The Permission Slip 

Oopsie! I had a premature post there a little bit ago – hopefully that won’t happen again. I’m using the WordPress site on my IPad as my laptop died on me. So inconsiderate!! I just lost an entire post so I’m grabbing a sangria and starting over.  Cheers! …………

Ok, Girlfriends, I need to rant. I need to blow off a little steam and GET THIS OFF MY CHEST. I don’t want to go to carry around this angst.

So what has my panties in a twist? Take a guess……

My kids? Surprisingly no.

My X-husband, “Mr. MF-Ski”? Nope.

My boss? Ha, ha, no. He has been behaving lately.

I am not pissed about my cellulite, how the refrigerator stinks (again), the high cost of living in the Bay Area or how hard it is to find stylish walking sandals that don’t look like Grandma Wilma’s orthopaedics! 

I am breathing hard because I am FED UP. Enough already!

I have heard too many excuses; excuses like you don’t have time, you don’t have a choice, you don’t have a small waist or a big bank account…… you don’t think your opinion matters, you don’t want to rock the boat, blah, blah, blah!

You don’t want to date until you lose ten pounds. You don’t want to travel until you retire. You don’t want a new job because you don’t like change.  

…….. ………..  ………. …….   You don’t have any problem complaining though. ………that’s the part that annoys me! 

I see your heavy heart. I feel your outrage. I hear your desperation.

Your pain is very familiar to me.

Like you, I chose to play it safe. I lived surrounded by walls built by my own fear. I put everyone else and everything else first. I either numbed or distracted myself to keep from feeling anything. I blamed everyone and everything for my UN-everythingness!! 

Superwoman puts up with bullshit because she can; she’s a fictional character!!! We on the other hand are only human!

I used to live that way but I don’t do that anymore. I gave myself permission to think and act differently. I’m in no way perfect- I still slip up and indulge in a bitchfest or feel sorry for myself.  Progress not perfection, Girlfriends! 

When I was in the elementary school, I pitched an idea to my teacher. We had a trash problem on the playground and I told her that we could solve the issue if we bedazzled our trash cans.  “Let’s make it fun to throw away our trash!” ! Ok, I didn’t use the word bedazzled in 1972 but this is a true story! The project was approved. I moved ahead with my idea. The can said, “FEED ME’ and featured Lucy from The Peanuts.

Cara and her little brother Mike!!

Fear has a way of looking really attractive; like a big colorful trashcan called Lucy who eats your dreams. The more you feed the fear, they more fear grows and keeps you small. 

Fear freezes you.  

Back to the present moment……What really confuses me is why you don’t give yourself permission to think or act differently?

What’s blocking you from making a change? You are an adult. You are intelligent and capable.

You are the one RESPONSIBLE for your life. You are the ONLY ONE responsible for change.

What is holding you back? What’s the worst thing that can happen?

Girlfriend, if this resonates with you then it is time to grow a pair! It is time to clear out whatever is preventing you from signing your permission slip.

I invite you to give yourself permission to do something that you have been longing to do. Give yourself permission TODAY.

This is your loving kick in the butt to stop whining and make a change. You are not going to thrive in this life unless you take risks and sit with discomfort.

LIVE a little! Let me assure you, you are going to be alright. You have everything you need right now.

I am hopeful you will honor the dreams and desires that reside within you.  

What will you give yourself permission to do today? Write out your permission slip to make it real. “I give myself permission to (fill in the blank). Post it in the comments below. Writing it down makes it real. Telling us keeps you accountable!! 

From the heart,

Cara

©2011-2017MyGirlFriendVoice

In case you are wondering about the other things that annoy me:

1. A dear friend that had recent surgery but didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t want to bother us. Let us love on you, Girlfriend!  Accepting help is not a weakness. 

2. Mitch McConnell, The Majority Whip Weiner. Need I say more?

3. My laptop dying before I was ready to replace it! 

4. I am out of FeverTree Tonic. Just as well, there is no cabana boy to make me a cocktail.

5. Mean people.  

 

 

 

 

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Good Feelings!

Last July, I participated in a free Facebook challenge and it wasn’t the ice bucket challenge!!  This was a challenge to “journal artistically” for 30 days.  Based on an email prompt you received daily from Artist Lisa Sonora, you would fill the page with the ideas inspired by the prompt. (getting started with a blank page is often the hardest part so the prompt was really helpful!)  You had complete freedom to do whatever the heck you wanted!  I admit, doing anything on a daily basis is hard, especially something  new AND in an area where you are weak but during July something magical happened.  I got FREE-feeling. I felt the freedom creativity invites in to your brain. Continue reading

So Sadness Enhances Creativity?

So Sadness Enhances Creativity?

I was listening to a radio interview on the topic of creativity and one   statement stuck in my brain.  Four days later and I’m still thinking about the theory that sad people are the most creative people.  At first I thought of tortured artists like Van Gough and Pollack but weren’t they dealing with more than mere sadness?  OK, perhaps I am getting too analytical.

When I was sad, I didn’t feel the creative spirit pouring out of me.  I was tired and cried all the time.  My most creative venture was getting dressed—if there was anything clean to wear! If I was really creative I could a make dinner out of supplies in the pantry.

Why would sadness unleash creativity?  My theory is that the INNER CRITIC voice may be dampened to the degree that creativity sees an opening and feels safe to explore.  Continue reading