You-ness

This post was originally posted on Sheer Spirit, a cool blog much like this one focused on being a spiritual girl in a material world, back in December. To peep it in it's original form go to Essential You-ness. 


“How would you define style?” I sat in my desk across from my instructor and thought long and hard for a second. We were talking about writing style but as the lone fashion girl in a room filled with an attorney, an administrator, a former reporter, an accountant, and a stay at home mom, my instructor felt I was the expert on defining the abstract idea of “style.” The best answer I could come up with was the concept of you-ness borrowed from the movie You, Me and Dupree. While it satisfied my instructor you-ness is a vague a notion as style, it’s something you can cultivate but cannot teach and when it’s absent you know it. You-ness is the essential driving force of your life, much like style drives your wardrobe choices, and if you don’t go out of your way to nurture it, you’ll be totally screwed.

 
I spent the past 15 years or so living fully in my them-ness, a state where I was defined by what I wanted “them” to think about me. This nameless, faceless “they” dictated what I wore, where I hung out & with who, what jobs were worthy of time, and even what I said at cocktail parties.  I was constantly trying to make the perfect first impression in hopes that people would accept my self deprecating humor, impeccable taste in clothes and range of knowledge in pop culture first and then eventually accept me. Not that I gave them the chance to get to know the real me; I barely knew the real me. That all changed after a break up and job loss--in a 3 month span--forced me to stand on my own and stop relying on whoever “they” are for my sense of who I am.


Once the rug was pulled out from under me and I didn’t have a boyfriend to approve of my story ideas or a job to validate me, all I had was me. No titles, no outside approval, nothing be me, my convictions, my passions, my light and my dark. There was no one to blame, push away or lean on. For the first time in years, I began to hear and listen to that still little voice inside telling me that it would be ok. The more I listened, the more it showed up and the more I showed up. Yes, I read self help books, confided in a therapist, dove into yoga and began to mediate not medicate but I would have never found any of those things if I was busy ignoring that inner voice and doing what everyone told me to. 


The operative word in the phrase “your life” is your. No one can tell you what to do, say, eat, wear or make you feel inferior without you acquiescing. So stop listening to them, me included, and listen to you because at the end of the day your most important and long lasting relationship is the one you have with yourself. Start nurturing your you-ness, conquering your shyness, embracing your flyness, and realize that you’ll never be happy with the money, the ring, the job or the shoes if you aren’t happy with you first.

On Happiness...

Happiness is generally regarded as a fleeting emotion, one that we chase with fervor and are never quite certain when we've attained it. Even if we are certain, we know that one day soon, without warning, it's going to slip through our fingers and we'll be back to miserable, anxious, depressed, meh. We believe that everything but happiness is our natural state ignoring the fact that we come into the world happy and excited to be here until the world teaches us that we have everything to fear and loathe and nothing to be happy about that isn't tangible.

Driving on autopilot to meet my mom at work on the other side of town, a fit of warmth and happiness moved over me when I had every reason to be upset. Moments earlier I'd returned from my lunch break only to be dismissed from my job in a very surreptitious manner. I was caught off guard--which I really hate, and a bit stunned like when someone slaps you in the face or throws a drink at you, but I wasn't upset. (I'm only guessing, no one has ever had the audacity to either one of those things to me and would probably be in jail if they did.) Not an ounce of hurt or anger moved through me, just relief. Even as I relayed the news to my mother, I was still stunned but not at all angry or fearful or any of those emotions that rise up when someone feels wronged. I was actually more shocked that my emotions remained as happy and optimistic as they were when I woke up that morning than I was about me being fired. I felt relieved, for too many reasons to count none of which are connected to my ability to do my job. 

There used to be a point in my life when things just happened to me. I slipped unconsciously into the passive voice and willingly surrendered the power to create my own life to racist editors, girls who were born with sliver spoons and people who had more credentials than I did. Not realizing that by waving a white flag and bending to their will, I was purposefully creating a life where I was at the mercy of everyone else. As I drove home after helping my mom chaperone a middle school dance--thank God I don't have kids yet, I remembered the conversation I had immediately preceding my termination and it amounted to me saying I was ready to take a big risk and move on from a job that I was just comfortable doing. I wanted work that I was passionate about and while I liked my job, my passion was reserved for the time spent in front of my computer doing exactly what I'm doing now. (That is not to say I was about to quit or had even begun looking for a new job, I was just ready for change.) Funny thing is, the last time I said I was ready for a career change was around the same time last year a day before I found out the store I was working at was closing and with little effort I walked form that job into the one I just lost. I don't believe in coincidences. 

Am I jumping for joy that I lost my job? No, who does that? But I am all good. At no point did I entertain the thought that this somehow makes me a failure or means that I suck at life. People get fired all the time for various reasons that have everything and nothing to do with their abilities to fail or succeed at life. Actually if you measure your failure or success at life by how well you do something that takes up 8 out of 24 hours of your day, you may need to rethink a few things. Which is the point. Your happiness, feelings of self worth and success are all internals. Jobs, relationships, brown boots that you love more than life, all come and go in time and yes it fucking sucks when they do, but those external circumstances have nothing to do with who you are. How you handle the ebb and flow of life is how you can tell if you are truly happy with you. So of course I wanted to scream fuck you to the people sitting across the table from me as they told me to fork over their stuff and go (they didn't say it like that at all) but I didn't. I just rolled out and got on with my life. I've forgiven them for what I felt was an unprovoked wrong and that's that. One monkey don't stop the show and one sudden shower shouldn't ruin your day. I guess that officially makes me a happy person. Keep that on the low though I don't want to ruin my street cred.

From Worrier to Warrior

Every major "Aha!" moment that I have ever had has come to me through some form of pop culture, books, mags, reality TV, songs, catch phrases, you name it. That may mean I'm shallow and lazy like most Americans or that I manage to find depth in the most shallow of places...and that I'm lazy--there's no arguing that. I would much rather get my veggies in a juice and my enlightenment via YouTube than eating pounds of veggies a day and fasting and praying in the desert for 40 days and nights. I imagine if any one of the ascended masters were to read this they would agree.

As I sat on my couch doing my post-yoga TV catch up on New Girl and The Minday Project, an AHA fell right out of Mindy Kaling's mouth and into my head. Mindy was taking a ton of shit from Danny because she asked him to be her ob-gyn and he didn't want to do it ending with him pulling the ultimate low blow when talking to a single gal over age 30, ticking away her child bearing years. (You have to watch it.) Mindy goes to her office, throwing herself on the floor and seeking consolation in her bestie when the janitor bursts in to lend an ear and some advice. Most of his advice was horrible bu then he spit out this golden nugget, "give yourself a warrior name and let the person picking on you pick on the warrior and not you." It doesn't sound all that great but after Minday went back into the exam room and faced Danny as Beyonce Pad Thai it was on and she of course kicked ass. 

The "calling on a warrior" thing works because all of us at some point or another feel weak and vulnerable, whether we're facing a bully or going to an event solo--I hate going to events on my own. It's part of being in a body, you feel frail, weak and easily hurt both emotionally and physically. Why else would we have so many super heros and saviors in our culture? The only person that can save you from your fears is you, not the scared little kid you afraid of being ridiculous but the bad-ass, higher you that is fully in yourself and tapped into the higher wisdom that says "Bitch, I'm fabulous and if you don't agree I'm walking away." It's like the Sasha Fierce to your Beyonce.

Thursday night when faced with going solo to an event where I would know at least 3 of the people present, I decided to try this "calling on a warrior" thing. I looked in the mirror and named my warrior BeyB Bradshaw. (Bey- Beyonce B-the Bride aka Beatrix aka Uma Thruman in Kill Bill and Bardshaw like Carrie because all three of these women look amazing, wield awesome bitch face and would have no problem walking into a room full of strangers and their exes.) Not only did I name my warrior but I decided how she would dress--like me when I put forth effort--what kind of music she would get ready to--M.I.A. and Jay Z--and put her on like a goddess armor security blanket and walked out the door. It didn't cure my every anxiety but I was able to relax enough that I could get out of the car, mix, mingle and enjoy myself with worrying about what anyone thought of me. 

Now if only I could use BeyB Bradshaw to help me navigate those awkward moments when someone asks how my boyfriend is doing.

Wine Makes Everything Taste Better...

It doesn't always take a ton of bricks for you to feel like you were just hit by one. A few days ago I came across video on Facebook that slapped me across the face with a huge wake up call. It was just a remix of a song but something about the music and the visual made me stop and take a mini inventory of my life. And while I am very proud of everything I've accomplished in the past 8 years, I want stories to tell. I want to be able to sit down with my kids and tell them about being humbled when I stood at a temple in India or how I was a kick ass surfer who danced 'til dawn on the playa. I want to find freedom on a mountain top and silence in the ocean before I become a suburban housewife, and after. I was born with magic in my blood and I refuse to give up that potential without fulfilling it. 

In the spirit of learning who I am, I have decided to dedicate the next 2 years to blowing up my boundaries and doing all of the things I only wanted to do in dreams instead of waiting for my 20s to silently expire. While I do have a day job to keep, saving to build and a time limit to consider, I've come up with 30 things for me to do before August 26, 2014--when I turn 30--that are ambitious, international, totally doable AND full of magic. 

So here's my 30 before 30. If anything on here seems like a shock, you probably don't know me outside of the internet. And didn't I say I'm a beautifully strange amalgam of Beyonce, Carrie Bradshaw and Lisa Bonet? Keep that in mind...here'd the list.

1. Go to Burning Man
2. Go Paleo for 30 days
3. Publish my 1st book (OK this is SUPER ambitious and totally doable.)
4. Learn the art of trapeze
5. Go backpacking through Europe
6. Celebrate Durga Puja in Kolkata aka Calcutta
7. Map out my family tree. 
8. Throw a proper dinner party, with food I actually cooked. (I can burn. Lafayette voice)
9. Finish reading those half read books on my shelf.
10. Watch the sunrise over the ocean.
11. Take a good old fashioned American road trip. 
12. Learn how to surf. 
13. Make my apartment beautiful.
14. Spend the weekend with Gabby B at Spirit Junkie summer camp at Kirpalu.
15. Finish a Course in Miracles. 
16. 30 days of getting my yoga on. 
17. Get published in a national glossy. 
18. Go to the shows (not work them) at NYC Fashion Week. 
19. Get my savings on!
20. Add one pair of Louboutins to my closet. 
21. Become fluent in French. 
22. Learn the art of burlesque.
23. Run a marathon....did I mention I don't run at all. 
24. Hike the Appalachian Trail.
25. Go to a music festival that is not Jazz Fest or Voodoo.
26. Bungee jump.
27. Visit the Grand Canyon
28. Give snowboarding a try
29. Learn how to make a stiff martini
30. Follow through. 

I find it fair to mention that I have an intense fear of flying that I intend to conquer during the course of these experiences. That's technically number .1 on the list. 

Lessons Learned from....To Wong Foo

Yesterday I woke up in what I imagined to be a cold sweat, panicked and frightened as all hell because in a few short days I will be one step closer to 30 with nary a husband or child to show for it. Yes children, I woke up bright and early on Monday morning in the midst of a major "OH SHIT! I"M ALMOST 30 AND STILL SINGLE" freak out. While my most dependable ladies did their best to get me out of my "I'm going to check into the Ritz and check out if I'm still single by 30" mood, this was the kinda funk that needed an epic intervention to lift. Enter Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo dressed in full drag. Not only did my mood lit, wouldn't yours, but I also learned a few valuable lessons along that way that had me belting out "Rumor Has It" on my way home from work. Without further ado, here are the lessons I learned from To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar.

You are a boy in a dress. Not me, but Noxeema and Vida's protege Chi Chi. Along the way the more experienced queens prove to wee Chi that until she harnesses her inner queen that she is just a sad little boy playing dress up. Or as your mom would say, "It's what's on the inside that counts." Apparently when you're a drag queen, what's on the inside is fearlessness wrapped in pain smothered in camp and tempered with a "been there, done that, here's my unsolicited advice bitch" attitude. LOVES!

Hair, makeup and shopping solve everything. Hello! I got bangs and a tattoo post breakup to shake myself out of a rut, so of course the queens give every woman in the small hick town they are stuck in fierce makeovers to free them from abusive husbands, small-mindedness and Michael Vartan...Don't ever save me from that last one. 

It pays to have a friend who only looks like a girl. You hav no idea what I would give to have a girl friend who is had He-Man like strength when I'm out and some guy just doesn't get that I am not at all into him. 

If you don't love yourself...Of course the Queen of the queens, RuPaul, has a cameo in this one as done his message of loving yourself first. At the end both the ladies and the ladies learn that you have to love and accept you as you are if you want others to do the same. Even poor little rich boy/girl Vida vows to tell her conservative, East Coast fam that she is who she is and they can kiss it her huge pumps if they don't like it. 

If you have legs, use them! At a very statuesque 5'10" Ms Julie Newmar had some seriously amazing legs, and cuves, and boy did she work them in the photo that Vida lifts from the restaurant which serves as the journey's Holy Grail and gives the movie its name. At a statuesque 5'5", like Marilyn Monroe, I have learned the power of working my cuves and building upon what God has blessed me with by slipping into a pair of heels. Sadly, post break up I have forgotten that not only do I always look better in heels but I also have a sick body that I rarely work out or diet for. Time to make like Julie and werk!

Chill Out

All work and no monkey business

"Anastasia, we need to talk." As my breath quickened and my entire body tensed, I tried my damnedest to not let my internal breakdown crack my cool visage. While I waited for the other party involved in this conversation to return from the restroom I couldn't help but think that we need to put a moratorium on that phrase, "we need to talk." I mean, never in the history of mankind has that phrase been uttered with something positive hung on the other side of it. People never say, "We need to talk, you are awesome let's get married" or "We need to talk. You are awesome here's a raise." It's always "We need to talk. You haven't done anything wrong, things just aren't working out...you're fired/I'm breaking up with you."

So when my boss of three months uttered those damning words and followed them up with "You haven't done anything wrong..." my eye stayed trained on his but my mind when for a quick spin on the fear merry-go-round. I knew that despite my best efforts my performance had not been exactly extraordinary and that a large portion of the company's future was hitched to the success of my region. I also had a sneaking suspicion that the company owners would not fly down for a long weekend just to help me set appointments to make my bonus. The minute those words were put on the table my mind quickly added 1+1 and came to the conclusion that I was being fired. All I could think was, "How much of a loser am I? I'm being fired form the only full time, salaried job I've had in my field." Then immediately I thought, "How the hell am I going to pay my car note and rent now?" The next thought--again all of these thoughts are taking place in the time it takes for one guy to go to and return from the restroom--was "So what if they fire you, you'll find another job." My breathing immediately relaxed followed by every muscle in my body, because I knew that this thought unlike the other was true. I'd put in my two weeks at one job and walked right into another, and was hooked up with this job by a friend not long after being laid off. I also never went hungry and none of my bills ever went unpaid thanks to my hustle mentality, unemployment and my daddy.  In that moment, I knew that no matter what was said and done, I would be all good because something bigger than I am had always had my back. I took a deep breath and looked my boss in the eye, ready for the worst. 

It didn't come. Instead, I was given the answer to a prayer I'd sent out the night before. After struggling with how exactly I was going to go back to school later this year and manage a job where I was supposed to be home 2-4 days out of the month, I'd decided to give up on my job and look for a new one. But on Monday morning, after reminding myself that things usually work out for the best whether I know it or not, my bosses told me they were putting me in the showroom and hiring a more experienced salesperson to work the territory. Whew! Not only was I not being fired but everything was working out the way I needed it to. I would be home more often, able to focus on my writing and going back to school to hone my skills, and I wouldn't have to worry about money since my pay would stay the same. 

Would this situation have worked out had I not taken the time to refocus my thoughts and let the chill in? Of course, but instead of hearing that they are hiring someone more experienced that I can learn from and share the workload with, I would have heard that they hired someone and my job was being threatened. Same story, different perception. In the end, what you perceive in a situation holds more importance than what is actually happening. 

Conversations with Trice

My friend Patrice, aka Trice, is one of my all time fave spiritual running buddies that I can always turn to when I need to out my ego, celebrate a synchronicity or just for an lol. During our powerful pow-wows, or just when we're exchanging texts and what not, little nuggets of wisdom pop up and I'm going to start sharing them here.

While talking about my newest tattoo, an ode to love on my left wrist:

Trice: "Love it! Love conquers all."
Me: "Honestly, after losing the love of my life and having to start all over again (with dating), knowing that I can get this and believe in the healing power of love proves that it conquers all."
Trice: "It does."

What Makes You Happy?

Driving from dinner to a strip club last weekend, I got into one of those conversations that only happens when two girls meet and marry the right amount of alcohol. And by right amount, I mean I had two drinks and perhaps she had too many. Either way, we were on our way to our third stop of the night when the conversation turned from boyfriend drama to convient theories on life. Navigating the freeway with my iPhone I told my passenger that nothing on the outside can make you happy, not your boyfriend, not your job, not the vacations you take, nothing because everything you see is temporary and you shouldn't put your happiness in things that can change with little to no notice. With a bit of a drawl she confronted me dead on, like only a girl born and raised in New York would, and said, "What makes you happy?" Without hesitation I said, "I do. I decide to be happy no matter what and that's that."

Great answer right? In that moment I went from preaching it to knowing that I was totally practicing it. I mean, how else could something so sweet have rolled off my tongue with little thought? It had to have been firmly embedded in my cells or firmly memorized. I remained fully calm and collected while this girl went on and on with questions designed to throw a wrench in my view, "What about if your friend had cancer and you knew they were going to die?" "I'd be hurt, angry and upset, but in the end if there is nothing I can do about it I have to accept it and keep it moving." To me, this proved I was one step closer to enlightenment, or something like it, but only a few short days after our conversation I was slumped on the foyer in my apartment bawling my eyes out to my dad about having had my heart broken by the one man that I'm sure could ever love poor, wretched me. WTF!!!! Where did the happy go? Like any good Virgo, I decided to retrace my steps to see where I left it.

Me and L L last summer with Candace Bushnell...random

Between the sinus infection I picked up early in the week, which left me in bed for most of Monday and Tuesday thanks to my meds, and the sinking feeling I get every time I'm at work for 8 hours alone and then at home for another 8 hours alone my happy checked out. I kept replaying the fact that if it were last year and I had a sinus infection I would not have had to drag myself out of bed to buy Advil, my boyfriend would have done that, and I would not have had to spend every moment after work on my own because there was someone else at home to talk to. If it were last year I wouldn't have to deal with people asking me how is it that I'm single because I wasn't single last June. And there it is. The moment my happy left and the sinus infection slipped in. (Actually the sinus infection has probably bee building for weeks since I live in random hotels when I'm on the road.)

While I know he meant well, telling a single girl "I don't believe that you're still single. You're gorgeous  and I see how guys look at you" is like asking her "When are you getting married?" The instant that statement was leveed at me I sank back to Earth and was reminded that I may have a nice job, a new car I got with my own credit score, a boat load of friends and family who love me, a sick closet in a cute apartment, I haven't gained a pound since high school and I have a million and one things to be grateful for, I am still missing the one thing I so desperately want...a soulmate. It also immediately drew my attention to the fact that I thought I'd found my soulmate three years ago in a dive bar on New Year's Eve--a story he was ashamed to tell--and that despite my best efforts he'd left me. This line of thinking also brought me to a place where I blamed myself for our breakup--it is not my fault he got scared, confused and emotionally cheated on me if not physically--and blamed myself for not having found someone new just yet. This spiral locked me into thoughts of not being good enough to land the appointments I need to book my trip to Tennessee and North Carolina next week, let alone to make my bonus. It made me want to abandon my job and live in a coffee shop working on my book--not a bad idea really since I feel most me when I write. The point is, the way that I took this one statement said without even the slightest air of malice and ran to crazy town with it just further illustrates my point that I decide whether or not I'm going to be happy.

Yes, I would be happier in a job in publishing but until one comes along or my book deal falls from heaven like manna I have to work to pay my bills. Oddly enough, the work that I do not only pays my bills and puts me in contact with some of the strangest and most awesome people in life but it also provides me with plenty of inspiration to write my book and help me reinvigorate my flailing fashion blog. I can also say I would be over the moon if I walked out my door and Alexander Skarsgard was there and wanted to marry me, but since I'm 99% sure that's not happening and that would leave me a bit unsettled in real reality if he did--in fantasy reality I would be all in--I kinda have to keep on trucking until some guy at a party or something is all like "Hey do you want to go see that new Wes Anderson flick? I mean you look like you like movies like that and Thai food." While I'm waiting for my time and divine time to synch up like the recent Venus transit, I have to focus on being happy with what I have because if I'm all pissed and cursing the moon not only is the guy whose supposed to ask me out going to be like "wow that chick is crazy, no movies and red curry for her", I won't have enough time or energy to write a single thing.

So, what makes me happy? Me....and cupcakes.

And A Door Swung Open

Last month, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germonatta sat down with Oprah to discuss the past 26 years otherwise known as her life. In this chat, which aired on Oprah's Next Chapter which is nothing like the Oprah Winfrey Show (eye roll), Gaga got down and dirty with O about her creative process. She described getting in touch with her muse as a cold, lonely process where she goes into a cocoon, cutting herself off from all media, people, plants and animals until a door opens. Naturally, being the me that I am, I immediately called bullshit on this. Once again Gaga has proven to be a strange amalgam of Madonna and Holly Golightly, a pop culture phenomenon who really believes all this phony junk she claims to believe in. Honestly I would still be calling bullshit on it had a door not opened for me last night.

She's a real phony...

After another day at work calling shop owner after shop owner while fighting with a terrible sinus headache and running all over town, I was beyond exhausted when I finally got home. On top of being tired I was also terribly lonely, a feeling that has been creeping up on me all month with the hotel hopping, working with people who don't get me at all--that's a whole 'nother story--and spending 99.9% of my day alone at work and alone at home. As I burdened my family and friends with the third break down of the week, I began to feel like I was standing in a hallway with a big black "censored" bar over my face, unable to move or move it. So I got off the phone, took a shower and a nap. Somewhere in there I began to think about what it is that I want in life and realized that until then what I wanted out of life was what other people wanted for me. In other words, I had no idea what I wanted.

Why Zoe? Why not? I just threw it in. 

Pre-relationship, I knew I wanted to be some kind of Carrie Bradshaw like fashion writer killing shit at Vogue for my 9-5. (More like if Carrie Bradshaw worked at Missbehave and was more like Sarah Morrison with Carrie Bradshaw's never ending stream of disposable income minus the "I'm crazy bc I'm over 35 and unmarried" thirst.) As a street wear/fashion/random shiz blogger back in 2008, I knew I was on my way. I'd made connections in NYC with fashion type people and my blog was just about to blow up. Then I met a guy who I fell in love with and while I totally loved him and he loved me for exactly who I was, I always felt ten steps behind him. This insecurity made me constantly feel as though I wasn't good enough, smart enough, pretty enough and for damn sure successful enough to be with him. I stood next to him at parties with PhD virologists who worked on the forefront of preventing the next AIDS epidemic and felt so small when I had to tell them that I worked at the mall. I have to say that all of this was in my head, the person I was dating in no way even insinuated that I was anything less than wonderful actually he encouraged me to stop playing so small when we were out.




Now I know you're all like, "What does you feeling insecure have to do with Gaga and a door?' Everything. You see last night I remembered that while my relationship was filled with many beautiful moments and experiences that I will always cherish, I also felt caged in some way. Like I was trying so hard to be the kind of person that someone else wanted me to be. Again, this person only wanted me to be the best me and not sell myself short and for that I thank him, but I have to figure out who the best me is and want to be her. And for the record, the best me does not write like Molly Lambert--mainly because I'm Anastasia and she's Molly Lambert, I also don't write like F Scott Fitzgerald--and wears ghetto gold with her chambray tops. The best me is obsessed with fashion a means of capturing the zeitgeist of a generation not as something to simply wear. The best me is an amazing story teller because she has an imagination that runs wild. The best me writer because she feels most like herself when she does. Above all, the best me is constantly changing, growing and evolving.

I got picture happy.

As I thought these things out and stopped looking on the past 3 years with rose colored glasses, I felt the blocked, fragmented feeling that had settled in my soul a few weeks ago shatter. I felt the black box in front of my face dissolve, then finally I felt a door swing open. Then I walked right through that beeyatch into a hallway of infinite possibility. Don't believe me? Ask the "coincidences" that followed me all day today, the free danish and hot tea from a guy who didn't haggle me for his number, the 3 appointments I set in an hour after struggling since last Tuesday and the amazing feeling that has settled over me despite the fact that my allergies are tying to do me in. Now that the door has swung open, there is no part of me that would choose to go back...not that I could if I wanted to.

A New Normal

Last October I was literally a crumpled, battered mess lying on the floor in my apartment in tears and holding myself together with tape as best I could. I lingered between having the strength to live and having the ability to leave the hurt and my body behind. (Yes that means exactly what you think it means.) Every second of every minute was torture until I could finally fall asleep and every minute of every hour was hell when I woke up and realized that my dreams had been shattered. Never in my life had I hurt like that, not even when my grandmother died, and never in my darkest of moments did I believe that in 8 short months I would be closer to normal than I ever thought I could be...well as close to what normal is these days.

Not that normal has changed, it's just what I consider normal has shifted a bit. Last May, normal was Tuesday night on the couch with my ex watching Glee or at picking out a tiki mug at Tiki Tuesdays while we chatted with friends. Now, normal is me sitting in a hotel in Baltimore blogging between commercial breaks and prepping for another day of training for my new job. It's meditating before bed every night and before I get out of bed every morning. It's passing on the chicken at a business dinners in New York, cold calling boutiques while text messaging my family and friends and above all else it's me figuring out me again. Learning, relearning and remembering what makes me happy, not what makes us happy.

Don't get me wrong, I was sublimely happy in pretty much every moment of my relationship but there is a big HUGE difference between what makes ME happy and what made US happy. There are the happy things that we shared, hanging in bookstores, spending the day at museum, falling asleep on the couch while watching whatever art house/old school/foreign/it's too late on a Friday to be watching this movie. Then, there are the things that make me happy, glitter nail polish, ghetto gold, sipping hot tea in the early morning silence, making stuff, cooking, eating chain food...every now and then and talking mad shit (I did that with my ex, he was pretty good at being a snob for all the right reasons). It means no more rolling my eyes and doing things or not doing things because they make me look cool to him. It means no more feeling like I'm stumbling to catch up to someone that I felt 20 steps behind. It also means that all of the cool stuff I discovered about myself in my relationship--like my love of NPR, Indian food and becoming even more of a nerd---isn't going anywhere, it's just going to be more me. Actually that's all that's happening, I'm becoming more me....and that's the most important thing that I could ever be.

*I should also note that in this process of me becoming more me, I'm becoming more me as an author and have ben taking all kinds of notes on a book that I'll be publishing in the next year or so. Or so being a period no longer than 2 years. That is all. 

Check Yo'self Before You Wreck Yo'self

Lately I have been consumed with learning as much as possible about personal dramas. My personal drama, other people's dramas, how I effect other people with my drama and how other people's personal dramas effect me. As I've been going about my drama research, the Universe has decided to provide me with teachable moments to experience how these dramas meet and interact on the daily. This has given me plenty of time to learn that no matter the situation I have to check myself before I wreck myself if I want to get out of interactions with people totally unflustered.

My first opportunity to check myself and not meet ego with ego, came while talking to my ex from high school on facebook. Every few years he pops up in my life, usually when he's single, to see how I am and 9 times out of 10 these conversations end in him insulting me because I am not interested. Our real problem is that while I see him as a 27 year old man that I have nothing in common with, he sees me as a 15 year old girl who is insecure, unsure of herself and would love to be with him. (Truthfully, I was painfully unsure of myself all through high school and stayed in a relationship with him because I thought he was as good as I could get...FALSE EXPERIENCE APPEARING REAL) Whatever our perspective differences our conversation went from me trying to end the conversation peacefully to him attacking me. I had to go back and reread the thread to see if I ever once attacked him, insinuated he was less than or anything and nope nothing. His issue was that he was expecting one reaction and got another, I say his issue because the way people perceive you is never your issue. Either way, eventually I found myself slipping into my "poor me" drama and had to check myself before I wreck myself. Instead of further engaging in a cyclical conversation that was upsetting and tiring us both out, I decided to get off the merry go round and just stopped answering his messages. Honestly I probably should have stopped answering them after a day or two but I didn't want him to feel like I was pulling a Gotye on him but it has been ten years and unlike my most recent ex and I, me and the high school beau don't have much in common. It's not a bad thing, he is just a person I would see in the park and say "cargo shorts, really?" and keep it moving. No judgement, we just aren't on the same wavelength mentally, spiritually, emotionally, intellectually, culturally etc and that happens after 10 years. Anyway, my personal drama experience would have been done there with a BIG lesson learned--go with your gut and don't let people peck you--but my lesson was not done.

Thursday night I went to a party hosted by some of my favorite fab Atlantans at the Gucci store. Drinks were flowing, food was being passed, the energy was effervescent and I was totally soaking it all in. I even met a super cute guy who I think was sent my way not as a potential mate but more as a sign that I am beautiful and guys do like me. (We did exchange numbers and I'm sure he'll pop up on my cell when/if he's supposed to...I love this chill approach to dating and meeting guys.) While I was fully in my me-ness and feeling as bubbly as the prosecco that was being passed around, I was roped into a conversation with a guy that was all about me meeting his ego with defenselessness. This stranger, straight up to me I was going to need to wax my upper lip when I turn 30. It was like the record scratched and everyone at the party went "err?" At first I responded with my usual "poor me" defenses and tried fighting him off, however that is exactly what he wanted. (You see everyone has a way in which they attempt to get energy/attention from others and his way was to giveth then taketh away or as the Celestine Prophecies would say, he was an interrogator. ) After a minute or two, almost as if a light switch was thrown in my brain, I identified his compliment with a but as an attempt at getting a reaction from me and simply told him that he should end his compliments with the compliment and leave the buts out then I walked away. (After a bit of a tug-o-war with him hugging me and refusing to let go. FYI I am not as young as I look or as weak as you think, my dad was in the military so I know how to break a hold and throw a punch if necessary.) This interaction ignited something in me, along with the one with my ex from high school and a conversation that I had with a girlfriend about her boyfriend earlier that week. 

All my life I though I had to fight. I thought the only way to stop feeling like a "poor me" was to go from damsel in distress to Xena, boy was I wrong. As A Course in Miracles says, "In my defenselessness my safety lies," meaning before you defend against anything you need to take a minute and ask yourself what am I defending against. No, really what am I defending against? When I was talking to my ex on facebook there was nothing to defend against, because not only am I not capable of being attacked but defending against nonsense makes more nonsense. Did you get that? There is no way to make sense of nonsense and it is NOT my job or anyone else's to force people to see sense where they refuse to. People have to come to things on their own in their own time and no amount of forcing will make them change. So next time you feel someone spitting nonsense your way stop trying to check them and shake them into reality and check yourself then cross the street as Iyanla Vanzant would say.



As a part of learning to check myself and keep myself in check, I have committed to wearing a rubberband for 30 days and every time I feel myself acting out of fear, falling into the poor me trap, not living in the present, or just generally not living in my truth, I'll snap my rubberband to snap back to life and reality. So if you see me snapping myself with a rubberband anytime this month know I'm just working on me. 

Stop the Shhhh!!!

I was walking from Madewell to Bloomingdale's on my Spring living spree, bags in hand, when my phone vibrated to let me know I had a new email. I was expecting some kind of spam from one of the many mailing lists that my email address has found itself on or something work related, however it was an email from a friend of an acquaintance saying that she had passed in the night. (She being the acquaintance not her friend.) Before I go a character further, I have to say that I didn't know this person very well, only through facebook, herfture and email. Despite not knowing her in real, real life, her death shook me enough that it made me question the way in which I live my life. I mean, she was 31, had been living with cancer for years and despite that was still the shining light in my inbox every week.

I'm not going to dwell on the life of someone who touched my life without knowing much about it, but I have to say the death of a person in your age group always makes you rethink your life. It forces you to face you own mortality in a way that seeing an older person die never could. It drives home the message that life is short since it indeed could be over much more quickly than you think, causing you to rethink the way you've handled or not handled things. Having a friend or colleague who is merely a few years older than you live her life fully while dying, while you are stressing over the dumbstuff, makes you remember that life is a gift. I'm trying not to sound too shallow but it often takes the death of someone to make you realize how good you have it. I mean just yesterday I was bitching about the fact that I'm single instead of celebrating my new job and car. I was also debating on wether or not I should get real with my ex about us. Now all of that drama seems both small and huge at the same time. Small because it's petty stuff. My life is stinking awesome the end. However on the other hand my drama just got ocean size.

When you die the things you regret are the relationships you effed up, the people you took for granted, the time you spent working instead of living and a whole host of stuff that has nothing to do with how much money you earned, how many shoes you owned or how successful you were. People say it all the time but it's true, you dan't take it with you. The only thing you'll have on your death bed is family, friends and your memories--and perhaps a blanket. You have your love and that's all, and if you're me you have a heart full of love deeper than the ocean--Titanic reference--that is reserved for one person who either does not care or does nto believe me when I say that I love him not the job or the money or the outside shizz but the person who makes me feel like being me is the easiest thing in the world. (Trust me being me is not easy, being a puppy is easy being me is strange.)

You know, death makes you remember how fragile and temporary our bodies are. Once they're gone they're gone and you move on to wherever you came from. But in the meantime, while you have a body, tell the people that you love how much you love them, forgive the people that have wronged you, enjoy the time you have to do nothing, seek balance and have ice cream....real full fat ice cream that is rich and creamy and makes you want to jump on a treadmill after eating it. You only taste for as long as you have taste-buds so don't waste your sense of taste, or hearing, sight or smell for that matter.

*I'm not going to get all weepy and sappy but I am going to say that Shanna Sandmoen was an amazing woman and her weekly emails and blog posts will be missed. 

My Fairy Tale

Waiting...waiting..waiting

Everyone has a story that they tell themselves when they get out of bed every morning and before they go to sleep at night. For some lucky people their story is "my life is awesome" and "everything always goes great." Most of us over age 7 or so, do not live with a story that is so amazing. We have layers of stories that we tell ourselves to reinforce our deeper story and the older we get the more layers we layer...kind of like an onion or an ogre depending on who you ask. This tendency to layer and reinforce means that you can spend years peeling back the fears without touching on your story or, if you're like me, your mother and a book you were destined to read can point it out to you.

Let's start at the beginning. Two weeks ago on my way to work I rear ended someone and my 10 year old car fell apart, literally. Like I barely scratched the other car and my car just crumpled and fell apart, which was for the best since it was 10 years old and falling apart anyway. Not long after that I met up with my ex which resulted in a pretty disastrous encounter. While it looks like shit was hitting the fan, by the end of the following week I had more than enough money to pay my bills for the next month and get a new car--which I did on Sunday on my own with my own credit score no co-signing--and I was offered an amazing new job that would not only make me a decent living but would also bring all kinds of new experiences to me. New car and new job in hand, it looks like my life is finally coming together and one would think I am jumping for joy and filled with gratitude but instead I've been cautious, wary and haven't celebrated at all. As I was wondering about why I haven't been celebrating, the thought hit me that I do not believe that this is my life. Literally, I do not believe that my life is pretty good these days and all I could focus on was the one spot in my life that isn't good. However, the not believing that it's my life has more to do with my personal drama than me not thinking I'm worthy or anything like that.

Cinderella didn't even pick out her dress.

So what is my personal drama? Well, it was cleverly layered deep beyond the fears of abandonment, not being good enough and God knows what else. All this time I thought the abandonment issue was my core story but while reading The Celestine Prophecy I had an aha moment and realized that my core story is "I am a victim." Ever since I was a little girl I have played the victim, people were smarter than me, had more than I did, got more attention and whatever else I told myself to prove that the cards were stacked against me. My mom told me she noticed pretty early on that I was a "poor me" type when she was talking about two of my cousin's being bright girls and I said "what about me?"...I was 8 or 9. She seems to think that after the birth of my brother when I was 6, the new dynamic in the family put me in a place where I was no longer the star and to get my spot back I played "poor me." But it didn't end there.

With friends and co-workers, with getting jobs and dating and pretty much everything in my life I have played the victim. I have handed over responsibility for my life to other people and conditions, all the while blaming everyone for my life but me. He left me, she doesn't like me, my parents don't have enough money--sidenote if it weren't for my parents I would be homeless since my rent is way more than I can afford on my own--I didn't go to the right school, I didn't have the right amount of support, blah blah poor me blah blah. These stories churning around my core story like the arms of a hurricane churning around the eye do nothing but wreak havoc in my life and relationships and keep me in a place where life happens to me, instead of creating the life I want. It keeps me a damsel in distress waiting on someone to rescue me when I am perfectly capable of rescuing myself.

This is my kind of princess

This is soo not the life I want, one cloistered in a tower waiting on a savior so that my life can begin. The life I want is one that is beautiful, unfolding, full of adventure and love. A life that I co-create and can claim full ownership of. A life where I AM NOT A VICTIM! Sadly, that doesn't happen over night. You don't go to bed saying "my personal story is one of playing the victim" and wake up saying "I'm Xena warrior princess and I run this show." Life is about subtle shifts that add up to major shifts. So for now, knowing my story is enough because now that I know better I can do better. Will I slip? Hell yes, I'm a person and I have no interest in being perfect but I will progress. I can rewrite my fairy tale and will, but stories evolve one word at a time and 27 years of learning take time, and therapy, to undo. All I can do now is say I AM NOT A VICTIM!

(+)

After finding out a few not so settling things on Sunday, I sooo needed to hear/watch this.

What Do You Do?

Can't wait until what I do pays me as much as whatever she does. 

This week's burning question deals with the one question that I feared being asked at cocktail parties, events, dinners, pretty much wherever I could meet new people. That was until a certain guy I know told me to stop glossing over the things I have done and start saying with confidence what it is that I do.  I literally remember being at an art thing in a circle of PhD's and MDs and when they asked what it was that I do and I shrugged and mentioned something about being a Jack-of-all trades and a master of none. Everyone laughed and then someone said, "Really, what do you do?" Before I could answer my ex swooped in and said she's an amazing writer. That really meant a lot to me, but it didn't change my habit. It took years of having other people introduce me as "an amazing writer," "the cutest young writer in town," "my favorite fashion writer," and simply a writer for me to stop saying I work in retail or whatever crappy 9-5 I was doing to pay my bills while I freelance. It may have taken years of affirmations, people seeing in me what I could never see in myself and me accepting my greatness for me to stand up and say "I am a fashion and lifestyle writer who has tons of experience online and is working her way into print one mag at a time," when asked what do you do but I have finally come to a place where I am proud of me.  Now when I tell people what I do they don't laugh, they kinda think it's cool. If only I could stop telling them it's not cool and that writers are usually poor until they aren't. One limiting belief at a time.

Stop Telling That Story

Close but not the exact scene..it'll do.

About 4 years ago I picked up one of my favorite quotes ever from little film called The Women, 2008 not the one with Joan Crawford. In it, Meg Ryan's character goes to Saks for a manicure where a chatty nail tech unknowingly gives Meg the goods on her cheating husband. Just as the chatty nail girl, played by Debie Mazar, realizes she is putting her foot squarely in her mouth Meg Ryan drops this line "please stop telling that story." (or something to that effect) While I drop this line at least once a week, today it has a special meaning because not only has this message come up several times today but I have realized that no matter how much I tell it to others, I need to start talking to the woman in the mirror.

You see we all have stories that we tell ourselves over and over that do not serve us. The stories range from "My grandmother got a divorce, my mom got a divorce, I'm going to be divorced" and "I have to have a certain job to be an adult" to "Money is the root of all evil." No matter what sob story you tell yourself and everyone else, I guarantee that it is not helping you in any way. Those Color Purple--as my mom calls them--stories do nothing but ensure that you constantly stay in a woe-is-me state, since we all know the thoughts you repeat become your beliefs and eventually create your reality. So by telling yourself that "Money is the root of all evil" ensures that you will never have any money unless you want to be evil. Not only does repeating those stories that do not serve you drag you down but tehy also drag down everyone you tell them to.

Don't be that girl...not cute.

Everyone knows a Debbie Downer, no matter how awesome your day is she manages to piss all over it with one story. Now imagine that your co-workers are chilling by the water cooler talking about life and such then you walk in and start telling them about how horrible your last date was and launch into your story "All men are losers and I'll never find a good one." If I were your co-worker I'd walk away and never talk to you again, unless it was absolutely necessary. For the record, not only does repeating your story drill it in to every cell in your body but it also makes people want to avoid you like the plague.  No one wants to hear those sad stories and the people that are tasked with listening--your friends and family--aren't buying that poison you're spitting.

Like I said from the beginning, I know all too well about the need to stop telling that story like a broken record. The things I tell myself are off the charts, Britney Spears when she shaved her head crazy but I have told myself those stories for so long that it is taking therapy, self-help books, life coaching and meditation. Brick by brick I have been outting the stories I need to stop telling and guess what? The minute I become aware of one story another one bubbles up, letting me know that I'll be telling myself stories for the rest of my life hopefully they'll get better.


So in the effort of being transparent, here are the stories I need to stop telling:

"Carrie Bradshaw had to have been a hooker because writers don't make that much money" Truthfully, Carrie Bradshaw is a fictional character so her life has to be over the top so we buy into it enough to buy the movie, the DVDs and the books. TV is not real life nor is it an accurate mirror of real life, even the "reality" shows and that HBO's updated hipster version of Sex and the City, Girls, are far from real. That said, it is reasonable to think that an established columnist in her mid-30s could be making an adequate living off of her work. As an aspiring best selling author who writes a ton online and is tackling print one article at a time, it is counterproductive for me to repeat that you can't make money as a writer especially when I know at least one real life freelance who does. (FYI she is at least 10-15 years older than I am with an extra 10-15 years experience on me so I shouldn't be making her money...yet.)

"I'm weird so it's hard for me to find a guy" To be fair I am pretty "different," however the main reason people see me as "different" is because I do not entirely fit the singular story that has been told about African American women. Is it my fault that only one story has been told about black women in America throughout history? No. Is it my fault that people believe that one story? No. Is it my fault that people see me and immediately try to cram me into that one story? No, but it is my fault that I allow their issue with who I should be make me feel inadequate. Growing up I was teased because Jagged Little Pill was my favorite album and California English was my preferred method of speaking-- hello I grew up in the 90s on a strict media diet of MTV, Seventeen and Clueless and like everyone else in my generation I added like to every pause and made every statement a question. Again, not my problem until I made my problem.

"I need new clothes every season." Actually that's not a story I tell myself that's just life, you need new clothes, especially when you work in fashion.

"Money is a struggle. If you don't work hard you'll never make bank." This isn't a story I told myself, it's a story I saw growing up. My dad constantly spoke of sacrificing time at home so that we could have a certain standard of living and my mom constantly fought an uphill battle with finances, so I learned that money was something you had to bust your ass to get....NOT TRUE. Yes you have to work but earning a living does not have to be a thing of sacrifice, toil, struggle, working three jobs just to get by. That is not necessary, trust me I know people who work hard, enjoy their life and make what they need and then some...and their parents aren't filthy rich.

Those are all the stories I could think of now, but if I think of any more I'll share for sure. More importantly, I want to know what BS, I had to walk 10 miles in the pouring rain, sob story are you telling?

Drop your story like it's hot!

Getting Grateful!

So I've been riding the freedom train for 16 days now and it has been enlightening in more ways than one, not that I'm fear free and totally hooked up to instant manifesting like my boys JC and Buddha but I'll be there one day lol. Anyway, as a part of my 40 Day Fear Cleanse I was tasked with getting grateful for my freedoms. Well, as someone who is unemployed and suddenly single it's been hard to think about the freedoms that I have in a positive light, or I should say it was.

Yesterday I went for my weekly visit to my therapist--I'm American we all have/need a therapist--where the two of us got down and dirty with the roots of my codependent behaviors. She got in my face for a second and told me that my avoidance of setting boundaries in all of my relationships, work, romantic and otherwise, as well as my tendency to create idols and my deep seated desires to do whatever it takes to keep the people I care about in my life at my own expense all stem from a period in my life from around age 11 where within a year my parents separated and my grandmother that I was close to died. This sparked my core fear, that everyone will eventually abandon me, and codependency became my security blanket. But what does this have to do with my freedoms? Well once we got down to the root of my issues, she turned to me and said "Anastasia you have some amazing insight and thankfully you are figuring this out now while you're young. You have your whole life ahead of you to figure out what makes you happy and to break that cycle." I felt like a weight was lifted and as soon as I could I called my mom who expressed that she had similar issues when she was in her 20s and that I should be glad that I figured this all out before I got married and had kids like she did. She told me you don't want to wake up at 35 and wonder what has your life become because you have given up your power to be someone's wife or to have a certain lifestyle. Oddly enough her words rang truer than she knew because I had begun that way about my last relationship, yes I loved and still love my ex but a growing part of me was so caught up in the frame that I would do anything to hold on to someone who made me feel like I was worthwhile because of him. That brings me to the freedoms that I am grateful for.

I am grateful for having the freedom to get down to the truth about me. The freedom to explore what makes me happy not what makes my friends, parents or some guy happy. I have the freedom to hop on a plane to Paris and look for a job if I have the money and the desire. I have the freedom to accept a job where I'll be traveling 80% of the year or to do yoga for the next 30 days or to sit on my ass and do nothing. Thanks to s break up and losing my job I have found the freedom to shake off the person I thought everyone wanted me to be and to become the person I always was but have been hiding behind a hoard of shoulds. Now if only I had the freedom to breathe easy in the Spring without the need of Mucinex, drinking a pond full of water and killing my productivity at least once a week. Damn you allergies!

Miracle Moment

I had a beautifully amazing Miracle Moment all written up about how I get down and get over those crappy feelings that tend to come over even the happiest people on the planet, but my inner guide who is part Chola jumped in and said "Delete that crap and speak YOUR truth, whatever that means." So, I highlighted my rather lengthy post on showing fear the door and sent it to the trash bin. That left me with a lovely blank slate where I was free to get down and dirty with myself and speak my truth to the world which is...I don't know. I know what my truth is, my truth is that I don't know. (Let's pretend we have some sense and not get caught up in an Abbot and Costello skit ok.)

Knowing that you don't know can be both frightening and empowering, depending on where you take it to. Think about when you were a little kid, you didn't really know much about the world and everything was new, fascinating and amazing.  You totally relied on your parents and the other adults in your life to teach you what was what and as you became familiar with the nouns around you, things became less fascinating, amazing and magical and more mundane. However life is always amazing and magical, we just think we know everything so we take it for granted and dismiss what doesn't fit into the boxes our mind made when some adult told us what was what way back when. The second you stop and say "Maybe I don't know everything about everything and maybe that's not the point," you open yourself up to learning all kinds of new amazing stuff that you could never have learned while you were busy telling everyone how much you know. You also get to relax knowing that no matter how many books you read, lectures you go to, degrees and certifications you earn or how many people kiss you tush YOU CAN NEVER KNOW EVERYTHING and neither can your teachers, pastors, big sister, life coach or therapist. Experts are never experts on everything and the only thing that separates them from you is the amount of time they devoted to learning one thing, not everything. (Ever heard the phrase "Jack of all trades master of none?")

Teddies arren't supposed to talk. 

Now back to that little kid that doesn't know anything and is aware of that. If that same little kid is frightened by something, say a curtain that looks like a ghost in the moonlight, all he has to do is ask for help from someone who knows more than he does. Usually the kid calls screams for their parent in the middle of the night and the parent comes in, turns on the light and tells them there is nothing to be afraid of. From that moment on the kid knows that the thing dancing in the moonlight is a curtain not a ghost and is able to fall asleep. Just like a child's fear of the unknown can turn into the boogey man or a murderous Teddy Ruxpin--don't judge 5 year old me, Teddy Ruxpin was creepy--an adult's fear of the unknown can turn into a fear of being alone or not living up to their potential. Why? Well simply put, no one is a afraid of things they understand, for the most part. Do you know anyone who is afraid of the present moment? Exactly. We're always afraid of what we think is going to happen next. Newsflash, you can't know what;s going to happen next. Even when you think you know what's going to happen next, you're really basing that assumption on what has happened before and jut because it happened before doesn't mean it'll happen again. Ask any good psychic and they'll tell you that the future is not fixed so it doesn't pay to obsess over it. Just chill in the not knowing every now and then, which is way easier said than done. 

This morning I woke up feeling pretty shitty about some things that I don't know and it took me stopping and saying "I don't know how this is going to work out, and I can't do much about it" for the mood to start moving. Do I know now? Nope. Am I stressing about it? Nope. Why? Because it's not my job to know what's going to happen next week, next month or next year, it's only my job to focus on making today as amazing as possible and allowing space of the unknown to work itself out in ways that I can imagine and ways that I couldn't even come up with in my wildest dreams.

Miracle Moment

My two fave OG Spiritual Gangsters, Russell and Rev Run. 

Amongst my closest friends I have developed a Rev Run like reputation for sending weekly inspirational texts that bring a bit of the mystic into the mundane. I started this years ago when I was still living with my mom as a means of spreading a kind word, support and a few lolz by signing it Rev Ana. Anywhoo, I've decided to take these miracle moments public since my nearest and dearest aren't the only ones who could use a minor shift on a Monday morning.

Today's Miracle Moment came to me while I was on gchat with my bestie Amber as we were trying to chat me through a crazy moment that deals with my ex and his ex. I felt myself going crazy stalker ex-girlfriend for a minute and reached out to my most grounded pal--in the relationship arena that is--to help me through. All she did was offer an ear so to speak and gave me the space to talk it out with me really. Our talk turned from my drama to how I cope with my intuition shouting something that my brain is not ready to accept. This lead to my first miracle moment--that's right I have 2 big, beautiful shifts for you--I told her the only way I can shift my focus from dwelling on the past and the future is to acknowledge that everything that is meant to happen in my life will eventually happen and all I have to do is show up! This may seem a bit too pre-determined for some of you, but for me it just means that I'm completely putting my faith in a higher power who knows my life's plan. It doesn't mean I'm going to sit on my ass and not work towards my goals, it just means that I'm going to let go and get in the flow. There is no reason to fight an uphill battle all your life trying to make something happen, if it's supposed to happen it'll happen with the right amount of hard work and divine intervention. 

After that little nugget, our conversation shifted gears to the ways in which society constantly reinforces the notion that the keys to happiness and success all lie in the arms of someone else or in a certain job, living in a certain house, making a certain dollar amount, wearing the right clothes or basically anywhere outside of you. Hence the reason people continue to sign up for Match.com and eHarmony and spend their entire paychecks on having the right car, the right cell phone, drinking the right coffee and buying groceries at the right store. This reminded me of my favorite quote by Gabrielle Bernstein that goes a little bit like this, "when you place your happiness in the arm of someone else, you're screwed." (Miracle Moment numero 2) Actually, anytime you place your source of happiness, success, self worth, love, peace, security etc outside of yourself you are totally effed. Why? Simply put, everything outside of you is subject to change whether it's the man, the job, the money, the house or the Choos, they are all fluid and temporary, the only constant in your life is you. So if you don't have a good relationship with you and your Source--by Source I mean God/the Creator/the Source of all things, I don't say universe because that feels silly to me but it may work for you--then you will continue to look for whatever you think you lack on the inside, outside and you will never find it. Trust me, I've found happiness in the arms of a man, the bottom of a bottle and the shoe department and the one thing I noticed is none of those things made me happy for long. So chew on that with your lunch. 

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Codependency has been the big word popping up for me, and some of my pals, lately. Speaking solely for myself, I mean who else can I speak for, but my fear of being alone for the rest of my life has consistently manifested itself in some not so nice behavioral patterns that could pretty well be labeled as codependent. Basically every time I let my ex get away with something that didn't serve me or put his needs before mine or thought of him as the strong one who I needed in order to be happy, healthy and wise, I was engaging in codependent behaviors and thought patterns. His desire to be the one to save me only reinforced this. So here we were trapped in a pattern where I needed him to feel loved, supported and worthy and he rose to the occasion. (I'm not blaming him FYI, my parents and friends have also supported my "poor wretched me" behaviors as well.) The point is, since codependency has been the word in my life for quite a while and since I've noticed its patterns and characteristics making themselves known when my girls talk about their relationships I've decided to do something about it. Namely, picking up Melody Beattie's book Codependent No More to get to the bottom of these thoughts and release these patterns before I do end up alone or worse, I have a daughter and pass these patterns on to her.