Intuition

My husband and I were separated for the better part of 2012. During that time I lived about twenty miles away in a different county. When we separated, it was right in the middle of the school year. Not wanting to put my kids through anymore drastic changes, they stayed with my husband during the week for school, and then they would spend the weekends with me. It was difficult being away from them, and I was terribly lonely.

In my new neighborhood, I was the only single woman. There were families and there were single men, but no other single women. The women in the neighborhood had an automatic disdain for me until they learned that I was, in fact, a lovely person. Not only was I lovely, but I had no intentions on having torrid affairs with their husbands.

I was friendly to everyone in the neighborhood (it was something like a cul de sac, but not quite), but I never quite made friends with any of them. I would sometimes stop and have brief conversations, but no one invited into their homes for tea and vice versa.

One day, when my kids weren't there and I was all alone, my next door neighbor, a single man who lived alone with his dog, struck up a conversation with me as I walked to my car. Now this is a guy who had given me the creeps since I moved in. I try not to judge people in general, but the energy signature this guy exuded made me nervous. Up until this moment, he and I had barely spoken a word to each other outside of "hello."

He started to tell me about his aquarium, and all the fish that he had in there. I politely nodded, but really, I just wanted to go to my car and leave. At some point in the conversation, he asked, "You haven't seen it?" Of course, I hadn't seen it and he knew that. Remember, this was the longest conversation we'd had thus far. I said no. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you."

At that moment, every single hair on the back of my neck stood up. I felt an intense sense of fear as I hesitantly said, "OK." I followed him up his walkway toward his home. As I did so, I looked around to see if anyone else was around. This was a neighborhood that was always bustling with activity, but not today. There wasn't one person outside or, as far as I could tell, even looking out a window. Where the hell were the nosy neighbors when you needed them?

Against my better judgement, because I didn't want to hurt his feelings, I followed him into his house. I'll let that sink in for a minute. I followed a man I didn't know or trust into his home when no one was around to witness it. Because I didn't want to appear impolite.

When I walked into his home, my nose was assaulted by the foulest stench you could imagine. To this day, I couldn't tell you what it was. His house was filthy, it smelled horrible, and his fish were swimming around in cloudy water. The water looked like he hadn't ever changed it. Luckily, the fish tank was right off the kitchen area, which wasn't that far from the front door. Even luckier was the fact that he didn't try to hurt me or otherwise take me prisoner in his filthy home.

I said, "Oh, yeah. Those fish are really nice." Then I power walked out of his house. The reasons? Eight percent so I wouldn't get sick from the smell, seven percent because I was still uncomfortable, and 85 percent because I didn't want to take my last breath in a place like that. You know how, in the movies, a person will be close to death and they say, 'it can't end like this, not here?' Yeah...I was having that exact inner dialogue.

I made it out safely, but the moral of this story is to always trust your intuition, even if it means you must be impolite to others. Even if others will think you're a bitch for doing it. Trust your intuition.
Ted Bundy killed many women because he made them feel sorry for him. Even though their intuition was probably screaming at them to walk away, they couldn't say no to an injured man. It cost them their lives. This could have easily been the case for me. Every time I think of this story, I get chills at the thought of what might have happened had this guy been a different person. Think about it with me: I lived alone for the most part, so no one would have noticed my absence for at least a work week. No one was around to see me enter his home, so there would be no clues as to where one might start looking for me. I would have been one of those people who seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. My family would have spent the last four years wondering where I was and what happened to me. My children might have believed that I abandoned them. And all because I was afraid to be impolite.

Women are taught to be polite to a fault. If we don't, people will label us as bitches. And oh my God, we can't have that, can we? People will think I'm a mean person, so I must risk my safety in order to avoid offending anyone.

We have to stop that. Listen to your inner voice. You instinctively know if something is bad for you. You can sense a bad vibe. Even if you have no evidence to support your instinct, listen to it anyway. For instance, my neighbor didn't do anything to hurt me, but that doesn't mean my intuition was wrong. What if he lost his nerve? What if he wasn't expecting me to turn around and walk back out so fast? I could have thrown him off, or he could have tripped when he turned around to catch me. Maybe I slipped right through his fingers.

I'm not saying you should stop trusting people; I just want you (and me!) to listen to your intuition. It exists for a reason. Humans are the only beings that will ignore their instincts. If a gazelle senses a lion stalking it in the jungle, it doesn't say 'I'm not going to run because I don't want to hurt the lion's feelings.' To the contrary, it runs like hell and doesn't stop until the danger is gone or it gets caught. But at least it tries to save itself.

That's all I'm asking you to do. Save yourself. You're worth saving.

Until next time,

Feed on love; subsist on peace.

Breaking the Pattern

Good day, friends.

It's been awhile since we've spoken. Some of you have, no doubt, moved on to bigger and better things. Congratulations! You absolutely deserve it. Me? Well, I've been doing the same things I'd spoken to you about before I last left you. I'm one course and a dissertation away from getting my doctoral degree in Metaphysical Humanistic Science. That means I'm one step closer to what I believe is my true purpose in this lifetime.

I didn't come here to talk about me, though. Well, not just me.

Today, I found myself in a funk. Something happened in my life that upset me so much that I wanted to revert to some old habits. One of my go-to old habits was emotional eating. The pattern was: let someone upset me > completely disregard any progress I've made > eat everything in sight. I would tell myself, in that moment, that I didn't care whether I got fat or not. Who cares that I feel better when I eat better? Who cares that I don't have bouts of IBS when I don't eat meat? (TMI, I know) Who cares? There I was: all prepared to eat healthy snacks and a healthy lunch, but in that moment, all I wanted... was cake. Or pie. Or Doritos. Or, God help me, McDonald's fries.

If I followed the old pattern, I would be upset in the moment, I would eat everything and then afterward, the next moment, I would feel horrible. In the next moment I would care, but by then, it was too late. On top of being upset by whatever  had triggered my binge-eating, I would then also be upset with myself for the binge-eating I'd done. My self-esteem would dip really low; and the cycle would continue.

Not today, though. Today, I saw that old, ugly pattern breaking through the surface and I recognized it for what it was. I asked myself, why am I letting someone else control how I feel about myself? If you think about it, that's exactly what was happening. I allowed someone to upset me (that was my first mistake), I then internalized that pain as something that I deserved to feel, then I turned that pain against myself, which would have manifested as an eating binge. Sure, I know that people can take you to horrible, emotional places. I recognize that we are human, and we will sometimes not be in a place to handle emotional warfare. I get it. But I also get that once you let someone anger or upset you, you have handed over your power to them. You're essentially saying, "Here, you control me for a little while."

Now, everyone who's read this blog even once, probably knows that I have control issues. Trust me, I'm working on it, but it's an on-going process as you well know. The fact that I have issues giving others control is the very thing that should stop me from handing control of my emotions to anyone, especially people who have no impact on my existence.

So, I came here today to ask you, to implore you to take your power back. Ask yourself if you're letting others control how you feel about you. It's called self- esteem for a reason. The only person impacting it should be you. When someone upsets you, when you're experiencing emotional difficulty, acknowledge your feelings in this moment, then do what you need to do to get to the next moment. And once you get to the next moment, do something to nurture yourself so that you maintain your progress, your sanity, your self-love. What you do in that next moment could change the course of your life. Or it could keep you stagnant in old habits that you wished you'd given up a long time ago.

What did I do? I reached into the fridge for my carrot sticks and hummus. And I didn't hate myself afterward.

Until next time,

Feed on love, subsist on peace.

Happy New Year.

Repost: To Thine Own Self Be True

I'm going to have to ask for your forgiveness and understanding this week. I've been (and I still am) feverishly looking for a job. It has taken up my blog-posting time for the past three days, and it shows no signs of letting up. Please wish me luck and enjoy this repost from June 2010. It was my very first post (officially), so not many of you have had the opportunity to read it and comment on it.  


There's a reason why Shakespeare was Shakespeare. The man was a genius. His writing delved into the very core of the human spirit. But I don't want to talk about Shakespeare today; I want to talk about you. I want to talk about how his powerful words, "To thine own self be true", can open the door to fulfilling your life's true purpose.

For many of you, I know, those words feel selfish. Looking out for number one feels like the rest of the world is unimportant. Nothing could be farther from the truth. All the greatest, wealthiest, most influential people in the world put themselves first. As it should be.

I'll give you another, equally dynamic quote: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Now while I don't know who coined this particular phrase, I recognize that it's the same compelling sentiment. Think about it. If you give everything to others, what is left over for you? If there's nothing left over, won't you feel drained? Depleted? And ultimately, resentful? Give and give and give, and watch how fast others take and take and take. You may not have noticed by now, so I'm here to tell you that people treat you the way you treat yourself.

So I beg you; be kind to yourself. Give yourself compliments. Take note of how gorgeous you are when you stare into the mirror naked. Surround yourself with beauty and beauty will emanate from within you. Fill yourself up and you'll overflow with energy, love, and countless other marvelous things to offer the world. Respect yourself and others will respect you. Love and cherish yourself and you will attract to you people who only want to love and cherish you. If you are whole and complete, you can't help but be a better wife, husband, mother, father, daughter, son...you get the point.

Happiness begins with you. Start today. Be happy now.


Have you gained wisdom from a favorite poem or quote? Please share it with the rest of us.




Until next week,
Feed on love; subsist on peace.

I've Gotta Be Me

When my husband and I were first married, I made it my mission to be the perfect wife and mother. We were young, our first son had just been born, and we decided that the best thing for him would be if I was a Stay At Home Mom. Not having been raised in a "traditional" household with a mother, father, two point five kids, and a dog, the only way I could garner how to do that was from watching TV.

Don't you just love TV moms? Their homes are immaculate, their meals are always delicious, their children are well-behaved, their lawns are manicured, their thumbs are green. They are perfect hostesses, they don't mind if their husbands bring home a guest for dinner without notification, their spouses work crazy long hours and they don't mind. They help with homework, dole out motherly love and advice, drive the soccer team to every game. They have endless supplies of energy, they're always in the mood for sex, and they do all of this while looking remarkably put-together.

Can you imagine trying to keep up this frenetic pace and maintain your sanity? I tried. For the first five years of my marriage, I tried to be everything to my husband and son. Then one day when I wasn't paying attention, resentment started to creep in. This isn't me, I thought. I'm a fun-loving extrovert. I like to meet new people and try new things. I like to spend time with my friends laughing and talking about grown-up things. I like to go to concerts and clubs and dinner parties. I like to shop for things other than food, household items, and toddler clothes. I like to get my hair done by professionals. I enjoy manicures and pedicures.

I liked doing things for me.

But who the hell was this 'me' person and why was she popping up after all these years? I'd gone from an eccentric people lover to an isolated home body. In short, I'd turned into the female version of my husband. My hubby didn't like going out and meeting new people; it just wasn't his thing.  He was perfectly happy going to work everyday, coming home to a hot meal, and staying in to watch a movie with his wife and son. Because I loved him so, I was content to do whatever made him happy...at first.

Let me interrupt the remainder of this post to say that this was not my husband's fault. I was so determined to be the real life incarnation of Carol Brady, that I forgot to be me. And boy, did I hate DH for that. I resented him and blamed him for turning my whole life into something totally different than I had planned it to be. I hadn't planned on getting pregnant the first semester I re-enrolled in college. I planned on getting my B.A. in Psychology and enrolling in grad school. I planned on earning my doctorate and moving to Hollywood to be a shrink to the stars. I planned on writing best-selling books on how to be happy even if everything in your life says you shouldn't be. I planned on traveling the world and buying homes on Waikiki and in the South of France. I never planned to have any children.

Why do we do that? Why do we make someone else's happiness a priority over our own? I think that somewhere in the midst of society's portrayals of who we should be, some of us forgot to just be ourselves; the selves we were created to be. It is possible to love yourself and still be a good wife. It is possible to be happy with who you are as a person and still be a good mother. Who cares if your house is a little messy? If people don't like your messy home, they don't have to visit. If they don't like your cooking, they can take you out to dinner. If they don't like your parenting skills, they can mind their own damned business.

You can deny who you are just to be with someone or to make that someone happy or comfortable, but you can't do it for long. One day the real you will burst from the depths of your being and refuse to be denied any longer. Save yourself the wasted time, the miserable years and be happy now. Be you now. It is absolutely possible to strike a balance between who you are and whom you aspire to be. Trust me when I tell you that both you and those you love will be a lot better off in the long run.

As for DH and I, we separated for a brief period when I was attempting to find myself again. Let's just say that when we reunited, things were very different.

And we're still together.

Until next week,
Feed on love; subsist on peace.

There You Are

Many, many years ago way before I met my husband (I swear), there was this gorgeous hunk of young man that I was interested in. Having a secret fear of rejection despite my outward displays of confidence, I wanted him to know that I liked him, but I didn't want to tell him that I liked him. I came up with the idea of sending him mysterious messages to pique his curiosity, all the while remaining anonymous. I'm convinced that this is how the whole "secret admirer" fiasco, I mean notion, came to be.

I sent messages through a trusted friend telling this gentleman how handsome and wonderful I thought he was. He was intrigued and so he sent messages back to me inquiring who I was and from where he knew me. I was so excited at my new found ability to be mysterious and alluring! Then the inevitable happened: his girlfriend found the messages. Needless to say she was not at all as intrigued as her boyfriend. She demanded that I leave her man alone, still using my friend (who was eating it all up, by the way) as a messenger because they had yet to figure out who I was. The word "bitch" was mentioned several times. Even back then I prided myself in being mature and above pettiness and everyone who knew me, knew that about me. So in what I thought would be my final message to Mr. Gorgeous, I wrote, "Please tell your girlfriend to keep her negative comments to herself. I will not fight over a man." I was done. Or so I thought.

Very soon afterwards, Mr. Gorgeous wrote to me, "I know who you are." OMG! I'm not sure how many cases there were of 18-year-olds having heart attacks, but I just knew I would be among the first. Talk about being stunned. How could he possibly know? I was convinced that my "trusted" friend had sold me out. Not according to Mr. G. When asked (grilled, interrogated, held at gun point, whatever) how he knew who I was, he said it was my reaction to his girlfriend that helped him figure it out. "Think about what you wrote," he said. "I may not know you very well, but I do know that that's who you are."

My point is that you can't run from yourself no matter how hard you try. Confucius said it all in his quote, "And remember, no matter where you go, there you are." You can't run and you can't hide from who you truly are inside. So since you can't escape you, why not accept you for who you are, just as you are? Why not love the cellulite? Why not embrace the thinning hair, the wrinkles, the beer belly? You are enough. You are enough. You are enough.

I'll keep saying it until you get it. When people speak about unconditional love, they're usually referring to the love of a mother for her child. The love of a child for his parents. The love of God. Unconditional love means that I love you even though you're not perfect. I love you with your sixth grade education. I love you with your jiggly thighs. I love you with your $22.16 bank balance. None of these things can penetrate unconditional love.

You love your children, your parents, your family, your friends, your God unconditionally. Now do the same for yourself. You might as well...it's not like you can hide.

Until next week...

Feed on love; subsist on peace.

P.S. I love my husband.

My First Love

I know it's a little early for my weekly post, but I wanted to pay a special tribute to my first love, Michael Jackson. Today is the anniversary of his death, so I want to use this forum to express my feelings on both his life and his death. Please feel free to do the same. All opinions are welcome and will be respected so long as we avoid downright vulgarity. Thank you in advance.

I think I'm saddened more by Michael's life than his death. Sure, he was the King of Pop, he was worth billions of dollars (don't quote me), and he had billions of  fans all over the world. But what did it all get him? Even with the fame and fortune, even with the loving friends and adoring fans, he was still an unhappy man. He was unhappy because he never thought he was good enough.

I'm sure he knew he was talented, gifted even. I'm sure he knew that others revered him. But I always got the impression that somewhere along the way, someone made him believe he was ugly. And stupid. And useless. And unworthy. Whether or not they spoke those actual words is irrelevant. That's how someone made him feel and he obviously took it to heart.

I recognized those feelings in him because they used to be my own. His story used to be my story. Well, not the fame and fortune part; the I-hate-myself part. When you're abused as a child, be it physically, sexually, or mentally, you believe the feelings that the constant abuse forces you to believe. 

"It's all my fault. I deserved it. I'm so stupid! I'm such a bad girl. Why am I so ugly? It's not happening to other children; so since God is allowing it to happen to me, I must have really pissed God off. God must hate me."

This is the story I told myself everyday. It was like dark poetry floating around in my head; a morbid death march ordering my steps. I imagine this was the song in MJ's head. However, Michael Jackson, over-achiever that he was, took his self-hatred to a level that I could have only imagined. The numerous cosmetic surgeries, the spending addiction, the drugs; these are all examples of what happens when you run from the pain instead of dealing with it.

Look, I know it hurts. That's why it's called pain. I would never presume to make light of anyone's troubles. But it won't always hurt. That is, unless you never deal with it. If you had a bad cut, would you rip the scab off   every time it tries to heal itself, pour salt inside to make it hurt more and prolong the healing process; then when it's open, raw and totally exposed, ignore it and let it fester until infection sets in? 

You're probably thinking that's ridiculous. Who would do that? I know I did and I'm willing to bet that a lot of you do it all time with your emotional scars. Any wound can be healed...if you treat it. It will have to be dealt with eventually. Whether that's now or then is up to you. We're all so afraid of feeling pain that we do anything we can to numb it. We drink, we abuse drugs, we spend all our money, we sleep with people we don't even like much less love. All so we won't have to feel the pain. We forget, though, that you can't numb one emotion without numbing them all. 

I'm so glad that one day, at some time when I wasn't looking, somebody helped me understand that feeling pain wouldn't send my world crashing down. That admitting that I'm hurting doesn't make me weak. I'm a strong, capable woman who's in pain and it's okay because I won't always be. I'll feel it and I'll deal with it and I'll come out on the other side even stronger and still whole. And one day I'll be able to help someone else who faces the same demon I conquered.

If there is one thing I'm sure Michael would want us to learn from his life and subsequent death, I think it would be this: DON'T RUN FROM THE PAIN. Running makes it worse. Dealing makes it heal.

I'm going now to listen to my 25th Anniversary of Thriller CD sent to me by my best friend from childhood last year at this time. Even she knew that my love for Michael would never die. Rest in peace, sweet man. May you find more peace in death than you did in life.

Until next time...feed on love, subsist on peace.