you had to be there

sponge
butter
unicorn
apparently
sickle cell anemia
who's got the brain today?

It's a word, it's a phrase, it's secret code! None of those words above mean anything unusual to most people. Except for me and my friends...

There is nothing better than those rare moments when you are reduced to laughing-till-you-snort/cry/pee by just a word or phrase uttered at the right moment. And how that phrase becomes part of the language of your friendship in an instant, so that ten or twenty (or more) years down the road, that word still sends you into a fit of giggles.

Even better when it makes you giggle out loud in a very inappropriate setting. Ahem..like during a board meeting. Know what I mean, Vern? 

a few thoughts on writing this blog

Sometimes I wonder who is reading the words I write – I know a couple of you, but not many. I'm always surprised when I look at the stat counter and see how many people have read different posts. I really haven’t told many of my friends and family about this blog. I know that seems counterproductive to growing readership, but so far I think it’s for the best. I haven't hidden it, but I haven't gone out on a self-promotion campaign either.

Someone told me the other day that I am wise. And they weren’t being sarcastic. The best part is that this someone is new in my life. It’s not someone who knows firsthand the heartache I’ve lived with, the pain that’s made me who I am. It’s sweet and flattering to know that he appreciates my perspective on life. And it’s reaffirming to know that my stories have touched someone else’s heart, that the lessons I’ve learned are helpful for someone else.

In general, I’ve found it easier not being aware of who is reading – because I don’t feel the pressure to edit or censor myself. I want to allow myself to be completely honest. I know my own self well enough to know I’d choose different words or filter my stories if I knew certain friends or family members were reading this. I also know that those closest to me would be supportive, they’d comment and encourage and be my cheerleaders, but they do that no matter what I do. I do try not to be disrespectful to those who could someday read my words and recognize themselves here, but my goal is for this blog to reach people who need it. I’m writing from my heart, and I hope it touches yours. Whether you’re someone I already know or not – I’m glad you are here, and I hope you say hi!

and now for something totally different: wordsmithing

Today I was having a conversation with a coworker about how amazing we both are at our jobs. Well, sort of. It was a meeting of the mutual admiration society. A "gosh you're so smart to know how to do that" and a "well look at how well you did with that beasty project last week" kind of meeting. We're very similar in personality and communication style, and I'm sure it's because we're both Sagittarius, so when we start bantering like this, we usually end up laughing till someone cries. It's also these moments when we often come up with new phrases and buzzwords that should win awards. That is, if there were was such a thing as buzzword awards. What would they be called? A Buzzy?

Whatever. I think the new term we came up with today would totally win a Buzzy.

The topic turned to procrastination. And how sometimes when I put off starting a project, it actually saves my bacon because the project either gets canceled or changes in such a way that I'd have to start over anyway. It doesn't always happen, or else I'd never do anything. Besides, while I pride myself on doing my work efficiently so that I don't have to re-do anything, I also am very proactive and anticipate what my clients will need/want.

But the word procrastination has such a negative tone to it. It's one of those things that I see as a flaw in myself. It's not something I'm proud of. But when my procrastination saves me from extra work and stress, I think "Booya! I totally knew there was a reason I wasn't starting that yet!" So when procrastination is effective, there should be a better word for it, right? Well there is now.

Delayed productivity.

My kitchen remodel has been through a few periods of delayed productivity while I was in decision making, research, and get some cash saved up mode. But as each little project gets done, my kitchen is slowly shaping up and I'm glad I didn't rush in and do the first thing I'd thought of for this space, because this version of it is so much more ME. And I needed that delay, that time of simmering on the back burner before I could start the next project to plan, consider my options, research, shop for bargains and allow space for inspiration to breathe.

I may never procrastinate again. I'll be too busy delaying my productivity.

monday motivation - remarkability

I found out the other day that someone I admire and respect has been talking about me behind my back. In a good way.

voices carry

Learning how to listen to, and trust, your own voice is hard. It's hard to filter through what our friends, loved ones, family, coworkers and strangers project onto us. Especially when the voice inside your heart is saying something different than they want it to. I do believe that true friendship lies in the harmony and echo of each of our inner voices. That is where love lives. Hmm... I may have to come back to that thought later.

One thing that my experience with the path through grief gave me was a change in perspective. I realized somewhere in the weeks and months after Rochelle died that I was never going to be the same person I was when my best friend was alive. The one thing I knew for sure is that this grief was going to define me one way or another, and I got to choose how. My voice was different now, because it didn't have her echo anymore. I got to decide how my new voice would sound and what songs it would sing.

So, I started listening. I started with myself. Who do I want to be? What kind of person will people say I "was" when I no longer "am"? What matters to me? What no longer matters? And then I listened to what others said to me, and about me. Thankfully, I have some amazing, loving, intelligent, and incredibly honest people in my life. And then, I started using my new voice, trusting that my heart knew the way back to happiness.

Sure, there are setbacks, there are expectations that must be met, there are loved ones whose own problems and hidden agendas cause stress, pain and strain in my relationships. But I try to respond to those situations with kindness, with honesty, from a place of peace. I know I can't change someone else's perspective, and I also know I don't have to echo their voice if it doesn't harmonize with mine.

In the last few months, trusting my voice has been challenged. Relationships have been strained. It was tempting to lash out in anger, to point fingers and toss accusations and old resentment and unhealed hurts back at those who are causing pain in my life. But I held on to my new voice. I trusted myself to speak honestly, to speak from the heart, to temper my words with kindness, while not backing down and taking blame or responsibility that doesn't belong to me.

To be honest, I'm not sure if it worked. At least from the other person's perspective. I don't know if they have heard the kindness and truth in my words. The relationships are still strained. Issues haven't been resolved yet, and may not be for some time. But it's going to be okay. My heart tells me so.

not a runner

I wrote this last year - but I re-read it the other day, got goose bumps and teared up again, and I knew then that I needed to share it here. The words you say to others are so important. They can shut you down or lift you up.



“But, you’re not a runner.”

That’s what someone said to me two weeks AFTER I ran my first 5k. I know that what he meant was, “Wow! You accomplished something you’ve never done before,” but that’s not the words he used.

Later that day, that phrase came into my head again, “You’re not a runner.” I started thinking about it, and I realized that the statement was true of the old me; the one whose best friend of 23 years hadn’t yet died of cancer; the one whose life and career were in a rut, in imminent danger of becoming stale and burned out. That version of me stopped existing on Oct. 4, 2008.

The new me started growing a few months later, after the shell shock of saying goodbye to Rochelle started to wear off and life started to make sense again. The new me knows that my life will be what I decide to make it, and that I will be whatever I choose, not what anyone else tells me I am or am not. I live with the constant memory of how fragile life is, and am dedicated to having a life that is well-lived. The new me is no longer afraid of failure or success, or of dreaming new dreams and changing course.

Since the day I was reminded that I’m “not a runner,” I have run a half marathon, and I’m currently training to do two more this spring. I’ve experienced the runner’s high, and the injured runner’s low. I’ve had the joy of running on a sunny summer morning, and the pain of 13.1 miles in the pouring rain. I’ve listened to my friends and family tell me how impressed and inspired they are by what I’ve done in such a short time. I’ve watched my own mom turning into a runner, and I’m excited to cheer her on and run with her for her first half marathon.

I wonder how many times I’ve let success slip by me because someone said something that discouraged me. I can think of a few. Because someone else didn’t expect success from me, I let myself live down to their expectations. Instead of living up to my own expectations, I let a dream go unfulfilled. How often have the words and actions of others, disguised as the voices of reason, stifled my dreams? Do I do this to people too? Have I encouraged someone to choose the safe path instead of encouraging them to dream big and try anyway? Perhaps, but I know that the new me doesn’t want to be a voice of reason. I want to be an encouraging spirit in my friends and families’ lives. I hope I am.

Go. Dream. Learn something new. Live your life. Be happy. Grow as needed. Change when necessary. Love without regret. Be there. Try harder. Don’t wait.