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.

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. 

The Rareness of Realness

I always thought it would be better to be a fake somebody than a real nobody.

- The Talented Mr. Ripley  

I was in high school when I rented The Talented Mr. Ripley one Friday night for family night--something my dad started after my parents got divorced when I was 11. While my mind may not have grasped every subtlety of the movie dedicated to a young man having a serious Single White Female style identity crisis--I just thought Jude Law was hot and had to see it because he was in it--I do distinctly remember agreeing with Tom Ripley when he managed those words. At the time I was 15 and like most teenagers I wasn't really comfortable with who I was, mostly because I didn't really know who I was. I knew who people expected me to be and I knew that wasn't necessarily me but I didn't know who me was, and therefore decided that like Tom being someone else would be so much easier. Eventually I grew out of that, puberty and wanting to be anyone but me. The funny thing is, the more real I am with me the more I realize how many people are real life Mr Ripley's trapped in lives that are far from who they really are in an effort to impress us all with their network, travels, iTunes libraries, Netflix queques, salaries, closets and relations. 

We all know the types, using religion, spirituality, materialism, elitism, the desire to belong and to not belong as a means to hide who they are from others for fear of rejection. I completely understand it. The world is a very "either you are with us or against us" kind of place where being who you are, raw and unfurled, can get your ass kicked or kicked out of your comfort zone Ask anyone who came out to an unsupportive family, an atheist in a room full of Christians, a feminist, someone fighting for their rights and the rights of others, or better yet anyone who has ever felt alone when they had to stand up for their beliefs. It hurts to be rejected for being who you are, especially if you are taught that who you are is wrong, bad or different.

The Spice Girls are still kick ass! 

I'm not that different--I am an odd mix of Daria, Quinn and Beyonce which means I love books, fashion and boys and I have a sarcastic sense of humor with kicking curves and a Southern drawl--but I was made to feel like I was wrong because I was a stereotypical American girl not a stereotypical BLACK American girl, whatever that means. So I learned to never say I preferred MTV to BET (that was way back when they both played videos), I actually loved reading the Crystal Cave, Dawson Leery was my secret crush and I blasted Jewel, Nirvana, Alanis and Lisa Loeb when I was sad and Britney, Spice Girls and Nsync when I wasn't--for the record everyone eventually got up on Britney, Nysnc and the Spice Girls because Justin Timberlake was hot sex, the Spice Girls were hella catchy and Britney turned into a total whore. The funny thing is 85% of this judgement was in my mind. I went to Catholic school and most of the girls were pretty average, it just wasn't until facebook was invented that I realized that I could've been myself all along. But when I talk about Single White Female and Tom Ripley types, I am not talking about teenagers with minor identity crises. I'm talking about full fledged adults who never learned that the only person judging you is you, even if you're talking to me and I tend to come off as judgmental...I'm not at all but I am a snob, that's another blog post.

While these two groups of people, teenagers and adults having identity issues, seem ages apart they are in fact stuck in the exact same mire. If I would have never realized that not only was I the only one judging myself before anyone else could but that the people who were judging me did not know me enough to do so, I would have stayed in a place where I pretend to be something I'm not so that people can like me for being a success, whatever that means. Guess what? Whether or not people like you is not your business. Your business in life is for you to like you. If you can fall asleep at night happy as a clam with who you are whether you are rich or poor, fat or thin or if you talk like Marlene Dietrich in clothes made by Balmain or not, there will be no shortage of people lined up to hang out with the you that is you. If you, however, make a habit of lying to yourself to get through everyday conversations with strangers to prove to them that you do belong, eventually you learn not to trust yourself or anyone else. So stop trying to be someone and start  being you, I mean being someone else seems tiring and I don't have that kind of energy or time to waste.

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. 

Lessons Learned...On The Road

This pretty much happened to me last week, only I drive an SUV.

Living in this material world means that a girl has to eat and pay the occasional bill, or rather you fork over more than half of your paycheck to the bill collectors that is if you are me. To pay these aforementioned bills and for food, I schlep rags around the Southeast as a regional sales rep for FIVE (thats V) wholesale apparel lines. This may sound glamorous but all it really means is that I drive around the country battling rolling racks, weather and colorful buyers just to make sure your favorite local boutiques stay stocked with your favorite brands. (Oh you thought elves made the clothes and left them under the pillows of sleeping shopkeepers? Yeah so did I until I got a BS in the rag trade.)

While spending two-three weeks at a time away from home living out of hotels has earned me more in three months than a year of working in the mall, I'm exaggerating but not by much, the best thing my j-o-b has done for me is teach me life lessons that must be passed on. So instead of giving you life lessons from fictional characters or celebs, here's a little life advice from little ole moi: 

1. Make like a Boy Scout and always be prepared! Snagged a nail? Spilled coffee all over yourself? Cut your exposed ankle while wearing freshly laundered Keds? Anything that can happen, will happen so always be ready for shit to hit the fan because eventually it will. 

2.  Never underestimate the power of a smile. Whether I'm asking what's edible in the general area that is NOT fast food, in need of a hand to get my rolling rack full of stuff down the street to my car or the buyer I'm working with is in a mood, I generally find that an ounce of compassion and a SINCERE smile work like a spoon full of sugar. I even smile, sincerely, when I'm calling to set up appointments to tell someone they are having credit issues. They feel it and it helps. 

3. You can find familiarity in the most unfamiliar places if you know where to look. I've stopped at metaphysical bookstores in Asheville, vegetarian restaurants in Baltimore, pubs in Nashville and burger joints in Ft Lauderdale and each and every one of these places felt so much like home to me that being homesick never crossed my mind. 

4. And while you're at it, bring a little home with you. I love a regimented life. Ever the Virgo, schedules and lists make my life go round. When I'm on the road I take a little of my routine with me and keep my yoga mat, journal, laptop, and meditation tracks close. Not only do they keep me on a routine but they are all things I associate with home and home is where my shoes are.

5. Always know where your hoodie is. It keeps you warm, dry and stylish as you traverse the country. 

I have way more life lessons but I'll share those later...for now

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. 

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!

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!

Old Maid My ASS!

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with a good friend in the middle of the night trying to comfort her and give my best "advice" on her relationship woes when she dropped this bomb, "Most people our age are married or in committed relationships." First of all, not only did I find that to be a gross overstatement of a fact--I know a ton of girls all over America who are my age and are happily single, statistics prove it--but I also found it to be a highly insensitive thing to say to someone who is going through a breakup. (Remember before you speak wait and say Why Am I Saying This, I guarantee it'll save you many an embarrassing, foot in mouth moment.)  This sentiment expressed by my friend--and secretly held in the heart of many a single or relationshipped girl that I know--that everyone our age is married or on the way to being married got mt to thinking some pretty deep thoughts. After a few days of thinking and talking to another friend with some equally skewed views on why we go down the aisle I came to the only sane conclusion, we have all been brainwashed! I mean, who says you have to be married by a certain age anyway?

Does no one else think June was a bit ridiculous wearing pearls 24/7? 

When I was 21, anything over 25 seemed old. Now that I'm two years away from 30, give or take a few months, I don't think 25 is old at all. I mean 25 is older than 21 but it isn't as old as 40, and everyone I know over 32 thinks I have all the time in the world to get messy, make mistakes and find a husband. The only people who think I should be looking for a mate are some of my friends and me--about 80% of the time. Actually most of the women I know who are in the older, wiser age range, aka my mom's age, have repeatedly told me that getting married before turning 30 usually ends in divorce because most 20 something girls have no clue who they are which incidentally is supported by science with tons of research saying that the part of the brain that governs complex cognitive behaviors, personality expression and decision making are not developed until about 25 give or take a few years. Most older, wiser women also agree that most of us 20s girls get married for the WRONG reasons.

Before I delve into the wrong reason pile, let's do a brief super short history of marriage in the 20th Century as illustrated by our grandmothers and mothers. Our grandmothers who were in their 20s during the '40s, '50s and early '60s existed in a strange Stepford like time when they were expected to marry largely because they didn't have many career prospects and pre-women's lib societal norms held over from previous ages when women had no voice in politics and weren't expected to be educated told them that their place was at home. Thankfully society also knew that no man wanted a dumb wife who couldn't manage the household budget, make dinner from scratch, wrangle the kids and look like June Cleaver or Lena Horne while doing it, so off to college to earn their MRS our grandmothers went. Along the way they became secretaries, teachers and nurses but if they weren't married with a baby by 25 their lives were incomplete. Fast forward to our moms who thanks to changing societal norms were able to take control of their reproductive systems thanks to birth control and Roe v Wade, could earn a living wage thanks to their educations in something other than how to be a great woman behind the throne and were not doomed to stay in loveless marriages where they were abused, mistreated or just unhappy thanks to divorce become more normalized. As a result our parents who got married when "society" told them to, between the ages of 19 and 24, found themselves divorced by 35 (hint, hint). Due to the pioneering efforts of our foremothers, many of the gals of today are as well educated and finically  (in)secure as their male counterparts making the need to get married before your prefrontal cortex has fully developed a thing of the past. Unless you live in the South like me where girls are expected to get married fresh out of college like it's 1955.

All single, all over 30, all fly as all out doors!

The point of our little history lesson is that the reason for marrying young that held up in the past have been obliterated thanks in large part to the feminist movement--which actually asserts that woman have the right to be who they want to be whether that mean's a housewife or the next President not that we have to stop shaving our armpits unless we like that sort of thing. You don't have to get married because society thinks you're deficient if you aren't married by 35, or because your eggs are going to go bad, or because your knocked up, or at all if you don't want to. There is no need to find a man for security, hell in this economy there is no such thing as finical security at any age let alone in your 20s when most of us are underemployed or getting so many degrees it's crazy in an effort to wait out the seemingly dismal job market's eventual uptick. Oh and as for having kids, I checked that one out and your eggs do go bad but not as quickly as I thought, making it perfectly OK,  to have kids in your 30s. I mean, my mom had my brother at 30 and he didn't turn out THAT bad.

Another group of fab single ladies that didn't get married until they were in their LATE 30s

So the next time someone asks you when are you getting married or asserts that there is something wrong with you because you'd rather be single than stay with your jerk ex-boyfriend who stole from you, hit on your friend in front of you in a bar, forgot your birthday and every holiday and was an all around ass (FYI this is not about my ex, he was and still is a great guy just not with me right now), tell them piss off. Would you rather be happy or following whatever "rules" society has set up for you? BTW society is pretty effed up in case you haven't noticed, so I don't think I would take life advice from whoever this society person is. And if you think I'm going to be an Old Maid or whacky Spinster aunt living in a house in Miami with my mom, a retired whorey debutante and some chick from Minnesota, not only do you not know the definition of old but you have no idea how awesome the Golden Girls were. I have at least another 30 years before I'm considered an Old Maid and that is more years than I've been alive, so odds are it's not going to happen.

The point is, it's perfectly normal to want to get married and have a family but it is perfectly insane to put a sell by date on it.

You Gotz To Love A Spiritual Girl

Bat for Lashes has nothing to do with this, fyi

So yesterday one of my ladies was arrested on a technicality--keep track of and pay your tickets girls--and she took the whole thing like only a now age spiritual gangster could, in stride. Just as I was gathering up the cash and hunting down a co-signer to post her bail, she called to tell me that she would be out by Saturday morning at the latest, was sharing a holding cell with a woman who practiced reiki and holistic medicine and that the whole experience was super healing. Only a girl super in touch with her higher self could see the healing in being thrown in the clink for driving with a suspended license, talk about seeing the silver lining! After I hung up I thought about something my teacher, Gabby B, said during a lecture she gave last Friday "Being happy is not about being happy all day every day it's about being comfortable   during the times that you aren't." While I know she wasn't happy about where she was--when it went down she called me freaking out a bit so I know she wasn't 100% cool with this--but she knew that she was supposed to be there, accepted her assignment and opened up for healing and growth. And strangely enough, she isn't my only friend that's taking shit in stride and learning from the funky stuff that happens to us in life.

Last week a few my pals and I went out--FYI I have officially retired from the club scene--and while we were out someone stole my pal's Michael Kors wallet from another pal's purse. While she was pissed and hurt as hell, at no point did she play the victim or lash out at the girls who we suspect stole her things. Instead she took a few minutes to get calm and decided that it was time to go. On the ride home she kept saying that she knew it supposed to happen for whatever reason and that it would be all good...Guess what, it was. She called me the next day to say she was fine with everything--thankfully the only thing she lost was some cash, her driver's license and the wallet--and that she was working on getting a replacement wallet. She saw the whole experience as something to learn from and not anything to get hysterical over.

Both of these ladies taught me that no matter what the situation is--jail, stolen wallet, your soulmate taking pots from your house...long story--it's all about how you CHOOSE to experience it that makes it. You can choose to play the victim, get angry, kick and scream, or shrug it off, say all in a day and get on with your life. I know which one I plan on doing from now on. I mean which one feels better to you, honestly?

Just Drop It Mama.

In an effort to get rid of the not so awesome stuff that has been blocking me from having the super awesome stuff that I deserve, I decided to drop all of it for 8 days. I'd like to say that I arrived at this conclusion to drop everything I've been holding on to like an Alex Wang at a sample sale on my own, but anyone who knows me at all knows that letting things go isn't really my bag. I actually came to this beautiful place of wanting, needing and finally throwing down release while I was talking things over with one of my spiritual running buddies. In a not so beautiful moment I'd begun to hold on to expectations for my relationship, career and living situation in an effort to find comfort in the "what will be"and the "what was" instead of embracing the "what is."This caused all kinds of stress, fear, moments where I was bawling on the couch and all I kept thinking was "You are a spiritual gangsta not someone who lets the past or future rule your present," and boy did that make me feel worse--hello ego posing as my higher self, I see you.

In the middle of this strange slip I reached out to my fave spiritual mama for a real reality check to get me back to where I belong. I told her everything that was going down and what I was trying to do and basically she said I needed to drop it, all of it. I needed to stop replaying the past like a broken VHS, let go of my expectations and do nothing-- a message that came to me three times that week. So I did. I sat in my meditation spot, wrote a letter politely demanding that my ex get out of my space and take any of his bad juju with him and forgiving him for everything, lit a candle or two and mediated for like forever. I wish I had some beautiful story of how the minute I did that he called--well he texted the next day to say he was in town--or that a job magically appeared--a job did come my way the following week--but that night the only thing that came through was peace. Finally I could sleep alone in my bed without feeling alone and that was all I really needed, to be at peace with my own company. This peace felt so deliciously amaze that I continued my 8 days of allowing to fifteen days, so far. I know I'm on the right track, because not only does it feel good but everywhere I look and listen someone is saying "release", "allow", "let go", "drop it."

Like I said, I haven't had major miracles happen every moment of every day--partly because I realized that in doing something to achieve a particular outcome I was feeding my ego and trying to do magic tricks--but I did come to have a few major revelations about myself...and here they are in no particular order:

*I like the way it feels when I come through for people. Let me rephrase that, I like the way people feel about me when I help them out. Basically I'm not really the supportive, loyal to the point of being a masochist because I just am, I'm that way because I'm addicted to the high I get when someone says "Thank you for coming through for/being there for/helping me." This addiction has caused me to call some emotionally unstable/effed up guys into my life. I try to fix/help/hit them with the Virgo Earth goddess energy that radiates off of me and they take what they need then move on. Sooo I'm going to start volunteering to get my helper high and let that fulfill that need so that I can stop calling in people with holes that I desperately want to fill

*I don't want to be a writer because I want to be a writer, I want to be a writer because someone else saw that talent in me and said you'd be a great writer. I love writing, why else would I do it for free, but the kind of writer that I want to be has nothing to do with being some prolific hipster writer who writes while sunning herself on the roof of her Brooklyn apartment and appears in videos for her friend's indie band. That's the kind of writer I always thought he would date so I tried to be that girl, while I love being cynical, listening to obscure music, French New Wave films, Sylvia Plath, looking cool and bored and wearing Wayfarers, I'm sooo not that girl. I went to a state scholl where I studied fashion in hopes of being the next Anna Wintour or Carinne Roitfeld. I want to write stories that weave every aspect of pop culture together, past and present, and tell you how it all relates to what you're being told to wear and what you're actually wearing. Oh and stuff about meditating and getting spiritual.

*I'm not hurt because we broke up, I'm hurt because of what that means for all of the plans we made that I was holding on to. When you're dating someone you make plans for the future and our plans included moving out of Atlanta this year, getting married in the next two years, having kids, traveling the world and eventually growing old together. Those plans are gone...time to make new ones.

*I'm not over it, I'm not ready to fully forgive him, I'm not ready to move on and that is perfectly all good. People want you to get out of bed with one guy and into bed with another and that is sooo not normal. Breaking up is a grieving process and grieving takes time. One day soon I'll be able to say I'm completely. totally over it and send him lots of love but that's not right this moment...maybe later who knows. Until then, writing forgiveness letters, doing releasing meditations and the like is only me fooling myself and I'm not in the habit of fooling myself.

*I love 70s rock...that as nothing to do with anything but it's true.

*I like doing nothing, meaning I like siting back and giving the Divine time to do his thing while I do mine. As my Note From the Universe said this morning "Today, just do a little bit so that I can do a lot of bit."Word!

Stillness is the Move

One of my favorite songs, not all time favorite songs but it's creeping it's way up there, is The Dirty Project's "Stillness Is The Move." The beat is sick, the lyrics kill me and any song that has a video featuring girls doing hipster choreography in American Apparel in the mountains while llamas and Siberian huskies look on gets an A+ in my book. Oh and did I mention I love the lyrics? Yeah, I did? Well I just did it again, oops.

Long before I picked up A Course in Miracles the lyrics of "Stillness Is The Move" hit a chord deep in my little soul that oves all kinds of rhythms but has difficulty spelling rhythm--thank you spellcheck. Now that I've gotten mad deep into metaphysics, like waist deep not ankle deep, the lyrics are hitting a different part of my psyche. That's the beauty of music, you can love a song for years and as your perspective on life changes the way you listen to the song and what you hear in it changes too. Kinda like how I used to sing the heck out of Salt N Peppa's "Push It" way back in the 80s when I was a wee tot and had no idea why my parents thought it was inappropriate for a 3 year old to jam to but now I kinda see it...kinda. 

Back to "Stillness Is The Move." Honestly, the song does more out the gate with just it's title than most songs do with an entire 3 mins--hello, Blackeyed Peas...Stop.  Stillness is really the only move that we need make on the reg. Ask any yogini/meditating maverick/spiritual teacher, stillness is essential to touching Christ consciousness/enlightenment/peace/whatever you call it. Not just stillness of body, because only your body can do things, but stillness of the mind. Only through quieting your mind can you receive guidance, you can't hear what folks are saying if you're always running your mouth and your mind. Also, a big part of spiritual teaching is that you don't need to do anything. The Universe/God/the HS/Tom Cruise/whatever deity you pray to does not need you to do anything but be still and co-create with it and to do that does not require you to physically do anything. Moving on.

Lyrically, the first few phrases--they are called phrases right--touch on some of the basics in ACIM and they go a little something like this: 

When a child was just a child/ It did not know what it was/ Like a child it had no habits/ No opinions about anything.

 According to the Course, and every other bit of spiritual liture I've picked up, we are like children. We came into this existence and completely forgot who were, spiritual beings having a physical experience not the other way around. Therefore having no connection to our true nature we allowed others to form our opinions of who and what we are, ie I'm a middle class African-American girl from New Orleans...fyi that is sooo not who I am, I am much more than any label.

Things get a bit real in the next verse with the lyrics:

On top of every mountain/ There was a great longing/ For another even higher mountain/ In each city longing for a bigger city

When you are living from an ego based mindset, where the effect is the cause and you are looking for material things to fill those voids you think you have, nothing is enough. To paraphrase The Rolling Stones, you can't get no satisfaction.

Then during the bridge then get even more metaphysical on us:

Isn't life under the sun just a crazy dream?/ Isn't life just a mirage of the world before the world?/ Why am I here and not over there?/ Where did time begin?/Where does space end?/ Where do you and I begin?

Let's make this easy and short because this post is getting long. The world under the sun/this live is a bit of a crazy dream. It doesn't really exist in the way in which we think it does. All of this is perception based, the end. The real world is the world of spirit-in Course terms. Time isn't real, space isn't real and you and I are all connected. Don't believe me? Ask someone who knows a thing or two about quantum physics and string theory and such. They can break down the realness of time and how you and I and everyone we know are all connected to an infinite field of consciousness explaining how you can be empathetic to someone who has experienced something you've never experienced in your life or how you can feel when someone is watching you and a bunch of other creeptastic stuff.

Like I said this has gotten waaay longer than I intended it to get so peep the video and chew on this:

After all that we've been through/ I know we can make it after the wait the question is a truth/  There is nothing we can't do/ I'll see you along the way baby the stillness is the move.

Thank God I'm Unemployed...So Now What?

A month ago over a glass of wine, or two, apres Breaking Dawn I explained to one of my spiritual running mates that I was being moved from my j-o-b in retail because not only was I done with working like a slave pushing clothes but I felt my purpose was coming to an end. The next day I walked into a store meeting to find out, BOY WAS I RIGHT! My time as a supervisor at a not quite designer store was coming to an end sooner than I thought because as of December 27, 2012 the store would be out of business and we would all be jobless. Instead of freaking out that my secure meal ticket was being revoked and that due to the economic r******** I would never find a job, I took a deep breath, took it in stride and moved on. What could I do? Nothing really, and since retail was never really a career move for me why would I dream of sweating losing a job I didn't want?

I've mentioned it before, but I fell into retail post grad after not finding the job of my dreams or any job that didn't involve pyramid marketing schemes when I moved to Atlanta in 2007. Most of it was my fault, my limiting beliefs that I couldn't find a job due to the economy, that I wasn't qualified to get the job I dreamed of and that Atlanta only had limited opportunities kept me from grabbing my job by the balls. I also had this unending trust in my degree, exhibited by most recent grads--Newsflash your degree is not you and does not guarantee anything other than student loan payments. This misplaced trust coupled with the tiny mad ideas keeping me from applying and fully applying myself led me to apply for a part time gig at French Connection that pretty much put me exactly where I needed to be to learn lessons in humility, budgeting, valuing money and what I really am capable of, for the next 5 years.

Fast forward to now. While I'm 5 years closer to my dream job than I was in 2007, I still feel a little behind the power curve. Or felt rather. Yes I have stylist credits to my name and have contributed to a boat load of blogs on the internets and I've started laying the ground work for me to be taken seriously as a writer and style expert, but had I known then what I know now, I'd have my j-o-b. But that's the point. My journey is mine not anyone else's and toiling in the belly of retail for holiday after holiday while honing my craft as a writer has given me invaluable experiences in life. That experience has everything to do with the next job on the horizon, I have no idea when, where, or how it's coming I just know it's coming, and nothing to do with the job I wanted the second I accepted my diploma that I have since lost. (Side note: If you lose your degree does that mean you didn't get one? I mean that would suck if I had to do school all over again because I ost my degree.)

Five years ago I was scared shitless but excited about not knowing exactly how or where I would end up. I thought that by now I'd be married with a kid on the way and my name on the masthead of my favorite glossy. Now, I'm bursting at the seams with excitement over finally being free of the cash wrap and I have no plan on going back to retail ever again. Not that retail sucks or anything, I mean how else could I afford my wardrobe without a discount--I'm just closer to 30 than I am 23 and right about now its time for this little princess to come into her own as a grown up and retail doesn't have a thing to do with it.  I fully accept that I had to work where and how I did for the past few years in order to get to a pont where I could finally value myself as a woman first and a writer second. What's my next move? I have no earthly idea but I know it's going to be effing awesome!

Emotional Hoarding

Watching the show Hoarders it a bit like watching a train wreck. You start off with seemingly normal people who have homes bursting at the boards with years of junk that they can't let go of, without the aid of a therapist. Most of us sit back and wonder how did these people let stuff take over their life and vow that we would never, ever end up in such a situation but most of us already are. Just because our homes look more the something out of Dwell than something from an A&E special does not mean that we are not experienced hoarders holding on to past experiences that no longer serve us. Like the home of a hoarder being choked with odds and ends, our minds are being slowly suffocated with fearful thoughts based on past experiences that we are too ashamed of to ever clear out on our own, or with help. 

In the 27 years that I have been alive, I have latched on to quite a bit of unhealthy thoughts that stem from experiences I refuse to let go of. Honestly, at 27 most of these experiences seem foolish to have impacted my life but at 12 they were for sure make or break. That tiny instant where a group of girls in middle school made me feel like I was wrong or bad or different because I was my authentic self was planted inside me and lived there until, well now.

This is what your untrained mind looks like.

How did I get over this tiny mad idea that has been controlling my every move ever since middle school? Well not by checking facebook and realizing that the girls who mercilessly teased me and made me feel small aren't shit. Of course catching up with my "bullies" and seeing that by and large they are fat, married without meaningful-to me-careers, only made me feel good temporarily because these thoughts were based in judgement and judgement is based in fear and unloving thoughts. Eventually I would still revert back to the 12 year old girl who cried in the bathroom because her "friends" wouldn't talk to her or because someone called her nasty names. Entertaining thoughts like that were like me acknowledging that I was a hoarder and not hoarding any new stuff without throwing the excess baggage away.  The only thing that allowed me to throw out that feeling of not being accepted was to acknowledge where it was coming from, forgive and release the people I resented for not accepting me and to start loving and honoring me for being me.

Honest to blog, I love me. I love that I can quote Clueless and enjoy music that ranges from top 40 to college radio and everything that isn't only hip-hop. I love that I can spend hours in a museum or library all on my own. I love that I love the smell of books and freshly printed paper and Harry Potter and The Fountainhead and The Never Ending Story and David Bowie. I love that I am uniquely ME! And anyone who does not accept that can pick up their walking papers. Does this new found sense of self love and acceptance mean that all of my drama has been cleared from my mind and that everything is neatly organized? Hell no! I still have times where I feel like I do not belong but those times are few and far between, and when they come up all I say is "I am pure divine love living and breathing  in action and anyone who does not accept that...well that's not really my business who does or doesn't accept me."