ago. Today I have cleaned, listened to inspiring podcasts by my favorite author, Elizabeth Gilbert, relaxed, and hung out here on Blogger for the first time since last November, writing my heart out. I don't think that it has completely hit me that I don't have a job. Give me a few more days. Right now it feels like another day off from work. Except that I'm not dreading clocking in tomorrow. Tomorrow is kind of another day off, I guess. It is finals week in my Spanish class so I have that. I still have unpacking. And so many creative things I am going to do. The weight has lifted.

      Look out world, here I come.

Forgive Myself?

     Talking to my "life coach" (I always put it in quotations because I kind of think it's a silly name. Isn't it more like inexpensive therapist?) the other day and I thought I was doing well going through the whole apology letters to people I felt have caused me to be angry today. I wrote those letters and I was feeling pretty good about myself. He was right. It was a huge release to do it. 
     So, when I met up with him (after he'd printed out and read the letters), I was feeling good. I wasn't feeling emotional. We met in the middle of his restaurant prior to the opening. No problem. Just a casual chat about what I'd written. Somewhere in there, the tables turned. I'm not sure what happened but suddenly I was crying. In the middle of a restaurant. That had opened. Swell. 
     Like I said, I'm not even sure where it started. I know I was already upset (internally) because of a couple things I'll touch on later. Somehow we got on the subject (that I was upset about) and then I was gone. 
     Okay, fine. I'll just tell you now. It would make more sense if I do, right? When I was twenty, I got married. I'm pretty sure I've told this story before. Anyway, I got married, had two kids, and got divorced all in about 6 years. Here's what happens when you get divorced when you have little kids. It becomes a game of visitation. It's bad enough when your kids are little (which is why I'm a huge advocate for not getting divorced, especially when your kids are little), but then they grow up, get married, and have kids of their own. And the visitation competition continues.
     It's not bad if your adult child lives out of town. It IS bad if you don't have money to fly out and visit all of the time (or more than once a year). It becomes worse when they come to town and they have to split their time between you and your former spouse. 
     And grandchild birthdays. My grandson turns two this year, right after Christmas. I don't have a lot of family living here in town. Just me and my sons. No reason to have a big birthday party. Nobody to invite. My ex and his wife, on the other hand, have tons of family to invite. Am I jealous? Of course. It's probably dumb. My grandson has no idea that a big birthday is important because it's not. It's not at all. And it's dumb for me to be jealous or upset or whatever. That cute little kid won't care. It's a cake and balloons and a ton of people singing Happy Birthday. And he won't have any idea what it all means. He's 2. 
     Look what talking it out with all of you has done for me. I'll throw that cute kid a party for just me and my sons and whomever shows up. We'll have cake and ice cream and presents and it will just be a celebration. And it doesn't even have to be on his birthday. Because he's 2 and he won't know the difference. That's awesome. I'm good now. Moving on.
     So, because that day I was upset about this particular issue, it brought up regrets. Regrets are a bag of crap that you drag around you like a horrible weight and they don't matter because they are in the past. Yes, I get that. I told my life coach I hang onto my "regrets" because they remind me to not do it again. Right? Isn't that what they do? Well, no. I really don't think they do. Have I learned enough from past mistakes to never do them again? Nope. I can say that I have not. Sadly, I have not. Why? Shoot. I don't know. I'm dumb. I'm human. Bad judgment. It's all dumb. 
     And this is when he told me I had to forgive myself. FORGIVE MYSELF? Are you serious? Yes, your 20 year old self (20-25) was young and she made mistakes. Forgive her. And that was the final blow. Why can't I forgive her? She made a buttload of mistakes (yes. A buttload). She left her two little boys behind to go after what SHE wanted. Would she have done it when she was older? No, she would not have. She got remarried when she was 27 and had two more kids. And she could never imagine leaving her kids behind. She would not have done at 27 what she did when she was 23 or 24 or 25. Sadly, two to four years made that much of a difference. 
     SO, why was she so dumb at that age? Why did she make those mistakes? I look at my children. My daughter is 23, the year I made my first HUGE life changing error. She's making her own choices, and a lot of them I don't agree with. BUT, do I hold a grudge against her? Nope. Not a one. I have talked to her about paying attention to my past mistakes and learn from them but she wants to live her life, experience what she is going to experience, and make her own mistakes. And there is nothing I can do about it. She will learn on her own. Should she know better? Of course. She's not dumb. She's young.
     My youngest is 21. He's a funny kid. He has made many mistakes and I just shake my head. Do I hold a grudge against him? Nope. He's young. He won't always make these mistakes. He'll grow up and he'll learn and chances are he won't make the same mistakes when he's older. 
     My mom doesn't hold my past mistakes against me even though I screwed up more than once. She just kept loving me. I KNOW I hurt her many times over. I know she was worried about me. I know she was disappointed in me. But she's still here. She still loves me. She has thanked me for being me. Do I think she'd do that if she was ashamed of me? Nope. 
     SO, the magic question is "Why do I continue to feel ashamed of the girl I was 30 years ago?" You tell me. It's dumb, right? 
     That young girl made me who I am today. She was funny, cute, sweet, loving, kind, and slightly messed up. But I DID in fact learn from it. There are many things I don't do now that I did then. I am kinder, more loving, honest, more thoughtful, more sweet, (still cute), selfless, and I've turned into a caregiver because of her. She was self-centered. I am not. (atleast I hope I'm not). She walked away from her children when they needed her. I would never do that. Just ask my kids. 
     She just did what she knew to do. She was young. She was dumb. She was probably lost. She was undoubtedly REALLY lost. Poor thing. 
     What would I tell her if I could have met her and talked to her? 
    

   Everything is going to be awesome. 

     Four gorgeous kids, an adorable little grandson who will crack you up all the time. Life will be incredible. You'll get to travel, and live in five different states, and spend time with family, and go to college for Heaven's sake! And paint, and teach, and meet lots of really wonderful people. And make lots of really great friends. And you'll love. Love A LOT. And you will eventually find forever love. I haven't yet, of course. Not forever love. But eventually you will. I will. Your heart will be broken many times. You will cry a lot. You'll be sad. There will be loss. But you will become a survivor. All of this crap you go through will make you stronger. Make you more loving. You will make a difference in someone's life. And your children will love you. 
     And I would hug her for a really long time and we would cry together because we understand eachother, and what we have gone through and what we will go through. Then we'd laugh because we'd be all embarrassed over the fact that we were crying. 
     And then we'd sit down, crack open a Diet Coke and some peanut M&Ms and I'd tell her about her children. And her grandson. It would be amazing. 
     SO, have I forgiven my twenty-something year old self? 

                                   Yes, I have. 

Epiphany

     I started "seeing" a life coach last week. It was just one of those random moments when you are talking to someone you've known for over a year, assuming you know them pretty well, and then discovering something about them you never even guessed. One of my (what I thought) dear friends and I were chatting online one day and he started to ask me how I was doing. It was one of those low days I've had lately and I couldn't hide my mood. That's when he told me he wanted to help me. Suddenly he's telling me that he's a life coach and he has been for almost ten years. I had no idea. This guy owns my favorite pizza place (authentic Italian, no less) and dabbles in several different businesses. I never thought this was one of them. Next thing I know, I have an appointment with him that afternoon. 

     It's awkward to sit down with a friend and tell them your deepest, darkest secrets and fears, especially in person. I know. If they are really your friend, it isn't awkward. So, I guess he wasn't my "friend." He was someone I admired, loved and liked to be around but I never showed him my "real self." I showed him my happy self, the one most people actually see. He never heard about my vulnerable side. I never let him see that. I let very few people see that. I don't like whining and I don't like talking about my problems (even though I really don't have any problems). You understand, right? This blog, right here, is where I put my thoughts, my hurts, my dreams. Everything. I share it with you, dear strangers because I do not fear your judgment, and you are not going to tell me to snap out of it, right? You just read and move on. 

     Not this guy. I thought he'd be more gentle in his approach to me exposing myself. Instead he has become one of those people that just doesn't put up with my crap. I love those people. They make me think.

     So, my first week in a five week plan is to write letters to those I feel have hurt me in some way. 

And apologize. 

Wait. 

You want me to what, exactly? 

      Apologize.  

     Apologize for expecting them to be more than they were. Expecting my dad to be the 60s/70s TV dad I always wanted. Expecting my ex-husband to be a great father, be honest, and want me more than he wanted pornography. Expecting my ex-boyfriend to control his temper. 

     I cannot expect people to be someone more than they actually are. Wow.

     Apologizing to them releases their bond over me and stops me from being the "victim." Playing the victim card.
Blaming them for who I am, or how I feel about myself today. 

Easier said than done.

Or is it?

     So, the other night when I couldn't sleep, I wrote a letter to my dad. Just on my phone. In the dark. While my mom slept in the other bed in our hotel room. I told him that I knew that he had always loved me, I knew that no matter what words he used to upset me, not matter how he treated me when I was growing up, I always knew that he loved me. And I knew that Heavenly Father loved me, so it shouldn't make any difference what words my father used, I should have always known otherwise. I should have always known. 

So, why didn't  I? 

     I chose to listen to what was being said to me. I interpreted what my dad was telling me as "I don't love you," or "You are unloveable." He never said those words. Not in my entire life. He never told me that I was stupid, or ugly, or fat, or unloved. He may have said things in anger, or even just without thinking, but he never said anything I should have interpreted as being unloved. 

    I keep a lot of motivational (feel good) thoughts that I find on the internet, or they just happen to wend their way through my Facebook page. I save them for later use, share them with my friends, or I think they might inspire me later. Yesterday, when I was struggling with "apologizing" to those who hurt me, I came across this:

Number 4 is the one that hit me. 

"4. Where did we get the idea that if we don't forgive people, they suffer?"

Exactly.

Where did we ever get that idea?
How does holding a grudge against someone hurt THEIR feelings? 
And then I felt peace. Seriously. 
A really calm feeling came over me. 
The calm feeling I get when Heavenly Father speaks to me and tells me that whatever I'm doing, whatever I'm thinking, is right.

    And I "got" it. 

     The rest of "Happiness in a Nutshell" is also great and something I want/need to remember. It's all true. 

     I think I passed the test for week number 1 of my 5 week lesson on loving/healing myself. I have a feeling it's only going to get harder as the weeks go on. It may take me 5 days every week to actually understand what my life coach is trying to teach me, but 5 days is better than continuing to beat myself up over something that never actually happened. 

     It's okay. I got this.







    

Attraversiamo

 


One of my favorite authors is Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love. I've always felt a connection with her books. She sometimes writes as though she is in my head, and sometimes she says exactly what I need to hear. This was one of those days (I stole it off of Facebook).

Word of the day...

Oops, I mean: WORD OF THE LIFETIME.

Dear Ones,

A sweet reader named Jackie painted this for me, gave it to me the other night at my event in Cleveland. I love it and I will keep it always.

Readers of EAT PRAY LOVE will remember this as the last word in the book. Italian for "let's cross over" — the most elegant way I can imagine to remind myself to let it go, to put it all behind you, to face the future rather than dwelling in the past, to stand up and try again.

Another way to say it, I just realized, could be: ONWARD — my other favorite word.

Today, let's share some stories of crossing over.

I will start with one from me. Lately I've been really showing up for my work on processing forgiveness. Much of this is inspired by having met Iyanla Vanzant, whose e-course on forgiveness I've been taking all month. 

I had no idea how much work I had to do on this subject, y'all. I mean, I knew I had some garbage in my heart and mind, but I hadn't realized just how MUCH resentment I was carrying around still. As I've done my work on this, I've discovered that what lurks at the very deepest bottom of all my old resentments is usually nothing but a pile of my own shame. (Shame for my own failed relationships, shame for having been stupid or a sucker, shame for my own inadequacies and mediocrity, shame for not having handled things better, shame for still holding on to ancient anger, etc.) 

And instead of trying to force all of those negative feelings out of me (I've never had any luck forcing negative feelings out of me...How 'bout you?)I've been making all kinds of interior space to allow those feelings to be revealed, to give them space to breathe, to accept them as human, and to forgive myself for all my own perceived faults and shortcomings. 

In other words, all my work on forgiving others has unexpectedly turned into a giant exercise of self-empathy. 

Which has, by accidental extension, turned into an exercise in feeling greater empathy for everybody else, as well...stuck as we all are in these crazy-town human minds. 

Which has, ultimately, led to a great and sudden diminishing of old resentments.

Which does, in fact, feel like crossing over.

So that's been nice. (TO SAY THE LEAST.) And I'm grateful. Because, like you, all I ever want is to be more free.

So what about you?

How have you been crossing over lately? Let's share some stories of liberation and its rewards.

And, of course, ATTRAVERSIAMO!
LG

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