From Suspicion to Surrender

When I’m in a really good place, I try to relish it because I feel like it means I’m in a glorious resting period—that peace and calm that comes just before I am stretched again by the next storm of my life.

But that’s really just a sugar-coated way of saying that I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And that makes life black and white— either good or bad. And life isn’t like that. It just doesn’t work that way. Life is full of gray area. Life is full of color, too, and to siphon living into black or white is so limiting… so small.

And I don’t want to live like that anymore, where I’m waiting for the next bad thing to happen because—after all—it’s bound to.

That’s not living in the moment. In fact, it’s anything but. It’s like sleeping with one eye open, or with a gun under my pillow.

I end up feeling a little suspicious of every good thing that happens to me, as if I don’t really deserve good things, or as if bad things are my penance for living a good life.

That means I’m just limping through life… or worse—Army-crawling on all fours, under imaginary barbed wire, across imaginary enemy lines.

I make things harder than they have to be, and harder than they actually are, all because I'm trying to stay in control. Always suspicious, always on guard, always considering and calculating who’s going to wrong me next, or what awful thing is going to happen next, or what my next move will be—

Instead of letting go, living in the moment, and standing tall through those moments when life is really hard.

I should note that I’m so much better about living in the moment than I used to be.

I slip up, though. And, still, whenever something deeply wonder-full comes my way, that question hangs in the back of my mind:

Shit. What’s next?

A slight sense of dread, clouding beautiful moments in my life. How ugly… how utterly sad.

The beauty of constant growth is—now that I am aware, I have something pretty specific to work on.

Apparently my current, ongoing mission is to let go of control.

There’s a word for that, ya know. I’ve mentioned it very recently and alluded to just how difficult it is for me to do.

Yup…

Surrender.

Slaying the Grief Beast

So, based on my last post, where I said I was going to be more real and authentic in my blog—all I can say is… here I go. Melissa helped give me the courage, because she is so honest and real in her writing… she doesn’t hide, and, you know… I think that’s a good policy.

The reality of my life is that I’m getting divorced.

At the moment, I actually feel okay about it. It’s not like these things happen overnight… the decision came after years of serious consideration. And I don’t want to go into details, because that isn’t fair to him, or to me. But, suffice it to say, this year has been a rough one in countless ways.

Grieving my marriage also caused a lot of other things to spring up and slap me in the face… things I’d never dealt with. A litany of choices, events, and traumatic experiences have come back to haunt me in ways I never expected.

Big things, like the death of my grandmother.

I thought I had grieved her death, but what I’d actually done is shut out all feelings I had associated with her: the good, the bad, the indifferent. I hadn’t actually grieved her passing, though.

She was a special woman in my life. A beacon of light, a pillar of strength, and the tallest five-foot-two-inch woman I’ve ever known.

And by denying all of my feelings about her death, I also denied her importance in my life.

I’ve been through a lot over the past six months, but I’ve turned a corner, and I’m on my way up. Looking at my life, and all the choices I’ve made that have led me to where I am right now, I realized that my grandmother is not only with me in spirit—she’s in my blood. The decisive, action- and results-oriented parts of me, the bold woman who travels by herself without giving it a second thought, the fearlessness I’ve recently re-discovered… those parts all come straight from Bessie Pauline Freeman Johnson.

Realizing this gave me a breath of new life. I don’t worry about missing her anymore, because I know she is within me. She is here whenever I need her, in my heart, in my veins, in my very cell structure, helping me make tough decisions and get on with living my life.

But it’s not just about moving on.

Grief is about honoring the pain, and allowing feelings to rise to the surface and be. And somehow, I have found the courage to do just that.

I’ve cried in more places than I ever thought possible: on the public benches of Kennebunkport, Maine; in Rockefeller Center, New York City; in Starbucks; on the subway; in a bead shop; in Times Square; in the privacy of my own home; in so many other places…

The tears have come,

in the most unexpected moments,

in the most unexpected ways,

the tears have come,

and they’ve shocked me into submission every time.

And I’ve written every day. I’ve written in a paper journal since I was 9 years old, but this is different—in September, I committed to write in my paper journal every single day through the end of 2010.

I’m on my fourth journal since making that commitment. Apparently I have a lot to say!

But, doing that writing has helped me so much. Sometimes, it’s helped me shake something lose that I’d been picking at in my mind for ages, but until I wrote it down, it didn’t quite make sense.

Sometimes, writing has helped me capture memories, and other times, it’s just a daily record.

And it’s all been part of my bizarre, lonely, twisted path of grief. I have been walking through it, for the first time in my entire life, actually dealing with all the things I’ve never grieved.

Grief is a strange thing, and I don’t really understand it. It is an odd and shocking beast. The only way to slay it, it seems, is with a tiny, inadequate sword, one slice at a time. It takes too long, it’s arduous, the beast keeps coming back for another round, mutating in places where you’ve made progress… it’s elusive, hiding in dark shadows and broad daylight.

I think that if you’re exhausted, all the time, then you’re probably slaying the Grief Beast properly. That is to say, you’re creating room in your heart for the good things that come after.

And that’s important, because there are many good things that come after a time of grief… and they deserve to be received with an open heart.

And my heart is open wide, for the first time in many, many years.

You know… it really is a remarkable thing to be human. The capacity to laugh, to cry, to feel such deep and intense emotions—and, when sunk at the bottom of the pit of despair, something simple and honest and real can be just the impetus for a hearty laugh that instantly transports you back to normalcy.

Being human is a treasure. Not always a pleasure, but always a very special privilege.

I am privileged to be me, right here, in this moment.

I am right where I need to be.

The Only Constant in Life? Change...

I have a few things to talk about today, and a few pictures to show you. Ready?


First... my sale is still going strong. I've even posted a few new things... so please do check it out. At 20% off everything in the shop, it's really hard to go wrong. 


Second... I've made a necklace for myself. Yup, another one. It features some of the most gorgeous rainbow moonstone I've ever seen, including a really large teardrop briolette that I've coveted for myself for ages, now. I finally made the necklace that's been sitting in my head for a long time.

What do you think? I like that I can remove the pendant at the bottom easily enough and put something else there, or, depending on the neckline of what I'm wearing, leave the hook empty. I could see some yummy larimar hanging from that hook, though... mmm...

I'm really getting into hammering wire and texturing the heck out of it. I love the look. And it's really fun! 


Now... the next thing is that my friend Sarah has opened a new Etsy shop for her jewelry. I can't say I'm surprised, since she's been making jewelry for a little while now. But have you seen her latest jewelry? It rivals any of the best jewelry I've seen. She's really upped the ante on her work by learning to work with wire. She's really making it work for her... in very cool ways. 


To say I'm a little intimidated would be an understatement. I mean, why would anyone want to buy anything from me anymore... when you can buy Sarah's amazing beads in her own amazing jewelry? C'mon, now, go check it out!


I'm going through some changes right now, and change is hard. My confidence has been knocked around a bit, and I'm trying to find my footing. 


One of the things I'm changing is my jewelry. I'm pushing myself to come up with more and more unique designs... because, let's face it. A few years ago, nobody was making jewelry that was quite like mine. Now, I see jewelry just like mine everywhere I go... except that now I consistently see jewelry that's far more inventive, clever, amazing, and beautiful than mine.


Part of the reason? Those jewelry artists have more time than I do. 


I work full time, so any time I get to devote to creating is at night, when I'm already tired from the day, or during the weekend, when I'm also trying to cram in errands, time with friends, and chores like laundry. There isn't much I can do about it at this point, but it really leaves me feeling a bit lost as an artist. 


I almost feel like there's nothing original anymore... so what's the point in even trying to be different? 


That's not a good place to be in when you're an artist.


I'm working through that, and also working through all the other crap I'm going through (because losing my identity as an artist just isn't enough), so that's one of the reasons why I've been so quiet.


I'll end on a good note, though.


I've managed to lose 31 pounds, and if I keep it going at the pace I've established over the last few months, I'll reach my original goal weight by the end of January 2011. That's very encouraging!


Here's a photo I snapped this morning. 

I can see how my face is thinner... and though I still have a long way to go, I'm very, very motivated. It's one of the best things in my life at the moment, and I'm clinging very tightly to that...

My Personal Food Revolution

When I was a little girl, and even into high school and college, I loved having my picture taken. I used to joke that I looked better in pictures than I did in person.

But some time in the past few years, I became camera shy.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but it all stemmed from seeing recent-ish pictures of myself and wanting to puke. I don't feel that fat. I don't feel any more fat than I have ever been. And stepping on the scale (as of 6 weeks ago), I was actually the same weight I've been for years.

I'm talking 10 years of a consistent weight... and I'm still 15 pounds less than my fattest (which happened at a particularly bad stretch within that 10 yrs).

Yet, when I look at pictures, everything looks saggy and puffy and ICKY. When did I start to sag this much? When did all my fat bits gather together in one spot or several pronounced spots like they have now? It made me feel very self-conscious, because I don't feel fat (how is a fat person supposed to feel, anyway?).

I feel like I've always felt, except that I'm happy. The pictures I take of myself reflect that happy inner me, because I can manage to take pictures that avoid highlighting the fatty saggy bits.

But seeing pictures that other people have taken of me, I felt so sad. The pretty, vivacious, fun me wasn’t being captured. All I could see was the fat that I could hardly even believe was actually there.

So... I felt motivated to do something about it.

Six weeks ago, I radically changed my eating habits.

And in that amount of time, I’ve lost 15 pounds.

FIFTEEN POUNDS, people.

This isn’t the first time I’ve worked to lose weight. I lost 30 pounds before Brett and I got married back in 2003, but I was still doing it the wrong way, which at the time meant Slim Fast shakes and basically starving myself. Well, sure, it worked, and I had to have my dress altered like whoa, because the thing was falling off of me. But as soon as the wedding was over, I started eating again and porked right back out.

I’ve done the Slim Fast things many times in the past, usually in a nearly futile effort to gain momentum and motivation for more weight loss.

Not surprisingly, it never worked.

This time is all different. Something inside of me clicked, like flipping on a light switch. It’s truly a lifestyle change. I’ve known this on a cognitive level for years, but it’s different when that cognition moves to coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming and empowering and suddenly, I can’t wait to act on it.

It’s all about choices. And sometimes, each bite is a choice.

Do I really need this bite, or do I just want it? 


Or is it that I just feel obligated to eat it, because it’s there, and somewhere in the very dark recesses of my mind, there’s a tape playing that says, “Clean your plate!”?

Just like choosing to have a good day, instead of waiting for the fates to bestow a good day upon me, I have the power to choose to eat good things instead of eating by default.

It’s not a diet, it’s an entirely different way of thinking about food.

Now, I think about what’s going to be good for my body. I think about what I’ve eaten in a week to determine whether or not I can indulge in one of my many sweet tooth desires, like ice cream, chocolate, and other ridiculously rich and chocolately desserts.

I am allowing myself to have a special treat about twice a week.

And I have less of it.

If it’s a piece of pie, it’s a small piece. If it’s a bowl of ice cream, it’s less than a scoop instead of filled to the brim.

I’m finding that not only do I look forward to my treat… I savor the treat even more. I’m still allowing myself to have it—so it’s not deprivation, but I’m having markedly less in both quantity and frequency.

And it’s working!

As for meals, I’m thinking about food as to how it’s going to treat my body. Will it treat my body well, or will I pay for it later with indigestion and stomach pains, feeling crappy and having no energy, and ultimately weight gain?

Here’s an example.

I hadn’t eaten fried food in weeks, and I decided to have fish and chips as an indulgence meal. I really enjoyed that meal, but later?

I got sick.

My body had so quickly become used to fresh, healthy food that it really hated the fried dinner.

Lesson learned! I won’t do that again.

Much of the time, I’m finding that giving in to an impulsive indulgence really isn’t worth it. Eating a cookie here and there isn’t going to be the end of me… but making the distance between “here” and “there” longer will make me feel happier and healthier and better.

What’s more, I’m learning the power of saying no. Passing up something like generic birthday cake at the office actually feels good, because I’m winning a battle my brain is trying to fight against me. And those kinds of triumphs are really hard to articulate, but it’s akin to getting a parking spot in the front row at the store when it’s raining cats and dogs and you don’t have your umbrella.

It’s a small and simple thing that just feels good.

The moral of the story? It’s an ongoing story, and I’m learning along the way.

The point is, I don’t have a set destination. The word ‘diet’ isn’t even in my vocabulary. I don’t have a certain number of pounds in mind to lose. BMI is a number on someone else’s radar—not mine! All I know is that I want to feel and look better. I want to continue to have more energy. I want to give my body good things to keep it strong and happy and healthy.

And as long as I’m going about this the right way for me, I absolutely can’t go wrong.

And soon, I won’t be so camera shy. I’ll be begging folks to take my picture.

Curve Ball

Life throws curve balls.

Sometimes, it seems that just when my feet are solidly planted under me, life throws a curve ball that throws me off balance again.

I mentioned that the past couple of years have been chock full of challenge. Apparently 2010 doesn’t want to be left out of that party.

Last week, my husband’s uncle passed away of cancer. He was diagnosed in May 2009, and between that time and last Tuesday, he truly fought the good fight, with his sweet and caring wife of 45 years beside him.

But, the cancer was aggressive and continued to gain momentum. It metastasized and spread to his brain around Christmas time.

His memorial service was so touching and full of love, and it sent me reeling into a deep pool of thought about what’s really important in life, and who is really important in my life, and what I want to make of my life on this earth. The words that his sons shared reached into my heart and squeezed it hard.

Would anyone be able to say things like that about me?

Who would I say things like that about?

And then I had to go out of town again.

No time to process…

Sometime between last week and this week, my husband bought a newer car. His had started veering towards the unreliable end of the spectrum, it had high miles, and because his job includes spending 8-10 hours a day driving around town… it needed an upgrade. So, he bought a newer version of his Envoy and immediately fell in love with it. He found one with low miles and some nice upgrades to what he had before.

A good thing, right? We were both happy, and he was excited to have made this decision.

Then, this afternoon, as I wrapped up my work for the day and searched for an earlier flight home (I’m in Atlanta as I write this), I get a text that says, “Call me when you have time to talk.”

Usually when hubby sends me something like that, it’s not great news.

I picked up the phone immediately, and the news that greeted me knocked the wind out of me.

He’d been let go from his job.

The job that he’d worked so hard to get.

The job that, a mere 8 months ago, had finally rescued us from a year and a half of unemployment.

It just…

I am baffled.

The good, lucky thing is that the bank loan hadn’t yet been processed for the new car (though the transaction happened five days before), so he took it back as soon as he got the news. Remarkably, they also still had his car, so they pulled the deal and he drove home in his stinky old Envoy.

So, at least we have two clear-title cars. This is a good thing… less to worry about.

We’ll be okay.

We always are.

I know that this means something better, more fitting, and more wonderful is on the horizon. I get that, and I have faith.

But in this moment…

I am crushed.

On Connection and Friendship

Subtitle: An Awkward Post About Being Awkward


I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, and to be perfectly honest—I have struggled to stay positive.

I’ve been looking at the mirrors pointing within, and at the moment I find it hard to completely like what I see.

Normally, I’m a happy-go-lucky, laid-back, easily pleased and easily amused woman. I’m caring, and I have a genuine interest in people.

But I long for deep, intimate connection.

I have a deep connection with my husband. I thought about this yesterday, actually—he knows me so well, so thoroughly, that we can literally exchange one look and have a whole conversation. We can talk about hard things and push through difficult issues and come out on the other side of it feeling closer and happier.

My closest friend is another I am strongly connected to. She often articulates what I feel before I can, and we can honestly share anything with each other.


Another close friend is someone I haven't seen in almost two years, but in spite of that, we maintain a close, loving friendship. 


(In fact, I have lots of good out-of-state friends. When we get together, it's as if we were never apart. But it's difficult to maintain that level of intimacy when you see each other once every year or three.)

Those are the only people on the planet who truly get me… the whole me, not just the online side, the Pathways side, the professional side, the everyday side... 

And while I feel truly lucky to have the friends I have, I'd really like to expand that circle of face-to-face friends. I’m searching for deep, ongoing connection with one or two (female) friends. I’ve had it before, with several people, and when we share a moment—it’s truly amazing. The caveat is, I’m a face-to-face type of woman. Connecting face-to-face is exponentially more powerful and meaningful to me than connecting over the phone, through email, or through any other route.

And I’m pretty good at it, too. It’s easy to do whatever’s right in front of my face.

The problem is layered. First...

Follow through.

I get busy. I forget. I think about calling at 11pm, when it’s just not nice to call. And then more time passes, and I feel like an idiot for responding to something or someone a month after the fact.

And I feel horrible about it.

And, while we’re at it—let’s add a few other layers to the puzzle. Because quite frankly, if follow through was the worst of my problems, I think this friend thing would be a lot easier.

I’m awkward when I’m first getting to know someone. Perhaps we’ve had a connection, or perhaps we’ve shared a moment and I think there’s a potential there for us to be good friends.

I am also not a small-talker. I have a hard time having short or less-than-deep conversations with people—especially when we’ve shared an intimate connection at some point.

(That’s not to say I’m all serious. I’m not. In fact, if you see my silly and funny side, that means I trust you.)

When I’ve shared intimacy and depth with someone, I don’t know what to talk about that isn’t intimate and deep. So, I feel awkward, and I act awkward.

And I have a pretty strong feeling that that’s off-putting. It makes the other person feel awkward, and then if we don’t talk about how awkward it is, it’s difficult to push through.

I also tend to act awkward because I struggle with trust—trusting that this person I’m trying to get to know better won’t leave me in the dust. It’s happened before, many times… the worst being my “best friend” from junior high all the way through college up and telling me one day that she never wanted to speak to me again. There were many issues in our relationship, and we had been growing apart over time, but still—it hurt.

Badly.

Deeply.

And for many years after it happened, I wasn’t able to trust any new friend. When she told me off that day, it felt like a divorce. We were fiercely close friends for over 10 years, and the sense of loss was overwhelming.

I don’t ever want to go through it again.

And, let’s add another layer, shall we?

If I have an interaction that doesn’t feel quite right, or if something happens where I end up feeling rejected, I create a lot of judgments about it. Maybe I don’t have to explain this, now that you know about the friend who dumped me, but I tread so carefully—walking on eggshells—because I don’t want to screw up. I don’t want to drive the other person away. I don’t want to demand too much. I don’t want to lose the potential gift of an intimate friendship.

Let me give you a situational example to illustrate...

I call or email Potential Friend A (PFA), leaving some sort of indication that I’d like to get together with her.

I know there’s been some interest in becoming closer friends in the past, so I’m confused when PFA doesn’t return the call or email (or both).

Out of defensiveness, and out of the semi-automatic leap my brain makes to she’s rejected you!, I start to form some pretty harsh judgments, like:

• She doesn’t want to be my friend.
• She doesn’t care.
• She doesn’t like me after all.

And then I turn the judgments on myself:

• I’m not good enough to be her friend.
• I don’t matter to her.
• I’ve been rejected again.

Ridiculous, right? Instead of just following up, and asking a simple question, and keeping the situation simple… I make it infinitely more complicated, so that by the time I actually talk to PFA again, I’m coming from such a place of insecurity that I’m even more awkward than before.

The real irony of all my behavior and the underlying feelings and fears driving my behavior is that they are denying me of the things I really want. And boy, does that suck to realize…

Of course now that I know it, I can work to change it. 


That's the beauty of life, and of working through something hard. 


It's a choice. 

Growth Spurt

"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."

--Anais Nin

Lately I feel like I’ve been too focused on where I come up short.

That’s a long measuring stick, I tell ya.

So, today, I’d like to tell you that I am growing. Anytime I feel too comfortable with the way I feel and where I am in life, I know a growth spurt is coming. I brace myself, yes—but I’m never quite ready for that wave of reality holding the mirror up, nose to nose, and it blows me over every time.

But, I get up.

I keep getting up.

And I keep dusting myself off.

And I keep learning.

I’m not sure where this journey is taking me, but with each growth spurt, I gain a little more insight, and in the end, my light shines brighter than I ever thought it could.

I’m in the middle of a growth spurt right now, in case you were wondering.

If I have a grand and picturesque image of what I’ve learned once I’m on the other side, I’ll be sure to share.

Chances are, though, the main lesson is to stop thinking so dang much and live my life. My ratio of thinking to doing has gone a bit out of whack here lately—I was sick for about 3 weeks, and I think that was a big catalyst, because my body forced me to slow down, but my brain didn’t slow down accordingly. I got to thinking too much, and, well—

Here I am.

It’s difficult for me to have compassion towards people who complain about things in their life, and then refuse to actually do anything to change those circumstances. 

I think it bothers me so much because I used to be like that.

But, I am learning each day that compassion for others, and above all—for myself, is a treasured gift, and you never know when that compassion will open someone’s eyes to a turning point in their heart.

“Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself. Do not be disturbed because of your imperfections, and always rise up bravely from a fall. Daily make a new beginning; there is no better means of progress in the spiritual life then to be continually beginning afresh, and never to think that we have done enough.”

-- Francis de Sales

Respect, Acceptance, and Rejection

A few things have happened recently to make me realize that sometimes, I’m a disrespectful ass.

I’ve spent so much time in my life trying to shape my behavior based on what I think other people think about me (see ‘rejection’ tag on this blog), because I wanted so badly to be accepted.

So, when I started to break free from that, and from those hefty chains, I noticed a bit of a swing in the opposite direction: not worrying one bit about how my actions or words affected others, or might come across.

As you might expect, there’s a little bit of backlash to that, especially since I’m still relatively new at this ‘expressing myself’ thing. I’m bound to make mistakes.

I think this issue is two-fold. I’ll attempt to explain…

Issue 1:

Let’s take one of the bad habits I’m trying to break, like being late all the time.

I’ve struggled a lot with being late. All of my friends know that they can expect me to be anywhere from 5-15 minutes late to an in-person meeting.

For some reason, it’s a huge issue for me to be on time, let alone early. I always think I can squeeze in just one more thing before I need to leave. Or, I oversleep or take too long of a shower, and as a result, I’m running late from the get-go. The worst is when I get distracted (oo! shiny!) and lose track of time. I am ADD, after all, and this is one area where I haven't coped well with ADD at all.

I’ve been written up in previous jobs for being late. I’ve been “talked to” about it by other employers.

(I’m fortunate now that my current position doesn’t rely heavily on being in to the office at a specific time. I appreciate that flexibility.)

This is a pretty significant nemesis for me, especially since one of the most important things in my life is volunteering for an organization where the sessions I help with are tightly time-bound. In this realm, I’m actually pretty good about being on time. I slip up now and then, but in the overall scheme of things, I do better about being on time for these sessions than I am for anything else in my life.

And being on time takes a lot of preparation on my part. I pick out my outfit the night before. I get my breakfast ready, waiting right by my purse so it's easy to grab. I get my vitamins packed in my purse. My car keys are actually hooked onto my purse, so I always know where they are. The shoes I’m going to wear are right by the door. Everything is all set so that all I have to do is get up, get ready, and go. In other words, I don’t have to think.

That’s how significant it is. It’s engrained. It’s a problem I’ve struggled with my entire LIFE. So, breaking this cycle isn’t going to be easy.

So, it really stings when it’s brought to my attention that being late is still a big problem. I’m so eager to pat myself on the back for being on time “most” of the time, that I let myself off the hook for the times I’m “only” a few minutes late.

From someone else's perspective, I'm certain that being late reflects poorly on my character. It's disrespectful. It says to the other person or group, "You don't matter as much as I do." 

So, the first issue, in a nutshell: I’ve got a bad habit of some sort that I hate working on, and maybe I’m not even sure how to tackle it. I’m far from an organized person, and the universe has already revealed to me that organization is my priority this year. So, I have a lot of judgments wrapped up around how to work on this habit, how hard it is to break this habit and form a new one in its place, etc.

Basically, I criticize myself so much for having this bad habit that anytime someone else brings it up, it feels like I’m looking at an ugly monster.

Issue 2:

I immediately form judgments about the person who’s on the receiving end of whatever my bad habit is.

The hard truth?

It releases me from accountability, and it helps me justify my feelings. I make myself pay for it in the quiet recesses of my mind and heart, but man it looks ugly when other people see it.

So, for example, when I sent an email to a random person (see previous entry) and got no response… how many judgments were wrapped up in what I posted there? Instead of accepting the situation at face value and assuming it had nothing to do with me, I assumed it had everything to do with me, and I reacted accordingly.

How immature is that?

(Um, that’s a rhetorical question.)

Also, how arrogant is that, to assume that I am the one causing someone else’s universe to be out of whack?

So, these are significant problems. The nice thing is that they’re not as huge as the problems I used to have. Not nearly. But it’s something I’m working on.

I ask for patience and compassion from my friends. 

It’s really weird how rejection/acceptance issues manifest in other ways in my life…

Dear Internet...

You know what?

I’m frustrated.

Frustrated may not even cover it, really, but I’ll leave it at just frustrated for now.

This online thing is so annoying at times. Annoying, because I occasionally come across someone who intrigues me—whether it’s with what they say, what they do (jewelry, or mixed media art, or whatever)… or maybe even that through a friend, I’ve discovered someone who lives near me.

So, I do what I want to do, which is reach out and attempt to make a connection.

I have two examples of this. And I’m not even going to bother worrying what they’ll think if they ever see this post, because chances are, they won’t. And if they do, maybe they’ll see that I am a real person with real feelings.

(Or not.)

That isn’t the point, and I get tired of censoring myself for fear of offending “someone” when chances are, no one will be offended.

Example 1:

I saw an artist’s jewelry on the Etsy front page. It looked really different from my jewelry, but also really gorgeous. So, I clicked the photo. I was mystified at how beautiful her creations are, and I immediately felt inadequate, but I tried not to, because I’ve always said (and I firmly believe!) that there’s room for everyone.

There’s room for every type of jewelry designer imaginable. As long as someone makes something that someone else will buy or at least wear… there’s room.

So, I looked through all her designs. And fell in love.

(And if this weren’t a negative post, I would totally plug her jewelry here, for my half-dozen readers.)

But she does this one technique that I really would like to learn. I may never actually do it or find a way to incorporate it into my own designs (which, as I said, are VERY different from hers), but I sure would like to learn how to do it.

So, I went to her blog and left a comment on one of her posts, letting her know that I would love to learn that technique. Did she invent it, or did she learn it somewhere else? I couldn’t find an email address for her anywhere, or I would have emailed her instead. It felt weird to leave a random comment asking about a specific technique, but there you have it. I did.

I even specifically said that I would never copy what she does, because if she took all of two seconds to glance at my Etsy site, she would see that my jewelry is not and never will be anything like hers.

Several days later, I went back to her blog, wondering if she’d responded and I just didn’t get it in email.

The comment was gone.

Come ON.

Deleting a comment? That’s just crappy. I’m not a spammer blowing through a bunch of blogs trying to get free techniques. I was actually willing to pay to learn the technique.

It just left a bad taste in my mouth.

Trying to see this from what I perceive to be her perspective: I’m a weirdo who wants to learn a technique so I can steal her jewelry designs and make oodles of money?

Well, fine. I prefer to stick to communities like lampworkers, and like many other jewelry designers, who are perfectly willing to show you techniques they have learned or tips and tricks to working in the medium of choice. If you’re not willing to share a technique with me, whether for free or for a fee, then I don’t want to associate with you anyway, because while I’m incredibly selfish about some things, this isn’t one of them.

Example 2:

A long-time online friend of mine posted about a blog she’s been following. So, I went to the blog, too. And I saw that she lives in the same general vicinity that I do. I thought, “Hey! Small world!” because my online friend and I have never met in person (we live in different states), and what are the odds that I’m going to click on a random link and end up reading the blog of someone who lives in my back yard? Right?

Right?

So, I did what I consider to be the friendly thing and sent her an email. I told her where I was and said that I didn’t expect her to tell me, a complete stranger, where she lived exactly, but that I just wanted to say hello and that I liked her art.

No response.

Trying to see it from what I perceive to be her perspective: I’m a weirdo freak who wants to stalk her, she’s had bad experiences in the past after being too open and now doesn’t trust anyone on the internet…

It's also possible that she hasn't had time to respond. This happens to me, occasionally... I leave an email as unread, thinking I'll respond to it soon. "Soon" turns into next week, then next month...

But, I loathe being ignored. I'm trying to be better about responding to emails quickly, especially since I know how it feels to be on the waiting end.

Here are a few of my experiences:

• Back in my college days, I spent a lot of time on the internet, back when it was really turning into a time suck. I used PINE to “surf” until the AOL/Prodigy days. I spent a lot of time on a MUD/muck/mush called NAILS. I got to know people so well there, that when a meet-up was organized (long before the site meetup.com came into being), I went. Didn’t even give it a second thought. I’m still friends with some of those folks today. I even met a guy who eventually became my boyfriend.
• I dated online for years before it was acceptable to do so. I would meet a guy on matchmaker.com (and a quick Google shows that site does still exist), we’d talk on the phone for a few days, and then we’d meet. Now, I was kinda dumb about it at first, because invariably I’d have them pick me up where I lived. Little bit naïve, I admit… but I got lucky, and I ended up meeting some great people that way.
• I met my husband online. We met in 2001, on a dating website. We talked on the phone for several weeks, met up, and the rest is history.
• And, I’ve met countless friends online. Including a friend in New York. We were online friends for years. We exchanged postcards, letters, and even an occasional phone call. We sometimes send each other presents. So when she invited me to her wedding, I said, “Why not?” and I got on a plane and drove to her house and met her. Getting that first hug was like hugging an old friend I’ve hugged a thousand times. She turned out to be exactly who she presented herself as, and she said the same of me. (Hi P!)

It’s just not scary to me anymore. It’s no big deal. You meet in a public place, and if you don’t hit it off or if the other person is creepy, you move on.

I’ve heard horror stories, of course… people who go to great lengths to create online personas that end up being completely false. Even worse when others buy in to the persona and send gifts, invest lots of time and energy in the person, or worse—send them money. I’ve seen it happen before. Yikes.

The one stalker I’ve had in my lifetime happened during my college days, and we met face to face, so I can’t blame the internet for that one.

What I think it all boils down to, though, is that the two examples I mentioned of being ignored are forms of rejection.

And rejection is one of my biggest issues… even to this day. I hate the thought that someone doesn’t like me. I want everyone to like me, and I finally let myself off the hook for feeling this way. It’s just part of my personality.

I think if you could sit and have a cup of coffee with the people I’m closest with, they would tell you that I am worth knowing.

And, you know what?

I am.

2009: A Year in Review

Let’s face it. It’s been a rough year. For many… including us—it’s been a rough couple of years.

When we rang in 2009, we drank a bottle of champagne and literally grinned with joy and adulation because it wasn’t 2008 anymore. We didn’t think it could be “just as bad”; we didn’t think it could get “worse”. We were determined to make 2009 a better year.

The thing is… that’s easier said than done. My husband was still unemployed, and even though he’d gone through some pretty amazing changes in his attitude and the way he approached life and made choices (thanks to Pathways), we still had that money problem. He was still out of work, and the unemployment benefits were running out.

And worse, I was still a contractor at the time, and prospects for me were all but zero. I got a few weeks worth of work here and there, but the stretches in-between work were getting longer and longer.

Surely this can’t continue, we thought. We were so full of hope. Couldn’t that carry us through?

For a while, yes.

It’s hard to hold on to hope when you’re watching the bills pile up, and you can’t pay them. It’s hard to hold on to hope when you’ve already lost so much, and you’re afraid you don’t have much more to lose except yourself.

And that is never a good feeling.

Faith wanes, hope turns from bright pink to the palest, faintest brush stroke, and the black hole of despair grows wider and stronger. It longs to suck you in.

And it’s easy to disappear into that hole, too.

I should know. I’ve let it happen so many times before.

For some reason, this time was different. It was different because I was so incredibly determined to make it different. I was tired of letting the black hole win, and I knew I had to fight for what I wanted: security, stability, and maybe just a little bit of peace, and a whole lot of trust.

Trust in myself.

Certainly, things worth fighting for…

There comes a time, though, when you’re fighting to stay upright, fighting to maintain sanity, fighting just to continue moving forward, and it feels like you’re stuck in the mud. Like no matter how hard you fight, no matter how much determination you have… you’re still getting nowhere.

You know what that moment feels like, right?

I learned to do something different this year.

I learned to fight for what I believed in, and when it felt like the fight became impossible, instead of only hard, I did something that felt altogether foreign, yet magical.

I let go.

The first time I did it was in my job search. I did everything I knew to do. I emailed everyone I knew, including copies of mine and my husband’s resumes, asking for help.

I searched for jobs—full time, part time, temporary, contract, whatever—as many as I could. I applied to so many jobs that often by the time I’d get a call back, I forgot I’d even applied with that company.

I expanded my LinkedIn contacts. I networked with everyone I met, introducing myself and letting each person know what my skills were and what I could offer a company, in a casual and non-salesy way. (As an aside, this step alone is a huge move forward for me. I had no networking skills a few years ago. Not only was I shy, but I wasn’t sure what to say about myself. Once I realized just how powerful networking really is… I changed that!)

In the mean time, I also made jewelry and posted it regularly to my Etsy store, making sure to keep the postings consistent so I’d get more hits. My sales went up, which helped us some.

In other words, I fought hard for what I believed in: me.

I was determined to keep our home and at least one of our cars. I knew I’d do whatever I could to make sure that happened.

For a long, long time, I got nothing in return.

It felt like I was trying to climb up a never-ending wall. The fight had morphed from hard to impossible.

In the past, I would have felt desperate. This time, though… I had faith that everything would work out. I had no idea how, but I also realized that I didn’t have to know how.

In other words… I let go.

Sometime around then, we received a very unexpected gift: two nice men delivering four bags of groceries to our door.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more humble or thankful or human than I did when I answered the door and saw those two men.

And soon after that, I got a phone call. A fantastic woman I’d worked with a couple of years ago thought of me when a position came open in her group. We had become friends since then, and she remembered seeing my email asking for help. She thought I’d be a good fit.

She was right!

I started my job at the end of June, and a pretty magical thing happened.

After being unemployed for a year and a half… my husband got a job with a great little company in August.

And now? We’re still recovering from our long period of drought, but my level of stress and anxiety are back to normal. My blood pressure is back to normal, too.

And, thanks to Pathways and getting to be in the training room (as a trainee when I refreshed the last session of the training in August, as well as being a TA [training assistant] in April and October), I gained more and more faith and trust.

Faith in this life I’m leading… and faith in myself. Trust—which is a huge deal for me—trust in the process. The process of just about everything, honestly: learning to see myself as I am—a strong and good woman who has managed to not only survive but thrive despite going through so much, learning to stop discounting my talents and abilities and start giving myself a little more credit, and finally, trust that as long as I give it my all, and let go when it feels right to let go… that I will receive so many precious gifts!

And honestly… it could have been so much worse. We could have lost everything material. Which… while it wouldn’t have been the end of the world, it would have been much, much worse than what actually happened.

We could have lost our minds, or lost each other, or lost ourselves. We could have lost family or friends.

We lost nothing of the truly important stuff… but we did receive many precious, priceless gifts.

Dear 2009,

All in all, you were pretty good to us, albeit in a round about way. Thanks for being here, and for giving me so many chances to see and feel redemption, trust, and faith. Not to mention the value of letting go at just the right moment.

You taught me some valuable lessons that I’ll cherish from now on.

Best Wishes,
Linda Lee

How was 2009 for you?