Are You Out There?

Is anybody reading this?

Goodbye and Good Luck

Well, it's been done. Topman is gone! After much fingerpointing, guilt, and blame, we have parted ways. Unfortunately, we will not be seeing much of the money spent. Hopefully we'll get some back, he has promised as such. We shall see. But, in the end, if I believe in manifestations of desire as I say I do, it shouldn't matter...

I was given a small chance to redeem myself for not laying down the law in my own life when Rick was unable to make the final "goodbye" call on Monday. Because he was busy with clients, I did it in his stead. I was really nervous but as it turned out Rick had truly done the dirty work and all that was left was for me to smooth out some edges and elicit promises of checks on their way. My fingers are tightly crossed on that account! But, like I just said, if it is time for my actions to speak as loudly as my words, it really shouldn't matter. Moving on...

Here's the funny thing about this end: As angry as I was, as betrayed as I've felt for two years, when it was all said and done I mostly just felt sad. I do, I feel SAD. Hearing topman's voice on the phone brought back a rush of emotions surrounding the beginning of this building journey. And it made me feel sad to let it all go. Sad for him, because I know that deep down he is a good guy with a wonderful vision for the world. And sad for me because things didn't turn out like I had envisioned. Two years later we're still trailer-living, out $15,000, and have no plans to build from. And, with our final conversation with topman I also realized that I (or we, since Rick is a part of this too!) really only have ourselves to blame and not Topman. True, he did not deliver on his promises of service. But, there have been so many conflicting emotions and fears around this building project, who's to say that it was not ME and RICK who kept this thing hanging in limbo? We didn't hound him the way we should have. We just complacently went through life in a semi-grumpy state of being, telling anybody when they asked that the architect was driving us crazy. But, secretly what if it was our own fear keeping us back? The idea is that life is your very own movie, right? So, if that is the case then I am the one writing the script. And, for some reason, I wrote it to fail this time. So, I am sad. Sad that I would do that to myself, and to topman.

But--in moving on, because I have to--we had our first real meeting with Doug yesterday and it was AMAZING! He brought out the scaled survey of our property and just started drawing and talking and after an hour we could actually SEE what this thing is going to look like. And that was a true first for me! A vision to hold on to. So, now it is time to say goodbye to Topman. Goodbye, farewell, good luck, and I am sorry. And it is time to let my fears go with that goodbye and to latch on to the glorious vision we were shown yesterday. Tonight as I go to sleep I ask only that I be given the strength to visualize this one to completion!

UN-conquering Fear

I am sitting here, nervously pecking at the keyboard while my beautiful and faithful husband talks to topman-the-architect on the telephone next door. I can't believe he is doing it--I am so proud of him. Every unkind, naggy thought I've ever had in relation to Rick has been washed away, at least temporarily!

But, as I sit here nervously blowing air in and out of my mouth, the deep question I am pondering is this: WHY COULDN'T I DO IT? I'm stuck hoping against hope that we'll get our money back so that we can pay the wonderful new architect we have found (Doug Brown in Ferndale, CA) but also deeply concerned that my inability to suck it up and say what needs to be said to topman signifies some deep-rooted problem within. All the cards are going on the table but I couldn't put them there, I am still taking a backseat in my own life.

It's not that I am afraid to fire topman. It's more that I don't have confidence in my ability to get our money back. And we need it back. So, is this an example of good relationship partnering, using Rick's assetts to complement mine? Or, might it be just an excuse for not facing up to my crap? That's what I am after. And, perhaps it is a bit of both. The honest truth is, if I had oodles of money to spare and it were me and me alone, I probably would have sent Topman a short email firing him and let it go. Never having to deal with him directly or with the fact that I've shelled out $15,000 for NOTHING. I would let that part slide. And, that is just plain stupid. I might as well have SUCKER written on my forehead.

So, having said that...will me not calling topman be the fork in the road that sends me packing back to Fearland? Is it ok to have and admit weaknesses or do you always have to conquer them? That's the question of the day, folks!

Stay tuned to find out if Rick and Tamar get their money back so that they can pay the fan-tabulous Doug Brown and get their show on the road. I, for one, am rooting for us. Weaknesses and all.

I KNEW It...But I Blew It (Or, That Little Voice Inside)

In addition to everything else that is going on, my husband and I are two years into a major building project. In the beginning we set out with our rose-colored glasses to build the first and finest all-green, sustainable healing center/home for us the world has seen. Our vision was--and I guess still is!--to be both educational and relaxing, to help show people you can leave a small footprint on the planet AND live comfortably and luxuriously.

To get started we had to choose an architect and we had NO idea what we were getting into. We searched the Internet and found a few choice people that we liked and then sat on our hands for three, four months. Finally, Rick said "I know who I like, YOU choose who you like." So, I sat on my hands for another month or so and finally made a decision. Here was my dilemma--there was an architect I liked a lot, Peter, but he wasn't the "top" guy with his name splashed all over the place in the green building world. I knew Rick liked the top man, and even though I thought topman was too expensive and too flashy, I was afraid to follow my INTUITION and go with Pete. I figured Rick was right, I was wrong. And, the whole world seemed to be at the feet of topman, so who was I to go with Pete? Ignore that small voice inside...the rest of the world loves topman. So, there you go. Topman it is.

Our first meeting with topman was great! He came to our site, asked us questions, wanted to know what we were looking for. Rick answered "to bring the outside in" and I said I wanted something "whimsical." For some reason, it just struck me that it is important that the place I call home be a bit whimsical. I can't explain why, it just is. No problem, we'll be done by next year. Two years and $14,000 later we haven't even seen any definite plans! Our project manager quit and wouldn't say why, leaving us with sneaky suspicions about topman's office, and when we call topman he has this sort of bored, indignant tone in his voice like, "Why the heck are you calling me, I am busy!" and I feel like apologizing for wasting his time even though he is more than ONE YEAR late on our drawings!

Finally, Rick and I have come full circle and regrouped. We realize that it is time to cut topman loose and figure out a better fit for us, hopefully get some of our money back and move on, get going with the rest of our plan. Poking around on the Internet the other day, we found a few cool architects. And then, all of the sudden, there was Pete. The man I knew was our man two years ago. The guy who came to visit our building site without being asked--while on a family vacation even!--and never even charged us for it. We looked at his stuff, it was very cool. We learned that not only is he an achitect but he also operates a contracting/building company, something our present architect seems to know frustratingly little about. And then, there it was...Pete's mission statement. To create "spirited, green architecture with a sense of playfulness...and whimsical design."

Why is it that the little voice inside ourselves is the most honest, most RIGHT voice in the world, yet it is always the LAST one we listen to?

Making Up for Lost Time

I lost my watch. And it is a GOOD thing! See, I never wear a watch. I hate them. Somehow, having the time on my arm makes me all kinds of stressed out. I constantly fidget and look at my watch if there is somewhere I need to be in say, oh, FIVE hours. I nervously calculate what I have to do before this appointment, how much time each of these things will take me, how long it will take me to get to the appointment, etc etc. And I count down how much time left until I have to leave to get there. My entire day is spent worrying about the time, where it is going and how much there is left. I think it is a remnant from my childhood. With parents who were perpetually at least 30 minutes later than they promised all the time, I came to believe that punctuality is a responsibility and lateness is rude. If you are late it means you don't care. Something like that, anyway.

So, I wore a watch for a short time many years ago before I realized the nervous tics it created in me and haven't worn one since. But I bought a cheapy this year to help keep track of time for preschool. I put it on in the mornings before going to school and take it off immediately after school ends. And last week I lost it. With preschool coming to an end and the rest of my journey about to begin, I am excited--I LOST MY WATCH. The other day while sweeping the classroom I realized something my husband has tried again and again to pound into my head--I follow the SAME pattern over and over again. I graduated from college, didn't know what to do with myself and eventually went into teaching, which I hated pretty much from the beginning. Taking orders from other people and cleaning up after small children, not my favorite thing to do but something I somehow count on. Slowly I extracted myself from that world and found small success with educational writing. But, lo and behold when my major client disappears, what do I do? Instead of believing in myself and continuing on the writing path I take a job as a teacher. I spend another unhappy year taking orders from other people and cleaning up after small children. I buy a new watch.

When the simple realization dawned on me I almost laughed. Oh my god, what the hell am I doing?! Another one-year teaching career comes to a close. If I follow my cycle I am about to embark on a six-month stint of watching 90210 reruns and crying. Then I'll take some crappy-but-safe job that involves some writing for a few years, only to be followed by a banner few years where I break out on my own. Alas, if the pattern holds, this too will fall away and I'll have a complete freakout and another return to teaching. There will never be room for having kids, becoming successful, writing my own stuff!There will be a new watch and a new freakout every couple of years.I just can't do this again.

So, I lost my watch: Let the real me return and the future unfold!!!!

Soulful Dieting

Today is day nine of the mastercleanse detox, you know the "lemonade diet." In 10 days or less, the promise is that I will clean out years and years and YEARS of nastiness stuck to my innards. The result? A new, brighter, shinier, ME. Which is what I've been waiting for! Oh yeah, and there is a little added bonus--weight loss. Apparently Beyonce lost like 20 pounds on the mastercleanse before filming her movie "Dreamgirls." But, you know, weight loss is not my goal. Or so I keep trying to remind myself...

I know anorexia is not a subject to take on lightly, many people are hurt by this terrible disease. And yet, here I am, Day 9 of no food and the temptation to never eat again is LARGE! I've dropped 10 pounds at last weigh-in and seem to drop at least one a day. Three people today stopped me and said, "Wow, have you lost weight?! You look great. KEEP IT UP." Three. And I've only left the house for a half-hour thus far. Not a great thing to admit, having left the house for only a half-hour at 3:30 pm in a day, but who cares?--I look great. KEEP IT UP. What kind of message do I read there? That I was a fatter, more slovenly me than I had realized? That even though I had thought I disguised it, apparently I hadn't? Or, do I take the message literally--keep it up. Never eat again!

So, back to anorexia. Is it anorexia if you subsist on a cocktail of lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and water for the rest of your life? Is it anorexia if it is supposed to be GOOD for you to eat this and only this from anywhere between 10 to 40 days? Would it be anorexia AFTER those 40 days are up? And, the bigger, more important question--let's be honest, anorexia and any other UNDEReating problem has never really appealed to me--how unbelievably lazy am I that I'd rather forgo eating ALTOGETHER than have to exercise and stay away from naughty no-nos like chocolate to lose the rest of the weight I so long to say "So long!" to?! That is truly my question to ponder today!


If you actually don't know about the Master Cleanse because you live under a rock or in Siberia or somewhere even farther into the boonies than where I live, check out: http://mastercleansesecrets.com/

Free Money

The government is sending me money! It was a bit of a shocker, the government and I aren't exactly buddy-buddy. But, I went to the post office the other day to find a letter from the IRS waiting in my mailbox. Nervously I tore open the back, all the while wondering if they finally caught me for any little fudges I might have made on my taxes. But no, there it was, a simple note saying that with their sincerest apologies I somehow did not receive or did not cash a check for $1300.00 two years ago and that they wanted to reissue me a new one. Now, here was the catch...I had to call the IRS to get the check.

I looked at the letter for about five days. Do I call? Do I not call? What if it is a trick! In the end, I decided to call from my friend's phone. That way, if I needed to hang up they could not trace my phone number--as if they don't know everything about me anyway. But there you go, now you know the deep, dark secret about me. I am a paranoid government-phob.

So, anyway, I made the call and five minutes later hung up the phone after being told the "check would be issued tomorrow." I can't believe it! It is like cash from heaven. And, not two days later I received another letter, this time from a company I do some work for. They said that I had not cashed a check for $68 in 2007 and wanted to reissue THAT check to me, too!

One might chalk these unexpected windfalls up to my lack of business organization. You might be able to argue that I lost the checks and don't keep good record of my finances. And, you might be right. But, I personally am attributing it to the UNIVERSE!!!! It's been told to me that the universe will provide if YOU get out of the way and let it. As all two readers of my blog know, my small but steady paycheck is about to disappear and I am on a path to find this faith. Each step I take is a crucial one in the journey. Do I panic and go find some crap job in town? Do I grow medical marijuana like every other Tom, Dick, and Jane in my valley? Or, do I walk the path of enlightenment and follow my dreams, letting the universe provide?

For today, at least, the Universe has won.

Angel of Death

My dog just murdered a baby seal. I can't believe I am even writing that--but it's true.

There we were, Baxter and I, enjoying a beautiful walk on our secluded beach after a four day trip to the hell that is Los Angeles. After about fifteen minutes of strolling down the sand, wind whipping in our faces and the sea foam spraying our feet we were both all smiles. Then it happened. My sweet little baby boy became a murderer.

First we came upon a decapitated adult seal. There's been a large shark in our area and I suspected the seal had been the latest victim. So, Baxter sniffed and poked and I tried to send it love and give the last rites, as I usually do when we come upon such sights--which is often up here in the land of the wild! Shortly we walked away, me contemplating the cycle of life and Baxter with his nose twitching in the air. Nothing abnormal. Until, a few moments later I noticed Baxter poking around something near the water's edge. I went closer and there it was...a tiny seal marooned on the rocky shore. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening Baxter had the thing in his mouth and was throwing it down on the rocks with sickening thuds. The poor little baby seal kept opening its mouth with little meep, meep, meeps and I couldn't tear my beast off of it as he crashed, thudded, stomped, and bit. When I finally got him under control the small rivers of blood in the sand and the half open eyes on the baby seal told me I was too late.

We sat in the wet sand on the edge of the sea, Baxter and I, and watched the seal pup as it struggled for a moment, gasped a few times, and then lay still. I don't know why but I felt that someone should be with the poor animal in its last moments, even if that someone is the murderer himself! Not that it must have given the seal pup any great comfort but I guess it comforted me. Gruesome, I know. I still can't quite believe that it happened. It was terribly upsetting. I still can't figure out though what this act really was. I know that Baxter is not really a murderer. He's a dog for god's sake! Dogs kill chickens and mice and all sorts of things...in this case it happened to be an innocent, baby seal ( I write with a shudder!) but to him it was just prey. But, here's my question: Was the seal pup the child of the decapitated adult? If so, it surely would have died a painful death of starvation and thirst there on the beach. And, in that case is Baxter just the vessel sent to do God's dirty work?

I took Baxter to the freshwater pond near where we parked so that he could wash away the traces of seal on his muzzle. And, we left the beach. Him, with a new sense of pride in his skill as a true hunter. Me, with a new level of respect for the speed at which the angel of death unapologetically takes on its task without remorse.

Energy Thief

My teaching job at the preschool is coming to a close and I couldn't be more pleased. Well, other than the nagging feeling that I have NO idea how I am going to pay the bills in 6 weeks time. But that is another topic...

I started to come out of my hole a bit this weekend. I spent three days at a gardening workshop and while it ended with me dead tired, I was also sunburnt and happy. I have no idea how to garden but somehow these days gave me inspiration! Anyway, this is how I spent Friday through Sunday. On Friday I finally received a check from some freelance work I had done several months ago. And on Saturday I found my beloved Ugg boots that had disappeared in February. I lifted up the full-size futon that acts as our dog bed to sweep (keep in mind this is a very large dog) and there they were, oddly lying beneath it! Now, I do this job several times a week. How they got there and why I'd never seen them there before is a total mystery! But, again, a story for another time...all I know is these things were like small reminders that the universe is rooting for me.

I returned to preschool today after three days of good "signs" from the universe--the check, the boots, the gardening. And, who do I meet within the first 20 minutes but my nemesis, the ENERGY THIEF! A parent of one of the students, she is one of the major reasons I abhor this job. Without her, the kids are adorable, the parents would be easier to contend with, the whole thing would be smooth. But, until today I never really realized exactly how our interactions drained me. We began this school year with the notion that this lax, parent-funded school program in the middle of nowhere could be transformed into a well-oiled, parent-run cooperative complete with parents doing all sorts of jobs like cleaning the classroom--stuff that has never actually happened but we like to believe in possibilities. :) Beginning from the start of the year this woman has driven me nutty. We spend hours in our monthly meetings talking about ridiculous, trivial aspects of school like they are the most important things in the world. The discussions go around in circles, around and around and around, mostly centered on certain changes she'd like to see happening, things like a weekly note home to communicate with the parents. And, of course, nobody contradicts or crosses her because she gets both offended and defensive and the 4 hour meeting becames like 6 hours. Normally stuff like a newsletter wouldn't be a big deal, I'd be happy to write it. But keep in mind that this is a community of 300 people, we have 11 kids in the school and the teachers and parents are all social friends. So, it's not like the parents have no idea what is going on with their children! And, if I were to write it, it would have to follow a specific format to meet this ONE parent's needs and I know she would ask for something bigger and better after that. Not to mention, I'd probably get five phone calls to "dialogue" something I wrote in the newsletter. Not worth the $16/hr and all the unpaid overtime I ALREADY contribute! Just an example...

Anyway, I knew this woman bothered me, INCREDIBLY. And, I know at this point we are not friends and never will be. But, I didn't realize until today how dangerous being around her is for me. She came in to drop off her child and began a discussion about how her son will not poop at school, along with some thoughts the other teacher and I might want to consider to get him to do so....even though we have no accidents with him and school is only 4 hours long and he successfully poops at home. The conversation took a dangerous turn as it always does, into an area of her feeling attacked and defensive and arguing about how much time the parents put into the class,. She told me she spends 3 hrs a week on preschool--which makes me wonder exactly HOW crazy she is because I have NO idea what she is doing with this time. The conversation continued for about 45 minutes, with the energy thief all the while begging off because she is busy, and then proceeding to not leave and follow that with more and more garbage spewing out of her mouth. Finally, 45 minutes or so later, it was over.

Of course, like clockwork the end of the day came and there she was, in my face again! This time she wanted to discuss how badly she felt about the first conversation and how it should not have occured during school because this is not the appropriate time. She looked me right in the eye and said, "I called you at 9 last night to talk about this, that would have been a better time." Yeah, sure. A better time for who?! I couldn't believe I was the one being chastised for her need to converse! About 30 minutes later we were finally finished, at least for now. And, as I locked the room and left school I felt as if all of my cells had been completely drained of energy. I came home, walked in the door and was greeted by an enthusiastic husband who wanted to share all of his wonderful insights and revelations from the day and I couldn't really respond. I took the dog to the beach for a walk and all I wanted to do was lie down in the sand and close my eyes. I am home now and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. Why? I was tired but happy this morning. And now, tired and void of anything but this crazy sadness. For the first time in the history of our conversations, I truly had met this lady without anger or emotion. I was clear in my opinions and held my ground. I should have been proud of myself, elated. But I was left like a wilted, dying flower. The energy thief sucked me dry.

Ah-hah! I know you now, you crazy energy thief. I know you for what you are. I need to install a burglar alarm before school resumes on Wednesday so that this never, ever happens again. Perhaps if I continue being blunt and honest with her, without being angry, she will have to find another body to suck from!

Back in IT

I feel like I am letting myself down in every way right now. I haven't posted in almost a week, after promising to blog "nearly" every day. I haven't stopped eating crap, even though I have a wedding coming up in a few weeks and I had promised myself I would look "smashing" at the event. I went home for Grandpa's funeral and I let the family take over, putting me in my usual silent caretaker role. As a result, I am exhausted, depleted, and snotty. My eyes hurt, my head hurts. I feel like ass, both inside and out.

I just got up from blogging to look out the window at a beautiful day I have yet to partake in. Two ladies were jogging by with their baby joggers. A few seconds later, two more biked by, chatting and looking supremely healthy. And here I am, my ragged ass is wearing a sweater and fleece pants because it is cold and dark inside. And, I have diarrhea.

I feel like I need a kick in the pants, but I am unable to give it to myself. Last night I told Rick I am having trouble finishing my work, even though I don't have much right now. (Yet another reason for feeling like ass--no work = no money = lots and lots of fear and no self-esteem, at least for me!) He told me that this sounds familiar and that it's a good sign. It means a transformation is taking place. Somewhere in the dark crevices of my wallowing soul I'd like to find hope. I sure want him to be right. Ah, but let me be specific. As long as it is a positive transformation. I can barely remember what it felt like to be pretty. To feel confident in my work. To think I am the shiznet and there is nobody better. I have no idea how to get that back, but god I really do need it! At least today. Talk to me tomorrow, perhaps it will be better. :)

Life and Death

Grandpa Lou died on Tuesday night. I feel something I didn't expect to feel--I feel sad. He was my last remaining grandparent and somehow, this loss is harder than the rest. It reminds me of my own mortality and it reminds me of how time passes, two things I had thought I had overcome. I spent Wednesday thinking about his face and alternatedly laughing and crying. Normal reactions I know, but here I thought I was ABOVE normal! So, I guess there is a lesson in that. I am grateful that Grandpa checked out before heading down a road of medical horror. After a month of pneumonia he had just received a feeding tube, something the doctors felt he would live with for the rest of his life. And, with the tube, he'd have to move out of his lovely retirement home because they don't want "sick" people. It was looking like the beginning of a dark, dismal path of medicine and discomfort in the name of "life." So, I believe Grandpa's choice was conscious. Which is an interesting question for me to ponder as I look toward complete enlightenment. What ISN'T a choice? If everything in life including death is a choice, why have I made the ones that led me here? And, which choices can I make for change? Do I just say, "ok, from here on out I will be blah blah blah?" or do I have to look at each small choice in the day and change my reactions to those? I think this is the answer. But, which choices to begin with?

The other night we watched a lecture on 2012. In it, David Wilcox said that people will choose where they will go in 2012. Where will I go? Did Grandpa somehow know about this choice? Catch the video here, it is most interesting!: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-4951448613711060908&q=2012+physics&total=86&start=0&num=10&so=0&type=search&plindex=0

Well, now I am itchy and hot. Either I had gotten poison oak prior to the spa day and all the detox at the spa somehow allowed it to break out, or the whole float thing was not such a great idea! My chin is dry and bumpy and my shoulders and neck are constantly screaming for scratches. Oh, and my nose has been dripping saline water for two days.

With my body feeling this way, I am having a really hard time hanging on to that awe-inspiring feeling of having my eyes open when I thought they were shut. I came home full of energy and inspiration. And, now, just two days later even writing the blog seems like an effort. Obviously I am not the "new" person I thought I would be. Or, am I? I mean, I AM still writing even though it required effort. And I had a really nice day today, I smiled a lot. I am trying hard not to criticize myself for all this and just let it be. I am also trying not to make hot chocolate. But in the end I think that one will be a losing battle!

Seeking enlightenment is tough business...

Sensory Deprivation Tank

I have taken myself to a spa. I know, I know, I can't afford it. But I felt like I needed something to help me kick start my journey. So here I am. I sweated, I've been massaged and pampered, and I floated. Yes, floated.

When I booked my day I was pretty nervous about the floating thing. The ad says to "float effortlessly in an Epsom salt solution for the ultimate relaxation experience." It also asked me when the last time the weight of the world felt like a feather. Um, that would be probably never! So I figured this is GOOD. A light-free, soundproof room with a buoyant, 93.5 degree pool of salty water that makes you feel "weightless." Just the thing to clear the demons out of my head and get on with it already!

The funny thing is, in floating in the "warm, weightless" pool, I have never felt so heavy. I also felt cold. My boobs were exposed to the air and all I wanted was a blankie to cover myself with. I thought about putting a towel over myself but then I figured that would ruin the whole sensory deprivation thing. The idea is to relieve yourself of all external sensory stimulants and GO INWARD. The spa owner told me that many people feel claustrophobic the first time. She suggested perhaps music or a guided meditation. I didn't take her up on it. It's time to be my own guide I think. And my secret hope was that I would find amazing guidance inside myself--although, going into the whole thing I had honestly expected that perhaps a shark would materialize out of the ethers and eat me (I am irrationally afraid of sharks in any body of water). But that didn't happen. Instead I felt this enormous weight beneath me, anchoring my body down. But I stayed. For an hour. And the fear I'd been expecting to rise up and force me to open the chamber door and let some light in NEVER came.

Then a strange thing happened. In the middle of my time--or some time in the hour I don't really know when--I realized my eyes were open. It was the oddest sensation. I had closed them. And I had believed them closed as I drifted around with my anchor in the darkness. But, somewhere even as I felt weighty and present, I must have drifted into an altered state of consciousness. And as I shifted back into my body for a moment, I realized my eyes were open, staring at vast nothingness. Had I been blinking? I don't really know! My eyes didn't feel dry. What did I see? NOTHING. It was as if I were staring at the back of my closed eyelids. But beyond that, it was like I had been asleep. Because, at least for me, when I close my eyes awake I see dancing pinpoints of light and color. But now I saw only inky nothingness.

I have no idea what happened to me. I don't know if you'd call me a CHANGED person after this one little experience. But, I learned something new about myself. I am not as fearful as I thought I was. I stayed in the dark pool for an hour, no anxiety attacks, no irrational fears about a shark beneath me, none of that. I am STRONG!

And, I am definitely coming back! This time I seemed to have reached a state of nothingness. Pretty good progress for me I think. Maybe next time I'll get to a heightened awareness of somethingness!

In the Beginning

My first post. I am nervous, do I sound it? I don't want to come off like a whiny bitch. The whole goal of this thing is to dump that! But to do so I think I have to be honest. Which sucks.

So, here's the thing. I have two months' worth of money left in the bank and no real job prospects. I look at myself in the mirror and I am a fat, wrinkled 34-year-old with a huge scar down my protruding belly. I have no permanent home, no white picket fence and no 2.5 kids. The bleakness of life overwhelms me and sucks me further into darkness on a daily basis. I seem to be unable to hold on to the beauty that surrounds me. I get fleeting glimpses and touches, but then I drift back into my hole. At this point, either I throw in the towel or grab my lovehandles and actually TRY living my dreams for a change. What happened to me? Where did I go wrong? I used to laugh all the time. I used to be fearless. I used to be free. After listening to me whine and cry for like the millionth time, my husband the other day told me that my problem is that I have no faith. I am FAITHLESS. I do not believe that I will be provided for. Therefore, I struggle and struggle and prove my own beliefs. It is is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It pissed me off but--like most things that come out of the Ricktator's mouth--it's true. I have always relied on myself, and not in a positive, small-town-girl-makes-good kind of a way. I take crappy jobs to make ends meet and I kick and whine constantly, even though I am to blame. I am scared to attempt anything above and beyond because not only am I afraid to fail but I am even more afraid to lose my dreams. In my silly world it is better to have dreams than to fail and have none, so I must keep them unattainable and out of reach in order to worship them. But I am TIRED. And I am ready to give up on this stupid way of being. It seems like it takes more energy to stay afloat than it should. I espouse all sorts of things to others but I secretly live in the opposite fashion. If I truly believe that the universe will provide and the law of attraction rules like I say I do, it is time to test the theory! I think....

After Rick called me out, I went to the beach and talked to the universe about my situation. Usually when I do this, I ask for a sign. So, I did. I asked the beach gods to show me an abalone shell if I am on the right track. Specifically I said: "if I am supposed to write my stories and make lots of money from them, send me a shell." Not two minutes later I looked down and there it was. An abalone shell. But here's the kicker--it was no bigger than my finger! Obviously meant for me, it was virtually impossible to see this teeniest, tiniest, luminescent shell among the rocks and sand on the beach. Nobody else would have spotted it. But I asked for it and I received it. The gods were having fun with me, I thought. They sent me a baby shell to match my baby spark of hope. Proved the law of attraction? Maybe. Nurture it, Rick said, see there's hope! Sure, I answered and I smiled blandly. But, could I sustain the spark? Did I really believe? Truth be told, not really. I was still scared to death that two months from now, I will be the dirty girl on the side of the road in Arcata with my poor dog on a rope, begging for change. Maybe by then I will have a nasty meth habit and some missing teeth, who knows? The thought made me grumpier than usual and forced me to drink hot chocolate all night long. Which of course makes me fatter. And then even more grumpy...why do I even ask for signs?

The next day I returned to the beach, once more in a downtrodden state of "Poor me, why is this happening to me? blah, blah, blah..." the tiny shell pretty much forgotten about. I asked again. Will I be ok? Should I really give it up to a higher power? Am I an idiot? This time, I looked down at my feet and there was another shell, ever-so-slightly bigger than the last. So, this is how I am taking it--either the universe wanted to let me know that yes, I am an idiot, or that I really need to LISTEN. In my heart I know the answer. And, no, it is not that I am an idiot!

And so we come to this, the beginning of my journey. Starting with this blog I am opening myself up to the universe. It occurred to me that I spend a lot of time asking for things. But, I brush them off as nothing once I get them! So, the experiment is to learn to LISTEN to and FOLLOW the universe. GO WITH THE FLOW instead of struggling upstream. I pledge from here on, for at least one year, I will make every and all effort to change my ways. I will experiment with meditation techniques. I will relax. I will have fun. I will allow the universe to provide. I am READY. Let the journey begin!