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.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand blah blah blah

Creation always begins in darkness. Whether you are reading the Bible, the Rig Veda, the Popol Vuh or pretty much any religious or mythological text, they start with an all encompassing abyss. So too does our creation, unless your mother had a tap light in her womb. But aside from the moment when we went from a drunken night between two relatively responsible adults to a fetus, the moments that make us usually begin in darkness as well.

A year ago on this very day I was a nervous wreck that couldn't eat, sleep or move without falling to pieces in anticipation of the inevitable. I knew that my relationship, which up to that point was perfect in my mind, had done a complete 180 overnight and no amount of pleading, crying or talking could change that. I knew in my soul that my love could fix what was being held together with tape--me, him and us. I knew we were stronger than whatever had come between us. I was wrong. But then again, I was right.

This is not my ex...I don't remember this guy's name and this was from two weeks ago.

My relationship was not perfect, I spent as much time happy and in love as I did feeling clenched, unworthy and miserable. I wasn't in love with a person, I was in love with the way he validated my existence, boosted my self-esteem, made every other girl--and my shitty ex's--green with envy, and everything that made me feel better about me because of who he was. The ambition, drive, affluence, and success that drew me to him like a moth to a flame eventually made me feel small standing next to him. It wasn't all "I love you because of the way you make me fel about me", I still love and am inspired by who he is as a person--flawed, funny, and a shit talker--but I was wrapped up in finally finding my Big not how we worked or didn't work together. If you don't see the cracks in the foundation from day one, you end up buying a house that eventually sinks and I saw the cracks, and ignored them just to have my dream guy. Love cannot save a sinking ship. Ask Jack Dawson.

Guess no one told Jack to secure his life vest before attempting to help others. 

While all the love I had for him and us couldn't save anything, the love I had for myself eventually won out. There were days when I literally could not get out of bed and wanted to kill myself, obvs I did and did not. Then throw in losing your job on top of going through the most difficult breakup of your life and you get me circa January. In that vacuum, no job, no man, no money, I began to feel more free than I had in years. (It's funny what hanging at home and collecting an unemployment check can do for you.) For months I devoured self help books, checked into therapy--long over due, did a 4 week group coaching course, started doing volunteer work and a fuck ton of other shit. My life was a nothing like he life I'd spent the past 3 years building, one that would have ended with me and my ex as a strange hybrid of the Obamas, the Clintons--not really but really--the Gates, Bey and Jay, and basically almost any bad ass, smart, talented, revolutionary couple ever to have a documentary made on them. There were few martini circuit events to attend, no tiki Tuesdays and my calendar looked more like that of a yogi/new age/ hippy than a bad ass fashion blogger/writer. I'd gone from Carrie Bradshaw to Lisa Bonet over night and I wasn't mad at it.

Lisa aka Lilakoi Moon & her daughter Zoe make one bad majama mother-daughter duo.

In between all the manifesting, meditating, cleaning, and starting this blog, I landed a job that I wasn't even looking for--that my psychic connection predicted months before--and my life changed back to what I always wanted it to be. I am way closer to financially independent than I ever have been, I have a pretty decent job that is not a major life drainer, I can afford to shop at Whole Foods, I have successfully married my Carrie side with my Lisa Bonet and Beyonce sides--it looks and feels as amazing as it sounds--and I have reconnected with friends that I abandoned when I started my relationship in 2009. My life could only be more phenomenal if I were engaged to Alexander Skarsgard....dreaming is good for the soul.

He is really, really ridiculously good looking.

The point is, everything begins in darkness but it does not stay that way. I mean first there was darkness and then God was all like "let there be light" and darkness peaced out. Everything changes, all the time. Change is the one constant in life. If I have moved form wannabe socialite, shop girl balled up on the floor crying herself to sleep because the one thing that made her worthwhile was someone else to a badass creatrix ready to run shit in 2013 in only 365 day--was it leap year this year? Imagine where I can be in another 365 days, or rather where you can be.

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. 

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.

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. 

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!

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!

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.