writer

Have you ever wanted something so bad you could taste it? Like dark, black chocolate on the tip of your tongue, or a sour patch kid that made the glands in your neck ache? Like that visceral? Something so big it could change the trajectory of your life? (Although I don’t recommend putting that kind of pressure on, well, anything.)

What did you do?

Did you go after it, or did the courage run out of you like melted ice cream through a cone on a hot August day? 

I only ask because I took a shot as brazen as a half court toss at an ALL STAR  game, hopeful, no, make that knowing—that I would make the basket—NO net—and then I didn’t. You have to admire that about me. I have so much conviction in the most unlikely of circumstances. It’s either endearing as hell—or bat shit crazy. No one can decide.

Thwack! was the sound the ball made as it hit the headboard, or the backboard, or whatever they call that clear plastic thingy behind the basket that keeps the ball from killing the crowd. 

I hear it was a near miss, but it was a miss just the same. 

I tried to duck but the thing had momentum as it careened off my face, bounced once, and hit me in the gut knocking the wind out of me. That’s when I realized there was no ball or missed throw, I had probably just swallowed my Adams apple on account of disappointment.

The crowd laughed. Not really. Nobody said a word. 

Even the voices in my head had the decency to take a short coffee break. And if you ask me, that’s why the feeling of having failed on an epic scale only lasted a few seconds. No peanut gallery dared chime in. They just let me marinate for a sec. When I regained my breath I read the email again. It was so fucking polite and encouraging it almost made me forget they’d rejected my work. Almost.

Maybe reject is too strong a word. They took a pass sounds better. Less soul crushing.

“We hope this “no” lights a fire in you to chase that “Yes”! Were their exact words. Who’s soul can stay crushed when they put it that way? Not mine, that’s for sure, especially since I’m profoudly NO challenged. Always have been. Cannot take it for an answer—EVAH!

Someone much wiser than me once said, “Disappointment is taking score too soon.”  And being a retired “scorekeeper” I immediately tried to tally how many years I’d wasted, until I ran out of fingers and toes and then I just decided I had to take that advice to heart.

Besides, when is no ever really no? I mean in my book (the only one that matters) it’s always been the placeholder for not yet.

I’m not gonna get into the weeds with this thing, I’m only here to encourage everybody to take chances in their lives. To get into the game. To do the hard things. To feel scared. To stretch like a goddamn piece of saltwater taffy. I’m not gonna lie, the sting of rejection—yeah, it hurts, but it only lasts a second, like a flu shot. And even though a part of me felt like shit, a bigger part of me was absolutely EXHILERATED!  Because for me, knowing that I never even tried was unacceptable.

Ask anyone who’s had any success and they’ll tell you about all the times they got knocked down to the ground. But, honey, at least they were in the arena.

Since at my age, unless you’re attempting something extraordinary you rarely, if ever, hear the word NO, (seriously) I have had a pretty amazing day processing all of this. And I have to say that as the disappointment faded, the void that was left was filled with something unexpected… pride. For having the audacity to dream as big as I did. 

All of this to say, you guys, please don’t live small, afraid of the pain. DREAM BIG! You can take it from me, it’s not gonna kill ya, l know that because last time I checked—I wasn’t dead.

Carry on,
xox

Chemistry
chem·is·try
ˈkeməstrē/
noun
1. the branch of science that deals with the identification of the substances of which matter is composed; blah, blah, blah, more scientific jargon.

2. the complex (understatement) emotional or psychological interaction between two people.
“their affair was triggered by intense sexual chemistry” (THAT’S the one I’m takin’ about.)

synonyms: affinity (not) attraction ( attraction is to chemistry, what propane is to rocket fuel) rapport (weak) spark ( ha! that’s putting it mildly)

“there was a chemistry between them” (…and they didn’t sleep for a week)

So, after the post about my lapse of good judgement due to some “intense sexual chemistry”,

http://www.theobserversvoice.com/2014/09/his-wife-saved-me-from-becoming-the-other-woman-a-cautionary-tale/

I decided to give this elusive beast more thought; seeing that it can ruin our lives and such.

So what is chemistry anyway?
If I knew the answer to that, well, I would be bottling it and living on my private island with all the subjects of my “research.”

There are studies that chalk it up to smell, to pheromones. According to the dictionary, Pheromones are chemicals, hormones, capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual.

In other words, little invisible sexual secret agents, that overrule all common sense, decorum and self-respect. They blindside us, leaving us slaves to our lady parts.
Men, I suppose you can blame your struggles with self-control on chemistry and pheromones – but what’s your excuse the rest of the time? – just sayin’.

Tweet: People that say they don’t “believe” in chemistry, have never experienced it.
Right?
I just felt the slow, collective, nod of thousands of heads.

I mean, it can strike you when you least expect it.
It’s a form of sexual terrorism, with the MOST wicked sense of humor.

Chemistry has no conscience, that I know for sure.
It seems it’s the strongest with the most inappropriate people; at the most inopportune times.

Haven’t you ever locked eyes across a crowded party with…the cater waiter?
Come on! I know it’s not just me!
What about the guy in the Home Depot outdoor department? Or the beautiful man in Starbucks?

A friend of mine locked eyes with a stunning, young woman, on an airplane, seated in first class.
He was walking down the aisle to his cheapest of the cheap seats, in the waaaaay back of bitch/coach.
He knew she felt the chemistry too when she walked all the way to the back of the plane to use the restroom, forgoing all the comforts of the first class potty, just to flirt with him.

They exchanged magazines, book titles, recipes and phone numbers, gossiping and giggling like two teenage girls, and annoying everyone around him, late into the night.
The pheromones were so strong, she had to be warned sternly, several times, to go back to her first class seat during turbulence.
Sadly, she was met at the gate by a much older husband and three little kids – and my friend is gay.
Hey, I’ve already told you, chemistry knows no boundaries.

My philosophy is this:
Feel the chemistry. Marvel at it. Admire it even. Then walk away.
Except if you’re single, some chemistry is a must have in any relationship, because, take it from me – if it’s not there, the first time you get a whiff of it; you’ll bolt.

My heart still flips over when my husband enters a room. Not every time – but most of the time.

Listen, mark my words; that wild, mad, leave your wife, make bad decisions, rip your clothes off in public, kind of chemistry does NOT make for good RELATIONSHIPS.

Relationships require some intellect, intimacy and love.

Chemistry is not to be mistaken for love. Ever.

Pheromone fueled chemistry rules the region south – of – the – border; if you catch my drift.
It’s the stuff of books and movies and it NEVER works out in the end. Trust me.

Knowing the difference can save you a lifetime of hurt.

Sympathetic kiss,
Xox

Have you got a juicy chemistry story for me?

“Love comes to those who still hope even though they’ve been disappointed, to those who still believe even though they’ve been betrayed, to those who still love even though they’ve been hurt before.”
– Anon

Who hasn’t wanted to throw in the towel, join a convent, become a loner, join the Foreign Legion, live on a deserted island with only a soccer ball to give them shit, and padlock their heart for safe keeping, throwing away the key, after a love affair has crashed and burned?
Show of hands?

I have mucho experience in this field. I have been epically dumped, numerous times, so I’m an expert. And that’s all the dirty details you get today.

Except…
Each time, even as the sheets were cooling off, I worked really hard to keep my heart open, cuts, bruises, skid marks and all. I could be laying in my bed, boo-hoo-hooing my head off, snot all over my pillow, and the mantra that would keep repeating in my head-full-of-sorrow would be this:
“Keep your heart open Janet, don’t close your heart.”
Well, maybe not at first – but it always did sooner rather than later.

And you wanna know why?

Because it gave me another chance to fall in love, and THAT is one of my top five, all time, stupid smile on my face, greatest things EVER, why we are here, wouldn’t give it up for the world, FAVORITE things to do.

I love feeling that chemistry when you first meet someone new. The giggly phone calls, dating, getting to know someone, and eventually feeling that little tingle that let’s you know – holy shit… I’m falling in love.

Again.

This wounded heart is on the mend. I recognize that feeling, its…love.

It amazing how resilient that muscle can be. Love is like a magic elixir that just washes away all the pain and hurt, all the betrayal, doubt and fear.

Until I met someone new, (and I know you think that will NEVER happen again, but I can assure you – it will), I’d marinate my heart in love by watching movies and reading books that reminded me that I could feel it again. I’d even hang around my lovey-dovey married friends.
Like an athlete keeping their muscles supple by stretching. Often it was an excruciatingly painful process.
I would have much rather stayed bitchy and bitter.
I’m sure you know what I mean.

But the alternative, an atrophied heart, hard and cold, unable to let in the love, was unacceptable to me.

Tweet: I’m a lover. It’s the dealer breaker between Me and life.

I’d rather love than be right.
I’d rather love than feel vindicated.
I’d rather love than be mad.
I’d rather love than get even.

Before you smack me, take a minute. You know I’m right.

Tweet: Because love really is the best revenge.

* This also works inside a relationship when you forget why you love them and you want to grab them by the throat and see them suffer…oh, maybe that’s just me.

Sending you big, big, love,
Xox

In 1994 I traveled with a friend to the Big Island of Hawaii and the trip turned out to be magical.
No really. Magic happened.

I hadn’t thought about it for many years, but on my walk today I started remembering all the amazing things that took place, especially on one particular afternoon, and that usually means I should write about it.
So here goes:

We were guests of a friend who was working on a movie being shot on the Big Island. The studio was springing for her condo up in the hills overlooking the deep, blue Pacific, so she invited us to spend some time in her pre-paid paradise.

Pretty magical already, right? Just wait.

I can’t exactly remember how, but we met a really wonderful woman who worked at The Four Seasons, with the dolphins.
Best. Job. Ever.
She was around our age, easy to laugh, spiritual, toned and tan. Her connections allowed us to use the facilities and more importantly, go out on a lava rock jetty with the waves just below us, trade winds billowing through our beachy hair…and meditate. It was ridiculously spiritual, just like you imagine it would be.

Does it get more magical than that? You betcha.

While our one friend worked all day on her movie, my other girlfriend and I rented a convertible and decided to explore the island.

Someone had told us about a magical black sand beach at the end of a five-mile hike, so that was the focus of our journey.
We started that day like we did most, bathing in a tranquil cove, where the water was as calm and warm as a bathtub. We spent about an hour floating and soaking the sleep out of our eyes, rinsed off at an outside shower, threw shorts and t-shirts over our bathing suits – and took off. Well, not before stopping at the local gas station/market to fill up, get a diet coke, a Yahoo, a kit kat and a peppermint patty.

You know, key components for creating magic.

I remember following someone’s directions and finally arriving at an unmarked, gravel pull off on the side of the road. Besides a few cars parked nearby, there were no signs of life. Was this the way to the black sand beach? We sure hoped so.
My friend and I decided to head down and take our chances and ask the first person we came across.

The temperature was perfect, with a breeze and lots of shade, so the hike started off easy.
God was a show off that day, as we were surrounded by dense, lush greenery, and every kind of flora and fauna Hawaii had to offer. We started down; admiring, well, everything, until we came to a fork in the dirt path where we stopped, looking around for a sign of some kind, or a clue as to which direction we should go.

I remember this as clearly as if it happened yesterday:
We were in a clearing with a path veering to the left, and another one on the right, wondering which to take, when out of nowhere, a small scruffy dog with tufts of hair all askew appeared.

My friend called him Gremmie since he resembled a gremlin, and he answered to it. He interacted with us for a minute or two, seeming friendly but preoccupied.  Clearly he was on his way somewhere special and we were keeping him. He seemed familiar with the area so we asked Gremmie the way to the beach.

Without hesitation he gave us a look of great conviction, as dogs do, and started down the path to the right – so we followed.

We walked for a long time with him running ahead of us, turning around occasionally to check our progress.
It was evident he was a pro, weaving in and out of vines and narrowing paths, sure-footed, with the confidence of a dog twice his size. Toward the bottom, the path got steep with deep ruts in the cliff side. Little Gremmie seemed to know the way, jumping and traversing obstacles, stopping to make sure we made it to the bottom. I think I saw him give me stink-eye on a particularly tricky part, eyeing my lame “hiking boots” with their worn out soles as I slid on some loose dirt. Seems he had opinions about my poor choice of hiking attire.

All in all, it took us just under two hours to make our way down, but it was worth it because there we were standing on an endless stretch of uninhabited beach.

A beach of black sand.

Gremmie didn’t stop for long. He obviously had an agenda as he ran ahead to a river of fresh water that had cut a swath through the rain forest, down from the mountains, dissecting the beach, making its way to the sea. It must have been raining at the top of the mountain because the water was moving pretty fast and it was too wide to jump across.

My friend and I were assessing the situation, figuring out if we could make it across when we turned to see Gremmie running way up-stream. I mean like where we could barely see him. Then, just like that, he jumped in and swam for all he was worth, traversing the current as it swiftly carried him down river toward us.

Keeping his head bobbing above the water, his legs going a mile a minute, his small, scruffy face a study in concentration, he zoomed past us toward the open ocean.

“Go Gremmie, go!” we screamed over the sound of the crashing waves, “Swim!” and just at what seemed like the last possible second…he made it across.

“Yeah! good boy! Way to go!” He shook off, not even out of breath, and looked across at us, jumping and screaming like crazy women. He looked bemused, head cocked to the side. This was no accident. This dog knew exactly where to enter the water in order to make it across before being swept out to sea.

Standing on the opposite side he barked. “Okay, now it’s your turn” said the dare on his face.

We entered the water about half the distance from where Gremmie started, and I was surprised by the strength of the current. It was determined to make its way to the waves and if you were stupid enough to go in you were going with it. It was about waist-deep, with a current that swept us both off our feet, so we swam like hell, carried downstream toward the sea. After several harrowing minutes, we both made it across where we flopped down on the coarse black sand, laughing and gulping in giant lungsful of the warm, thick, humid air.

Gremmie looked on exasperated. “Come on! There’s more! and he took off running. We just wanted to take in the grandeur of this incredible place so we sat down, watching him turn into a tiny, scruffy, speck in the distance.

After a few minutes of listening to the roaring waves, looking out at the whitecaps, I turned back toward the hillside in the direction we’d just come. “That’s going to be a hell of an uphill hike” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny.
The thought of it was killing my black sand buzz.

My friend was ignoring me. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if dolphins started jumping, right out there?”  she mused, pointing straight ahead toward the open ocean. Before I could reply the sea started boiling as a pod of dolphins began leaping out of the air one after the other, right in front of us!
We jumped to our feet, screaming!

“What the hell?”, “Oh my God!” We were literally dancing as they jumped and played.

“Wish for something else!” I yelled. “This place is frickin’ magic! Wish for a man! A handsome man! “

But my friend wasn’t going to waste a wish on such nonsense.

“I’ve heard there are wild horses all over this island. Wouldn’t it be great to see one?”
We started looking around. I half expected a Unicorn to go prancing by, when I noticed my friend was walking behind us, into the rainforest type greenery that met the sand at the bottom of the cliffs rising above us into the clouds.

She seemed to be walking with purpose, so I followed her into the cool shade of vine-covered trees, ferns, and tall grass. I can’t tell you how long we were there, fifteen minutes, half an hour? I was just enjoying the pleasant change in temperature, when my friend stopped, grabbed my arm, stooped down low, and whispered – you guessed it – “horse!”

Not fifteen feet away was a wild horse, I kid you not. It let my friend approach it and pet it. I’m not kidding. The whole scene was surreal, like something from a movie. When the magic horse finally decided to leave, we were downright giddy as we made our way back onto the black sand.

“What is this place?”

We laid on our backs laughing, looking up at the crystal blue sky. Just so you know, there is NO sky as blue as a Hawaiian sky.

After about an hour, I was starting to feel a little light-headed, and my friend had developed a splitting headache. It soon became evident she was in no condition for the hike back up the hill.

Shit. What to do?

I could see Gremmie in the distance running back our way, but unless I could strap my friend to his back, or he could run and get assistance, like Lassie, he was going to be of little help.

We were in full brainstorming mode, when I started to hear the rumble of an engine over the sound of the waves. It seemed to be coming from the hill we’d hiked down earlier that day.

And just like something out of Indiana Jones, a beat up pickup truck broke through the trees, splashed across the freshwater river, and came straight for us. My friend could barely stand up, so I talked to the guy who happened to be a very nice, local mountain hippie. Think Matthew McConaughey in his naked bongo playing days.

And maybe just the best miracle of the day.

I explained our situation, and he agreed to give us a lift back up the hill to our car.
My friend laid down in the flatbed, while Gremmie and I kept her company. The guy explained that Gremmie didn’t belong to anyone really, he was just a local dog that everyone looked after. That explained his devil-may-care attitude.

The ride was rough but it was a blessing, delivering us to our car in under 20 minutes compared to the several hour hike in the heat, uphill, that would have most certainly killed us.

Hey, my friend was sick and I was hungry!

We still marvel, to this day, about all the magic on that beach.

Did that really happen? 

I wonder about Gremmie sometimes. That scrappy little guy. He’s gotta be about 150 yrs old by now.

Is he still guiding unsuspecting seekers down that hill on a magical mystery tour to those sands of black? What do you think?

Xox

*yep, that’s me on that beach, right after the hike down the hill, feeling exuberant, and I think denim, overall shorts need to make a come-back! HA!

The other day my sweet, beautiful friend was mourning the death of her perfect FICO score.

She had been like a lot of us. She had done everything right. She watched her debt, bought her own house, payed her bills on time, even paying most of the balances in full every month – then disaster struck.

No, not the Great Recession, although I read an article in 2010 that said something like 80% of our FICO scores took a hit. (Gasp)
Nope.
She decided she’d had enough of her soul sucking job. She pried the fingers of the corporate world from around her neck and made a break for it. It was never her intention for her finances to be less than stellar, but sometimes shit gets real, and now, several years later, after the dust has settled, her FICO score sucks.

I have another friend whose ex-husband drove their relationship and her pristine FICO score off a cliff and into bankruptcy. She’s worked really hard to build it back up and overcome the shame of it.

There is a lot of shame attached, like a scarlet number is etched on your forehead.

This pissed me off! These are both incredible women. These are not bad check writing, run-up-the-credit-cards-on-late-night-internet-binge-shopping, kind of girls. And I know about twenty more.

Guess what ladies. YOU ARE NOT YOUR FICO SCORE.

Sometimes when you embark on a new life things get trashed, thrown into the chipper. Divorce, layoffs, mortgage under water, illness.
One of the things that can get caught in the collateral damage besides your pride, may be your FICO score.

People, it’s okay. Your score may have taken a beating, but hey, you’re still a good person.

I remember being so proud after I met my husband and we transferred my house into both of our names. The banker came out flushed and grinning ear to ear, looking like he’d just had illicit sex, (because to those banker types, FICO scores are a BIG turn on) anyway…he announced that our scores were in the high 700’s – one number apart. He refused to tell us which person had the higher score, which was smart and proved that the blood was returning to his brain.
I’m sure he could sense that we were competitive.
Listen, I just assumed it was my husband since he is methodical, thrifty, and exhibits self control – and he assumed it was me – for no good reason other than he loves me.
That’s why this marriage works.

So…you can imagine my colossal dismay when after doing everything right, for so many years, after my store closed – my FICO score plummeted.

Debt ratio, plain and simple.

Some poor slob at Chase, mentioned the number once when I was feeling particularly vulnerable (otherwise known as 2010-11), and I screamed and went into the ugly cry. My response was so over the top they checked to see if it was a mistake. Then, after they could see that it was not, they stood far away from me, nervously twisting the piece of paper. Where minutes before their eyes were filled with judgement, now they were looking at me with eyes full of pity.

“So my life took a U-Turn! Don’t look at me like that – bitch!”
I AM NOT MY FICO SCORE!

And neither are you.

These fucking numbers keep us enslaved in a world of potential disapproval, like a judgmental parent.

“Oh, don’t leave that job it might lower your FICO score.”

“Geez, your funding that business on your credit cards? Isn’t that going to ruin your FICO score?”

“Shit, your house Is upside down, what did that do to your FICO score?”

Hey, I’m not advocating ruining your credit with nasty, irresponsible deeds. I’m just sayin’ to those of us that were uber-responsible:

Investing your definition of yourself in something so unforgiving is emotional suicide,

AND…
I think it’s a racket.

I for one was a slave to mine. I stayed too long in a job I should have left, I hesitated accruing debt in my business when the recession hit, (the people I know that did are still standing) and then, in the end, after being such a good girl, the very thing I feared the most – happened.
I got slammed, owing everyone in the world money.

I went to the bank. I pled my case. I pay all the minimums.
Too bad – tough luck – bye, bye…

FICO is like a toxic relationship. We give it our money, our attention, our loyalty and it doesn’t return the favor.

It issues us a number that defines us, like a teacher on report card day.

It’s been almost seven years, which is when you are issued your Get Out Of Jail Free card.

But I’m already free and so are many others like me.
Truth be told, I don’t look at it anymore, I haven’t for years.
I decided that with the limited amount of fucks to give that I still have left, (thank you Mark Manson, you can check out his essay on The Observer’s Voice Facebook page) I shouldn’t waste giving a fuck about this kind of stuff anymore.

Nope, we are not our FICO scores.

What a relief.

xox

Me love this BIG time! Me use bad grammar. Me need coffee.

Happy Sunday – because NOW you are Fail-Proof!

7. YOU DON’T TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT HAPPENS IN YOUR LIFE

Yeah, fuck people like that.”

To read the rest:

http://markmanson.net/why-you-fail

xox

* Hi Loves,
Recently I tried to rush someone’s healing process.
Right? Shame on Me! I’ve been there, I know better!
So I needed to re-read this to remind – myself.
Maybe you need it too.

Healing takes time! Time to find the silver lining, to look on the bright side, to discover the purpose, to remember that this too shall pass.
Sorry.
Carry on-

Barn’s burned down,
now I can see the moon.
~Masahide~

Oh, so I get it!

Don’t worry about the loss of that beautiful, useful, building you’re still paying for, now you have a view…of the moon…on the nights when you’re outside sobbing over your lousy luck and the shit the insurance company’s putting you through.

Only then can you take a second to raise your snot covered face to the sky,
“Oh never-mind, why am I so devastated? – that is so beautiful…now that the barn’s gone…I can see the moon”.

NOT!!

I wish to God Almighty I could always be that enlightened in the face of crisis and chaos!

Car got totaled,
now I can get some exercise…
How practical.

Or how about,

Husband left me,
now I can catch up on my reading…
Ommmmm…perfectly Zen.

Don’t get me wrong.
I love the message behind these spiritual sayings,
and they really do give me pause to do a reality check, but honestly! Who lives like that?
Maybe me on a good day.
But it would have to be my best day ever.

I take it as a suggestion of an ending place, a goal, a place to aspire to.
Because, if I live under the impression that that’s where I should be immediately, it makes me want to scream and cry, and punch somebody in the face.
It may take me awhile to get there, shit, it could take years!

If the proverbial barn burns down, I’m gonna freak out.
I’m gonna get mad.
And sad.
And scared.
Maybe all at the same time.
Because in that moment, that’s appropriate.

I’m going to use every profanity known to man,
in every language I can think of, and some that haven’t been invented yet.
I’m going to yell them loudly – and often.
As verbs and nouns and adjectives.
They will start and end every sentence I speak.

Maybe NOT appropriate, but amazingly cathartic.

Then, only after the dust has settled, and I’ve had a good cry and a glass of wine and regained my composure…
THEN and only then…will I appreciate the fuckin’ view.

Xox

Photo by Roberto Melotti
http://www.robertomelotti.net

* I haven’t written a poem in a while. I never know who’s gonna show up to write, the storyteller, the f-bomb dropper, or the poet.
This one wrote itself in the last few days, ’cause Lord knows I can’t write poetry…but I can take dictation 😉
My wish is that it gives you peace.

There side by side they stand,
Faith and Hope, on the other side of Fear.
Beckoning me to come toward THEM.
Back MY way they won’t come, that’s clear.

I scream prayers but they don’t listen,
I yell and don’t make sense.
This new way has not been christened,
I weigh my options, I straddle the fence.

Insisting I take a step forward,
reassuring me, guiding me home.
They never waver, they won’t judge me,
no matter how off course I roam.

“Don’t you dare suggest forgiveness,
when my heart is broke in two!
Never talk of “new tomorrows”.
Look through MY eyes and see THAT view!”

But come with me they wouldn’t,
down my dark and twisted trail.
They explained they really couldn’t,
if I wanted healing to prevail.

“You can only catch a glimpse of us,
there inside your angst.
To really see us, drop defenses, mend those fences,
practice gratitude – then give thanks.”

“For inside every dilemma,
every horror known to man,
lies a nugget of redemption,
You’ll find it, we know you can!”

Faith and Hope stood side by side,
at the end of that dark trail.
They had walked a ways ahead of me,
THEY had done it first – so I couldn’t fail.

Hang in there loves,
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

“We have perfected the attitude of worry. If we don’t have something to worry about, that worries us.”—Michele Longo O’Donnell

Stress is a thug and a thief.
It’s a thug because it has such little regard for our well being, and a thief because it absconds with BIG chunks of our time.
They add up.

Stress, that jerk, has looted years of accumulated hours from my life.

So I have no problem giving stress the finger, whenever I can.

I take great glee in pissing it off.

Here are the top ten things that piss-off stress.
Practice them wisely…..and often.

1) Rest.
Stress HATES when we’re well rested. We make better decisions, we’re on our game and less likely to muck things up.
Naps, long weekends and vacations are its Kryptonite.

2) A Sense of Humor/Laughing.
Have you ever tried to laugh while completely stressed out? A real, deep belly laugh? It’s almost impossible. It’s akin to keeping your eyes open when you sneeze. The two CANNOT co-exist.

3) Asking for help.
Stress can’t stand it when we realize our limitations, delegate and ask for help. It needs a frazzled, over extended, perfectionist, control freak as a host. Calling in the Calvary BEFORE you’ve reached your wit’s end, sends stress the silent Jedi signal: This is not the droid you’re looking for.

4) Believing you have enough.
If you believe you have enough time, money, resources, help and happiness, you will be invisible to stress. It will pass your house and go torment your neighbors.

5) Exercise.
Yes, it is possible to outrun stress. You can outrun it on the treadmill, or with the dogs at the park. Once that heart rate goes up and those endorphins kick in, stress will NOT be able to keep up. Stress carb loads; it always goes for seconds, eats peanut butter out of the jar with a serving spoon, and parks illegally in the handicapped space, so it never has to walk far. Stress hates a fit body and a clear head.

6) Organization.
When you’re well organized, meaning, you know where everything is, and can easily find it, stress has a shit fit.
How can it fuck with you and mess with your head, if you can immediately come up with your passport, keys, glasses, insurance papers, rent check, stamps, cat nail clipper and both of the same black sandals?

7) Behaving like a grown up.
Stress despises adult behavior. Stress is counting on us to NEVER grow up. It adores a good temper tantrum and will do everything in its power to keep us from getting our ducks in a row. As a matter of fact, it is heavily invested in the prospect of us not saving for retirement, avoiding responsibility, making uninformed decisions and never planning for the future.

8) Self care.
This pisses-off stress almost more than anything. Getting a massage, doing yoga and meditating. Those are three of its mortal enemies. It throws its hands up, shakes its head and walks away in defeat. It can’t take hold of a peaceful mind.

9) Not caring what other people think.
Once you drop that bad habit, stress will have to go find another victim. Don’t feel bad for a second. There are millions.

10) Awareness.
Stress has a fit when you call it out. It can’t stand that you know its name and what it looks like.
It would rather stay anonymous, in one of its many disguises. As a headache, an ulcer, colitis, hives, over eating, over spending, depression and anxiety.
I told you, it’s a thug.
It knows, that once you know why it’s there, it’s days are numbered.

Can you think of more ways to piss off stress? Tell me what you do, I’d LOVE to hear some comments!

Xox