Happy Birthday to Me

I think I'm ok with turning 37, even if it means I'm now in my "late 30s"... which makes me cringe a little.

But, I am healthier than I was at 27.

I am happier than I've ever been.

I have more love in my life than I ever imagined.

I finally work in just the right place for my personality, my skills, and my needs.

My life is decidedly not perfect—and I am recognizing it much faster when I fall back on that perfectionism mentality, too.

My life is quieter, slower, and calmer, and yet—filled with deeper connections, greater intimacy, and vulnerable authenticity.

Truly, I am blessed.

If you recall, my “theme” for 2012 is abundance. What I didn’t realize at first is that to welcome abundance in all its forms: love, money, blessings, health, stability, strength, openness, authenticity, etc… you have to clear out the old.

That means letting go and walking away. It means paring down. It means readjusting priorities. It means knowing and feeling what’s really important and meaningful in your life.

And sometimes that’s not only a difficult process, but painful one, too.

But, like anything else worth doing, it feels good to finally let go. When I let go of my Acura back in February, I had no idea the events that were already cascading into place in the background. It’s as if the Acura was the dam, and once I agreed that the dam was no longer working as intended… it broke loose and I was washed over with a flood of—yes… abundance, in the form of a new job, a newer car, and a renewed lease on my condo.

I also had to truly let go of David. That is something I haven’t found a way to talk about cleverly here (or anywhere), but it was incredibly difficult. I let him go because he wasn’t really all in at that point. He was acting as if I truly wasn’t that important in his life.

Well…

Once I finally (and wholly) let go—he came back. And as I mentioned before, he came back in a very big way. And I have felt altogether overwhelmed, amazed, and deeply humbled at the abundance of love flowing between us and surrounding us.

It proves to me that letting go of what I perceive to be the best I can have makes room for something better than I ever imagined. That is what abundance looks like in this first half of 2012.

Letting go is painful, though. It’s a tough decision and I don’t arrive there easily, quickly, or even all that willingly.

But once I surrender… I’m inspired and awe-struck.

The beauty of letting go is all the unexpected blessings that suddenly arrive. And I am letting them in, too, which is something else new for me.

It feels good.

I think the best thing about getting older is that I feel like I have come into my true self. I am finally allowing myself to “just be me”, which is something I longed for—for so many years. And after a whole lot of hard work, and more than one slice of humble pie, it’s come true.

I am me. And 37 is already looking like a great year.

Thank you for being here on this ride with me. I can no longer imagine trying to do this alone.

Thankfully, I don’t have to.

What I've Learned About Faith

A couple of weeks ago, so much of my life was up in the air. I didn’t have transportation. I didn’t have a job. And the pending renewal of my condo lease was looming. If I couldn’t find a job and/or a roommate within a couple of weeks, I would be looking at finding a friend to stay with or moving back in with my parents.

Just the thought of going through moving (on top of everything else) made me sick to my stomach.

The Sunday night before selling my car was tough. It’s as if I stayed up as late as possible to try and put off the sun’s rising Monday morning, knowing what I would have to go through with—knowing that I would be selling my car. My one asset, the one thing remaining from my old life, but really, it was even more than that.

That car was part of my identity.

We had a good run... 

Letting go of it meant letting go of the last piece of my old identiy—one I had worked so hard to create: a delicate façade of trying to be a perfect wife, a perfect provider, a perfect friend, a perfect daughter, a perfect artist.

What I ended up becoming was a perfect failure.

Monday, February 6, inevitably arrived, of course. I hastily cleaned out my car, dumping all its contents into reusable grocery bags and hauling it upstairs.

(I might as well admit right here and now that all of the contents of my cubicle from my Frito-Lay days were still jostling around in the trunk.)

My friend David met me for breakfast where we talked about some things that were on both of our hearts, and then we headed to CarMax. The selling process was rather unceremonious, and I walked out of there with a bank draft.

My friend took me to the bank, where I deposited the check and then drafted a cashier’s check for my February rent.

Then, he dropped me off at home, where I waited for my landlord to stop by and pick up the check. When she arrived, I was very open with her. I told her I didn’t know what was going to happen—that I was doing the best I could do, and I had had some great interviews, but nothing had yet turned into an offer. I told her I wanted to do right by her and give as much notice as possible if I was going to have to move out. A lot would depend on the next couple of weeks.

She offered to go month-to-month for the same dollar amount until I got everything figured out. I think she appreciated my openness, and up until this point, I have been a perfect tenant.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

I didn’t know what was going on in the background as all of this transpired. I felt strangely peaceful.

As it turns out, a former colleague of mine had run into a former colleague of hers. And although I don’t know the exact timing, I’d like to think it was sometime around the sale of my car. Anyway, he mentioned the need for an Instructional Designer, and did she happen to know anybody?

Indeed, she did.

She recommended me and introduced us via LinkedIn that evening.

An hour later, he emailed me directly and asked if I could come in for an interview Tuesday or Wednesday.

I knew my friend David was going out of town Tuesday afternoon and had offered to loan me his car while he was gone. I asked for a Wednesday interview and sent my résumé over to him on Tuesday.

It’s interesting to note that on Tuesday, I met my friend Michael for lunch, and we talked about the Laws of Attraction. That evening, I started making a list of what I wanted—in a man, in a career, for myself, etc.

The important part of Laws of Attraction is also describing why you deserve the things you’re asking for… and to be sure to only ask when you’re in the right frame of mind—a genuine place, rather than a place of desperation or greed.

And, I realized a few things—that I have already tasted a lot of what I want, I just haven’t had a lot of it all together at one time. I also realized how far I’ve come, to dare and to believe I am worthy of all that my heart truly wants. It was a good feeling, and I went to bed feeling positive and hopeful.

On Wednesday morning, I got up and prepared… looked over all of my work and put some samples on a jump drive to show them. I thought about what I might say and what questions they might ask. I combed through their website. You know—all the usual interview-prep stuff.

I expected the interview to last an hour or a little longer. You know—the usual.

But, I ended up being there for over four hours. I met with the President and VP. I met with a main Project Coordinator and I met the other two Instructional Designers. I met a few other people, too. It felt like I was part of the team and that was my first day of work. I felt welcomed. I felt energized to finally find a small company that has a great business model that really works.

On Friday morning, I got the job offer!

That afternoon, I signed paperwork accepting the offer… just after signing a two-year renewal on my condo lease.

And, Saturday, I took care of the one missing piece: buying a car.

No longer did I have to settle for a cheap “cash car”. I could actually finance a car, and apparently I’ve done something right over the last year or so, because I managed to get a great interest rate.

So… I bought a 2009 Honda Accord.

I started my new job the following Tuesday, and I’m quite happy there. I didn’t just get any job, after all. I got a job that truly fits me and my personality. I fit, too. I get to use my strengths, my background, my education, and I get to work with great people in a great environment, too!

I feel pretty strongly that letting go of the Acura—the last piece of my old identity—was the very thing that set into motion the chain of events that happened within a span of just five days.

I’ve learned so much over the past few months—about myself, and about others. I have received an abundance of love, support, and energy. I’ve learned just how little money I really need.

There were times when I quite literally didn’t know where I would get the money to pay for my next meal, let alone my next bill. And yet, I didn’t ever truly go into panic mode. I found that in just the nick of time, I would get a donation for writing group, someone would buy a piece of jewelry, a friend would generously buy me dinner, or something else would happen and suddenly—I’d have $100 again.

I have learned the real value of money, and with all the time I’ve had on my hands—I’ve certainly had ample opportunity to examine my spending habits from the past. I realized that I spent entirely too much money on stupid things. That realization has helped me renew my focus, come up with a more realistic budget, and of course renew my awareness of where my money really goes.

I bought one thing in the last two or three months that I didn’t need. One. And that was BrenéBrown’s new book, The Gifts ofImperfection, which I recommend to everyone. (I bought it after hearing this awesome podcast, by the way.)

That’s pretty different for me. In the past—even when I was in a financial pinch—I would have found ways to spend money on stupid things like a new sweater or pair of shoes. I didn’t do that this time. I needed every dime I got to pay the phone bill or the grocery bill.

What I’ve learned about faith over the past few months is that I had to fully trust in God before I could have it. (Maybe that isn’t the case for you, but for me—it is.) I made that choice, to fully trust, back in December when I refreshed the Step Beyond training through Pathways. That was pivotal for me, and ever since December, I have felt a deep sense of peace.

Even through this crazy storm of my life, I have felt an underlying sense of peace. I did my part—looking for jobs, applying for jobs, asking for help, reworking my résumé over and over, connecting with people who might be able to help, and in the meantime continuing to pursue my passions so that I didn’t go completely insane.

And because I did my part, I was able to—somehow… let go of those things that were out of my control.

I took a leap… a leap of faith.

It didn’t feel like a leap, though. It felt like a daily practice, and there were some very dark days, to be sure.

Happy me, in my favorite shirt. It was my grandmother's.

But instead of turning completely inward during the darkness, I turned to God. I turned to friends and family. I turned to writing. I turned to all of the things that feed my soul, and I was never truly alone. I walked through this storm with dignity. I have emerged stronger and more solidified in my faith, with priorities revamped, focus restored, and a brand new appreciation for friends, family, and even acquaintances who have in one way or another been so willing to extend a helping hand… just for me.

To me, faith is a choice (and, like all things, it takes practice). But it is not a choice easily made, and I had to be in the right place, spiritually, to be able to make that choice.

I had to be on my knees. 

I have been through some of the most truly humbling experiences of my life over the past months, and I have learned so much along the way. But this time... instead of being knocked down to my knees by external forces, this was an inside job. I had to be willing to go to my knees myself. Humility was a choice. I recognize now that all of the lessons in humility that I've had over the past months (years?) led me to this point, so that I would have the courage to willingly go to my knees when it was time.

I believe faith is about stepping forward and doing something incredibly hard, and trusting that even when you have no clue what the outcome will be—you will be okay. For me, this time, it was the past few months culminating in the biggest leap of all—selling my car.

In my willingness to let go of control and trust that I would be okay, I gained deeper understanding of what it means to walk with God and to let Him carry me when I am too weak to take the steps myself.

And, truly, what I’ve learned over the past couple of years sank in, all the way to my core. I am loved. I am cared for. I am taken care of. I am not alone…

(These things are true for all of us, by the way.)

I am deeply grateful to accept these gifts and all the blessings I have received thus far.

I am drinking from my saucer, because my cup is overflowing.

What a Day.

It started last night, really. When I knew I needed to get to bed, and I also knew that today I would be making the trek to CarMax to hope for the best regarding an offer for my car.

My 2003 Acura RSX Type-S (6 speed manual)

I thought about the first memory of driving it off the lot, when my now ex-husband had the dealership put a giant red bow on the hood when we went to pick up the car… the smell of the leather when it was brand new, the way it handled so tight, the way I thoroughly enjoyed breaking in the engine and spreading her wings…

Over the years, that car has been more than just a mode of transportation. It’s more than just a possession to me. It’s more than a way of getting from A to B.

I’ve always loved driving, of course. It’s a passion for me. But with my Acura being my first brand new car, ever, it does and will always hold a very special place in my world. Perhaps for those of you who view a car as nothing more than a mode of transport, substitute whatever other passion you might have, and you might start to see my point.

I went to bed and ended up sobbing for a little while, knowing that while I am fully willing to let go of this possession, it’s still a grieving process that I have to endure.

I woke up with a heavy heart this morning.

I had a great writing (and talking, and sharing) session with John, who is my guinea pig writing coaching client. He and I have become great friends.

I’d like to share a couple of things I wrote during our time together this morning. It will make this particular blog post long, but no one has strapped you to the chair and forced you to read it, ya know?

I’m tired of thinking about it, but I need guidance. I have asked for help—from friends, trusted mentors, and of course from God. I am with Him. I can feel his hand on me, on my shoulder, even now. But I don’t yet have any answers, and that is what is painful. I have listened—sat in silence in my car, in my home… listening to music is almost too much for my brain and my heart right now. Silence is what calms me… deafens my deep interior.
And still, I have no answers. And still, I am uncertain of what tomorrow brings—let alone next week. I am scared, yes—and still I am finding a way to function, to take care of at least the bare minimum of what needs to be done. I am low down on Level 2 of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs right now. Hunkered down. On my knees… still. In a way I never have before, I am submitting. It’s worse than uncomfortable—it’s painful. And I know why it’s painful: I am resisting.
I am still fighting it in my own way—it’s like I’m that black knight in Monty Python & The Holy Grail. My legs and arms have been hacked off by a sword, and still, I’m arguing with King Arthur as he quasi-gallops away.
“Come back here, I’ll bite your legs off!”
It’s useless. I know. And I get now what it’s about… denial. I am still denying that this is all really happening. I am still denying that I may actually have to lose everything. I don’t feel that’s the case—I don’t feel like I should have to lose everything. Is it a sense of entitlement? I don’t think so, but maybe I’m wrong… certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
I guess what I need is… answers. I have asked questions and certainly not the questions I used to ask (Why me? Where is this God everyone talks about so much? Why do bad things happen to good people?).
No.
My questions are not so universal. Why me isn’t even in my vocabulary anymore.
I guess this feels… personal. Like maybe I’m not good enough for his favor.

I am sad that it's really come to this. That I really do have to sell my car. That I really am that broke, and that out of options.

That last line really stung, though. Even just to write it down was hard. I felt the resistance in my hand, but as tears welled up in my eyes, I knew I had to come clean with that level of honesty.

John reassured me that he saw faith in me. That even though I have these questions, there is still a peace about me that he hadn't seen before. I agree with him.

For whatever reason, I ended up writing the last piece in third person. Weirdly, it’s as if I was writing it as it was happening to me.

Naked. Nervous. Foreign.
She read those words on the page—the page that described her sudden clinging to Jesus, the page that she had written, and suddenly a calm washed over her that she wasn’t even aware she needed. Deeper than peace, and something certainly not sustained or maintained by her. No. Serenity comes directly from God.
And gaining the reassurance she needed, from her friend, and from her own words, from the voice deep within her and the voice in every particle of air around her, in every cell of her body, in her very DNA: God’s voice.
The answer had come.
She felt it then—the understanding that her next step was selling the car, and just as she’d been saying the few days before, she said again: “I can only handle one thing at a time right now. What is the next thing?”
Only the next thing.
It’s the tiny details of all that could happen and all that could go wrong. It’s one thought leading to another thought and then a flurry of thoughts after that—of the worst that could happen, and the striving, the fighting, the resisting of saying, “How do I prevent that worst thing from happening?”.
That’s where she got overwhelmed… when she tried to provide her own solution before it was time.
She got that now.

I wrote some more after John left, I had some lunch, and I finally made my way to CarMax.

I had a great experience at CarMax, and the guy could tell I have an emotional attachment to my car. I got a reasonable offer, and I’m going to go through with it on Monday… I just need my car through the weekend (and I need to clean it out, which I won’t get to do until Sunday evening).

On the way home, I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks and on a whim, I pulled into Bachman Lake to watch planes land and walk around and stare at the water.

I didn’t realize I was in for a little treat… a little distraction, even.

I ran into these four clowns. In a row.

Ducks in a row...

 For whatever reason, they immediately took an interest in me and started following me around.

I walked for a ways and stopped at the most magnificent pecan tree. It immediately catapulted me back to childhood and the giant pecan tree in the front yard of the house I grew up in—the one that was struck by lightning and was badly bruised for a while, but over time, it healed up and kept growing. I often leaned against that tree, marveled at the bark, and gazed up into its branches, wondering what the world might look like from way up there.

I leaned against this tree and felt its power. I let it hold me as I stared blankly out at the rippling water.

The ducks plopped into the water and swam down to where I walked. They swam down farther and then doubled back and got out of the water right in front of me.

I watched them for a while. They watched me for a while. But this one was really stuck on me, apparently. I’ll call him Rusty, because his coloring was a little different from the others. He stayed near me the whole time I was at the lake. He didn’t get in the water when the others did. He stayed on the ground about 20 feet from me. When the others got back out of the water, he came closer to me.

And when I started to leave, Rusty followed me.

And then the rest of the ducks joined him.

They meandered towards a patch of clover, and I stopped, again remembering my childhood and wondering how many hours I’d spent in my front yard, searching in vain for the ever-elusive four-leaf clover.

Rusty was intrigued that I squatted down to his level to take a picture of the clover, and he stood very still, very close in front of me for a full minute, looking at me, as if he was posing for me to take this picture. So, of course, I indulged him.

Rusty, striking a pose

I walked to my car to see if I had any nuts or other acceptable food with me, and I didn’t. I heard some geese making a bunch of commotion. These guys were chasing everybody around, honking their heads off.

Just as I thought about leaving, though, I saw this guy.

A lone swan amongst a bunch of noisy geese and ducks.

He swam right up to me, and for a minute I thought he was going to jump out of the lake. He didn’t… but he did this funky thing with one of his webbed feet, sticking it out straight, above the water. I looked down at my hand and stretched my fingers wide, and realized that his foot was as big as my whole hand.

Yeah. That dude was big!

I realized today that I am taken care of. All of my needs are met. It felt like Rusty the duck was a little angel hanging around me, making sure I was okay. The pecan tree welcomed me, supporting not only my physical weight, but my emotional weight, too. And the clovers made me smile…

And the kindness of the CarMax salesman, and the sweet words John said to me earlier today, and the messages of support and love from other friends… all carried me through this difficult day.

And while I feel particularly emotionally drained…

Yes… I am okay.

And tomorrow is another day, where I will only be concerned with the very next thing in front of me.

Loving Me, Even When It's Hard

With every bit of progress comes the slightest ease into comfort. At that moment, I know I'm about to be stretched again...

I felt angry all day yesterday, and it was actually in a writing session with a client late in the afternoon when I realized why I was angry.

I’ve spent all this time trying to figure out how to let love in… what love really means to me… and what I realized is that fear still has a tight hold on me when it comes to love.

And now I understand why…

When I was a little girl, there was a lot of turmoil in my house—some of it caused by my sister and a lot of the behavior she engaged in. My sister, being 8 years older than I am, made a lot of mistakes as a teenager. To compensate for that, I tried to be perfect.

That set a precedent, because then it seemed like my family started to expect me to be perfect.

If I wasn’t perfect, my perception was that I wasn’t loved. But if I did everything just right, if I was perfect—then I would be rewarded with love.

That’s a classic codependent mindset, and I’ve worked hard to shake that. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it, until it hit me that I still do this to myself.

If I am not perfect, if I do not act perfectly, if I don’t do everything I want to do (and everything I “should” do) perfectly, then I don’t get love. I don’t get to love myself… I don’t honor and nurture myself, I don’t get to have the good that comes from allowing love into my heart.

In other words—I don’t actually know how to love myself when it’s hard, like when I screw up, or when I am not perfect.

How often are you not perfect? All the time? Every day? Every moment?

Yeah.

So it goes deeper than that, even… because when I’m spilled open—like I am right now, tears streaming down my face as I write—I realize that I actually do love myself. In the moments when I am vulnerable, honest, and real, how can I not love myself? I know in those moments that I am beautiful, worthy, and accepted.

It’s only when I’m trying to force my own hand, trying to be perfect, trying to do it my way (in Pathways terms, “running my numbers”), that I realize I withhold love from myself, until I do it perfectly, and if I can’t do it perfectly, then I somehow manage to love myself a little less..

In the past couple of years, I feel that God has been teaching me how to accept love—from others. First, I had to accept His love. Then I had to learn how to accept it from family… and then friends…  from myself… and finally—a romantic partner.

The big missing piece is how to love myself when it’s hard. When whatever I’m doing doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, when I’m not happy with my behavior, or when I’m not doing something I know I should be doing—in other words, when I’m absolutely imperfect. I'm so quick to beat myself up, which of course plummets me further down the hole. 

That is my challenge, and tonight, it’s a big one.

But, as they say… awareness is the first step. And I got a big ol’ dose of awareness today, that’s for sure.

Words I heard about a year ago spring to mind right now:

“God made me. God doesn’t make mistakes. I am perfectly imperfect.”

Yes, indeed…

I want to teach myself how to love me, even when it's hard. I want to notice the progress I've made, how much sooner I become aware, and then, for crying out loud... move forward. 

Life is just too damn short to beat myself up all the time...

"I'll never finish, so why begin?
...I must be crazy to beat me
I'm letting it go"
  - from "Speak" by Gary Go

I don't know what it looks like or feels like to give myself grace. But now, I want to find out.

Shedding More Than Just Weight

In searching for the best “before” photo I could find, I discovered this one from June of 2007.

I can’t quite describe what exactly is significant about four years, but I will try.

Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was the heaviest I’ve ever been. Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was almost completely sedentary. Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was making a ton of money but also incredibly unhappy—and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

Four years ago, I had no real clue how to fulfill my own needs. I still relied on others to do it for me, which meant that the majority of the time, I felt more empty than full.

(Do I even need to mention that I tried filling that void with food?)

And of course, four years ago, I had no clue how I was going to begin changing my life—one step at a time, and sometimes, one giant leap at a time.

I didn’t yet know that I would take the trip of a lifetime to Murano, Italy in March of 2008. A trip that would re-awaken the artist within me, a trip that would remind me what happiness feels like, a trip that reminded me just how unhappy I was in my day to day life, a trip that ended up becoming a huge magnifying glass. When I came back home to Texas, I finally realized just how much I didn’t like my life. The life I had chosen, the life I had committed to, the life I had vowed to uphold.

I didn’t realize what a black hole my own home had become, until I came back from Italy in April 2008.

Up until that point, I had refused to acknowledge that my marriage was not in a good place. What’s worse—it hadn’t been, for years.

2008 began the confrontation of all that wasn’t working in my life, starting with why my marriage wasn’t working. He went to Pathways, and we did a little bit of work together to repair the deeply traversed ditches of damage, but after he finished the program, things pretty much went back to the well-established bad habits and patterns that we had practiced as a couple for the entirety of our relationship.

I held out hope that things would get better.

But in 2010… I finally realized that I was continuing to grow and change, and at that point in time, he really wasn’t. We had been moving in different directions, and we really began wanting different things.

But 2010 also marked the beginning of the major transformation that is so evident in me today.

If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you can probably recall at least a few of the changes. The most obvious is my weight loss. The next obvious is my divorce. Then, there are the less obvious things… grieving for losses from my past that I’d never grieved; allowing God into my life and then in April of this year, becoming a believer; and one of the most important changes of all… finally learning how to fulfill my own needs.

The biggest changes I’ve experienced in 2011 have been:

• Stepping out of the P-R-V (Persecutor – Rescuer – Victim) triangle in all of my relationships. I always played the Victim role, by the way.
• Recognizing that I still had codependent relationships, and working very hard to step out of codependency.
• Finally learning how to fulfill my own needs and fill myself up, without having to rely on someone or something else to do it for me.

These are significant and important changes, and I am proud of the work I’ve done. I’ve come a long, long way… and looking at those two photos side by side brings up so many emotions—of all that I’ve been through, of all the things I’ve willingly faced, of the accountability I’ve finally taken on, of letting go of old baggage and grieving losses so that they no longer weigh me down… and learning how to live on my own without feeling constantly lonely…

It’s so much more than “just” weight loss.

As my friend Carla said, I’ve spent the last year and a half shedding the person who pretended to be me.

It’s so true. I am no longer fighting so hard to maintain some image of perfection, or the life I thought I was supposed to live. I am no longer trying to live a life that was not right for me. I am no longer pretending to be real.

I am real.

It’s taken years to get to this place, and I feel like I’m brand new.

I recently saw this message:

Anyone can give up. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength.

I disagree.

Whole heartedly.

To me, falling apart isn’t about giving up. Falling apart is about dropping the mask, dropping the pretense, and letting go of the ever-important “image” of perfection.

It is only because I finally allowed myself to completely fall apart that I realized just how strong I am, how many amazing people love me, and how worthy I am of that love.

It is only because I finally dropped the façade that I was “ok” and I was truly vulnerable that I discovered what realness and authenticity feel like.

It was in those moments when people saw the real me, and much to my own surprise, they rushed towards me—not away. I witnessed true grace, love, and redemption when I finally allowed myself to fall apart and let people in.

I was taken care of, every step of the way.

And today, I stand before you as my real, imperfect self.

And when I look at that photo on the right—for the first time in my life—the first things I see are the positives.

I see a beautiful and happy woman. I see a woman who is secure, confident, and who feels worthy.

I am all of those things, and more…

My Exhausted Soul, Unfolding...

This is setting out to be the most personal blog post I’ve made to date. I have to think, though, that I’m not the only one who feels this way or has this particular struggle. So I thought I’d throw it out there and see if anyone can weigh in with their experiences. And if you don’t want to talk about it publicly, feel free to email me at lindaleetritton [at] gmail [dot] com.

I’ll ask that you “put your filters on” for what I’m about to share… to draw whatever meaning you can out of it.

My soul is so exhausted… to the core.

I just want to be.

God seems to have other plans.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had several significant “light bulb” moments that I’d never quite put together before. Truths about me that have struck me all the way to my core.

Are other people so much more together, or well-adjusted? Am I really that—I don’t know… deficient, maybe—emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, socially, etc? It feels like I struggle so much more than others do with the universal, eternal truths of this life, while others seem to have it so much more figured out than I do.

Or is it that everyone else is just faking it a lot better than I can?

I can’t seem to fake anything, anymore. I’m mostly thankful for that, because it’s exhausting to fake being okay all the time. It’s exhausting to try and shove myself into a box I clearly don’t fit in.

I’m realizing that no one can ever be as hard on me as I am, and that I am so practiced in the act of punishing myself that it’s proving to be a very difficult habit to break.

I’ll go way out on a limb and share one of the truths I learned about myself, just this morning.

Last night I was up late finishing some jewelry, and as I fell to sleep, a thought popped into my mind. I’ve been feeling somewhat disconnected from God and from my spiritual path in general, and I wasn’t sure why. I also wasn’t sure how to remedy that… but the thought popped to mind that I should try and get up in time to go to a place where I love the music… Bent Tree Bible Fellowship.

Sure enough, my alarm went off and I managed to get up and out the door in time for the service.

Only, I stumbled into a service that was unlike any other I’ve ever attended. It was kind of an on-stage drama of what it might be like for the second coming of Jesus Christ.

It’s a little overwhelming to think about, mainly because I’m not entirely certain what my idea of heaven is, or who I think will or won’t be there, and what my thoughts are about “judgment day”, etc. My ideas of what heaven or judgment is really all about don’t fall into typical Christian beliefs, I guess. (A lot of what I believe doesn’t fall into “typical” Christian beliefs, but I’ll get to that in a minute.)

None of that really mattered. There was a special message for me this morning, and all it required was my presence in a building where the music tends to open my heart wide, and where I tend to allow that to happen.

I think you can open your heart at any time, in any place. But sometimes, you need a nudge. And this morning, I got much more than a nudge… I was pretty much shoved off a cliff.

I realized that the reason I’ve felt so distant from God lately is because I have rejected the love He has for me… because I don’t feel worthy of it.

Ouch.

Even worse… I realized I’ve been ashamed of my faith. Ashamed of becoming a Christian, trying to excuse myself from the bad name Christians have given themselves, instead of just striving to live by example.

Anytime I speak to anyone about my beliefs and my faith, I'm pretty apologetic. I say, “Well, I guess that since becoming a believer earlier this year, that makes me a Christian, but—”

But, what?

But, I believe gays and lesbians should be able to marry and adopt children.

But, I believe creationism has no place being taught in public schools. It’s a religious story that needs to be told within the structure of religion.

But, I believe each person has his or her own path to walk, and for me to assume or even wish that everyone ends up in the same place is not only pompous, but it defeats the purpose of spirituality, which, to me, is potentially the most personal, intimate relationship anyone can have with the divine—whatever you believe the divine to be.

But, I believe you’re not damned if you never accept Christ as your Savior. Actually, I don't know that I even believe in hell.

But, I believe developing kindness, nurturing love within yourself, giving your love to others, and recognizing how we are all connected is vitally important—far more important than how often you go to church, how involved you are in church, or how much money you give to your church.

But, I believe that humans, including (but certainly not limited to) Christians can crush others with their judgments. I think we judge out of fear, and out of what we’ve been taught, or out of limited knowledge, experience, and unexamined beliefs.

I think many of us place judgment first, and ask questions later—or worse—never ask questions at all.

In many places, judging is not only accepted, but it’s expected—even encouraged. I’ve witnessed this inside the walls of many churches, and it saddens me that judging is still so supported and even encouraged.

And I think I’ve fallen into this judgment trap, too.

Except, I’ve been judging myself and assuming that when I say the word “Christian”, I will immediately be judged by others.

Instead of surrendering, I’ve remained lost. What? I’ve actually chosen to be a victim in my own spiritual journey?

Ouch.

Instead of allowing God’s love to being me closer to Him, I’ve been rejecting that love—a way of trying to maintain control. Control of my own faith, control of my journey, control of my love.

What I’m getting at is… I don’t know how to allow someone to love me... I don't know how to receive that love without trying to do something to explain or excuse it away, because some part of me believes I don't deserve it.

Even if that someone (who is trying so hard to love me) is who I believe to be the most divine spiritual force in the universe.

Again… ouch.

Of course, awareness is the first step, and now, I am certainly aware…

my soul
it's dying to be free
i can't live the rest of my life
so guarded
it's up to me to choose..
what kind of life i lead.

cause i don't wanna go on living
being so afraid of showing
someone else my imperfections
even though my feet are trembling
and every word i say comes stumbling
i will bare it all... watch me unfold
unfold

i will allow someone to love me
i will allow someone to love me...
     - from “Unfold” by Marie Digby

There is something positive in all of this awakening. I recognize that this is really just another step in breaking free of all the confines, shackles, and chains I’ve kept myself bound in over the years. I know I’m in the process of breaking free. I know I’m in the process of unfolding.

That doesn’t mean some of those steps along the way aren’t painful…

But unlike before, I am now willing to share some of those moments. I’m not entirely certain what compelled me to share this one with you.

All I know is that we are all connected, and certainly I am not alone my thoughts here, or, if I am—then I simply offer you this piece of me, as another part of my journey, unfolding…

I’m in repair,
I’m not together but I’m getting there…
     - from “In Repair” by John Mayer

Happiness is a Habit

Just over a week ago, I posed a question in my blog. It was more a question for myself, rather than for you. I figured that at some point, the answer would come.

Because the answer is always there, if only your ears and heart are open enough to hear it.

Anyway… the question:

Why is pain so much more intense than joy?

In that moment, I truly didn’t understand, but I get it now. The answer hit me while I was sitting at my kitchen table at home on Friday, entering some data for work.

It’s because I used to be in a constant state of sadness, depression, pain, and misery. The moments of joy I experienced were just that—moments. They faded quickly, which made me feel even more miserable, even sadder, even more depressed.

It’s when I used to write stuff like this… which is on my original website. Yes. I was “blogging” back in 1998, long before it was ever called blogging:

03/21/99
nobody knows me.
sometimes i really feel that way. i really honestly truly feel alone.
and then there are the times when i feel like everyone can see right through me, right through to the bone. and i wonder if they like what they see...
nobody knows that i secretly want to be the president of the united states.
nobody knows that i have read entries in my first diary that i started keeping when i was nine and i remember how my parents used to fight, and i always thought they were going to get a divorce and so i cried... and those diary entries still make me cry.
nobody knows that my sister always stole any money that i had so she could buy drugs, so to get back at her i stole her lip gloss and tampons. it makes sense in an 8-yr-old way.
nobody knows that sometimes when i see people on the street and observe how they look at me, i secretly wonder if inside their minds they're thinking the same terrible things that owen b. used to call me when i was in fourth grade... things like fatso, hippo, ugly...
nobody knows that even though i am very independent and strong, all i really want is for a man to love me as much as i love him. someday it will happen, but there are short spurts of time when i feel miserably unwanted. and then i kick myself because i know better.
nobody knows that not a single day goes by when i don't have at least one negative thought about myself bouncing around in my mind. it's usually something along the lines of looking fat or not being good enough to deserve something, but still, it's there...
nobody knows that i think so many other negative thoughts but i keep them all inside or i write them in secret places because nobody really wants to look at these ugly pictures i paint...
nobody knows that i value others' opinions about me way too much, that it's an everyday battle for me to have self confidence about anything because i have never had self-esteem, especially not when i was growing up.
nobody knows that i always have music going through my head.
nobody knows...

Wow.

How sad is that? Can you feel how utterly miserable I was? I feel sad, just reading that… which is one reason why, even though I keep all of my old journals, but I don’t necessarily go back and read them very often. It’s just… depressing as hell.

But that’s the constant state of being in which I used to live. That’s where I was, all the time, and when I felt joy, I often sucked the life out of whatever the source of that joy was, because I knew the joy was temporary—because the source was always exterior. It never came from within. Happiness felt like something I grasped at desperately, like dry sand slipping through my fingers.

These days, it’s completely different. Joy, happiness, openness, authenticity—these are now constants in my life. These are feelings and ways of being that I choose to nurture.

It’s because I live in a state of calm and warm happiness… and yes—I experience moments of joy, just like anyone, but because joy isn’t nearly so elevated from the state of being where I actually live all the time now… it doesn’t feel as intense.

So, because I’m not living in a constant state of depression, pain, and sadness, it feels more intense when I do experience those feelings.

The pain and sadness are insanely intense.

But—they're also temporary.

When I feel the pain, and work through it, and let it be, to the point of completely emptying it out—I can make the choice (like I did last week) to then fill myself up with all the good things I want, like love for myself, and even love for my body, my mind, and my life.

And today, realizing that I have completely 180’d… completely flip-flopped my attitude and outlook on life is hugely powerful and absolutely empowering. Truly! It reminds me of a part of the Pathways training, where there’s discussion about what makes people who are top performers become top performers in their companies.

It has nothing to do with exterior motivators, or incentives, or spousal support, or any other factors you might think.

The only thing differentiating top performers from average or even low performers was… the top performers were happy.

And they found real, profound ways to nurture that happiness.

I get it now… because now I know that no matter what comes my way, even if it’s a total train wreck, I will return to happiness, because that is my choice. Because at the core of who I am, I am actually a happy person. And if I make that choice consistently, every time… then I will continue to be happy.

The power rests in my mind and in my heart. And I’ve always known that—it’s just that when I look back, I was so confused and clueless about how to achieve that happiness in the first place. I knew it was possible—I just didn’t have the tools.

And then I went to Pathways and got some of the basic tools… and I started TAing and got more tools. I did the PrimeSelfPlus (PSP) class and got even more amazing tools.

And now, I am honing my happiness skills, one choice at a time, one day at a time, and it feels like something has finally clicked. It feels like I’ve finally picked up the clue and tucked it beside my heart.

I’m excited, and recharged, and empowered, and—

Happy.

And happiness is more than a feeling. It’s a state of being—a habit, even, that I am choosing to nurture… one choice at a time. 

Always Go With Your Gut

(...even when it hurts... even when that means you get the answer you don't want to hear...)

Always go with your gut.

I’m sure you’ve heard that saying before… your gut, your intuition, your heart—whatever you call it… it doesn’t steer you wrong.

The key is listening, though.

Sometimes it’s hard to hear, with all the noise in our day to day lives. Sometimes, hearing that little voice seems impossible. And even once you hear it—how easy is it to second-guess? How easy is it to ignore that voice within and try to steer your own path? It’s so easy to tune it out, to try to “do the right thing” – even if the right thing isn’t really what you want… and especially if the “right thing” is never what you would do if you were really following your heart.

Right now, I’m in the middle of a bit of a mess where I’m having a hard time having faith. I have no idea what my next step is, and in this moment, I’m not handling it well. And normally I wait until it’s all sorted out before I type up a blog post. But right now… I’m just in a weird place, and I thought that instead of waiting around until I had all the answers figured out… I would put it out there in the raw for once.

So here I am… raw as ever.

On Tuesday in the Movement Montage class, I had a huge feeling of fear crop up. This is a type of fear I hadn’t experienced since becoming emotionally and physically healthy.

I actually ducked out of class for a few minutes to record what I was feeling in the moment. I transcribed it:

I think it’s natural for us to feel fear.
Fear is something that keeps us safe, something that is always there. It’s one of our built-in mechanisms to help keep us alive.
As someone who has done a lot of work and a lot of growth, and a lot of self-improvement stuff, I’ve done a lot of work to overcome feeling fear.
And, so, when that feeling starts to crop up again, I immediately try to suppress it.
And then, inevitably, I try to figure out… what’s making this so real? What’s making this so big? Why am I feeling this? I try to analyze it and dissect it to death.
Sometimes I just need to let the feelings be there.
I felt afraid earlier.
I feel afraid now.
I don’t want to fall for this guy.
Because a part of me is afraid that I can’t handle it.
And so, when I asked the sassy little girl inside of me what she would do in my position—she just kinda reaches out her hand and touches me and says, “It’s ok to be afraid. Just let it be there. The only way to push through it is to let it be there.”
I can handle it.
I can fall in love, if I let myself.
If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen no matter what. And if I try to fight it, that’s only going to make it dysfunctional.
And I want to be functional.
So… my challenge to myself is to allow my fear to be there, because I know that that’s what helps keep me safe and ok.
And I know that no matter what, I will be ok.
And I can just let this be.
I can just let it be there.

And now, I am very sad to report, that possibility has been taken off the table. (See the previous entry, where I mentioned being rejected…)

That isn’t the only “mess” in my life right now, of course. But for whatever reason, it’s the thing that makes me incredibly vulnerable and wide open to random people on the internet, when the other “messes” are actually not so close to my heart.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m willing to talk about this stuff here. I think because many of my close friends are going through something similar, with learning how to be functional and healthy and also… in love. Or at the very least—open to the possibility.

I haven’t bounced back yet. I don’t have the perfect words to say. I don’t even have that much perspective yet. My heart is still very much in pain.

I allowed myself to feel more than I have in years, and something that’s incredibly baffling to me is this:

Why is the pain so much more intense than the joy?

I don’t get it.

I really don’t…

I do understand why this man was brought into my life, though, and that has given me some enough perspective that I can at least appear to go on with my normal life.

He came into my life so that I could understand what I want. Not just know it, not just see it… but to actually experience it… to feel it. I think that’s pretty important, because up until this point, I’ve only experienced what I didn’t want.

So, it was just a taste… but it left a lasting impression.

That’s all I’ve got at the moment… but for the moment, it’s carrying me through.

What I am choosing to do from here, though, is to continue to be open. I am continuing to be vulnerable and real, and to show who I really am—in this blog as well as in my everyday life. I will keep listening to my voice within—my heart, my intuition. I will feel my faith again, and I will keep following my gut.

I thought about the alternative. I thought about how much easier it sometimes seems to live life all closed up—and I used to pride myself on being mysterious… and back then, my incongruent actions directly contradicted what my heart really longed for. But I lived in the alternative for so many years that at this point, it doesn’t even feel like a choice that’s on the table, for me to try wearing masks again, or to try being perfect again, or to try fooling everyone around me into thinking I’m a more amazing person than I really am.

The only thing that feels right, authentic, and true, is to continue living just how I am. Vulnerable, open, courageous, brave, and yes—sometimes, even messy.

Logic says that I shouldn't even post this. It's too open, too vulnerable, too... emotional.

I will never again apologize for being emotional. I am emotional.

And, I am also following my gut...

Music is Life: What Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie, Op. 61 Has Taught Me About Being Human

(Wherein I reveal that I am, indeed, a music nerd, and maybe I think too much, and I most definitely feel too much… but I wouldn’t have it any other way.)

It has been said that life imitates art... and art imitates life.

For me, it's a bit different. For me, it's more that music sometimes helps us make sense of life, when nothing else does.

When I was growing up, I had a cassette tape of Vladimir Horowitz playing Chopin pieces. The second song on side two was the piece I was working on at the time. It’s a famous Nocturne: Op. 9 No. 2. Everyone recognizes it when those first notes echo from the keys.

But getting to the second song on side B meant I had to fast forward through or listen to the first piece: Polonaise-Fantaisie, Op. 61.

The piece is 13 minutes long, so I really didn’t want to listen to it.

Ever.

In fact, I hated this piece. I loathed it so much that I actually ended up recording the nocturne I needed on a different tape, just so I wouldn’t have to constantly fast-forward through this annoying 13 minute piece that just seemed like it noodled on forever and ever.

But since I occasionally listened to other pieces on that cassette, I would run across those 13 minutes now and again.

And I caught myself, over time, listening to snippets of this monstrosity.

And slowly, I found that maybe I didn’t really hate it.

It really confused me, though.

It started out with a bang… even sounded a bit grandiose in parts, and playful in other parts, with some great melodies—some chord progressions that evoked feelings of sadness and tragedy within me—and a few fun passages here and there, all within the first seven and a half minutes.

The main problem, though, was that aside from the interesting bits, it mostly noodled around and seemed to have no real purpose. It felt those notes and phrases were lost, waiting to be put into some type of order. That was incredibly frustrating, and I realized that’s what drove me mad about the piece.

It just didn’t make any sense.

And then…

Then, I heard the silence for the first time. In that silence, around 7 minutes, 45 seconds* into the piece, Chopin stops to take a breath, so that it’s ever-so-gently pronounced that he’s brilliantly introducing an entirely new melody.

Chopin was a rule breaker, indeed. Between Chopin and Beethoven breaking all the rules of composition back in the day, I’m surprised Classical music remained “Classical” for as long as it did.

This melody captivates me. It takes my breath away, every time.

What moves me even more, though, is how close it is to the end of the piece.

It’s almost as if the first two thirds of the piece is this frustrated build-up so that by the time you hear this melody, nothing in the world sounds more beautiful.

From this point forward, the piece is a brewing, barely-bridled pool of passion that begins to ooze out and then explode across the remaining pages. This piece turns into the most romantic love story for about three minutes… and then the ending is just… berserk.

This piece is strong. It makes a statement. You’re either going to love it, or hate it… or hate it and then love it, like me.

Because the ending of this piece is nothing short of absolute, 100% brilliance. It’s almost impossible to play accurately at the speed you’re supposed to play it, with the amount of conviction it takes to pull it off. You’ve just been playing for nearly 13 minutes, so your hands and arms are tired. But Chopin didn’t care… he had a story to tell (there's a lesson there).

The last two minutes of this piece are gushing with the most unadulterated, pure JOY spilling off the page, across the piano, onto the floor, splashing your face, and every time I hear it, I want to get up from whatever I’m doing and live the life that exists within this music.

It’s just that compelling to me… but maybe because I’ve heard it hundreds of times over the years, and it’s grown on me. I actually sat down and analyzed the entire piece one time, chord by chord, phrase by phrase, because it confused me so much why I feel such a visceral reaction every time I listen to it.

And through all of that analysis, I came to realize something.

This piece represents life.

My life.

I felt so lost for the first part of my life. I felt like I was just noodling around, without any real purpose. I had some amazing moments of intense joy and conversely, deep sorrow. But mostly it was full of noodling seemingly pointlessly from day to day (or note to note).

And then, I woke up… about 7 minutes, 45 seconds in…

And I have been living a life of learning… struggling with how to be in the moment, and be truly open to feeling, even when it hurts… even when it’s hard… even when the pain is so intense I want to claw my eyes out because that would hurt less, and at least then I could point to the tangible cause.

But the moments of joy I have are deeply satisfying and real. The moments of pain are pivotal for me, and my life is richer because of them.

And my ending?

Well… I already know I’m going out with a bang. I already know that the ending of my life is going to be the best…

Don’t ask me how I know… it’s more a feeling I get, I guess, rather than knowledge.

So when I have days like I’ve had today… and weeks like I’ve had this week… when all I want is to hide under the covers until the pain is gone… the pain I feel because my very soul—open and exposed, was gazed upon and then ultimately rejected…

I have to listen to the Polonaise-Fantaisie a few times.

Loud enough to (probably) annoy my neighbors.

Because there are times when lying on the hardwood floor in a crying heap, then banging on the piano keys just to express some emotion I haven’t felt in entirely too long, and then listening to, of all things, Classical music, as loud as I can stand it (which still isn’t loud enough in this case)… there are times like these when I just need to be reminded that it’s okay to be a living, breathing, human being.

Because there is a greater purpose for all of this, and I’m not yet privy to it, and I may never be… and that’s ok. Most of the time, I don’t mind feeling small… we are all small.

But it’s connecting with people who are like-minded… and it’s sharing and being vulnerable that makes life richer and worth living, but when the unexpected happens and The Real Me ™ is absolutely, unequivocally rejected…

Sometimes it helps me to know that someone from centuries ago, named Frederic Chopin, had already felt these feelings, too. He put passion on paper in a way that no other composer ever has, in my opinion. He was someone who felt deeply, someone who lived a life of passion and often great despair. He was a real person. 

And I am, too.

And so are you.

And what does it all matter? I don’t know… but I do know that we can’t do this thing all alone. I do know that if we all continue putting energy into things that just don’t matter… our lives, inevitably, won’t matter.

And even sometimes when we do invest in things that matter, and the result is, at best, confusing, and painful, and defeating… I guess what I’m trying to say is… try to remember that you’re not the first person who’s ever felt that way, and you won’t be the last.

We need each other, to get through these times…

*In the recording I linked to, the silence and new melody occur at approx. 8:28. I would rather have linked to Horowitz, because he plays this piece better than anyone can, but it's split between two videos and that... just doesn't work.

Freedom Means... Consciously Nurturing Me

“Let go of the way you thought life would unfold; the holding of plans or dreams or expectations—let it all go. Save the strength to swim with the tide. The choice to fight what is here before you now will only result in struggle, fear, and a desperate attempt to flee from the energy you long for. Let go, and the waves and crests will carry you to unknown shores, beyond your wildest dream or destinations.”  – Danna Faulds

Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of what makes me feel free. I’ve been making more and more choices that help me feel free, and I am learning what it actually feels like.

Initially, I thought this was the first time in my life that I have actually been free.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve been free many times… and I’ve felt freedom a few times, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to feel it as freedom. I kept looking to others to fill the void inside of me, so it didn’t matter how free I actually was… I continued wrapping myself in chains—tying myself to others in unhealthy ways to feel accepted, validated, and important.

But this is the first time in my life that I have not only had freedom, but that I have felt freedom, and acted accordingly.

At first, I was afraid. I was petrified (ok, stopping the random song lyric now).

(I know. That was bad.)

I wasn’t sure how to make choices that fed my basic need of feeling free. I wasn’t even sure what being free actually meant to me, either.

Freedom can look like lots of things. This being July, and with the recent celebration of Independence Day on the 4th, it’s easy to think about our troops, our country, and what we stand for as a nation.

If I were a minority, it would be easy to define what freedom means in modern society.

If I were in a country where women are enslaved, and I were suddenly brought to America to start over—well, that sort of freedom is obvious, as well.

But what is personal freedom? Does it mean I’m not tied to anyone?

I would say that depends on my attitude. I am bound to my family by blood. I am bound to my friends by chosen bonds forged over time and with deep investments in emotional, intimate, and honest connection.

I am bound to my two kitties, to care for them and love them.

I am bound to other things and people as well, for different reasons. You get the point.

But, can one not also be free while being connected?

This is a hard question. The obvious answer is yes, but defining that quickly gets vague, nebulous, blurry.

In the absence of a clear definition of personal freedom, I realized that I’ve been sabotaging myself when everything seems to be going well.

I mentioned in a previous post that anytime things are going well, I am really waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve moved to the next level now… I am consciously choosing to be in the moment more (and more, and more!) and it’s paying off in spades. I find that I don’t worry nearly as often as I used to, about anything… and that is certainly freeing.

But I got to that next level of awareness and realized that when things are going well, I am actually the one causing things to go awry, with those thoughts of wondering when the next bad thing is going to happen.

It’s the law of attraction, plain and simple.

Now that I have that awareness, of course it’s time to stop sabotaging myself when I’m doing well and reset my attitude by doing good things for myself. I love myself. So, why would I go to so much trouble to mess things up when things are going well?

What I’ve come to realize is that spending time engaging in my latest distraction (at the moment, online dating—in the past it’s been too much TV, too much drinking, too much eating, etc.) is really just what I do to “check out” from reality… from my life. It prevents me from spending time on stuff that really matters to me. It precludes me from deepening my connections—to others as well as to myself and of course, to God. It prohibits me from continuing to grow and evolve.

Whatever my latest check-out mechanism of choice is, it prevents me from creating the life I want, and even worse—it stops me dead in my tracks from meeting my own needs.

As is usually the case, when I stumble on something over and over again, the root cause is usually a tape.

I only recently figured out what tape that comes from: I’m stupid (so I’m going to fuck it up, anyway).

(This tape is the hardest of all to admit. To myself, yes, but to admit it in public is a really big deal.)

I think what it really boils down to is that for me, my tape of I’m stupid really means that I don’t matter. That I’m not good enough.

My greatest fear rears its ugly head, yet again. But this is just another manifestation of it—a new head on the ever-present monster within. I’m stupid is a different version of my greatest fear that doesn’t feel quite as severe, yet it is still causing me problems, causing me to behave in ways that I don’t want to behave and make choices that I intrinsically don’t want to make.

Why on earth do I do this? I have an amazing life, filled with more blessings than I ever dreamed possible. I have no reason to check out from my life… but what I’ve come to realize is, this is a very long-standing habit. A lifelong habit, if you will… and it’s my next big pattern to break.

All these thoughts were spurred on by a simple homework assignment made by a good friend of mine. He asked all of us in a group to list 5 things that we do to nurture ourselves… and if we didn’t have 5… to come up with 5 things that would be nurturing.

I easily came up with four.

1. Yoga and dancing
2. Connecting with friends and family in meaningful ways
3. Writing
4. Eating well

But I was stumped on the fifth.

And it led me to realize that I’ve been spending entirely too much time doing things that just don’t matter to me.

And, I’ve made a decision about getting to five. I think the fifth thing comes from separating yoga and dance into two. In the beginning of my exercise journey, I exclusively did yoga and dance, one right after the other.

They were once one, because I needed that. Somehow, one made the other seem less intimidating.

I’ve grown since then, so now I’m ready to take it to the next level.

I made the choice to deepen my yoga practice by getting an unlimited class pass at one of the studios where I’ve taken a few classes. And, I have two Groupons to use up for two other yoga studios.

So… yoga… here I come!

And that same studio where I bought the class pass also offers hip-hop classes. Oh yes. I’m definitely checking that out, too!

What occurred to me this past week is that I am consciously making choices that are helping me feel more free, even within the confines of who and what I am currently bound to… even within the confines of society, and paying rent, and obeying laws, and all the other rules and restrictions placed upon humans.

Basically, freedom means I need to just be myself. No matter who I am around, no matter what I am doing. I need the freedom to do whatever it is, in my very own way.

I need the freedom to fall down, so that I gain the experience of standing up and carrying on. I need the freedom to stretch and let go, so that I can know what it feels like to fly.

And doing five things consistently to nurture myself is a pretty damn skippy way to walk the walk of living the life that I am meant to live, being the woman I am meant to be, and of course—paving my path of freedom.

So, I ask you…

• What do you need?
• What are 5 things you do (or can do) to nurture yourself so you can meet your needs?