Farewell 2014

At the end of my 2013 rope, I begged for joy in 2014. I got a lot of it. But as much as I wanted 2014 to be the year of joy... it morphed into something else entirely.

And, I have tried to write a neat and tidy synopsis of what I learned this year, what I want to take away, what I want to carry forward into next year.

But 2014 was messy. Really messy. Not in a bad way, just—messy. I had ups and downs, ups during the downs, downs during the ups—bursts of joy amongst the tears. Burst of tears smack in the middle of joy.

The reality of loss set in. The reality of dreams I no longer get to have also set in. And once it set in—I couldn’t deny it any longer. I couldn’t just change the subject and make it easier or better or more positive.

As much as I wanted 2014 to be about joy… what it ended up being about was acceptance. 

Accepting where I am, who I am, what has happened, what is happening, and what each moment brings. Living in the present has its merits, and acceptance is a big one.

2014 taught me the value of fully living in the present moment. What sucks about living in the present is that it’s hard to go back and ruminate over the year, because I didn’t record a lot of it, except on Facebook or Instagram.

I spent most of the year living day to day instead of trying to capture my thoughts about living day to day.

That’s unusual for me—but it isn’t bad, good, or indifferent. It simply is.

Right now it is like this: I am glad the year is over.

Somehow I feel unjustified in saying that, because it wasn’t a bad year. But it’s my truth, so there you go.

I learned the value of rest this year. I learned the value of letting go. I learned the value of rooting. I learned the value of sitting quietly and doing nothing. I learned the value of sweating buckets in hot yoga.

All that to say—I learned the value of self-care on a level I never knew I could care for me. The reasons I practice self-care have shifted ever-so-slightly, but what’s more impressive is that the depth to which I practice self-care has grown deeper than I ever thought possible.

I have learned to ask my body/mind/spirit/soul what it needs, what it longs for—and whatever the answer, I heed it.

Most of the time, that means slowing down and doing less.

The exhaustion I still feel confounds me. I thought I wouldn’t feel this tired anymore. I thought I would have more of my energy back. I thought…

It doesn’t matter what I thought, because everything I have learned about grief is that it’s different than what you think it is or what you think it’s supposed to be.

And that’s okay.

The end of this year has been quiet—very quiet. And for that, I am thankful. Quiet equates to slow and deliberate—two key pieces to my puzzle of transformation.

I can see and feel myself transforming.

And I know with a certain degree of solidarity that this transformation is my best yet. I am on the cusp of something big, special, and mind-blowingly awesome.

Yes. Amazing things are coming! I wear that belief like a new tattoo. And I smile as the wise words of Carol Lee, who I met this year, ring true in my heart right now.

I asked her, “How do I practice trust?”
She said, “You don’t. You just ‘be.’ Be the observer, and the trust will come.”

Indeed…

2013: A Year I'll Never Forget

Just how resilient is the human soul?

I suppose you only discover that answer when you are pushed past the brink of all you thought you could handle, about to catapult over the edge of the Grand Canyon, hanging on by a thread, your heart throbbing in your stomach, feeling yourself about to fall—

Only, you don’t fall.

You somehow find footing.

You somehow find a solid place.

Sometimes it’s God. Sometimes it’s the people who come to you in your time of need. Sometimes it’s the spirits of those who have past. Sometimes it’s something from so deep within that there are no words, there is only action.

Sometimes it’s all of the above.

And then, you realize that your legs aren’t broken… and that you can stand on them. And if you aren’t ready to stand—you can sit.

I am looking forward to writing “2014” starting tomorrow. I will never forget this year—how could I? But I poignantly and purposefully remember what I have learned, the gifts I have received, and what I am capable of now that I wasn’t capable of one year ago:

Learning how to sit still with grief and to allow it to wash over me at times that anyone would consider to be inconvenient—that is a gift I got from 2013.

Yes—I have these grief-driven blips of time where I feel all emotional growth and maturity just vanishes—and I’ll say stupid things or have episodes of feeling incredibly needy and downright panicky—but then I come up for air…
And I return to me.

Learning what it feels like to return to me, and to practice it—a priceless gift from 2013.

Learning how to stand up for myself, even when it’s hard—that’s another gift I received.

Learning exactly how strong I am, and exactly how resilient my soul is—another gift.

Learning what radical acceptance feels like—of my body, of my soul, of my state of mind, of my attitude, of my life and world and emotions and everything—yes, yes, yes… a very precious gift.

Learning that I’ve chosen worthwhile people to be in my life, because those people came to me in my most desperate times of need instead of running away from me—a huge gift, indeed.

Learning just how brave I am, how absolutely fearless I have become, and how the fears I have remaining do not rule my world—they are just a part of me, woven into the fabric of my soul. I acknowledge… I accept… and I keep moving forward…

Learning how deeply and how fully I love—just thinking about it overwhelms me. Before 2013, I had not realized my capacity for love.

I love with my whole heart. I love with every fiber, every cell, every atom my soul occupies.
And that includes loving me, too.
I love myself.

I [finally] trust myself.

The grace I have received in 2013 is something I can never thank God enough for.

I have learned how to forgive myself.

I have learned that I am basically a happy and optimistic person, and even though I have been through the worst hell of my life this year… returning to me means returning to a general state of positivity and happiness.

I am grateful for this life.

I am braver than I thought.

I can do conflict—and I can actually do it well, and with solidarity.

I am a dancer. And sometimes, dancing helps me express what words cannot.

Yes. It was—unquestionably—the most difficult year of my life. I never expected any period of time to be as hard as the last 365+ days have been.

But…

2013 showed me who I really am.

My word for the year was love.

I didn’t have to think very hard about my 2014 word.

In the fall, I experienced a special class with powerful women. In that class, we identified our top 5 values (from a list of about 185).

That’s harder than you might expect.

And your values drive—or should drive—every behavior, every habit, every interaction, every relationship—every piece and part of your life.

So, it’s meaningful to get it right.

I narrowed my list down to 13, and then I really got stuck. It turned out to be an eye-opening experience, because I realized that believing my values were really that broad actually caused me to lose focus on what is actually most sacred to me.

My list of 13 did not include one that’s actually in my top 5.

There are probably many reasons why (that I could explain ad nauseum)—but here are my 5:

1. Love
2. Gratefulness
3. Serenity
4. Joy
5. Freedom

As for the one that wasn’t in my original “top 13”?

Joy.

(Seriously?!)

(Yes. For real.)

No more!

I am choosing—from the deepest vibrations within me—one very special word for 2014. Because 2014 is going to rock. It is going to be full of happiness, peace, and most importantly—

Joy.

I have learned to let in moments of joy, even when I was sobbing seconds before. I have felt deeply joyful moments when an instant before, I felt intense grief.

I understand joy. I get it.

But to actually welcome joy into my life, to invite it—

That’s different.

And so…

Joy…

I am rolling out the red carpet for you in 2014.

Come on in.

You are welcome here!

2011: Year in Review

Really? This year is almost over? Where did it go?

Where did December go, for that matter?

I swear, as I get older, time just seems to move faster and faster, and as it speeds up, I find that the stupid little things I used to get so hung up on just really don’t matter anymore.

Tonight when I was going to scrub the sink with Comet, I turned on the water to get the sink wet first—and the spray arm fell off in my hand, and water went shooting everywhere—all the way across the kitchen, on the cabinets, the ceiling, the fridge, and so many tiny crevices between the ceiling and floor that I’m certain I missed some when cleaning it all up.

 

At first, I was stunned—initially at how long it took me to reach for the handle to turn the water off. But then, at the sheer amount of water that had landed in wholly inappropriate places in my tiny kitchen.

And then… I started giggling.

I couldn’t stop—as I grabbed a towel and started the excavation—a moot attempt to find all the dispersed water in my kitchen, and I laughed harder and harder as I opened cabinets only to discover that the contents were also soaked! I couldn’t believe it!

And then it hit me…

A few short years ago, an episode like this wouldn’t have ended in hysterical laughter. Oh, no. It would have ended in yelling, screaming, cursing, and eventually crying, as I slammed cabinet doors and shoved things out of the way.

It’s not that distant in my past. And I marvel at how much I have changed in such a short time.

This year is no different.

At the beginning of this year, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be at Frito-Lay for all of 2011. I still had a lot more weight to lose. I was living in the sterile suburbs, in the house my ex and I had lived in for almost 9 years. I was still grieving the loss of my marriage, although at that point I was mostly functional. I had no interest in men or in dating—rightfully so, since my heart was still healing. I was going through the tail end of a full-on identity crisis—having realized only a few months before that I had spent my entire life trying to be a Relater (sorry non-Pathways folks…), but recognizing I’m actually an Entertainer/Commander.

It was revolutionary for me, yes, but along the way, I sure did make an ass of myself (at least a few times) as I tried to figure out what it meant for me to be far more outgoing and results-oriented than I had ever given myself allowance for.

And finally, while I leaned heavily on God in times of crisis, I wasn’t sure what it meant to be with God on a regular day.

I also moved to Dallas. Clearing out that house was one of the last things to do before truly moving on with my life, and admittedly—it was one of the hardest. Going through 9 years of stuff, plus all the crap I had from college and even my childhood proved to be too much. I got bronchitis and ended up throwing out a ton of stuff and leaving even more behind. In other words, I did the best I could with the resources I had.

My living room and dining area

Suddenly, I could breathe. I fell in love with my apartment. It’s a little slice of heaven… a sacred, safe place where I could recover and deeply heal.

Then there’s the tiny little step of accepting Jesus.

Somewhere in all of this change, I rediscovered my love of dancing, fell in love with yoga, and tentatively invited piano back into my life.

In May, I had a housewarming-slash-birthday party at my abode to celebrate my new space and my continued changes.

And then, my 44 year-old sister had baby Kasey on June 1st, and I got to experience the joy of becoming an aunt all over again. Seeing that tiny little girl with my hands and feet really threw me. And getting to watch my sister become a mom all over again is actually really cool. She’s so much calmer and more laid back than she ever was before.

Wendy & Kasey

As if I hadn’t had enough excitement… at the urging of my friends who insisted it was time, and that I was ready, I started my adventures in online dating. And I wrote about it here. 

Of course, some of the very best stories didn’t end up here in my blog, but they are written, waiting to be put in my memoir. I spent my entire summer doing nothing but working and going on dates. It was fun for a while, yes—but it got exhausting.

Spending those months "turbo dating" as my friend Michael calls it, though, was not only incredibly valuable, but it helped me get my confidence back. It helped me learn what I really did and didn't want in a partner. I got my sassyness back, too. I even came pretty close to falling in love. In retrospect, I'm incredibly thankful I didn't. I am thankful for exactly the way things happened.

David & Me

Just as everything in life, those months got me ready for the man I was about to receive.

In late August into early September, I slowed down and was spending time with one or two guys when David entered the picture—after a long ramp-up time of us shyly getting to know each other.

It took us both by surprise… and it still does. Neither of us can believe the way we feel about eachother, and just how unlike it has been with anyone else.

In the midst of our getting together, I realized that what felt like the last piece of my old life was my job, and it was time to let go.

The timing felt right, and I had a plan in place. Except—my plan fell through, and now I’m squeezing all I can out of the very last of what little money I have.

Still writing every day in my paper journal.

During this time, I had the distinct pleasure of facilitating Writing for Growth with Mark Rogers. In that 12 weeks, I stretched myself immensely, and I watched all the participants stretch, too. This is, without question, one of my biggest blessings of 2011—making Writing for Growth happen, and then thoroughly enjoying the fruits of that labor!

But the last three months of this year have been the most interesting, by far. For the first time in my entire life… I have rested. In October, I mostly slept. In November, I got an awful lot of sleep, too. And December has seen its share of sleep-filled days as well. It feels like I’ve been recovering from years and years of sleep deprivation.

And then, December came along—and during Step Beyond, I was able to finally shed the very last piece of all that had been holding me back. I finally learned how to forgive myself, and I learned what it means to me to give myself grace.

I stripped my contract of all the additional words I had added in during and just after my Pathways training, seven years ago, and I slightly refined my covenant. Now, it’s this: I am a strong, loving, accepted woman, resting in His arms, letting my light shine.

The rest of this month has been a blur of learning what it truly means to trust and have faith in God, that I will be taken care of, no matter what. And in talking with a friend, I realized something crucial. These precious last three months have been the personification of my “theme” for 2011—slown down and simplify.

I’ve come to realize just how little I really need. I’ve come to realize that I don’t actually like living a super-fast-paced life. I have enjoyed this time of rest and reflection. I have been continually amazed at the messages I’ve received, the gifts I’ve received, and most of all—the love I have received in these last three months.

What I see is that I have received these things because my life has slowed down just enough for me to be able to practice being fully present in every living moment. And in being fully present, it’s pretty hard to miss just how blessed I really am.

The space around me is God, supporting me. Everything in my world is here because I chose it. It’s no longer by default. Nothing is here by default! If it isn’t useful, if it doesn’t support me, if it isn’t a positive force in my life… it’s gone.

And even though I have an alarmingly tiny few dollars to carry me into the new year, the fact of the matter is… somehow, I am happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve completely shed the skin of my old life, and while that leaves me feeling somewhat exposed, it’s also a remarkably humble and hopeful place to be, too.

I am thankful for 2011. It’s been a really good year. A year of intense growth and learning what it means to be truly emotionally healthy. I finally learned how to engage my world in a healthy way instead of a codependent way. This year taught me the value of asking for help… the value of stillness and rest… what true peace really feels like… and while money is tighter than tight, I am rich in blessings, love, and connection. Richer than I've ever been!

I am thankful.

I’m not sure what 2012 holds for me. My hope is that it holds abundance.

You see, I have always limited myself so drastically—putting such tight caps on what I think I can earn, the amount and quality of love I give and receive, the depth of my relationships, the courage I have—and in 2011 I got so exhausted with all those limits that I ended up working hard to cast them off. In place of those limits, I am welcoming abundance. Abundance in love… in connection, intimacy, giving and receiving, travel, happiness, and yes—money. I am so tired of starving myself of what I thought I didn’t deserve, and I’m not going to do that anymore.

So, yes—my theme for 2012 is abundance!

What's yours?

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?