She Is Not The Enemy

A little while back, I saw an old coworker at an exercise class. Back in the day, we worked in separate departments of a large company, and I don’t remember if I ever even knew her name.

It’s been quite a few years, and she didn’t recognize me, which didn’t surprise me. But I knew who she was for one very petty reason. I didn’t really like her.

This, of course, is completely ridiculous, because I didn’t even know her. She was just one of those girls towards whom I always felt a weird competitiveness. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, that it’s hard for me to admit to it now.

I honestly can’t tell you why I felt this adversarial response to her. She seemed like she was good at her job. She was pretty and kind, and I got the impression that she had a good sense of humor. But in spite of these lovely attributes, something just kind of irked me.

And sure enough, when I saw her all these years later, the same petty feelings festered to the surface.

I saw her again at another class a few months later, after my miscarriage. This time she was clearly pregnant, looking to be about as far along as I would have been.

And the first thought that came into my head was, She would be pregnant at a time like this. It’s just like her, to be succeeding at this whole pregnancy thing right when I failed.

It was just like clockwork- same trigger, same negative response.

Only this second time, another thought also occurred to me, miraculously appearing through the fog of my internal dysfunction.

What if she’s not the enemy?

I let this new thought roll around in my head, as I watched her in that class. She was all doe-eyed and smiling, awkwardly waddling around and handling her physical discomforts with aplomb. Her whole demeanor was so endearing that it jolted me out of my fog.

It finally occurred to me that this insidious competitiveness doesn’t fit for me. And it made me wonder- Who or what on earth ever taught me to view someone like her as an enemy? As if there’s some massive competition between us? Some invisible race to consume a scarcity of resources?

In the remaining sweaty moments of class, I felt an enormous sense of relief. An actual physical, palpable sensation of release. I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to fuel my energy into competing with this girl.

We’re on the same team.

So this is something new I’m learning. When I’m out and about, I’m practicing mental kindness. I’m letting go of competition and embracing spiritual advocacy. When I’m in line at the grocery store, I give that pretty girl in front of me a generous smile, and I say to her in my heart, “I’m rooting for you.”

She doesn’t hear me saying the words, but I silently tell her in my head, “I’ve got your back, and I think you’re a rock star. I want you to have every brave and beautiful thing your heart desires.”

I’m not sure if my mental shift makes all that much of a difference in the grand, cosmic scheme of things, but I like to think that it does. I like to think that change can begin with the smallest step. That a tiny seed of kindness can grow into something big.

Today, this is me saying to all you beautiful girls out there-

I’m rooting for you. I think you’re a rock star. So fly girl fly.

The Power of Thoughts

I’d like to be able to say that I’m strong and mighty today, that I’m a ferocious gale of vibrant female power. But the truth is that I’m in my pj’s again, sitting in my favorite chair, getting over a head cold.

Some seasons of life are like this, where I want to be a productive powerhouse, but I catch every little pesky bug that comes my way. It’s a season of restfulness and expectation, and it can be a hard place to be.

I used to be really good at this- at giving myself permission to unplug and be in a state of rest. But lately that good ol’ anxious perfectionism has been rearing its ugly head, and I find it really hard to relax.

I am discovering that when you don’t feel good and you sit for long spaces of time, the nature of your thoughts becomes very important.

Right now, my thoughts feel like the only thing I can really control. If I focus on the bad, then I feel bad. And lo and behold, if I focus on the good, then I feel good.

This is so simple and cliché, I almost hesitate to write it. But it’s a truth that never gets old or loses its power, so here it is:

I commit my thoughts to the things that I love.

Here’s to a week filled with thoughts of pumpkins and cups of tea and cold, starry nights. May you find the rest you need, and may your head be filled with magic.

Cheers! 

Taking the Plunge, One Toe at a Time

This week I get the pleasure of sharing the thoughts and wisdom of my dear friend, Danielle Owens, a blogger and world traveler. Here she talks about the challenges of making big decisions, and some tips she's learned along the way.

My apologies to our friends, family and cornered guests at dinner parties for conversations had between 2008 and 2014, because it’s highly likely my husband and I talked your ear off about wanting to live abroad. Or quit our jobs and travel for a year. Or volunteer long-term with a foreign NGO. We bounced myriad scenarios off anyone who would listen, without actually doing anything about it.

Fast forward a couple of years and Cody and I have finished a two year work assignment in Bogotá, Colombia. This summer was spent on a temporary contract in Madrid, Spain, and we’re about to embark out on another long term work related adventure.

The weeks leading up to that first move are a blur, but the moment we took the first step remains crystal clear. I wish I could tell you about the courage and decisiveness we had in regards to our decision to move abroad. Instead, it was more of an exasperated dare on my part.

One weekend afternoon when conversation drifted to our theoretical future, I said we had to take some sort of action or put the whole idea of travel/living abroad to bed for awhile. So, we put a date on our dream. Three months later, on the exact agreed upon deadline, was the first baby step: Cody told his boss he wanted to throw his hat in the ring for an international opportunity with his company. We were living in Colombia less than six months later.

The idea of making big decisions hasn’t exactly become less daunting—we’re still the same people who talk scenarios to death and take our time inching toward action. But, I have learned a few things that give me confidence when my toes are curling over the edge of the pool.

1. I believe that God gives us each unique desires and prods us toward them. Our wish to travel and be abroad kept bubbling up inside us for a reason—God was prodding us in the direction we were meant to go. As soon as we stepped forward, He rushed in to meet us.
2. It’s ok if it’s hard. I struggled to adjust during our first few months of living abroad. I struggled to adjust again this summer in Madrid. Stepping outside of your comfort zone feels awkward, but that isn’t necessarily a sign to turn back. Even through the challenges I could find brightness, because I knew I was where I was supposed to be.
3. Everyone does it differently. Living all over the world has allowed us to see that there are as many different dreams and life paths and versions of success as there are people. There’s no one way toward your goal. It’s ok to dive right in, but don’t beat yourself up if you’d rather dip your toes first.

So whether your preference is leans toward tip-toeing or taking giant leaps, here’s to moving closer to where we’re meant to be.

Danielle is the creator of NoLongerNative.com, a blog dedicated to the many challenges, perks, and pitfalls of expat life.

Be Here and Breathe

Last week I had this perfect plan. One that involved a perfect meal plan, a perfect workout schedule, and even a perfect day devoted entirely to writing with my friends Jody and Audi.

Seriously perfect.

And after a particularly perfect day that ended with an awesome cardio barre class, I was feeling pretty darn good about myself.

I lasted about three days on this plan when I got hit with a weird, unexpected stomach bug. And while the acute symptoms of this little sickness lasted all of ten hours, it left my perfect little self completely derailed.

Instead of ending the week in fervent productivity, I spent the better part of four days in my pj's, eating apple sauce and listening to cheesy romance novels on my phone. My worn out body couldn’t muster the strength to do much more.

After bemoaning the loss of time, though, there was this one moment when I was lying on the couch with my daughter curled up next to me. There was no agenda and nowhere we had to be. So we ate cheerios together and looked into each other’s eyes, sharing little inside jokes without saying much of a word.

For a few sweet seconds, I took her in, with all of her precious and dainty charm, and marvelled at the miraculous gift of her presence.

It was this tiny piece of magic in the midst of an otherwise miserable couple of days. Something I didn’t plan for at all. Something I experienced because I had no other choice but to be present.

I had nothing else to offer life in that moment but just me.

These are the moments when life gets my attention with its own beauty and grace, reminding me that, while I am an active participant in this journey, sometimes I am also meant to be a witness.

Sometimes I am meant to put down the pen, turn off the phone, and step away from the grind, in order to bear witness. Sometimes life has gifts of its own gifts to bestow that require nothing other than my own undivided attention.

Sometimes I’m here on this earth to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

And these are the moments when I finally feel myself letting go. When each little cell in my body releases the tension and pressure and exhausting expectations I carry with me all the time. When letting go means I can start breathing again.

So here’s my affirmation for this week:

Be here, and breathe.

That’s it. This is a week of being present. Of letting go, taking deep breaths, and bearing witness to the beauty of life all around me.

I’m sending thoughts of pumpkins, sunsets and starry nights to you this week, hoping you breathe deeply and drink it in.

Cheers!

Cyber Bullies

This morning I woke up excited. Feeling good. And like many mornings, in the quiet moment before my little one woke up, I looked at my Facebook.

And got a nasty surprise. A nasty comment, to be exact. One in which a family member of mine found a picture of my newborn daughter from a few years ago and called me a bitch.

Bummer, right? What a great way to start the day.

I’ve shared in previous posts that I came from a dysfunctional home. It’s a story that feels too sad to relive right now, but one that involves a lot of substance abuse, relational abuse, and just plain bad behavior.

And if you’ve come from a similar home, then you know what I’m talking about. It’s a hard story to have, and I’ve spent much of my life wishing it wasn’t my story. Wishing I had family members who were stable enough to love me and be kind to me.

But we don’t always get what we want in life. Sometimes you have to survive and find a way to do better with your own life when you get the chance.

But here’s perhaps the hardest part of the story. Sometimes, the more healthy you strive to become, the more vicious the abusive people can become. It’s an awful sort of yin yang in family life. And that’s when the rubber really meets the road.

When you’re a person who’s been abused, the meanness of others can infiltrate your mind. It can knit itself into the fabric of your brain. Until their hateful, screeching voices start to sound like your own inside your head.

Then it becomes a lifelong journey to dissect the fibers, remove the illness, and plant something pure in its place.

In all honesty, this is the journey of my life. Unlearning abuse and learning love.

But the cyber bullying is something new to my experience. Maybe I was too old when the internet came out to have had the experience of people trolling my content to find inlets of hate. It sucks, and it’s not okay.

Unfortunately, to a large degree, we have created an online society and a social framework for abusive people to run free. And if grown-ups are doing this despicable behavior, then I can only imagine what kids are doing in all the nooks and crannies their parent can’t detect.

Part of living a free, whole, healthy life is standing up to abuse. It is naming it and reclaiming its real estate and learning to say no. And the internet is part of that real estate.

I have lived long enough to know that there are people in the world who are mean. Who don’t care about the destructive force of their words and spend their precious moments on this earth causing hurt and pain to the people around them. It’s just the way it is.

But I think we have more power that we think. Power to say, Not here. Not in this space. Not on my lawn, not in my home, and not in my head.

Together we can take back that real estate. We can get the deed to the building and unlock the gates corroded shut with hate and fear. We can let the ground breathe and plant something beautiful.

And hang a sign over the door that says, “Abuse doesn’t live anymore. But love does.”