Today I am grateful for dreams.  Over the last few weeks I have felt a distinct sense of loss and an inability to see what I wanted for the future.  I could barely see how to make it to the end of the day and each morning I felt like there was nothing I wanted to do in that day.  Nothing.  Like everyone, there have been so many highs and lows over the last year that I’m struggling to make heads or tails of what is up or down, what really matters, and what I really want.  There are moments I am so close to seeing it and I boldly declare, “This is it!” only to second guess myself a day later.  But I am grateful to be able to look toward a future with some hope and to try and decide on a life I want—I still have that ability and that is a luxury.

Today I am grateful for nourishing food.  I love to meal prep and to make sure I have healthy options on hand.  After seeing what my mother went through a week ago, I feel so blessed for the reminder how our own action or inaction impacts our bodies.  I am grateful for the reminder that our bodies are worth taking care of, that my body is worth taking care of.  I am grateful that I get to decide how I want to treat myself and that I am able to nourish myself with real, healthy food.

Today I am grateful for the chaos of the last week.  It was exhausting and terrifying and completely sideways from my normal life—but I saw first hand that I am able to do things differently.  It took me a whole week to see that, but I am grateful the chaos showed me that I am able to accomplish the things I want to and that I am able to stretch in different directions and farther than I thought.  Sometimes it takes pushing to the breaking point to see that you’re NOT going to break: you just have to learn to stretch a different way.

Today I am grateful that I have flexibility in my life.  As much as I struggle with certain parts of institutions, I am grateful that I had the time to work when I needed and the time to stop when I needed.  I am grateful that my family came together to find a solution to help with caring for my mother, my niece, and my son.  I am grateful that this is taking me to the next level in letting go in my life.

Today I am grateful for love.  Yes, I know it’s cheesy, but I have to recognize it.  I wouldn’t be where I am without the people who love me.  I’ve always thought love was a complicated emotion because it entails so much.  But as I’m getting older I’m realizing that it isn’t complicated—you feel it and share it.  We didn’t do anything special today (because there is a difference between recognizing love and feeling obligated to show it in extreme ways) but we were together.  I made pink pancakes and we ran to the store, we had some lunch, and that was it.    

Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead.

The first time I noticed I was smaller than everyone was when I was five years old in my kindergarten class.  I felt terribly shy and unsure and, looking back, I guess I’ve always had trouble interacting with people.  Like, I just didn’t get the point of it or how to really do it.  I didn’t know how to be friends with other kids.  I remember feeling like this out of place girl, scared to open my mouth, even at that age knowing I knew the answers but choosing to be quiet. 

I don’t remember what made me keep quiet because, the truth is, many of those kids were kind to me.  Not that we were overly close, but I remember getting on well with them in class.  I wanted them to like me.  I remember kneeling on the carpet, all of us gathered together to watch “Reading Rainbow” and someone said it: “the shrimp can sit in front,” followed by a few giggles from other kids.  I remember asking my parents what it meant exactly when I got home and they told me that the kids were just jealous or something like that.  But I remember my parents also becoming really encouraging about school at that time.

The name shrimp stuck pretty well after that, with both my friends, and the other kids in the class.  The teacher started saying something about it and that’s when I noticed how it really made me feel.  I can’t say it was bad at first, but I really noticed that OTHERS noticed I was different and that is when I felt different.  The name stuck with me for years.  I remember writing in my journal at eight years old that the other kids didn’t like me and were calling me shrimp.  Eight years old and feeling completely isolated. 

I adored my parents because through all of that they made sure I knew they loved me and they tried the parent tactic of telling me how jealous other kids were and that “good things come in small packages.”  It really did help but it became a daily battle—it was always some new cruel thing that was said about me.  I learned to shield myself from second grade on because, by that time, even some of the older kids I didn’t know were making fun of me.  Now, I know some people say this is a normal part of life, but the extent of the bullying absolutely took a toll on me because I would learn to get through one person treating me that way and then another would be in their place—it was relentless and constant. 

Looking back, I can see how clearly this defined my self-esteem and how much I tried to compensate for feeling like crap by being controlling and excelling in school.  I used being right as a shield for being made fun of.  I may not have been able to change my height, but I could take the time to learn everything I could and make sure I knew my stuff.  I could always prove I was still something special if I was right. 

I’m still little and it still bothers me.  We are so trained to auto-judge people by what they look like that I’ve spent my life being dismissed and disregarded as a child even though I’m a grown woman.  When I was pregnant, people would stare at me in disbelief because they thought I was too young.  Performing in the professional world was just as challenging because most people, especially older men, have no problem disregarding people anyway, but seeing a woman who looks young doesn’t take any thought at all.  I’ve heard people say horribly derogatory things about me to my husband—right in front of me.  Things like, “You’re so lucky, she doesn’t even have to kneel to give you head.” 

Logically I know I am SO much more than that.  I have accomplished so much more than that.  But all you see is a small woman and you don’t give a shit.  I shouldn’t have to prove myself to you in any way to earn your respect.  While these things still bother me, it has taught me a lot about what really matters.  Other people’s opinions are so low on the  list it is ridiculous.  Human nature dictates that there will always be assholes around no matter what you do—and you have to keep going regardless.  And I have learned to be a kinder more open person because I know first impressions mean nothing.

The last lesson I am trying to learn, or rather unlearn, is that the stories other people tell about me and their first impressions don’t mean a damn thing.  That is a lot of work to do when you’ve heard the same story for over 30 years.  That is where clearing away comes in.  As I spoke about yesterday, I’ve been getting a lot of cards about clearing the past and letting it go—and this is one of the things I have to make peace with.  Those events from so long ago (and not so long ago) have no bearing on where I’m going next.  Those events are not an indicator of who I really am.  Yes I’m short, but I am a damn force to be reckoned with.  I am smart and capable and I have carried the weight of many worlds on my shoulders.  I say what happens next.  If you have nothing supportive to say, or nothing original to say, then there is no space for you here.

Over the last couple of days I’ve pulled cards repeating similar themes: resolve the past to move forward, let go of the past, let it lie, step forward into who you are meant to be.  I have held tightly to the past, to everything I’ve done and to things I wish I had done.  To the decisions I regret making, the chances I regret letting go.  There are so many things I wish I could have done differently and there are so many things I wish I could do over.  I’m sad because I know nothing I do with change what has been done but I also don’t know how to let it go. 

So many authors I read talk about forgiveness.  How important it is to make peace with what is done in order to successfully move on.  How the past is merely a part of what has happened, not the defining moment.  There are some things I’m not sure I have earned the right to forgive.  Part of me knows that is ridiculous because there are ways to make peace with nearly anything.  I have no issue forgiving people in my life but I still struggle with forgiving myself.

In the spirit of this Valentine’s day weekend, I found it appropriate to continue to take loving action for myself.  That includes forgiveness.  Perhaps this has always been a challenge for me because a lot of what I feel isn’t necessarily shame or anger toward myself, it is regret.  How do you forgive regret?  Regret is difficult because it’s ambiguous.  You don’t have to feel regret because you did something terrible—sometimes it’s the longing for things to be different.

I know that I can’t make things different, I’m not insane.  But finding a way to make peace with the fact that some things just are is challenging, especially for perfectionists.  So, for me, the first thing I’m trying to come to terms with is just that: life isn’t perfect.  It’s messy and dynamic and flows of its own will.  Part of accepting that things aren’t perfect is accepting that I have my own unique abilities and developing those abilities is more useful than trying to force myself to fit into something else. 

When you align with who you really are, the opportunities that are meant for you will always find you.  That is how you make peace with regret.  If you believe that there are no coincidences and that your opportunities always find you no matter how long it may take, then it is safe to say that there are no missed opportunities and there is no reason to regret anything.  I love that idea, but I struggle with it.

However, the universe seems to be pressing the issue of letting go of the past and getting on with it already.  I surrender.  It is time to give over, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel.  I will be sharing some stories over the next few days in hopes of some healing.  In hopes of resolving and making peace with some things from my past.  In hopes of learning to embrace what I have been talking about for the last year—loving myself enough to accept who I am.     

I’ve always been the person rooting for the underdog, standing up for what is right.  I’ve been the neutral party trying to see both sides to come up with a resolution.  My mother’s incident on Friday has become a pivotal moment for me.  I reached out to the highest authorities in the hospital and shared my work with my family as well.  My father told me that I am a really good writer.  Seems silly to want that validation in the grand scheme of what is going on, but it is so important because there are people who need help, it’s as simple as that.  If I am able to help them, that is what I want to do.

Being in healthcare as long as I have been, I can see that everything over the past year is part of the systems that are falling apart.  I’m hopeful that part of the reason we’ve experienced these events is to guide me here, to understand how many people need someone to speak for them.  I understand how many people are so angry and I understand why they are angry.  We’ve prioritized material over people and expected people to work like machines.  We feel like meeting basic necessities is a privilege and that we are supposed to consume all the time and if you’re not taking things in then you aren’t good enough. 

Standing up for what is right, not who is right, or how a small group gets the most money is what’s important.  Taking on giants is terrifying but sometimes we have to do it, no matter what.  If it is what we are called to do, sometimes taking on what is right, no matter who we are taking on, is what we have to do.  I’m not 100% sure where that facet of my life is taking me, but I know that it is closer to where I’m trying to be.       

Next week I will begin sharing more personal stories, things I haven’t talked about before, because I now see how important it is to own our stories in an act of love.  As I’m being pushed forward toward where I’m meant to be, I see how many of the things that happened in my childhood brought me right to this moment.  I’m loving me enough to do what I am meant to do. 

I had an amazing moment on Sunday watching my husband and son play nerf darts together.  Completely uninhibited, running through the house, laughing and having a blast.  Hearing my son giggle uncontrollably and watching my husband patiently teach him how to play with the nerf gun completely warmed my heart.  These are the moments we need together.  I’ve gotten so caught up.  I’m always caught up.  No matter how hard I think about it and try to let it go, I’m always finding myself back in my head.  Watching them play today showed me how vitally necessary it is.  I struggle with shutting down—even though I know how good it feels, even though I know we all need to shut down every now and then—and I always regret it because I let myself burnout before I take any kind of break.

I’m working really hard to remember to take care of myself, especially my mental health.  Old dogs and new tricks, man, it is SO tough.  I appreciate this crew hearing the same things over for a while.  I promise I’m trying to break these habits.  I think I’m also really grateful that in spite of constantly forgetting these lessons, the universe is always bringing them back to me and saying—get your shit together.  We’re here now, enjoy it. 

After the debacle I shared with you about my mother’s health care, I took Monday off and I loved every second of it.  I was able to help my mother and take care of my kid as well as anything that needs to get done.  That emotional trauma will never go away, but I can learn to integrate it and take the lesson higher.  It spoke to so many things occurring in our nation because I know my mother is not alone in this.  We have to do better.  And (as sick as it sounds) I am thrilled to witness so many systems failing from healthcare, to education, to wall street.  Let’s keep peeling back the layers and exposing the truth in everything we do.

I had an anxiety attack late Saturday evening into Sunday morning.  After the events with my mother, the gravity of the situation really began to sink in and I felt myself fearing losing her.  One thing I’ve always prided myself on is being very good in a crisis.  That is the one major benefit of having anxiety my entire life—my brain and body kind of go on auto-pilot in real emergencies and I get a sense of clarity where I just do what needs to be done.  Eckhart Tolle talks about that in “The Power of Now” and how everything disappears except for the crisis at hand.  But after the crisis settles, the emotional component kicks in.  There were so many moments I felt helpless this past weekend that I feared what would happen.

I know that I am going to lose my parents and it is something I’ve always hated.  I’ve had a fear of losing them since I was nine years old.  And now that I’m an adult and we are closer to that moment, when I’m transitioning with my siblings to care taker, it weighs on me. Then I started fearing my own death and leaving my son behind and the weight became crushing.  I know time moves on and we only have so much time while we are here.  In the midst of that fear-based brain, I had a moment of truly understanding how fleeting life is and how important it is to do what really matters.  How important it is to let go of all the extraneous bullshit we strive for—just let it go and focus on what matters.

I have a tendency to go to the extremes with everything I feel—fear, passion, excitement, and anxiety.  Even if I love a book, I will make sure to get them all.  Like I fill my life up with so much stuff because I don’t want to feel the fears.  Having a lot of stuff makes me feel safe and gives me the illusion that I have all I need and I will always have all I need.  I see how much my life has become cluttered by that behavior and, in that moment of clarity through fear, I know how much I need to let go of.  I’m trying to hold on to past lives, to things that are no longer present, to things that I truly no longer need.  Now it no longer makes me feel safe—it makes me feel heavy and clouded.  

That was one time I was actually grateful for my anxiety.  That was probably the clearest I have ever been on making a decision through my anxiety and I felt like the anxiety actually served a purpose, gave me an answer.  On Sunday morning my son climbed into bed and told me It was the “bestest day in the world” because he loves the morning.  And that firmly planted me right in the present moment.  No amount of fear is going to change what is coming, I’ve spoken about that before.  No amount of lamenting or filling a home up with stuff is going to bring back the past, or the feeling from the past.  No THING is going to take away the pain of the past or stop the future. The key to being happy is to truly be present.

I pulled a card and it was about sensitivity.  It said “You are extra sensitive to energies and emotions right now.  Honor yourself and your feelings.”  It’s true.  I am extra sensitive right now because I’m in the throes of a deep change.  I’m in the field between the forest and the road, navigating my way between lives.  And I’ve lived a wonderful life, it’s no wonder it’s hard to let it go.  I have to trust that the next phase will be as wonderful, if not more so.  It’s time for me to embrace the change, make peace with it and lean into it.  I feel guilty for talking about it so often and not doing it.  But I’m stuck in the memory of that safety and security and the truth is, it no longer exists.  It was always an illusion anyway.  That security needs to come from within.  I am so grateful for my life, and there is a lot more of it to live.  As much as I don’t want to say goodbye, I am grateful I have all the memories of it. 

As we spoke about boundaries the other day, the universe provided a test—like she does.  I’ve learned in the last 48 hours that I’m not very clear when setting boundaries.  Rather, I’m not very clear with enforcing my boundaries.  I feel very passionately and express myself clearly—but I don’t enforce well.  My first reaction is to bend so people won’t think I’m inflexible.  And then I get mad because I give in to what other people want in hopes they will one day bend for me.  Which they never do.

Friday started off well enough with a prioritization meeting with my team.  In the middle of my meeting another manager called one of my employees to ask her to help set up another employee on a third team get set up for the day.  I had told her to answer the phone because she assists with overtime in the other manager’s department and I assumed they were setting something up for the weekend, no big deal.  I was not anticipating he was using her during her shift on our time to troubleshoot another team’s staff member.  I couldn’t understand why the third person’s manager couldn’t set up this employee.  And why did my coworkers feel it is ok to call my employee and have her work with their teams?

Around three o’clock, my mother was taken to the hospital.  None of our family has been allowed to see her due to COVID restrictions (understandable) and we weren’t getting any information from them when we called.  After waiting three hours and numerous calls to the hospital, the woman I spoke with lost her temper with me and I rose to the bait—with zero regret I may add.  She insinuated that I was trying to breach HIPAA and I finally yelled at her that my mother had no ID with her, no information, no one is allowed to be there to advocate for her, and she has no idea what is happening.  I couldn’t understand why it took getting to that level to be heard and understood that this situation wasn’t about who is right or wrong, it was about my mother and her safety.  After six hours with no contact, we finally got some answers.

So for me, in a radical demonstration of self-love, I am no longer apologizing for standing up for what is right.  I am not apologizing for upsetting someone’s day when someone’s life is on the line.  I care more about what I need to do and developing my goals than I do making people like me.   Also in a radical demonstration of self-love, I have to enforce my boundaries with myself.  While I need to be flexible, I also need to be stricter.  I let myself off the hook too much for the things I want to do.  I will often let myself not do something if I don’t feel like it.  And I can see where that makes my overall boundaries lax.  If I can’t stick to my own word, why would other people? 

A final act of self-love, I will learn to forgive myself when I am not able to meet my own expectations and I will get back on track as soon as possible.  For example, on Saturday I was dealing with my mom’s situation all day and I wasn’t able to post.  That had nothing to do not wanting to do what was important to me, that was life saying I needed to deal what was important to someone else.  There is no need to feel guilty for that—even though I do.  I think I feel guilty in those moments when I’m truly unable to do something I intended to because I recognize I had opportunity in other times to do it and I chose not to.  I’m forgiving myself for that too.  All I can do is aim for balance and work on these things with more discipline.  Everything else is gravy.

This is another big topic for me—namely because I haven’t ever known when to leave.  I’ve always felt out of place in my life, like my timing is off.  I was born generations after my siblings so I grew up relatively alone.  I never got along with many people my age (stories to come on that) and I have always pushed for the next thing.  I wasn’t raised to recognize when things weren’t healthy or when they no longer served.  I was raised to do as I was told and to stick it out.  I was the kind of person who showed up to work sick as a dog and ended up in the ER because I didn’t think I was allowed to call out sick.  I left that job on a Friday and my boss gave his notice the following Monday.

My judgement was always off and I took jobs that weren’t for me, I settled for less than I deserved just so I could be accepted, I stayed in relationships with people who weren’t right for me.  And any time I did manage to get out of one of those situations, I hopped so quickly I couldn’t settle to really find the lesson.  So I switched between being stuck like a tree stump and acting like a frog, jumping so quickly and so often I couldn’t make sense of what I was doing.  I remember I was injured on the job as a massage therapist and arguing with the doctor that I couldn’t go to work because there was someone else to answer the phones he insisted I could handle.  Completely unheard, I had no idea how to react.

This man clearly didn’t understand the dynamics of what I did for a living and I had no words to describe my frustration.  I walked out numb, knowing my job didn’t have anything for me because they already had receptionists, and that I couldn’t perform my work.  I ended up staying home for a month, hiding and alone.

After that I knew I couldn’t let anyone dictate what I did with my life (or my body) ever again.  You do not get to take a glance at me and assume you know what I am capable of.  And you do not get to push me beyond my limits.  That is the truth for all of us: no one gets to demand anything of us beyond common decency.  I’m not the best at this but I am smart enough to know that this is something vital in life.  It’s not just the act of leaving—it’s the act of setting the boundary.  Setting and maintaining that boundary is love.  Having enough self-awareness to say something isn’t working or it goes against your values is key because THAT is how you know to leave.  It’s fine to apply this to everything—work, relationships, events.  If it isn’t something that resonates with your core values then it’s time to cut it loose.

We are often taught that boundaries are selfish.  Get that shit out of your head, pronto.  I’m speaking from the position of being a doormat for too long.  Learning this if you have never done it before or if you have old beliefs engrained is challenging.  It requires you to step out of your comfort zone and maybe even piss off some people.  No one can ever know us as well as we know ourselves and no one will look out for us as well as we know ourselves so we are the only ones who can say what is good for us.

The only reason the timing was ever off in my life is because I didn’t set my boundaries.  I met other people’s needs and had the expectation they would meet mine in return.  I made mistakes as a child and cut out the people who should have been in my life and I held on to every mistake as a character trait instead of a lesson.  All that got me was running circles.  So, I  have learned to set the damn boundaries.  I make sure I work on my stuff every night.  I leave work on time every day.  I spend time with my son.  I meal prep.  And the boundaries are coming in stronger.  A promise I make to myself is to continue setting those boundaries and to leave when it no longer serves.         

My home was filled with yelling and tears for the last two days. My husband and I have been desperately trying to communicate with our son and it is extremely challenging.  My son is incredibly intelligent and determined and that doesn’t always align with what our plans are.  Normally we’ve been pretty good about coping when things go awry and coaching each other through helping our son navigate the tough stuff.  But we collapsed the last couple of days and neither one of us could manage.  I know kids are resilient but I always worry that we are impacting him.  I felt like I failed as a parent.

I love my kid and I see so much of both my husband and myself in him.  I try to remind myself that the parts of my boy that set me off are the parts of myself that I need to work on.  As a recovering control freak (who am I kidding, I’m still fighting that battle) it’s hard to allow a four year old to run the show.  It’s hard to tell what I can let go of and what needs to be addressed.  He is four so of course he needs limits and guidance—but he is his own person and I don’t want to hinder that.  Yet everything from picking up toys to leaving the house in the morning is a fight.  Maybe this is all completely normal, but I have internalized it on some level because I know he is trying to express himself and I don’t want him to feel like something is wrong with him.

I have read a lot of books about failure.  I know failure is not who you are, it’s not who I am.  It’s an event, not a character flaw.  It’s a sign of being human.  If we were meant to have it all figured out there would be a manual somewhere and there most certainly is not.  People have tried to make books on the subject but being human is such a tricky thing that no one has ever managed to capture the whole thing.  Maybe this is just a bad moment, and because I’m a fixer, I’m making demands for an explanation that even fully grown adults can’t put into words.  I know I can’t always explain what’s going on.  I guess it’s about learning grace and having patience. 

I made the choice at five years old to not add any undue stress to my parent’s lives (that’s another story) and I remember the moment it happened.  From then on I became the dutiful daughter, always doing as I was told.  I placed the expectation of fully understanding people’s emotions and expectations on my son and my husband—and everyone in my life to tell the truth.  That is no ones burden to carry, I was wrong.  My son is his own person and has the right to go through his own learning curve and make his own decisions even if they upset me.

So while these past few days have been rough, they have also been a learning experience.  Being forced to sit with my actions and to recognize the patterns of a lifetime have shown me that sometimes failing really is a lesson.  I spoke about compassion the other day and this is a reminder that sometimes we have to show ourselves compassion as well.  Myself included.  We will not always get it right and sometimes we will hurt people.  It’s the recovery and the integration that matters—not the failure.  The first two days of this month I have spoken of compassion and self-love: redefining failure and showing compassion to ourselves is a courageous act of self-love.  I can say I tried my best, and now I know better.    

This topic has weighed heavily on me for a long time because, in full transparency, I haven’t loved myself very well.  How can someone profess the need for self-love when they don’t love who they are?  How can they love who they are when they’ve never been taught how? I’ve never been neglected or abused, but I didn’t have an easy childhood.  I witnessed things no child should have witnessed and I’m reading a book by Tara Schuster that expressed it perfectly.  She said that we often feel like we aren’t allowed to feel a certain way about a feeling if we are privileged. The truth is we ARE allowed to feel what we feel.

I was feeling incredibly off on Saturday and much of Sunday…I felt horrible.  I couldn’t get it together.  I hated my life and I forgot where the magic really is.  I loathed everything about myself, and quite frankly, I didn’t see a reason to stay alive.  Not that I was suicidal, but I definitely didn’t see the point.  I needed to get in touch with myself again.  To be quite frank, I’ve been feeling this overall blah-ness sinking in again for weeks now.  I’m on the precipice of doing something great (well, what I hope is great) so I know my attention has been divided unfairly.  I’m human and can’t do it all. 

But this goes deeper than that.  Self-love is about being honest and I still feel like I’m hiding something from myself.  I’ve never really sat with any of my emotions—I ate them away, yelled them away, hid myself away, or cut them away.  I never felt like I knew where I was going but I had a strong sense of where I wanted to go. 

I never learned to focus on any one thing–and I need to focus on one thing at a time.  I felt a lot of pressure to be wildly successful and to always look like I could do it all. I still have a habit of taking on a bunch of things and I used to think that I wanted to do them because I could, to prove I could and then it kind of became who I was.  People relied on me to finish whatever they started in addition to my own things.  I ended up getting nowhere because no one can make real progress doing five things at a time.  At least not good progress.  Now I’m starting to get the feeling that I take on more than I can accomplish because I don’t want to feel something.  It feels like I’m keeping myself from succeeding. 

I look at all of this as a big step toward self-love because you have to know yourself well enough to know what isn’t working.  You have to know what is really you and what is your ego or what you were told to do.  We are often so hard on ourselves and we aren’t taught to extend ourselves compassion or love—we have to hold ourselves to a different level otherwise we are weak.  How well is that working for us?  Chances are you, like me, are an overwhelmed, overstressed, unsure, frazzled, often insecure, confused person.  Extend the first hand up to yourself and acknowledge that your imperfections are simply a part of you—they don’t define you.  And if you’re really honest—are they imperfections at all?

We are powerful, magical, beings who have gotten caught up in the human experience.  Be generous with yourself—and patient.  And for everything that you are, really listen.  Try to understand and be forgiving and open to the idea that you’re just trying to get to the root of what this crazy ride is about.  THAT is self-love.  That is the greatest gift you can give yourself and anyone in the world.  When you open up to who you are, you shine your light on a gift that needs to be shared.