Disappointment

When you hold a book up next to your face on video; a book on surrender, and you tell all of your readers how you’re committing, to the best of your ability, to live your life that way — to let the “Hand of Life” call all the shots—said life immediately turns into a three-ring traveling shitshow and you end up canceling your Italian motorcycle vacation at the last-minute.

Yep. So that’s how I spent my Saturday. Canceling plane reservations, hotel rooms and motorcycle rentals.

It was the next logical step. All hell was breaking loose on several of my husband’s construction jobs and we couldn’t in good conscience, just leave town.

Arrivederci! See ya in two weeks!
Yeah, not gonna happen.

I saw it coming, (if i’m honest with myself; which I almost never am), about three weeks ago.
Everything that could go wrong—did.

But you know how you’ve made deposits—both financially and emotionally? Ones that you just can’t bring yourself to give up?

So we stayed the course until there was flaming hair, crying and name-calling (those were his clients, not me), and ended up canceling at the worst possible time. The last-minute.

So. What would I do differently, if I had it to do over again?

That’s just it. Nothing.

I called bullshit every step of the way. You know, like a good wife does.

My French husband, bucking the stereotype, refused to surrender.
Alas, there are two of us in this couple, and he sincerely thought he could make things right before our departure date. He is a magician after all, always pulling rabbits out of hats.
But as that date drew near, “The Hand of Life”, depending on where you were standing, either made the decision easier for us—or gave us the finger.

It’s still too soon to tell.

I can honestly say that at this very moment I’m not disappointed in the least. (Check with me in a week when I should be lounging on the Amalfi coast, tanned, drunk, and being attended to by a handsome waiter named Marco.)

Surrender. Who in the hell said this was a good way to live? Oh yeah, that would be me.

So you guys, here’s what I learned from this:

All the sleepless nights;

All the 3 a.m. walks around the block to clear his head;

All the angst filled conversations;

All the lists of pro’s and con’s;

All the endless vacillating.

All of that misery came from fighting the inevitable.

And after the surrender came a tiny nugget of a gift. Instead of disappoint; I feel peace. (I’m not sure my partner’s there yet. He still has a lot of magic to perform).

Carry on,
xox

“It’s as if she assumes everything will go right, and when it doesn’t – which, of course, is pretty often – she is surprised and affronted.”
― Christina Baker Kline

My flat-iron weighed in this morning.

Even though NO ONE asked its opinion, apparently it agrees with my decision to stop chemically straightening my hair.

I was born with naturally frizzy, wavy hair and as of this morning it thinks I should just make peace with it already!

Did I mention that although it has had to take on the almost Herculean task single-handedly, without the assistance of caustic chemicals, it doesn’t get a vote?

Anyway, in a blatant act of jackassery it decided to run cold. Ice cold. Half way through doing my hair.

Really? It wore out?
Airplanes fly, full of people and shit, day in and day out, back and forth and around the world for ten or twenty years. They don’t even get to take a breath.

The very thing; the only task it was born to do was to heat up and deliver to me stick straight hair.

I never asked it for shine or a softer texture. That would have been over reaching. It would have seemed ungrateful.

Nope, I only needed it to heat up to a surface temperature hot enough to grill a Panini, and thus straighten my hair—and as of this morning it could do neither. Fuck it.

Time of death: 08:25

First appearance of freaky looking helicopter hair: 08:26

What do you do when something or someone can’t live up to their promise?

I get MAD.

I want to throw things…and scream. I want to smash glass, stomp my feet, and let loose a long string of obscenities…then MAYBE, after I’m worn out—I negotiate.

That’s the time I initiate an uneasy détente.
That’s the place where there is pleading, cajoling, mixed with prayers and promises— and that’s just me.

“Please, if you just finish my hair, I’ll…I’ll…cure world hunger.”
Then invariably the talks break down and I’m frantically pushing buttons and kicking and breaking things again.

Have I mentioned I don’t handle disappointment well? How are you guys with that?

I count on things. I look forward to things.
Like hot water, hot coffee and a hot flat-iron.

I take those things for granted in the morning. Like the sun rise, morning breath, and pooping.

Why can’t they just deliver?
They have one fucking reason for being. To make me seem impossibly fresh, naturally beautiful, happy and ready for the day.

Pivoting. Turning on a dime. Going with the flow.

I like to think I’ve got that process in the bag.
Until the Universe fucks with my fat iron.

Or my coffee maker.

Or my water heater.

Can anyone say Mercury retrograde?

Hey, how’s your Monday?

Carry on (if you see me and my shitty hair today…just keep walking)
Seriously.

xox

When you get married, you say the words For better or for worse, and you mean them.

I know I did. At least as much as you can grasp the true meaning of for worse –– as it seems so remote in that moment, just a phrase inside of a vow -– especially after a flute of champagne -–  or four.

I took it to mean someone who is legally obligated by the State of California to share with me the good times as well as the bad. I felt reassured by that.

But what if you discover that when a for worse happens, like a death, the two of you process and handle the situation COMPLETELY differently.
How could you have known that?
And now what?

Especially when the deceased was loved equally by the both of you, how do you cope?

When something bad happens you want me on your team.
You see, I have what I call Delayed Reaction Syndrome. I immediately go into a hyper focused state – cool, calm and collected. I’m the one that makes the calls, orders the food, hands out the Kleenex, writes the eulogy, and is clear-headed enough to make all the uncomfortable decisions. I’m the furthest thing from emotional.
I’m …robotically rational. That is, until it what I call Phase Two kicks in.

My husband on the other hand wears his emotions on his sleeve. Actually they cover the entire outside of his body -– most especially his face.

He is incapable of holding back tears or masking sadness, and his reaction to death is appropriate and immediate.
There is no ambiguity. He’s profoundly sad and you know it.
In that respect we are a perfectly balanced match.

He grieves in the moment, while I get shit done.

There are cultures in the Mid East and Africa where they wail when someone dies, loudly and with great emotion, their bodies and faces contorted by grief. They even have professional wailers, I guess to help the family (and us Delayed Reaction types) along their emotional path.

I envy that. I really do. It appears to be an amazing release.

Two to three hours later is when Phase Two starts.

That’s about the time the tidal wave of sadness and grief comes ashore, washing me out to sea. Now I’m the one who needs comfort, I become numb, my mind unable to focus, and I want to talk and hug…a lot.

But by that time my husband is finished with his outward displays of emotion. He’s all cried out. He has now retreated deep inside, into his cave, and had moved a huge boulder over the entrance.

There’s no reaching him now.

I need to be held and reassured. That is uncharacteristically physically uncomfortable for him.
I need to cry…with someone. My tears are too much for him to handle. He’s reached sadness saturation. He is not available to me in any way, shape or form.

Moving through grief is a very solitary process, and it looks different for everyone.
I get it, I do.
But I don’t like it.

Come to find out we are just as incompatible in Phase Three.

His looks like this: Stay busy. Busy is good. Plan as many meetings and work related things as you can. Book yourself solid for twelve hours straight – then come home and pass out. Try to forget. Want all signs of the deceased erased from the house (I couldn’t do it) and no talking or tears please, too raw.

Mine looks like this: Stay in pj’s on the couch. Cancel meetings, walk neighborhood aimlessly while crying, with Kleenex stuffed up both nostrils, and don’t eat. Isolate and wish for company all at the same time. Bore strangers with your stories. Wish alcohol made you feel better or even helped you to sleep for that matter. Wash all the blankets and beds and then suffer huge regret, searching for her smell. Curl up with favorite stuffed animal for waaaaayyy too long. Forget to wash hair for three days.

Like I said, grief is an extremely solitary emotion that no amount of hugs, or kind words can help. Only time.

And just when you need it the least, it drives a wedge between two people who deal with death differently.

Even two people who love each other to bits just can’t manage to show up to soothe the other person. It was the first time I couldn’t help him. And it just goes to show that even when someone is legally bound to be there for you, sometimes they just can’t…and that came as a complete surprise –– and a crushing disappointment.

Phase Four:

You’ve got to find your solace inside yourself and that’s excruciatingly hard.

Even though he was required by law, when he promised, “I do” –– to be there for worse –– for me –– he had to find his own way first, and while he did that, I searched for my own.

Then we met, after a week, somewhere in the middle –– with open wounds and tears and stories of our journey, and in the process of finding our way back; we’ve grown and changed.

We’re different, and I think in the end we’ll be the better for it.

Carry on,
Xox

INTENTIONAL
in·ten·tion·al
inˈtenCHənl/
adjective
1. done on purpose; 
synonyms: deliberate, calculated, conscious, intended, planned, meant, studied, knowing, willful, purposeful, purposive, done on purpose, premeditated, preplanned, preconceived

I’m not someone that does year end resolutions.

As a matter of fact I haven’t met a resolution I didn’t obliterate. If they lasted past January (which they didn’t), but if they did, they would be sure to crash and burn before making into the first week of February.

You know who you are expensive gym membership, French lessons, books taunting me on the nightstand.
I’m just not that girl.
Kinda like giving things up for Lent. I sucked at that too.

What I do like to do, and believe in doing; is to set an intention for the New Year. That I can do.

I meditate the day before and again on the morning of the first – with purpose.

You can just sit quietly in your favorite chair in your jammies and cosy socks, with your eyes closed, that’ll do just fine.
Then pick a feeling you want to feel. Can’t think of one?

Imagine an obstacle or problem – solved.
How would that feel? Like relief? Freedom? Joy? 

Imagine that stubborn project completed. Pride? Relaxed? Accomplished? Feel that?

Imagine your knee or shoulder or back, free of pain. How do you feel? Strong? Healthy? Vital?

Pick an emotion and marinate in it while you sit and breath. Pull it with you into 2015. Call it forward. Be deliberate. Do it on purpose.

If your mind strays (and it will) dive back in and marinate some more.

As you marinate it will tenderize you, I promise.

If you can stay in it for five minutes, congratulations! If you can do more, you’re a super star!

Be intentional for 2015.
If you believe that we create our reality (like I do), you don’t have to imagine the specifics of the events of the year – just hold the feeling.

I’m going for satisfaction. It is my Holy Grail. I can admit that I am almost never, truly and deeply satisfied. I could do/be better. There is always more that could be written/said/done.

That will be my intention this year, to feel satisfied.

How do you want to feel in 2015? Would you want to share?

Loving you into the New Year,
Xox

DISAPPOINTMENT
dis·ap·point·ment
ˌdisəˈpointmənt/
noun
the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.

(I was looking for an appropriate graphic for a post about disappointment and this one made me laugh – out loud – that’s good enough for me!)

Disappointment. Ugh. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that confirms your most deeply buried fear, that that thing, person, or situation you want SO badly isn’t going to materialize.

Well shit. I know most of the world believes this:

“Don’t expect too much from life, then you won’t be disappointed.”

I’ve been guilty of lowering my expectations, afraid that they couldn’t possibly be met; so you can imagine my surprise when on occasion – they’ve been surpassed.
Not all the time, I’m still a member of the human race, but years ago I heard this quote and it gave me…hope.

“Disappointment means you are taking score too soon.”
Abraham-Hicks

You see, I am a HUGE score-taker. I invented taking score and clock watching and all that frustrating behavior that kept me tied in knots for YEARS!

The above quote changed everything for me.

I realized that when I didn’t see what I wanted, I hadn’t given the person or situation enough time to enter my life.
Sometimes it took years! But looking back – damn the journey was a blast!

And that’s the point.

I wanted things fast. Like yesterday fast.
But the Universe knew the best route to my desire. One that I couldn’t always see.

You’ve heard of Divine Timing? Well, it takes time to line things up. 

I needed to lighten the fuck up.

I could make the journey from want to fruition the scenic route, or the road to perdition.

I decided (and so should you) to wait with enthusiastic anticipation for the events I wanted to take place.
I cannot tell you how much that shifted the energy from fear of failure, to hope.

And isn’t that what we all want to feel about the things we desire? Hopeful? I do!

So the next time you feel yourself all twisted into a pretzel of impatience (been there, done that) remember:
“Disappointment means you are taking score too soon.”

It’s coming. Everything you want. It’s the scenic route, enjoy the ride.
Believe in Divine Timing.
Lighten the fuck up.

Love you,
Xox

Love Is Friendship Set On Fire

“Love is friendship caught fire; it is quiet, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection, and makes allowances for human weaknesses. 
Love is content with the present, hopes for the future, and does not brood over the past. It is the day-in and day-out chronicles of irritations, problems, compromises, small disappointments, big victories, and working toward common goals. 
If you have love in your life, it can make up for a great many things you lack. 
If you do not have it, no matter what else there is, it is not enough.”

I can’t remember when and where I came across this poem. I collect anything and everything that touches me, like some people collect recipes. From quotes, to photos, poems, essays, books, notes, even people. 😉
I feel this poem.

I love the title. The thought that when friendship heats up, through acceptance and familiarity, it catches fire. And abracadabra! You have love.

There is a chance it will burn you, this flame of love, but if you don’t dance close to the fire, where you can really feel the heat – what’s the use.

What I Do know for sure, and agree with wholeheartedly…
You can have all the shoes, money, fame, power and whatever else you desire, but if you don’t have love in your life, NOTHING will ever be enough.

Happy Monday – Love You!
Xox

“If you settle for less you are making a powerful statement to the Universe about what you believe in.”
Leo Knighton Tallarico

Ouch. That’s harsh, but true.
I’ve written many a cautionary tale about about accepting the scraps.
My advice? Don’t you dare do it.

Everything you see in front of you started as dream, an idea or a fear.

Settling is safe, I’ll give you that, and that can be….nice. Not a lot of drama, but not much stimulation, growth or excitement either.

Settling is motivated by fear.
The fear that what you see in front of you is as good as it gets.
“Don’t take chances or try new things; you may FAIL“, fear leaves on post it notes all around your house.

“Oh yeah, this job or relationship isn’t what I’d hoped it would be and it feels like it’s run it’s course, but….”

Do you believe you can have or more importantly, DESERVE more?

Me being me, I can’t stand mediocrity, and settling feels like a whole lot of mediocre, TO ME.

There’s a great big, juicy, beautiful world out there, ripe with possibilities and filled with potential. The potential of more.

I’m not saying I go through life dissatisfied, on the contrary, gratitude for what I have in front of me has always been the springboard for change. Most days I’m even grateful for my “failures.” Most days.

It’s ironic and counterintuitive but true.
Bless what you have and where you are in life, then believe you can have more.

If you’re in a dead-end relationship with a descent guy, feeling kinda…meh; thank the Universe for the time you’ve shared and all you‘ve learned, including the fact that he’s just not right for you.

Same goes for a career. In the past we used to stay at jobs/careers for thirty, thirty five years, retire and die. There’s an epidemic of career professionals, not slackers, deciding “There must be more to life”, and having the courage to re-invent themselves in their forties and fifties and beyond.

Here’s the thing: It’s like that game we played as kids, where one person has their eyes closed as the other person lets them know how close they are to the desired object by telling them if they are “warmer or colder.”
You can let the Universe know if they are “warmer” by being grateful for the current man in your life. He’s kind and tall and loves his mom.
He may not be EXACTLY right, but damn, he’s a lot “warmer” than the last three guys you dated.
“WARMER” you yell, as you walk away.

Same game with that last job interview. It all sounded great on paper, but after meeting and getting more details it felt “COLDER.”
It may be too much like what you currently have or moving in the opposite direction of your dreams altogether.
“COLDER” you yell to the Universe as you ditch the pantyhose and loosen the ponytail.

Hey, it’s okay to yell, the Universe loves the feedback.

So….
You can continue your daily grind of dissatisfaction and living a life of subtle disappointment OR you can send a new powerful statement to the Universe about what you believe you deserve to have.
Start seeing in front of you, a life created not by fear, but by your ideas and dreams for more.

Words to the Wise:

It won’t be easy peasy. Pack lightly (no baggage allowed)

Things may move sloooooooowly at first so, bring some books on tape.

Circumstances may take sharp right turns or accelerate to super sonic speeds. Buckle up to avoid whiplash.

It won’t feel safe, boring, mundane, habitual, typical, ordinary, redundant, secure, normal, common, familiar or routine. 

If that’s what you crave, bravo…… just quit reading this right now and breathe a sigh of relief, because rest assured, your tomorrow will look exactly like your yesterday and today.

Can you think of any situations where you need to either yell “warmer” or “colder”?
Where are your circumstances showing you you’re headed, and is that enough?
I’d love to hear some of your insights in the comments.

Xox