Chasing a New Dream

I should be happy where I am in my life.  In my early twenties I set the goal of making six figures by the time I turned 35. I put so much hard work and time into my life and professionally deduced myself to my career, working tirelessly to prove my abilities and value. And now I am in a great place with my own assistant and I'm starting to reevaluate my goal. I'm not happy.

There must be something wrong with me. I have it all. Great job. Good friends. Small but decent apartment. But is that really having it all? At the end of the day after working 10 hours I come home and feel like I have nothing. Los Angeles living is a thankless uphill battle. My rent for 380 square feet is more than most mortgages for three bedroom homes in other places. I work so much I never see my friends and when I do I'm too exhausted to do much more than dinner or coffee or the occasional hike if I'm lucky.

It's like I woke up this year and realized that true happiness is far more important than money or status or even job responsibility. I don't need the high paying career. I missed out on having a family because of it. I don't need the staff and don't need to own a business. I need a life full of love and value that ultimately when I face my final days I can say with complete honesty I am proud of.

I want a life with time to enjoy the beautiful simplicities around me, with moments where I can stop and appreciate things with the appropriate amount of time they deserve. I want a family and friends I see with regularity. I want a modest home filled with more love than things. I want a life that isn't based on a job that consumes me with debilitating anxiety and unrelenting pressures and little support.

I choose a life with love. My new goal is to live more in the present. To find a balanced life that isn't just about job or money. To build a family and uphold better values. To be truly happy.

The something that was wrong with me was my goal. It's time to chase a new dream.

A Part of Me

My heart...

Dark and misshapen from the years. 

Fears and scars riddle your shape. 

Afraid to follow your rhythm and sound. 

Found that opening you up created a flood.

Above all else I am afraid you’ll sting. 

Bring me to my knees with pain. 

Again, I really don’t think I can take that. 

Matted down from being dragged through hell. 

A shell of what was once robust. 

Must I see all of your wounds? 

Soon you will repair; I swear, it cannot be any other way.

Today I have to choose to let you heal. 

Feel and embrace the possible future.
My heart...

F Day is an F You

Me and Dad at USC in front of the Tommy Trojan statue

F Day feels like a big F you. From the second to last week of May until the morning of F Day, my inbox if full of junk solicitations from Amazon.com, 1-800-Flowers, Create and Barrel, Target, Khols, the list goes on and on, all reminding me that I’m running out of time to get my dad something special this father’s day. I find it so hard not to be bitter that he isn’t here any longer to give him a gift. I find it hard to look past the painful reminder that my father was taken prematurely from our family and that with him went all connectivity and sense of family that we once had. Now it is just me. Me and my mom, although she hardly calls me and expects me to check up on her, and really doesn’t do much to understand what is at the core of my heart. She just isn’t that type of woman.

Typically I could avoid feeling this bad on F Day because I was able to spend the day doing something my dad used to love to do; something in honor of him. Or I could sleep the day away eating pizza and watching crappy television shows to block out the emptiness. But this year, things are different. I am literally forced to celebrate F Day by having to work, running a remembrance service for all those who have lost their fathers, grandfathers, and any important man in their life. So here I am, really sad and still devastated that my own dad, my best friend and mentor, is no longer living, and yet I have to work at the cemetery where he is not buried, hosting a remembrance service to celebrate F Day.

In an effort to find some balance and peace with the entire situation, and to properly grieve in a healthier fashion, I will list out 12 things I loved about my dad, one for each year he has been gone.

1. His spirit
2. His calming presence
3. His love and loyalty to family
4. His understanding of giving and receiving respect
5. His sense of humor and quick wit
6. His passion for his job
7. His courage, even in the final stage of his life
8. His intelligence
9. His ability to make me feel like a princess
10. His love of sports
11. The way he made little glasses on the “D” in Danny Felsen when he signed his name, so it would look just like him
12. His knack for pulling off the best pranks

My dad was and always will be the light in my heart that guides me, drives me, steers me in the right direction, and keeps me going when I want to give up. It is impossible for anyone who has not lost their parent at a young age to fully understand what it feels like to have to go on with life following their passing, and how challenging it is to literally have to grow up overnight and have no rule book to follow with guidelines and explanations making it easier to navigate life with the burden of pain and grief that you carry in your heart. The longing and deep void from his absence doesn’t go away and I feel like it in a way defines me now. When my dad died I changed and my life changed and my heart changed. I have been forever imprinted by the spirit of goodness, compassion, friendship, love and loyalty that my father had in his soul, and do whatever I can to be a good person and live up to his legacy every day.

Dad, my Tommy Trojan, my superhero, my best bud – I love you unconditionally, whether you are physically here with me or are a spirit of energy surrounding me and I navigate my way through the course of my life. I sincerely hope that I make you proud and that you know how deeply sorry I am that you got sick and that you are not here with your family. I wish there was a way to connect with you and tell you that I love you, and that I am sorry for all the shit I put you through as a crazy, chaotic and self-righteous teenager. I wish I could tell you that you were right; the tattoos were a really bad idea that I really do regret, and that I should have blindly listened to you all those times you gave me advice on my future. I wish I could laugh with you now looking back on all those times you said that I had to do things the hard way, because it was so true. Most of all, I wish I could run to you and give you a hug like I was a little girl seeing her dad pick her up from school after the first day; and never let go.

I love you today, on F Day, and every day to follow. Thank you for being the best father a girl could ask for, and even though our time was cut short, I cherish every moment and every lesson. Rest assured that you were a great father; the best in fact. And you were truly loved.

Invisible Heart

Sometimes I feel invisible. Not in the sense of a superhero or supernatural powers. I walk through the crowded lobby of my gym and people coming right towards me head on bump into me, as if they expect me to move out of the way. Or perhaps they don't even see me. It's as if I do not exist. Like I'm complete invisible.

I know I am guilty of carrying around "bitch face" and often times people think I'm giving them the stink eye, but for the past year I've been making a conscious effort to be aware of my facial expressions and body language. So what is it that makes people ignore me or expect me to move for them.

This type of thing is not something that happens to everyone. And it's not just isolated instances.  It is of course always frustrating. Perhaps it's the mood I'm presenting at the time that transfers like waves of negative energy. Maybe I'm just not worth noticing.

I know these days I'm at a serious crossroads in my life, where I'm not feeling much connection to my surroundings or where I spend my time. I feel so forgotten and unappreciated by family and I'm so overworked that I never have time or energy when I do have the time to see my friends. My own mother hardly calls me.

To be honest my heart is somewhere else; somewhere I can't be. Every day here comes and goes with regularity and absolutely no meaning for me. It's not where I want to be, and that alone kills me.

I am invisible. I'm a shell of a woman; of a friend; of a daughter; of a manager. All because my heart is not here. I give out the "follow your heart" advice and now it's time I take it myself. I have a soon to be ex-husband who is living how he wants, following his desires. I watch friends make choices from the heart all the time. It's my time to follow my love and take a chance; to start over.

It's not fair for me to just sit and complain and make the one I care about feel bad for me being here. It's my choice to be here and I need to remedy that. I need to weather the storm temporarily, get my shit together and follow my heart.

I may be invisible today, but I won't be forever.

Finding the Routine

It is hard to believe its been almost 3 months since I wrote a new blog. School last semester really kicked my ass, as well as a large conference I was coordinating from 3000 miles away. Oh and did I mention I also worked about 50 hours a week on top of that at a really demanding job in a state of transition? Not to sound like a bitchy excuse maker, but suffice it to say I was completely overwhelmed.

So - I'm back. School starts up again soon so I can't guarantee I'll be posting that often, but I promise to try to post with as much regularity as I possibly can.

Life has definitely been more positive than the past few months, which may also be part of the reason for the lack of new posts. It's so much easier to write when in a foul mood or upset and processing some dark emotion. I always feel like an idiot writing about happy times. I don't want to sound like someone rubbing it in saying, "I am just so happy... blah blah blah." That to me sounds like an attention seeker farting rainbows and gumdrops on everyone's not so perfect life. Not my style.

But I also don't want to be the Debbie Downer naysayer who is a chronic complainer. So let's just call it a fifty fifty past few months. There have been some bumps in the road, but overall its been a great few months.

Something I am struggling with right now with all this down time from work is the concept of trust. Its so hard for me to really let my guard down and expose the vulnerability or real emotion I typically keep bottled up in a deep, hidden space in my heart. I feel like trusting people and really letting them in, more often than not, equals me getting hurt. And who the fuck wants to get hurt?!?

But I am not going to build a healthy relationship by shutting down and closing myself off or distrusting. I have to learn to believe it when I am told I am loved and accepted. I have to love myself. I have to accept that there will always be the potential to get hurt no matter how much I try to protect myself, and at the end of the day it doesn't make it easier by keeping those I love at a distance, it actually makes things more difficult.

In being almost a year out on my own I've learned a lot about living alone and doing things for myself. I've come to realize that even while I had a partner there physically, I was actually alone more than I realized. I still struggle to find motivation to go to dinners alone, and have a hard time at night when my tiny apartment is still and dark. I find it difficult to grocery shop for 1 and hate not having a snuggle companion to curl up with and watch TV or even just sit in silence to enjoy each others company.

But I know that as the time passes it does get easier and a new routine is established. I look at it similar to when I quit smoking. I was a pack a day cigarette smoker. Parliament Lights 100's baby. I guess since they were the extra long smokes you could say I actually smoked a pack and a half. I dedicated my time to habitually smoking for over 10 years, and have been proudly smoke free for 5. It was so hard to quit. I wasn't just giving up the one act of lighting and inhaling a cigarette, but rather a lifestyle and all the activities that I enjoyed that coupled well with smoking. I used to wake up and have a hot cup of coffee on my porch with a smoke. I used to love to smoke at sunset at the beach. I always enjoyed a cigarette after a satisfying meal. Take out the smoking from those moments and I felt like I had nothing. So I stopped all of it. I stopped sitting on my porch all together. I hardly went to the beach at sunset, until last year. It took time and patience and acceptance that things had changed before I could establish new, healthier routines. And you know what, I eventually did it. I am still smoke free and now enjoy the beach. I love a good meal and feel satisfied without a smoke after I am done. I sit outside on the deck often and taken in the sweet smells of the nature surrounding me, rather than the stench of a smoke stick.

In time I have started to establish new patterns and routines for myself, and I tell anyone going through or about to go through a divorce the following... IT DOES GET EASIER IF YOU WANT IT TO AND YOU WORK AT IT. It is a daily struggle, but you MUST NOT give up. YOU MUST look deeper within EVERY situation in order to push yourself to accepting the things that you cannot change and finding the courage to change the things you can.

I have opened my mind to a lot of things and have opened my heart to love. I am free of so many things that caused me pain and ready and willing to shed the skin of insecurity and fear and reveal all of who I am, vulnerable and raw, real and emotional.

To life I say bring it on. To you, if you are struggling, I say you are loved and you are strong and one day those giant mountains of pain become smaller rolling hills and eventually become so minor you don't event realize you're on a journey. Live life, power through it, enjoy the moments in between, and never look back. Follow the beat of your heart and the instinct in your gut.