Perfectly Imperfect Badass

The thrill is in the hunt and the hunt I am referring to is treasure hunting for goodies at art fairs and thrift shops.  I scored last weekend when I found a lovely handmade necklace.  Here is the cool part.  The delicate silver chain supports a tiny rectangle that says BADASS.  It doesn’t scream BADASS because the word is stamped in Braille.  I can wear it 24/7 and not offend anyone; unless you are blind and happen to have your hands around my neck.  I am giddy about my secret moniker which serves as a personal reminder that I am enough.  I am powerful.  I am a BADASS! 

Badass sounds great but what I am really describing is confidence. Necklace or not, a confident woman is comfortable in her own skin and defines her personal sense of style.  She definitely is in touch with what she desires and takes action toward her goals.  She colors inside and outside of the lines!  Confident women face their fears while oozing positive energy.

A confident woman appreciates external validation and achievements but she is not dependent upon them. She communicates her power with her walk and her smile.  You sense her before you hear her speak.

How do you find your confidence?  Confidence is built from self-love.  You confidence reservoir is ready to be filled!

1. Make a list of your positive attributes. It doesn’t matter if there is only one thing on your list.  Start there.  Then love the heck out of that part of you.    Celebrate your strengths.  Be grateful.
2. Post a note on the bathroom mirror reminding you that you are an exceptional human.  Set a daily alarm to remind you of your strengths at least once a day.
3. Be aware of how you speak to yourself. If you tell yourself you are a loser, you are going to believe you are a loser.   Often we speak to ourselves so harshly, much more harshly than we would speak to a friend.  The Tiny Talk demons (critical voices) can bring out the worst in anyone.

Confidence ebbs and flows.  You can have confidence in some areas of your life, like on the job, and not in others, like with dating.   Confidence is a belief in your abilities which is validated by experience.

If you met me you’d likely say I was one of the most confident women you’d ever meet.  Yes, I am very confident but I bet you didn’t guess I was also one of the most self-critical women you’d ever meet?  My Tiny Talk is dominated with the voice that picks me apart like vultures on fresh road kill.  I’ve become “Oscar-worthy” when it comes to acting like nothing bothers me but actually, I am quite sensitive.  I like to use visual reminders that I am worthy so if a necklace reminds me that I am an awesome then so be it.  Simple strategies are good strategies.

But I blame the necklace for what happened...

There are certain songs that grab your attention because you think that the lyrics were either written about you or just for you.  One of those songs is “BRAVE” by Sara Bareilles.  While I have not seen the movie, I do love the song.  It starts out:

You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way words do
And they settle ‘neathy your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you
(now the chorus)
Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

BRAVE.  I used to define bravery as taking action in the face of life threatening danger.  Police officers, firefighters, and soldiers are brave but now I realize I was wrong.  Without diminishing these examples of bravery, it is only fair to acknowledge that bravery includes a far larger group of people.

Bravery can be found in all of us; amongst everyday people living everyday lives. 

For example, you discovered your voice and publicly expressed your opinion, putting aside the fear of ridicule, making a mistake and rocking the boat.  You are brave.

You asked for help because it was getting too difficult to deal with the dark, self-defeating thoughts shouting in your head.  You are brave.

You said no instead of yes. You are brave.

We all have the opportunity to experience quiet, private moments of bravery and these moments are worth acknowledging. They are steps worthy of celebration.  Brave doesn’t have to be BIG because Brave is BIG.

Brave is sitting with your feelings.

Brave is acknowledging what scares you.

Brave is forgiving yourself.

Brave is opening your heart to love again.

Brave is doing the right thing, not the easy thing

Brave is starting a conversation that matters.

Brave is saying you are sorry.

Brave is trying something new.

The song continues:

Everybody’s been there, everybody’s been stared down
By the enemy
Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is (now the chorus)

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

The funny thing is that everyday people rarely think of themselves as brave.  Me included!! But remember, you have courageously stared down your fear and bravely moved forward.  You heard your inner voice saying, “you got this” or “you can do it” and that any outcome is better than the status quo.  Brave people hear their wise Girlfriend Voice urging them on.

Brave is letting go of what doesn’t serve you.

Brave is risking failure.

Brave is telling your story; without skipping the ugly...

Cel-e-brate Good Times, Come On!

Hello!  Celebrate (NOT celibate) Good Times! COME ON!!  Four years ago I published my first blog on My Girlfriend Voice. Yahoo!   I am grateful for the opportunity and courage to share my life with you.  Later this week I am taking off on a solo trip of a lifetime and during my adventure, I will be reflecting on the stories I have shared with you. I will also invest some time thinking about what may unfold in future posts.

I feel more empowered than ever that my voice is one that has a place in the world and that my voice may help someone; either with a good old fashioned eye roll, a belly laugh or most importantly, lessen their sense of isolation.  You are not alone.

So while I am away, enjoy a few of my previous posts.  Here is the one that started it all!!

September 1, 2011 

One day I was sitting in traffic when I noted that my critical voice must have gone on sabbatical.  I was keeping company with a new voice, more comparable to a trusted girlfriend.  She is realistic, always supportive and wise.   At times, a tad sassy!   While I don’t believe I can completely squelch my critical voice, I can minimize her with the banter of My Girlfriend Voice.

Call me crazy, I agree but it is the good kind of happy crazy!  Seriously though, what type of info does My Girlfriend Voice affectionately whisper in my ear?

1. On receiving feedback on a project:  You could take those comments personally or take them seriously.   It’s not about you here.
2. When the teenager becomes the “mean-ager”:   BREATHE   This child is trapped in a hormonally laden body and       someday you will like each other again.
3. After a particularly frustrating day:  You ARE good enough just as you are in this very moment.   Pause and celebrate your splendid self.

So how did My Girlfriend Voice evolve?  I won’t bore you with the details of what I affectionately term my decade of drama or “DD” but let me say that I was continually given more than I thought I could handle.  While I manifested a Martha Stewart exterior, my interior was one hot mess.  Talk about tumultuous!  At the same time, I was approaching the magical period in life where you learn who you are and where your passions reside.  Much easier said than done and if you don’t agree, you should stop reading here.  We can’t be friends.

Eight years into my “DD”, I hit bottom.  Nothing made sense or satisfied me.  My sadness loomed larger than any other emotion.  I needed help but this power woman would rather walk naked through rush hour traffic than ask for help.  Somewhere though, I heard a voice that said “THIS” is bigger than you and you deserve happiness.   Viola’!  My Girlfriend Voice makes her debut.  (BTW, I...

Cutting Down the Tall Poppies

You may be able to relate to these thoughts.  You are at your exercise class and you can’t help but zero in on the one person present that doesn’t seem to sweat.  Her moves are effortless, completely graceful and actually beautiful to observe.   I on the other hand grab a sweat rag because I drip rather than glow as soon as I exert any effort!  For a few seconds I think I hate that seemingly tight bodied perfect woman!

A few more seconds go by and I stop hating her as my thoughts lighten and move toward gratitude.  I feel a sense of awe at her dedication and while I know nothing of her personal story, she works hard at staying healthy.  I applaud her.  I am inspired by her.  I want to be more like her! I’m in love with the perfect girl!

But what if I didn’t let my hateful feelings evaporate?  My stinging annoyance would build into burning resentment and soon all of my thinking would be TOXIFIED.  Unknowingly, the woman becomes the target of my rage – the dartboard for my dart. 

This is an example of Tall Poppy Syndrome. According to the illustrious Wikipedia, it is defined as a pejorative term primarily used in Anglosphere nations to describe a social phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are resented, attacked, cut down, or criticized because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers.

I can relate to being the Tall Poppy.  Being a former beauty queen, you would think I would be comfortable about my appearance but I still have trouble accepting a compliment!  I feel far more comfortable hiding in a group – wanting to be average. Please know me as smart, not pretty! I wanted to be beige as to not attract too much attention.  I was fighting against my need to shine because somehow shining was and is too dangerous.

I wanted to known by you but not seen by you. I’m complicated that way.

Over the years I have become comfortable in my own skin.  I could really appreciate how Selma Hayek said in an interview with Oprah, “You simply have to be who you are.  Yes, I am beautiful.  I have thighs and a butt. I have cellulite.  I fight with it every day.  I don’t exercise.  I eat pork and I love red wine.  But yes, I am beautiful and famous—and yet the things I like about myself have nothing to do with that…..”  YES!  She is more than her looks or her fame.

Last week a friend asked me how I managed to remain so positive despite years of struggle.  She said, “You make life look so easy and sometimes I just have to hate you.”   We laughed and I deeply appreciate her honesty.  I told her that I still have days when I can’t get off the couch because my emotions overwhelm me but in general I have developed some pretty good coping...

If Your Happy and You Know it Thank Your Ex!!!

There was something electric in the air last Sunday.  Everywhere I went I received a healthy amount of attention—both male and female.  I had on jeans with a simple top, little make up and my hair had that “just blown in from the beach” look (aka three days without a shampoo).  I was out and about, enjoying the company of friends after an afternoon dance workshop. I wasn’t dressed to impress by any means.

At a restaurant, an older gentleman sauntered over to ask me, “Do you always wear clothing to match your eyes?   Your eyes are like Blue Diamonds. I am going to call you that, Blue Diamond!”  I was flattered (I have a soft spot for sweet old men) until I realized Blue Diamonds sounds like a cleaning product — it is also a brand name for dog food so I am feeling less inclined to monogram my towels “B.D.”  Still, that old geezer meant well.  Such a cutie!  You have to give him credit for coming over to chat.

Another man approached me to tell me that while he now has a girlfriend, he was guilty of having a crush on me for the last two years.  He said, “The moment I looked into your eyes I felt a connection with you! I’ve always hoped we could get together but now I’m taken.”  I paused and smiled.  I practiced looking happily surprised rather than creeped out.  It was a chance to practice kindness.  I graciously thanked him and wished him a very long and healthy relationship.  Mazel tov.  Invite me to your wedding!

My favorite moment of the day was when a gentleman came over and said, “I’ve been watching you and how people react to you.  You really light up the room.  I wanted to come over and tell you.”  I was momentarily speechless.  (a rare moment, huh?) This was an impressive conversation starter and I was hooked.  We continued to chat for another twenty minutes about topics that I love such as authenticity, positive energy and the advantages of living gratefully.  How refreshing to have a real conversation with a stranger, especially a man!  And then he left me, never asking for my phone number nor commenting about my eyes.  Wait, don’t you like my eyes?   LOL

Why was this conversation the best part of my day?  Yes it was flattering to be approached but the BIG reason is that this stranger confirmed that the work I do internally is manifesting externally.  My happiness is showing!

For years I wanted to be seen as the perfect wife, the dedicated mother and the consummate professional because I equated success in those roles with a happy life.  It is not an easy formula.  I was handing over my happiness to the “other half” of the equation; the husband, the child, the job!

Years later I realize that I am not going to be happy unless I...

I have always wanted my home to be a place where people could stop by and I wouldn’t be worried whether there were dirty dishes in the sink or my bed was unmade.  I want people to visit, have something good to eat and immediately feel comfortable.  I want my home to be the place you say, “Ahhh, I feel better now!”.   My home is my oasis, my sanctuary, or as I like to say, my little Zen Den.

I dedicated Sunday to cleaning my Zen Den; a chore I actually enjoy.  Magazines often feature a “ten minute clean up” which essentially means you hide dirty dishes in the oven and toss your clutter into the closet.  It looks good on the surface but lies in wait for your attention to return.  I’d rather keep things neat as I go reserving the big jobs for the weekends.

The first room on my list was the kitchen.  I can no longer ignore the smell belching from my refrigerator every time the door opens.  Some odoriferous army must have secretly invaded while I wasn’t looking!  My baking soda and white vinegar rinse wasn’t sufficient to disarm them so today I will resort to the big guns:  an apron, rubber gloves and hot soapy water.

Thoughts of the week run through my mind as I wipe down shelves and dispose of the expired items.  It occurs to me that not only do I have a physical home to maintain, even more importantly I have a spiritual home to maintain.  Pretty profound thinking for a sober Sunday afternoon!  As Oprah would say, “It was a tweetable moment!”  (I don’t tweet but I like you to think Oprah and I hang out.)

I call my spiritual home “my Soul” for lack of a better word.  SOUL sounds so pretentious and as vague at the same time.  My Soul is my emotional engine and the home of My Girlfriend Voice.  It is where my wisdom and intuition hang their shingle.  To keep my Soul healthy, I too need to keep it clean!

My Soul feeds my emotional state as my frig helps feed my physical state.  While you could hire someone to clean your kitchen, you cannot hire anyone to clean your spiritual home.  No outsourcing this inside job!  Ha, ha.  Cracking myself up with again…….

The shelves of my Soul can get sticky and filled with useless items.  My Soul’s chilly crisper drawer can hold onto negativity and grudges.  Or like today, my Soul can shine bright and smell like lemons!

So what do I mean by the maintenance of the Soul?

1. Do you pause at least daily to memorialize what you are grateful for?
2. Do you pause to evaluate what made you feel exceptionally positive or present?
3. Do you pause to review what made you feel yucky?

By yucky, I mean those times when you feel uncomfortable, when you are in a messy spot and while you’d rather not go there, you know you NEED to go there.  Avoidance, like hiding dirty dishes in the oven, only...

Last fall what I affectionately refer to as my “Un-Divorce” finally became FINAL after a mere seven and a half year process.  Initially I was jumping for joy and popping the bubbly because this Mama was hot to trot and ready to prowl!  By December and contrary to what I thought was “normal”, I felt like I had been hit by a Mac truck.  There were so many emotions seeping to the surface, then like a toddler they were whining for my undivided attention. Darkness surrounded me and I was breathless.  I was speechless.  Why were these emotions surfacing again and so intensely?

I surrendered to my grief.

Seventeen days of rain and the sappy movies on TV made me feel worse, you know the ones where the woman always finds her happily ever after?  Her life gets tied up with a red ribbon in less than ninety minutes.  Snotty nosed and spotty faced, the result of chronic ugly crying episodes, I left the safety of my couch only to restock the essentials; Cookies and Kleenex.

To add fuel to my emotional pyre, this was the first year neither one of my sons would be home for Christmas.  Here is the visual…….No shower for three days, so I was sticky, snotty and spotty AND on a sugar rush.  Not a very pretty picture, even in cute pajamas.

GRIEF…..  Unless you have experienced divorce, you may not be able to understand how much it REALLY sucks.  Divorce is on the list of the top five stressors in life (death, divorce, moving, job loss and serious illness).  Not only was I struggling to get divorced for seven years, I moved three times, struggled with clinical depression and changed jobs twice after a lay off!  And I might as well add the stress of being a Modern Day Mother. (Thank God I survived to bitch about this.)

(Thank God I survived to bitch about this.)

It is not like my “X” died – in fact in some ways that may be easier! I wouldn’t have to think about him with his new girlfriend or his white carpeted pied-a-terre.  (actually the list is quite long but I restrained myself to the top two on my list!)  My grief meant I was letting go of my happily ever after and facing the future alone.

My body vibrated with fear.  Most of my critical voices are female but this one was definitely male.  It bellowed, “Will you grow old alone?  Will you ever find true love?  Will your sons be impacted by the divorce and never have healthy relationships?  You are pretty old to be starting over.”  on and on an on…….

While treading the muddy waters of the last decade, I learned that two things would be important in order to keep myself healthy and my mind present.

1. Give back—volunteer. Find a way to help others and practice kindness.
2. Commit to self-care and not only cultivate “My Girlfriend Voice” but let her flourish!

Following MGV, I researched various types of...

Author’s Note:  I found this blog on my computer, written last April, but not published until today.

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Writing has become difficult these days.  My brain races from topic to topic.  One thing I know is that it would be really easy to list the things I don’t have.

• I lost my job today. I don’t have a rainy day fund.  Like California, my bank account is in a drought.
• My son may be heading to prison next month. Mental illness combined with addiction just SUCKS.  Just when things are going well, “it” comes out and bites you bad, knocks the breath out of you and feels like acid on your tongue.
• The divorce is still not f-ing finished even though we separated almost seven years ago.
• I grieve after putting my goofy big dog down in February because he had a brain tumor.
• Mom is in the hospital again with a blood clot.  Not good.

Lucky for me there is something deep down that that moves me and keeps me from getting stuck.  “It’s not my style to be negative,” I say when people ask me how I persevere.   Don’t get me wrong.  I have moments and sometimes days when I slip into sadness.  I am human.  I walk that fine line; fearing the fall into another depression.  (the sticky dark pit)

My strategy?  Every day I live what I speak and my strategy is to focus on my choices.  Without choices I WOULD feel hopeless.  I would be stuck and probably dead.

I ask myself, “If I don’t like it, can I make a change?  Will I practice gratitude or wallow in negativity? “

• The Job—I won’t get caught without an emergency fund again.  I will find a new job and make good use of the time off.
• My Son—I can’t describe the pain I feel when my son struggles.  It is a visceral ache with no remedy that I carry every waking moment and often in my dreams.  Despite numerous hospitalizations and arrests, he is alive.  He has his own path and purpose in this lifetime.  My lesson is to love without judgment while surrendering any concept of blame or control.
• The Divorce—uhhhh.  Enough already!  I am going to get this done before the end of the year.  Realizing I will never receive the apology I seek from the “X”, I can forgive myself and then celebrate my courage, integrity and endurance.
• Bosco—you were one of a kind dog and so many warm memories remain.  I did everything I could but you told me it was OK when you stopped wanting to take walks or tear up the garbage.
• Mom– we can spend time together and I can try to help without the pressure of working.

What else will I do?

I will dance

I will cocoon.

I will laugh.

I will sleep.

I will give.

I will learn.

I will breathe.

I remember the day I understood that MY happiness was strictly MY responsibility.  I had been...

I love that I can make myself laugh. Yesterday I was cleaning my computer and found a folder called “assholeness”. I invented this word (no surprise, huh?) because I wanted a way to describe and quantitate the degree of unacceptable behavior displayed by my son’s sperm donor. Surprisingly there is nothing in the folder but I am keeping it around for the chuckle factor. I am also acutely aware that anything I put in writing may be used against me in the “un-divorce” so I’m attempting to take the high road. (attempting is the operative word, thank you very much.)

Then there are the funny things I say like, “If you dressed me like a bag of Skittles, I’d be cranky too”.  And, “Do my bunions look big in these sandals?” I never thought those words would come out of this mouth but I speak the truth. I don’t much like my aging feet but they keep me dancing so at least I can outfit them in cute sandals. Or take a look at my latest Selfie! I wanted to get my shirt and sandals in the same shot and find it hysterical the way the photo came out. I feel like I look—a bloated tropical flower! I know you are now looking at my bunions. Please stop.

Visiting my Mom at the hospital I overhear the nurses debriefing during a shift change. The patient in the room next door is there because of a duck attack. What? Did they say a D-U-C-K attack? I confirm with the nurse, without looking too nosey, that indeed it was a duck attack. How much damage can a duck do? She tells me it was a pet duck but that she is prohibited by patient privacy from saying any more. I see her giggle as she leaves the room. You can’t make this stuff up.  That is the stuff nightmares are made of!

It is a good thing I am better at finding humor, especially during stressful times. My default method was to stuff my emotions until I exploded! Stress impacts both our physical and mental health. Have you ever thought about the impact of “Second Hand Stress”? I hadn’t put much thought into this concept until I heard a news story regarding a study done by Sara Waters at University of California San Francisco showing that babies could not only detect when a mother was stressed, the baby also started to demonstrate “stressed behavior”. “By knowing how this happens, we can start being mindful of both what we’re putting out, but also how people around us are affecting us,” Waters said.

So are we more influenced by our “stressed out” loved ones than a stranger? Yes, in fact it was said that we are four times more likely to be influenced by the stress of a loved one, coworker, friends or a roommate than a stranger.

Trying to do more, do better, do faster while making my life look effortless, stress became my drug of choice. If I was stressed, I was important. Didn’t all successful people have stress? So my stress manifested with short...

When I entered high school, I had very little coordination and hated to run anywhere except to the JC Penny sale rack but I wanted more than anything to be an athlete. The thought of playing on a team was likely my ticket to “coolville” because being smart was often a lonely place. Basketball was out—too much running. Softball required being outside which in Michigan could mean snow or tropical heat in the same week. I chose volleyball. The lesser-est of all evils!

Initially the practices were killer but I loved the camaraderie and the sense of complete physical exhaustion. I felt so cool or should I say FOXY wearing my knee pads around my ankles with short gym shorts!! I was relieved when I didn’t make the starting line-up, I still got to wear a uniform, but I was TERRIFIED of looking bad and/or making mistake. I sucked at volleyball and as I became more and more uncomfortable, there was only one solution.  

I had to quit.

On the car ride home I mentioned to my Dad that I was going to quit and boy did he blow a gasket! He told me, “So if you want to be a quitter, quit. If you stick with it, you will have the satisfaction of knowing you did the right thing. Everyone, even a bench warmer, has an important role on the team.” We never discussed it again. He had put the ball in my court. (Ha, ha, pun intended)

Lesson number one:  Finish what you start.*

So what did I do? I finished the season; partially because I didn’t want to disappoint my Dad but also because I knew at 15 that I needed practice honoring my commitments. The only time I played in a real match I somehow managed to score a point for the other team. How in the hell that happened I will never know! Luckily we were so far ahead it didn’t matter. MORTIFIED I made it through the embarrassment.

Lesson number two: Practice laughing at yourself. It sure comes in handy!

Fast forward thirty odd years to the present day and déjà vu. I want to quit before the end of the season!

On my “wouldn’t it be great fun” list, I joined a ladies salsa team. If you ever danced salsa you know that it is a very athletic activity! Not only does the music give me “Happy Feet”, I get the chance to hang out with great ladies (most of whom I could be there mother) and exercise once a week for ninety minutes. The class culminates with two public performances at the end of April.

The problem is, I talk much better than I dance! How do I know? Most of our practices are videotaped! Yeah for technology but @$#%@$ for seeing my mistakes in HD. It feeds the Bitchy Becky voice in my head who squawks, “You really should quit before you make a fool of yourself. You are letting the team down. Girlfriend, it is time to hang up your sequins and exit stage left.”

I love the stage but I don’t love feeling like the weakest member of the team. I also feel fat and old. There, I had to say it...

Last Friday I drove by my neighborhood school and the marquee stated, “Beautification day is cancelled”. What?  How could they do that?  I was really amazed at my reaction.

Now I don’t have a clue what type of project was planned but it got “my dern thinker ah thinkin”.  Why did it get cancelled?  Why wasn’t beautification a priority?

One of the many gifts of “growing up and older” is that you realize self-beautification is the key to mastering a happy life.  I am not talking about Botox and wearing fancy labels.  That would be too easy!  I am talking about making the commitment to do whatever you need to do in order to shine from within.

Beautification is shedding the clutter surrounding your heart that   fertilizes negative thinking. 

It is deciding to let go of what no longer fits, whether that be people, clothing, a job or a habit.

Beautification cannot be outsourced. 

Recently I’ve been feeling so much sadness that frankly I worried I may be headed into a depression.  But stop the presses!  I came to realize that this sadness was different; very different than my time in the DARK PIT.  When I was clinically depressed, my brain was mush and there was on ocean between my reality and the real world.

Today my active brain is acknowledging the sadness then reshaping or shedding the thought that creates the sadness.  The sadness is in a loading zone—no long term parking allowed!

I’ve never had the courage to sit with uncomfortable feelings.  Who wants to do that?  Wade through disappointment, jealousy, doubt and fear?  I would rather do just about anything else so I became quite comfortable over-scheduling myself or just stuffing those feelings for a later date.  With the help of my support posse, I have developed a method I would like to share with you.  If you really like it, please send cookies.

1.  Hello there [insert thought here].  Where do you come from?  It is like meeting someone new and asking them where they live.
2. [Thought speaks].
   1. How can I change this thought from a negative one into a positive one?
   2. Or is it such a useless thought that I can just let it go?  (no re-gifting please)

For example, my “X” repeatedly called me the N-word;   NEEDY.  Sadly, I believed him.  I told myself if I were smarter, stronger and worked harder, I could overcome my neediness.  Well, thank goodness the cray cray fog has lifted!!   I turn that negative thought to a positive one like this:

Although he says I am needy, I simply want to feel connected to that stupid Mother Fucker.  It is a basic human need.

By the way, the thought doesn’t have to come from someone else.  It could be your critical voice speaking to you.  Same method applies!  And don’t forget, if you like this, please send...

Sometimes I purchase wine because I like the label. Sometimes I chose a book based on the title so when I picked up, “It’s Hard Not to Hate You”, by Valerie Frankel, I didn’t realize what a gem I had on my hands. This is a story of emotional cleansing – something that each one of us can (or should!) relate to. It’s funny, laugh out loud honesty. She covers jealousy, hate, disappointment, marriage, career, parenting and death, and oh, just about everything else in between.

What I appreciated most about her book was the rawness. Life is damn funny when you slow down long enough to put your ego aside. This book is wonderful!!

I confess I have tried to burst a few people into flames with my mind or held a grudge for reasons long forgotten but admit this tom foolery to the world in print?? Wait, RUH ROH? My blog is “print” and although I don’t mention real names to protect the identity of the damned, I do share a great deal about my personal life. RUH ROH is right!

Like the author, I sometimes find myself hating people. People who seem so damn happy— people who don’t have to worry about their kids, their waistline, their jobs or their bank balance. I confess. I am a part-time hater. Is this normal? I don’t care— I’d rather be honest. I often ask, no scream at the Universe asking WHY ME? Can’t I catch a break?

There is no thundering response back from the heavens. I know what you are thinking. “Worrying does you no good!” Please wipe away your consoling smirk and understand that I don’t chose to worry. Worry choses me.

What I am really thankful for is that I have a few guardian angels that seem to know just when to contact me—they psychically know when I have donned my negativity cloak. Without judgment, they help me shuffle back to a place of gratitude. I can cry, complain, dream, hope …. My guardian angels are there for me. I am forever grateful for your calls, texts and emails that lift me up and remind me of my strength.

My visits to the “hater zone” are short and less frequent these days but when I do go there, I don’t judge myself for feeling less than. These are thoughts and my thoughts don’t define me. I also keep these thoughts locked inside—I do not act on them. I let my thoughts remind me that I too am human and that every storm, no matter how intense, does not last forever.

From the heart,
CaraW