Smell The Fuckin Roses

I feel pretty good about myself right now. Not exactly sure what happened in my life that has altered how I view myself. Maybe it is the confidence others have in me or the accolades I've been getting lately. Maybe it's just knowing I'm putting in some seriously hard work at life as a whole. Maybe I am happy with myself. 

I had a meeting this morning with a group of people that typically scare the shit out of me. I am usually riddled with anxiety before meeting with this group because they are all seasoned professionals with success and experience behind them. Today I was not afraid. I felt comfortable, even relaxed. I recognize my serious lack of education and the fact that I'm learning as I go, but don't see that as something that makes me less worthy of being there. I make strong visual advertisements and use a imagery and precise copy to convey a message. I just had someone this afternoon ask me who makes the ads they've seen in the Jewish Journal, to which I replied "Me" with one big ass smile on my face. I deserve to be at that table. I just need to learn and find my voice once I have gained that knowledge. 

I also feel like I'm a work in progress and that is okay. It's alright to be in a stage of fixing myself, as long as I'm actually doing the work and trying to better myself. 

At one point I did disappoint myself today, actually for a while now. I feel like I dump way too much of my own issues on other people. I have to close the door to my personal life a bit and learn to keep people a bit more at a distance. Funny how I've gone from being completely closed off to letting people in too much. I feel like I'm respected less and just seen as irritating the more I share struggle or frustration. We've all got issues and I need to keep mine to myself. It's easy to blur lines. I fear I'm looked at as more fractured than if I were to keep my issues to myself...lesson learned.

I am very introspective right now. I want a change. I want to be better; work better, be smarter, more successful, look prettier. I want it all, to be the total package. And I'm willing to do the work.

I woke up super early today, went to the big meeting, worked a full day packed with projects, did 2 interviews and stayed at work late, and am still at the gym now. I am dog tired and would much rather be eating frozen yogurt, but I'm not going to let myself down. 

Life has a crazy way of working out; of bringing certain people in your path for a reason; putting you on one course with a preprescribed purpose. Someone told me today that when the time is right to act you will know and will make it happen. I couldn't agree more. I am ready to make a difference and make significant improvements in my life. It's time to get it together and smell the fuckin roses! 

My Lucky Bracelet

I have this bracelet that I have been wearing for a few years now. It is one single strand of small, round jade beads on an elastic string. If you were to look at it you would think it is nothing special. It is simple and understated. But to me it is very important – it is my lucky bracelet. 

I had two of them, given to me by a friend from a little boutique in Santa Monica. The beads have symbolic meaning – they are believed to calm the mind, encourage peace and reflection, and promote visions and dreams. They promote success, confidence and power. Ever since I have been wearing these bracelets I have had incredible luck. When I take them off, I notice things do not go as smoothly. 

One of the two broke off my wrist while I was running at the gym, spreading the tiny jade beads all over the treadmill and gym floor. I couldn’t collect enough to repair the bracelet. I accepted my fate that I was down to only 1. I rarely take it off. I took it off on my trip to Panama and lost my luggage for 3 days. I stopped wearing the remaining bracelet when the other one fell apart and my mom broke her arm. I put on the bracelet the other night and not only was my work event a success, but I had confidence and self-esteem like I have never felt. I truly believe in the power and luck of this bracelet.

What leads me to write this blog is the sad reality that this bracelet’s days are also numbered. The elastic is stretched beyond repair and is starting to break apart. The bracelet is loose and ready to rip apart at any moment. I do not want to let go and do not want to have to replace it. I am also a bit superstitious and believe that the next will not be lucky. These bracelets were given to me as a gift for no reason, on a whim by a friend. They were not for a birthday or for any particular reason; they were not expensive; they were nothing special. But they are priceless to me.

I think if I were to go out and buy a new bracelet it may look nice, but it will have no value. It will not have come into my life in any unique way. It will not bring me as much fortune, confidence, or good luck. If I repair this bracelet will I tarnish its powers? I will wait and see what the fate is for this dear bracelet and maybe it is a sign that it is time to find the confidence from within and that I no longer need to rely on stones to find my inner peace. Maybe it will be my time to shine on my own and be successful from my own merit. Maybe I should wait for another one to make its way to me...

If this is the biggest dilemma in my life at the moment I think I am in good shape.

Sweet Success

It's been a little while since my last post. Things have been very busy professionally and personally. I've also received some critique about recent posts. I think I need to post a disclaimer - if I write about you or a situation you are in, I will mask your identity. Please understand I am not writing about you to complain. It's not a bitchfest. I'm not writing to stir up drama. I'm writing as a factual explanation of what I'm facing in my life that may help someone else going through a similar experience.

With that being said, I want to share a great success I had this Saturday. I coordinated an event for the company I work for on a yacht in the marina. I spent the past 3 months working on the event - conception of the theme, creation of the invitations, research and creation of centerpieces, giveaways, awards, etc. I had a small amount of help from a Bo-worker, but handled the bulk of the planning. 

Don't get me wrong - I'm definitely not complaining - I like the control over the planning and enjoy the process. I take great satisfaction in seeing happy, smiling faces enjoying an event I created. 

I got to the event a few hours early and set it all up - put out all the decorations, guided the crew on seating and bar setup, ran through the schedule with the event lead. By the time my coworker arrived I had everything up and ready for the guests to arrive. I worked like a machine. That was an accomplishment in and of itself, but there was something even better. 

The event went on without a hitch; everyone had a blast and people were very appreciative of the hard work. At one point in the evening I went out to the front of the yacht to take in a quiet moment. I looked in at the guests mixing and mingling and heard laughter and happy chatter fill the air. It was a sweet success. Still not the best part of the night. 

My own personal success was the fact that for the first time I was comfortable in my own skin. I felt confident, efficient, even sexy. I was happy and knew it. I felt sure of my conversation and knew I could talk to anyone without fear of inadequacy. I walked with confidence and pride. And I did it completely sober. I don't need a stiff drink for courage. My own intelligence and ability was enough. 

I am so proud of myself and I think it shows. I've never been complimented as much as I was on Saturday. I've never felt more beautiful both physically and mentally. I've never felt so accomplished and talented - so appreciated. I am still floating on a high. I feel valued and empowered and know that I really am worth something. I never thought I could feel like this, especially from something like this...I am used to false confidence and feeling beautiful from copious amounts of cocktails, not natural energy and true accomplishment. It's a great fucking feeling!! 

I looked back at pictures of myself from the party and don't want to delete them like I normally do. I look strong and confident. I feel beautiful. I feel pride in my competence and success and it shows. I feel like this was the start of a new me. 

You all better watch out - I'm going to take over the world... :) 

Keep On Keeping On

There is this person I know who is constantly writing Facebook posts about people who think they know everything and how irritating people's opinions are...

Funny how a status like that followed a statement directly from her mouth saying "everyone can be a one income family; it's just a matter of making better choices and living within your means." If that isn't a prime example of the pot and the kettle  I don't know what is! 

This viewpoint is warped. It is not correct. It is impractical and offensive on so many levels. It lacks understand beyond an upper middle class lifestyle and a relatively stress free existence. This shows me ignorance and a lack of compassion. 

Sure I can pick up and move my husband to a small Podunk town where we can purchase a $90K home and Tom can work for the local contracting company and I can be that career mother. But we're in LA. I make a very decent living and so does Tom. We do not frivolously spend, we do not party, we don't vacation or live high on the hog. Yet there is absolutely no way in hell we can own a new home in a safe area and have a kid on one income. That's unrealistic. 

My favorite part of all this, besides the rudeness and lack of complete intelligence, is the hypocritical nature of the incessant facebook status updates on all the "know-it-alls" in her world. She is the biggest offender, constantly stepping on toes conversationally and repeating the same fucking point over and over until you give in just to shut her up. She's never stopped to have an actual conversation and hear out another perspective because she's too busy thinking about how right she is about life.

I've tried my hardest to be patient and understanding; I can't sit quietly any longer. I'm not out to be rude or make a point in writing this; I am venting because I'm sad that as she and I have grown in life, she's gone in a completely different direction. She is the last of my old friends that have lowered to acquaintance status. My past is practically speckled of dust left in my tracks that I can hardly remember. No longer can I recall more times of laughter and celebration than frustration and anger with her. I can't recognize the friend she once was. I didn't realize until now that what she was then she will never be again - and I need to accept that. 

No hard feelings - just time to agree to disagree and keep on keeping on. 

Be Brave

I did something this weekend that I've wanted to do for a while now; something I've had dreams of doing, but have never had the strength. This weekend I was brave.

As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I was adopted at birth. I have always known I was adopted and have always had the curiosity of who this misery woman was that gave me the gift of life. I've always wondered what she looked like and if she is at all like me. As a young girl I imagined she was a princess, with long flowing hair, a shiny puffy dress, from a land far, far away. As a teenager I envisioned her as a rebel rocker, standing up for her rights with worldly insight and deep perspective. As an adult I imagined her as a mother, teacher, leader, comedian, and friend. I had no idea who she really was but knew I had to find out. 

By the grace and kindness of a complete stranger I was emailed my biological mother and fathers contact information with nothing expected in return. I was given the keys to unlock a lifetime of curiosity and yet it felt so bittersweet. 

Here I was with the answers to all of my questions a mere phone call or letter away, yet I hesitated. I was afraid of being rejected; afraid she had forgotten and wanted nothing to do with me; afraid age would tell me it was a blessing getting rid of me. Most of all, I was afraid I'd hurt my mom by reaching out to the biological side. After all, my mom is my mother; she is the one who taught me how to live and be the woman I am today. She is my parent and mentor and I didn't want to do anything to take that away.

In the end after great debate I decided to meet Cheryl. We met and hit it off. We sat for hours talking about my childhood and her hard decision to give me up. We laughed and cried and it felt like we had known each other for years. It was the beginning of a friendship. A friendship I decided is worth holding on to and cultivating. I met her two lovely children and her husband. We have had dinners together catching up and getting to know one another as the adults we are today and it has been amazing. 

There is a definite resemblance; we share similar phrases and gestures. We share the same cheekbones, complexion and height. We are both on the cynical side and very funny. She feel like a sister to me, as do her two adorably smart, funny and talented daughters. Her 14 year old girl has no idea how beautiful she is; she is smarty and silly and shy and completely wonderful. Her 6 year old girl is too smart for her own good, has a kind and generous spirit; a true heart of gold. Cheryl's entire family is a close-knit, caring and faithful group that is encouraging, inviting and lovely. I feel very lucky. 

Yet through all this I felt an enormous sense of fear. I didn't want to tell my mom I met them. I didn't want her to feel hurt or pushed out. I didn't want to threaten her or make her seem unimportant. If anything, meeting Cheryl has made me love and appreciate my mom more. It has shown me that she is without a doubt the reason I have grown to be the woman I am today and she is my only mother; she is irreplaceable. 

I waited many months before finally tellingly mom this weekend about my journey. I was convinced there would be a lot of screaming and crying involved. I dreaded the conversation so much I was sick to my stomach and could barely hide the shaking of my hands. But it had to be done. 

Sitting outside at a restaurant in the hot San Fernando Valley over chilled salads I manned up and told her. And to my complete surprise she was happy for me! She was encouraging and inquisitive! I was completely taken back by her reaction and spent the rest of the day waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

But it didn't...she even called me Sunday  afternoon to tell me how brave I was for going on that journey and told me how proud she is of the woman I've become. Is this really my mom?!? I'm not sure what's going on here...I've waited 30 years to hear my mom sincerely tell me how proud I made her. How she is satisfied with my life choices and how much joy I bring her. She has spent years comparing me to the accomplishments of her friends children and I have always wanted her approval. 

Funny how it wasn't until I finally stopped seeking it that I got approval from her. It took me not caring for her to notice me as a successful adult. 

Life has a crazy way of working out; there are way too many parallels for things to be a result of chance. Life is beautiful when it works out; all you have to do is live it...and be brave!

I'm Thankful

I am so thankful today for all the opportunities I have in my life. I am so grateful for being healthy and having days to live ahead of me. I've never conceived of my own mortality as much as I have over the past two years working at a Cemetery and Mortuary. The big sleep is much more real seeing grieving families daily. It heightens my sense of finality every time I see a family come in with articles of clothing for the burial of their loved ones.

And to think, I have practically no direct interaction with the families. I couldn't imagine how emotionally challenging it is for someone in the mortuary side of the business. Having gone through two losses myself, one not so gracefully, I know how unpredictable and raw emotionally the process can be. There doesn't seem to be a "right" thing to say during the time of loss and every situation is different to each person. 

In reflection of finalizing my hospice volunteer paperwork this afternoon I am thankful. I am able-bodied. I am young and capable. I am able to stand on my own and run on a treadmill. I am breathing without assistance from a machine. I happily eat solids. I am present in mindset and physically able to be independent. I am thankful.

I asked myself earlier while walking into the hospice office to finalize paperwork why I was doing this...what the hell did I sign myself up for? 

I look at people who are able-bodied and just lazy and I know why I'm doing this. I have a chance to do good and help someone enjoy the last leg of their flight home to the big party in the sky. I am not unable to work; I am capable of action and feel like it is important to give back to the less fortunate who have had their abilities robbed from them. I think about people sitting around all day waiting for the world to do something for them and wish they could look a dying person in the eye to see what they are actually waiting for.

You can sit around waiting for your own final curtain call or you can assist the ones whose numbers been called by sharing your abilities to make their final days comfortable. I wish I was as understanding and compassionate when my father was ill. I freaked out and should have been there more. I should have been his stability and a better listener. 

While I can't discuss cases with you throughout this process, I can express my feelings towards it all. I know it's going to be challenging and draining, but also very rewarding. Life isn't going to fill me full of feelings of satisfaction and reward - it's up to me to do something to deserve that. My impulsive decision to sign up for this type of volunteer work was my subconscious teaching me about putting in the work in order to feel fulfilled. 

I'm thankful. 

Fight On!

I'm officially a hospice volunteer. I keep asking myself if I'm completely crazy!? I think my subconscious made a decision for me to sign up for such a difficult type of volunteer work to help rid me of this vasovagal syncoptic reaction. It's got to be what possessed me to go through the application process and start this whole thing...right?

I went in for my initial interview today 10 min early. The air conditioning was off in the office. I was wearing a sweater in order to conceal my tattoos. I felt sweat bead up on my brow and the longer I had to wait the more I started to slip into my lightheadedness. I was working myself up, worried about having the reaction, which actually started to cause it. 

Realizing I couldn't afford to pass out and after having thoughts about running for the door, I shut down my negative train of thinking and took some deep breaths. I couldn't feed into the anxiety. 

I was greeted by the volunteer coordinator and taken back to fill out paperwork and started to feel a little better. Every time she mentioned Death, Hospice, Life Support Treatments, Nurses, and Medical I I could feel mi blood pressure go crazy and a deep sweat start to form on my back. I practiced healthy breathing and distraction techniques and made it through. The words got easier and easier to hear.

Getting my TB test instigated a lightheadedness, but I was able to be honest with them about my nervousness and they helped me through it. I took a drug test without complication and finished up the interview process unscathed. 

I was approved as a volunteer. I did it! I feel so empowered right now; I feel like I have regained some semblance of control over my emotions and have a fighting chance to overcome this debilitating problem. I was able to nip the thoughts of fleeing the building in the bud and push past it. I fought through it with rationalization and self awareness. I kept telling myself that I want to be there. I want to help. I want to give back. I don't want anxiety to control me. 

I did it! Today was a small victory over this stupid chemical reaction and reason for me to keep trying; keep fighting. 

In the words of Tommy Trojan and more importantly, Danny Felsen - "Fight On!" I'm doing this for him. 

Beast of Body Odor

Do people know when they stink? I'm running on the treadmill next to this woman who literally smells like a homeless person. I actually feel like I am running inside an armpit. I can't smell anything but her body odor. How can she not notice?

If a color was emitted from body stank there would be a greenish yellow haze circling around this woman. Her body smog is polluting my personal space and is completely offensive.

I understand some people have glandular issues or have a natural tangy stench to them; maybe it's bad diet or lack of hygiene. Whatever the cause is, when did it become okay to ignore it and make perfect strangers suffer? When did concern for others get thrown out the window? 

I am constantly making sure I am taking care of myself - I shower often, use deodorant, brush my teeth, eat healthy for the most part. How can you let yourself become a stinky, dirty person? Especially a woman?!? 

I suffered through the workout because I have too much to do later to wait for a machine. Luckily she left half way through my workout. But I really felt sick breathing in such a personal smell.

I considered letter her in on her smelly situation in case she was unaware. I also wanted her to understand how offensive it was to work out like that. But I let it go. As mad and disgusted as I am I couldn't embarrass her like that. I still have consideration and tact. Mama raised me right! 

Now I have a girl next to me wearing a pleasant, familiar scent; things are looking up!

Before I sign off I will leave you with this - if you have a tendency to cultivate bodily odor, check and handle it before putting the noses of the innocent public in harms way. Think a little more about how you effect the people around you and take care of your body. We don't deserve it! 

Three Blogs

Yesterday while at the gym I started three blogs and finished none. I wrote one about giving up and issue avoidance. Another covered the topic of fear of being alone. The third discussed intelligent people who waste their life away sitting around doing nothing. I did t finish any of them because I felt like I was just complaining.

I woke up in a better headspace today; full of hopes and wishes. I got to sleep in and take the morning at a slower pace. It was nice. I decided to look back through my three attempts at blogging yesterday and realized that a common thread to each one was dealing with issues. It was acceptance and acknowledgment. 

It wasn't a necessarily terrible week for me, just uninpressive and exhausting. All my mixed emotions came to a head yesterday afternoon and I was just spent. The week won the battle and I was over it. My three blogs were a reaction to my week. They were a response to people and situations around me. I am easily affected by things like that and this week I let too much in.

While reading back my first blog I recognized that I am guilty of avoidance and ignoring issues at hand just as much as the next guy. I can see how the people around me who just turn a blind eye to glaring problems in their life affect me way too much. It reminded me that I have to worry about myself more and less on what plagues others I care about especially if they do not want to help themselves.

The second blog tied in to the first nicely. It was a follow up to avoiding issues, covering the topic of fear of being alone or changing the things that you don't like in your life. Why would you change when it's easier to ignore and ride out your life? Why try when you can deal with your present situation, as shitty as it may be, because it is safe?

I know I should practice what I preach, and am really writing this as a reminder to myself to try. It is a personal pep talk to push the limits of my comfort zone. 

Lastly, the third blog covered something I am seeing more and more of that completely pisses me off. I will give you two examples, although I have many others...

Exhibit A - I know a girl who I will call L for the purposes of confidentiality. She is a kind, quirky, nerdy, generous girl a few years older than myself. She used to be a very close friend who I looked up to greatly. L was a fun, outgoing girl who taught me how to wear makeup and encouraged me to step outside my own confines and be great. She was my partner in crime. 

L comes from a very wealthy family. She has never known want. She has had a fantastic formal education at private institutions and has traveled to exotic places. She is also brilliant. L got a perfect score on her SATs and got into Harvard. She went away to college in Boston, MA and then gave up on herself. Sent to therapy for the majority of her childhood, L was heavily medicated and always told she had some sort of "condition." I think these "conditions" plus being away from home, alone, caused L to crack.

She now limits herself to only going to a few places she feels comfortable, puts zero effort into her appearance, sleeps, chain smokes or plays video games all day long on the weekends. She loses interest in men quicker than anyone I know. She no longer resembles the charismatic, funny, outgoing L I once looked up to. She is void of motivation and encouragement. She's broken. She lives off of the hard earned lovey of her family, barely trying to make anything of her own life. 

Exhibit B - I have another old friend who is almost the same as L. I will call this one M. I have known M for a very long time as well. She is from old money. She is artistic, funny, a but crazy (in a good way), beautiful on both the inside and out, a good person. M has never really worked in her life. She has a warped sense of reality and doesn't understand why I have such commitment to working hard. She is deeply insecure yet has a great relationship with someone who would do absolutely anything for her to make her happy if she put effort into her life. 

M also lives off of family money from previous generations who made a difference; established change and built an empire for their family. M hasn't ever experienced hard work and has been coddled by her family, which has stunted her greatly. She cannot do anything on her own because there is always someone to do it for her. She is lonely, bored, compares herself to every other, stronger female in her life. She has closed herself off to the world and I am pretty certain will never change because its scary and she doesn't have the tools to know how. That wasn't instilled in her as a child and as long as people dote on her she will never have a reason to change.

I am telling you about these two friends because it is what got me to thinking about fears and lack of motivation and all the things I wished for others like L and M. They are wonderful people with so much to offer the world and those who love them. They take relationships for granted because they know no better. They as well as everyone else deserves a full, satisfying life. But we all need to help ourselves before helping others. Focus on our own fears and worries and find what motivates us. Lead by example; make your life healthy and hope they follow. Push past the laziness and view of the world as being too much of a pain in the ass to take risk and do something fun. I know I'm going to focus less on those around me that I cannot fix and more on the things in my own life that need tweaking. 

Bringing Sexy Back?

(Before weight loss, lost 58 lbs, now)

I've lost a bit of weight this month. It's a direct result of working out daily and eating healthy meals. There's really no magic secret to losing weight; just ceding active and eating responsibly. Seems simple enough, right?

Yet I feel like I barely see a difference. I am working so hard working out and restricting calories, making healthy choices and setting my priorities straight. I am pushing the hell out of myself at the gym physically as well as mentally. I am working on positive thinking and loving myself. 

It just doesn't feel good yet. I look in the mirror and still see a short, pasty, jiggly body and a double chin. I see every laugh line and red blemish from too much exposure to sun. I see 30 long ass years on my face. And my boobs?!? Don't even get me started... They are not as perky as they once were and should just be reduced. It's a tragedy! I feel like getting dressed with the lights off sometimes. 

I know I'm being dramatic, but I'm struggling. I feel so damn uncomfortable in my clothes - either they are way too loose or they are so tight I can't breathe. I feel awkward and feel like my end goal is so far away I should just give up and accept the fact that I'll always be a fatty. 

It didn't help that I was super emotional this week, fluctuating between highs of laughter and a real zest for life and lows of feeling uninvited and left out. I lost motivation yesterday big time and wanted to throw in the towel and gorge myself on a big ass pizza. 

But I didn't! I'm on the damn elliptical machine right now sweating through my shirt, making a real go at it. I'm still trying. I just keep my mantra "I will be hot and sexy" playing on a loop in my mind. Each stride on the machine pushes me one step closer to a rockin' body and a healthier life. 

There are several things parents leave out of the wisdom they pass down to their children; like money struggles, hardships of the working world, difficulty maintaining relationships, and this! My parents didn't tell me how hard it would be to maintain a healthy lifestyle and my body as I aged. I wasn't informed on how to eat right and exercise. I wasn't pushed to continue athletics. Boy do I wish I was! 

My 20's were full of drinking my calories and smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day, which needless to say packed on the pounds. Big Time! A few years ago I fought the same battle I'm fighting now. I lost 58 lbs and swore up and down to all that is holy that I would not gain it back. Then I quit smoking and took on some stresses now I've got 30 lbs to lose. 

I just keep reminding myself that there will be good days and ones that are harder to deal with. There will be those times when I feel completely helpless and quite ugly. Today may be a day when I feel unattractive and undesirable, but it doesn't mean I'll feel the same tomorrow.

Here's to a deep sweat; to a new day tomorrow; to a thinner, happier future. 

Facebook Stalking

I spend a considerable amount of time on my phone or iPad bouncing around from page to page on Facebook or Instagram checking up on the new and exciting happenings  of people's lives. I am definitely guilty of Facebook stalking, especially on pages of friends who have burned me in the past. 

I'm not proud of this at all, but it's the truth and the first step is admitting I have a problem, right? I can't help myself; it's like my mind and finger just go right to the search field and I torture myself looking up people who are no longer in my life for one reason or another. 

Reason one is plain and simple; harmless curiosity. I just want to know how much their lives as well as mine have changed. I am curious what they look like and what occupies their time. Harmless. 

Reason two is jealousy. I torture myself by perusing pages of ex-friends to see pictures and status updates of ultrasounds and new home purchases. I harass myself with Instagram photos of people looking happier, healthier, skinnier...I know it isn't right and it's pretty sad on my part,  but it's true. 

Why do I care?!? No matter how much I have going on in my life and how much success I reach, I still look back. I hold on to so much animosity for those who have treated my friendship poorly and have lived badly, but yet end up on top. I curse the people who post endless selfies and look great with a big fat smile on their face while only a matter of months before they were trying to hurt me or crapped on my generosity. 

I struggle against becoming jaded and completely cynical and distrusting and I know that Facebook comparing doesn't help! This self-defeating behavior is so counterproductive to having a healthy, happy life and is completely pointless.

Regardless of what people post on the front pages of their public profile, I know who they really are and how they've lived. You really can't judge a book by its cover; you may get lured in and deceived by a false representation of happiness and enjoyment, but it's just a farce. I know them at a core level and must not forget that. 

Most importantly, my focus should be my life. It's mine to live and and is the only matter in terms of being content. I've got miles ahead of me; I need to slow up the pace and take in the journey and focus on what truly matters. And it sure as hell isn't the past.

Lucky Girl

I am constantly shocked by things and people in my life and I love it. So many people I didn't expect to be deep thinkers or understanding. So many people I expect to be that way who really aren't. People who I connect with that I had no idea were having parallel experiences to my life that reach out to say they know what it's like. People who make me laugh constantly and help me forget the giant piles of shit life sometimes throws my way. I'm a lucky girl!

I write this blog directly from the heart. There's no added bullshit for dramatic effect. It's honest and direct and an extension of my core feelings. It's me and my journey, take it or leave it. 

My day ended with a text from my mom (hi mom) who stumbled on my blog through a Facebook stalking session...you know, motherly "curiosity." She read my blog from yesterday about her recent visit to the ER and my reflections of fears of her aging and my inability to properly care for her. She said it was depressing and then reassured me that she knew I was there for her. I must admit I was a bit freaked out initially that she read my blog, but we are both adults. There's nothing, well maybe a few things, that would surprise her in my writing that she didn't already know I did at one point in my life. And if it's new news, well I will chalk it up to getting to know me better. We've all done crazy shit at some point; lucky for me I survived and lucky for her she didn't know about it!

After getting a text from my mom I noticed an email from a childhood friend reaching out about my blog. She sent a heartfelt letter sharing her own similar story and offered her friendship, advice and understanding. I'm a lucky girl!

Writing this blog and connecting with people as a result has confirmed for me that honesty really is the best policy. It is vital for me to be open and honest with people, even if I fear the reaction I'm going to get from someone hearing something they didn't want to hear. I have worked so damn hard to balance out my life and make sense of where I came from and who I'm supposed to be that I owe it to myself and those I love to be real. 

I am so touched that this blog has reached so many people and has helped others the way writing it helps me. It's totally freakin scary sharing personal stories and situations because they are my real life experiences. It's not a work of fiction and I'm afraid of being judged or shunned, but it's a risk I take to get it out to live happier and healthier and hopefully help others in the process. 

In the end I'm glad my mom is reading my blog. (Thanks Mom!)  It's not always easy for she and I to communicate and maybe this will give her some perspective on the woman I've become and the struggles I face that she was not aware of. I have a lot I want to share with her but fear doing so. Maybe this blog is what will break us past that barrier and open up a line of communication free of judgement and anger. This is a good thing and I'm definitely a lucky girl! 

Getting Older Sucks

Getting older sucks. And not because I'm getting rows of gray hair sprouting up or because it takes me five minutes to get out of bed in the morning. It's not even the fact that I am completely exhausted and ready for bed by 9pm. Those things do stink but the really difficult part about getting older is having a parent start to fall apart and the responsibility that comes along with it. 

For those who don't know much about my backstory, I will fill you in quickly. I was adopted at birth and am an only child. My mother and father tried to conceive for 10 years and were unsuccessful and thus adopted me. I had a big family on my fathers side until a falling out after he died. My mother has family members in Canada and the east coast, none of  which are very close. My father passed away in 2003 from primary brain cancer and now it's just my mom and I. 

Because my parents tried to have a baby the good ol' natural way for years my mom is ten years older than the parents of most of my peers. She just turned 65 this past May. My mom still works as a paralegal on account of my father not being around to financially support her and continues to live in the house I grew up in that is basically falling apart around her. Sounds like a metaphor to me.

This past April my mom fell while exiting the elevator of the parking garage at her office. The elevator settled to a stop with the inside lower that the ground outside the elevator door, which caught her foot and threw her into a brick wall. She snapped her humerus in half. After surgery placing a metal plate and 13 screws in her arm and 4 months of physical therapy 4 times a week she is almost able to have 50% range of motion back. It was a freak incident that has taken an emotional toll on the whole family. 

Yesterday we were back in the emergency room. Not for an arm, thank god. This round was a kidney stone. I was relaxing and decompressing after a long week at the nail salon when I get a phone call. It was my mom, struggling through short breaths to tell me she needs to go to the emergency room because of intense stomach pains and pains on her left side. Naturally, thinking she's having a heart attack or a ruptured appendix, I rush put of the restful haven of the nail salon and race down the 405 freeway (if that's even possible) to Tarzana hospital. And that's when it happened...again!

You see I have developed this condition called Vasovagal Syncope. It's a reaction that occurs internally as a result of emotional stress triggers which causes fainting, blacking out and a full blown anxiety attack. It is extremely sudden and practically impossible to stop once it begins. I had the first "episode" the first time she was taken to the ER for the broken arm. But I had Tom there to help me, and friends texting to keep me stable. This time I was all alone. 

Tom was deep in the dead zone of Malibu on a construction job and none of my moms friends were answering their phones. It was up to me to be there and I  failed. Big time. 

I went in the ER waiting room and instantly felt the deep chilling sweat drip down my lower back. My heart was pounding, my head was light, my eyes were blurry. My mind raced the more I tried to calm myself down and I couldn't catch my breath. I tried sitting in the cafeteria where I had orange juice to give me a boost of sugar. It didn't help. I tried fresh air outside and started to feel better and ready to try going in again. Bad idea. Same reaction all over again. 

I ended up sitting in the car in the parking lot talking to my mom on the cell phone every 20 min for updates. I couldn't be there to hold her hand and tell her it was all going to be okay. I couldn't talk to the doctor and make sure she was cares for properly. I was a useless failure to her and feel terrible. 

I don't want to have this reaction and wish I had stronger resolve to fight past this. I wish she didn't have to be all alone through that. It's days like yesterday I feel all the anger again for my dad getting sick and leaving us all alone, ill prepared to do life without him. 

Getting older and being an only child is very difficult. I'm scared shitless. I don't know what is going to come next and feel like it's just a matter of time before I have to go through another tragedy. I'm just not ready for this phase of my life. Getting older sucks! 

Hollow Fucking Promises

I very much so hate hollow promises. In fact I loathe them. I ran into an old boss at the market a few weeks ago. Generally if I see someone unexpectedly and have time to make a swift getaway I will. But without time to sneak out the door, I stopped and engaged. I asked how she was doing and likewise she asked me. She threw out some compliments like "you look so good" and "god it's great to see you" and continue to over-compliment me by staying more than once just how happy I look. That just makes me feel uncomfortable much like clearly she was in the conversation. I found out the pertinent information on her life and her family and began the conversation wrap up when...out came her hollow promise.

"We are having a birthday party for our dog in a few weeks, we would LOVE to have you and your dogs over!" She promised to send the details and apparently that did not happen! In fact, the only thing that did happen wasthe ridiculous  birthday party to which we were never invited. Hollow. Fucking. Promises. 

What is the goddamn point in doing that? In pretending you actually give a shit about someone and want to be involved in their life when you really don't mean it? If you are my friend and you have absolutely no intention on doing something, don't mention it or pretend like you do.

I've known this woman since my previous job when I worked at an Autism treatment center. Things there under her command did not go well and I honestly got the raw end of the deal because of mismanagement or complete lack of it. This woman witnessed my competent work and the harassment I endured from a nasty coworker and did nothing but turn a blind eye and move me to a different department because that was easier than having to deal with conflict resolution and actually manage. 

In this situation at the market I am at fault. It is my fault that I actually had a small glimmer of belief that she was genuinely interested in my life and really meant it when she said "We definitely need to have a night out!!" But she wasn't. We are only good when a plumbing crisis arises and for five minute chit chat at Ralph's. 

What made me think about this today was overhearing two girls talking in the gym locker room. One girl asked another about going to the Hollywood Bowl and the other one way too quickly replied "totally, that could be fun," which really meant that she was dismissing the girl with no intentions of following through with those plans. 

I'm guilty of doing this; we all are. But I am trying to make more of an effort to be honest about my intentions, without being rude of course. It seems more rude to lie and act like you care since most of the time we are not academy award winners and can see right through it. And then you just look like an ass when you post pictures on Facebook to the event you fake invited someone to. 

Hollow fucking promises (shaking my head)...be honest, be real, be true.