inspirational

This article By Dr. Robin Berman, associate professor of psychiatry at UCLA, is making its rounds on the internet. It originated on Goop and Danielle LaPorte also posted it (of course she did).

There are some extremely valuable insights and information below.
It is WELL worth the read-
xoxJanet

“I’ve heard the story countless times. A client comes in confused, hurt, and disheartened, wondering what happened to her fairytale romance that started off with such a bang. Invariably some combination of these words come next: “Prince Charming,” “soulmate,” “man of my dreams,” “swept me off my feet,” “attentive,” “charismatic”…”so all in.”

I am a psychiatrist, not a psychic, but I can predict what comes next: The relationship spirals downward and this so-perfect-he-can’t-possibly-be-real man morphs into something else entirely. Often, something much more disturbing. He needs endless attention, yet nothing she does makes him happy. Everything she says is wrong, as he’s easily injured or angered. She starts to feel very alone in the relationship, confused, and unmoored. What’s worse, she might feel like she’s somehow to blame—that she should work even harder to please.

Often, the dynamics play out more insidiously. You talk about an issue, and your partner relates it immediately to something that happened to him; your story fades as his takes over. Or you and your partner disagree and somehow you end up second-guessing yourself, as if dissent threatens his very well-being. Any needs you communicate that aren’t in line with his may be thrown back at you as a character flaw. For instance, you tell your boyfriend you won’t be able to get together on your usual date night because of work, and his comeback is: “You’re just not available for a serious commitment right now, and I want a real relationship.” Suddenly you have a global problem and he is a victim. What a head-trip.

“NARCISSISTS TAKE EVERYTHING SO PERSONALLY BECAUSE UNDERNEATH THEIR GRANDIOSE BRAVADO LURKS PROFOUND SELF-LOATHING—THEY NEED TO BE SHORED UP BY CONSTANT EXTERNAL PRAISE.”

If this all sounds familiar, perhaps you, too, are living with or dating a narcissist. The big, charming personality is typical of narcissists. Initially quite likable, they capture everyone’s attention. When they shine their light on you, it is easy to fall hard.

But that fall becomes painful when other narcissistic traits make themselves known. Narcissists are hypersensitive to any perceived critique. Feedback other than flattery feels like a slight and can trigger extreme anger. They feel deeply injured by criticism and have an excessive need for praise and admiration. Any time you express your honest feelings, you might stumble into your partner’s emotional quicksand. This is not what real love feels like.

Falling in love may put you off balance, but standing in love firmly grounds you. An absolute essential ingredient of a good relationship is emotional safety—you need to feel safe to be the real you! But it is very difficult to be yourself when you have such an emotionally volatile partner. Narcissists are often arrogant, self-important, and devoid of empathy. They are so in their own world they can’t even see you. It’s hard to stand in someone else’s shoes when you can’t see past your own. Narcissists see you not as you, but more as an extension of themselves.

To be seen and adored for who you really are, though, is the highest form of romance. I once heard that the word intimacy can be broken down into the words “IN TO ME YOU SEE.” It is so difficult for the narcissists in your life to truly see you and get you because they are focused on themselves. Their needs steamroll over yours. Talking about how you feel becomes exhausting and frustrating because they can’t truly appreciate your perspective and because you have to sugarcoat everything to not set them off.

“IF HE EASILY CONDEMNS THOSE HE PREVIOUSLY CHERISHED, CHANCES ARE THAT DARK LIGHT WILL SHINE ON YOU AT SOME POINT, TOO.”

A patient once told me this story: “When I was newly married, we saw the movie Inception. When we walked out of the theater and I said I didn’t like it, my husband flew into a rage. ‘What?! We love thought provoking movies! How could you not get that story?!’ I remember thinking ‘Who is we?’ His reaction was so full of wrath, I was scared to speak up. From that point on, more and more pieces of my true self went silent.”

This exemplifies how quickly the benign can become malignant and destroy emotional safety. Even disagreeing about what you think of a movie can trigger your partner’s disapproval or anger. Living with or dating narcissists feels like you have to tiptoe around minefields and are constantly on guard to not set them off. Narcissists take everything so personally because underneath their grandiose bravado lurks profound self-loathing—they need to be shored up by constant external praise. Their fuel is admiration, and they need you to reflect their magnificence because they truly don’t feel it themselves. Being that perfect, flattering mirror is depleting, and after awhile, your needs become enmeshed with theirs. You lose sight of where they end and you start. You become so busy shoring up the narcissist that you have nothing left for yourself. You tend to disappear.

Meanwhile, as you are doing all that work to build up your partner, he or she may be busy tearing others down. The classic example comes from Snow White and the narcissistic Evil Queen. Maleficent needs constant reassurance from her Magic Mirror that she, indeed, is the fairest of them all. But once Snow White comes into the picture, Maleficent feels threatened by the competition and sets out to destroy her.

“YOU MAY HOLD ONTO THE FANTASY THAT IF YOU SHORE THEM UP ENOUGH, THEY WILL EVENTUALLY GET AROUND TO TAKING CARE OF YOU, TOO. UNFORTUNATELY, MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, THIS WON’T BE THE CASE.”

In real life, narcissists need to cut down others to build themselves up. Even when you are in the glow of a new relationship, and the charm offensive is blindingly bright, watch for clues that all may not be well. If he needs to criticize others to show how grand he is by comparison, he will likely do the same to you. Besides noticing how he treats the people around him, look at his history. Is it filled with long-term friendships or littered with relationships—romantic or business—in which he has inevitably been wronged? If he easily condemns those he previously cherished, chances are that dark light will shine on you at some point, too. The narcissist who keeps himself elevated by putting down others eventually might become competitive even with you.

Narcissists hoard attention, interrupt conversations so that they can steer it back to themselves, and are more concerned with their feelings than anyone else’s. Their theme song is, “Enough about me, let’s get back to me.” If you are living with a full-fledged narcissist, you know first-hand how this can interfere with their ability to relate to you and to your kids.

“My marriage was great before we had kids. I knew that my husband needed a lot of attention, but I never realized how much, until I stopped giving it to him in the usual doses, because I was so busy caring for our baby. I could no longer be so focused on him. Our relationship got ugly fast.”

Before having children you had more energy to attend to the narcissist. Some narcissists feel threatened and jealous of the attention that you devote to your kids; other narcissists use their children to feed their ego; and others are so preoccupied with themselves that they completely neglect their kids. Of course, all of these are detrimental for a child.

“THE JOURNEY TO DISCOVERING YOUR AUTHENTIC SELF REQUIRES YOU TO GET PAINFULLY HONEST TO WORK THOUGH YOUR DISTRESSING FEELINGS.”

Disagreeing with a narcissist or working through issues is extremely difficult. In addition to their inability to see your point of view, they cannot own their stuff. Their extreme defensiveness shuts down their ability to learn, and that impinges on your ability to grow as a couple. Narcissists simply do not make good partners.

You may hold on to the fantasy that if you shore them up enough, they will eventually get around to taking care of you, too. Unfortunately, more often than not, this won’t be the case. But if part of life’s journey is knowing yourself, the narcissist in your life can be a great teacher. The journey to discovering your authentic self requires you to get painfully honest to work though your distressing feelings. Here are some questions that can lead you to clarity and help you figure out whether you just need more tools to cope, or you really need to extricate yourself.

TOUGH QUESTIONS
Why did you pick him or her? Does she remind you of the way you were loved by one or both parents? Have you just unknowingly repeated the scene of the original crime—your own childhood? Or are you trying, with your partner, to have a happier ending than you did with your parents?

Are you depressed? Swallowing anger and hiding your real self can lead to depression.

Are you exhausted from tap dancing around someone’s fragility? Do your constant attempts to please him require a hyper-vigilance that is draining? Are you working to hide your partner’s volatility and fragile ego from your kids and your friends?

Are you seeing things as they are, or are you making constant excuses? Try to get an honest picture of what’s going on. Don’t skew the data.

Do you feel like your needs are constantly overshadowed in spite of all of your efforts to communicate them? Have things gotten so bad that you’ve stopped trying to communicate them because it feels pointless? Or is there safe space for your feelings?

Are you being gaslighted? Narcissists have a tendency to deny things they said, or claim they said something else. They rewrite history. They are unaware of the impact they are having on you or others. This is crazy-making. Beware of this distortion and don’t buy into it.

Does your partner have a history of healthy, intimate relationships? Or is there a long-standing pattern of unstable relationships, whether romantic, friendly, or professional? History doesn’t lie, so pay attention to it.

How do you feel when you are with your partner: Separate and whole, or enmeshed and sucked in to their drama? Does being around your partner make you feel peaceful or on edge?

Since living with or dating a narcissist, do you feel like you are a better version of yourself? Take a moment to compare how you feel about yourself before you met your partner, and now.

PROTECT YOURSELF
A. ASSESS

Is this relationship worth saving? Be honest, how extreme is your partner’s narcissism—is it just a few traits, or is it more encompassing? Full-blown narcissism (see chart below) is hard to live with. A few traits can be manageable. If you choose to work on the relationship, know that at any time, the healthiest choice may be to leave.

In assessing the extent of the problem, be cautious when you see hints of a more evolved partner. Recognize whether these moments are fleeting or a bigger piece of the picture. Don’t make too much of the glimpses of improvement. Manage your expectations. The narcissist in your partner likely will not disappear. Unless there is consistent growth, decide if a sporadic connection is enough to sustain you.

B. SET PARAMETERS FOR STAYING

If you decide to stay in the relationship, both of you must recognize the problem and the role each of you plays in perpetuating it. Also, and this is crucial, he must commit to getting professional help in working to change his behavior. In a therapist’s office, as time makes him feel safe, he can get underneath the mask of grandiosity and access his true feelings. Then, ultimately, he can learn to replace the harsh self-critique with self-compassion, which is where real healing takes place.

If your partner is a full-blown narcissist and doesn’t want to get help or work on it, this should be a deal breaker. If you’re married to a narcissist, realize that you can’t fix him. No matter how much you try, his actual healing is going to have to come from within. No amount of external shoring up will ever be enough. Don’t make fixing a narcissist your life’s work. You have a different journey, one that is more inspired than repairing your partner.

• If you’re dating someone you suspect is a narcissist, tread carefully. What makes a great date may not make a great mate.

• If the narcissist in your life is getting help, remember it may be two steps forward and one step back. Give yourself a deadline so that years don’t elapse, leaving you in a perpetually dysfunctional relationship.

• Although it is likely your narcissistic partner loves you in his own way and does give you something—for instance, he makes life exciting, he’s vivacious and flattering—in the end, his own limitations may prevent him from consistently giving you the love you need. It may be 10% his affirming you in exchange for 90% you affirming him.

C. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

If progress is being made, you need to take care of you. Shore yourself up with a strong support network. Make sure that you have close friends that you feel safe enough with to share your truth—great girlfriends, a good therapist, a spiritual leader. Don’t screen the story; share it unfiltered. Speaking the truth is quite liberating.

• Learn to notice and take care of your needs, maybe for the first time.

• Set boundaries clearly, calmly, and firmly. Know where you begin and where he ends. Start small. It’s OK to not like the same movies. You don’t need to change your opinions to placate him. You may take flack for standing up for yourself. Don your invisible armor so that if he overreacts, you’re clear that it’s about him, not you.

• Work through your own anger to have empathy for the narcissist in your life. He never got what he needed, and his self-hatred is much greater than his self-love, even though it appears to be the opposite. Have massive amounts of empathy for yourself and compassion for your partner. And know that understanding him doesn’t have to mean staying in the relationship.

* Listen to your intuition, that deep place of knowing. You deserve to be happy, free, and at peace. You deserve safe and unconditional love!

WHAT’S YOUR REAL LOVE STORY?
When it comes to romance, listen to your head and your heart. In healthy partnerships, both vital organs are aligned. Good relationships free your true spirit. They allow you to exhale with ease into feeling safe and cherished. To quote one of my dearest friends, a good partnership is an “elevator.” It brings out your best self. It does not force you to bury parts of yourself. You want a partnership in which you can not only fall in love, but then stand and ultimately grow in love.

Now that is what I call happily ever after.

Robin Berman, MD, is an Associate Professor of Psychiatry at UCLA and author of “Permission to Parent: How to Raise Your Child with Love and Limits.”

CRITERIA FOR DIAGNOSING NARCISSITIC PERSONALITY DISORDER
Narcissism exists on a spectrum from a person who has a few traits to someone who meets the full criteria for a personality disorder. Full-fledged narcissism is a pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements).

Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

Believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions).

Requires excessive admiration.

Has a sense of entitlement (i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations).

Is interpersonally exploitative (i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends).

Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others.

Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her.

Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes”
Dr. Robin Berman

Narcissist

Oh calm down! I’m jut saying what you’re thinking! OM…Back to a loving place…

Okay you guys…
As we enter yet another mercury retrograde, and since I’m not someone who embraces life’s revisions as much as I should…In this time of colossal change, covered in a thick, gooey sauce of uncertainty, (and chocolate sprinkles), I like to soothe myself by beating a drum and running naked in the moonlight, reminding myself of all the things that are grounded in certainty.

The things that never change, the things I know for sure.

I’m sure you’ll be able to relate to several of these and maybe they’ll even spark some other ones that you can use to soothe yourselves back to sanity at three o’clock in the morning.

Don’t you love knowing that the sun will come up tomorrow? I do. I must admit; I take this miracle for granted every damn day. One small deviation and we’re all screwed.

I love knowing that four out of five dentists surveyed recommend sugar-less gum.

I love knowing that everywhere I go today there will be a toilet and I won’t be forced to pee in a stinking hole in the ground.

I love knowing that if I want to read a book that I don’t own I can walk into any library and get it. For free. I don’t do that, but I love knowing I can.

I love knowing that for the most part when lights turn red, people stop. They also stay inside the lines while driving. Can you imagine if they didn’t?

Don’t you love knowing that Google can answer ANY question you could ever possibly type into the little box? Unless you’re Steven Hawking; but I’ll wager to guess that even he’s impressed. I must use Google fifty times a day, no lie. It has ended so many arguments at my house I can safely say, without exaggeration, that Google has saved my marriage.

I love knowing that when I look up into the night sky I can see the moon from pretty much anywhere on the planet, and that you’re looking at it too.

I love knowing that blondes don’t always have more fun.

I love knowing that when I go to Rome every ten years, very little has changed.

I love knowing that in any city in the country, (and most of the world) if you find a church, the door will be unlocked and you can walk right inside, losing yourself in the darkness for some cool on a hot summer day, and maybe find a bit of peace, quiet and contemplation.

I love knowing that as long as I pay the bill, when I plug something into a light socket or flip a switch, I will have electricity. (another miracle that I totally take for granted).
I’d also like to add running water when I turn on the tap and flame when I turn on the gas stove to this list. I fucking love knowing those two will show up for me.

I love knowing that my heart will beat, my liver will filter and my lungs will expand and contract without any help from me.

I love knowing there’s a seed bank vault in Norway that holds seeds for almost every plant on the planet. Hey! I worry about this stuff sometimes.

Don’t you love knowing that unless there’s a disaster of some kind, if you dial a phone number anywhere in the world…it will ring. What about Skype? — miracle!

I love knowing that donuts exist in the world. Don’t you?

I love knowing if I want ice; it is only as far away as my kitchen…Right?

I love knowing that sunlight and water (photosynthesis) is keeping all the flora alive on the planet, again without any help from moi.

I love knowing that Kanye will do something stupefying and ridiculous at every God damn awards show.

Don’t you love knowing that there are people who will volunteer to go to an Ebola hot zone? I sure as hell do.

I love knowing that when I cut my finger — it will heal.

I love knowing that back and white film still exists and the same goes for the cameras that use that film.

I love knowing the mullet will never come back in style.

I love knowing there is toothpaste, mouthwash and deodorant in the world and they are used by most people.

I love knowing that on every intersection in LA I will find a Seven-Eleven (or two) where I can purchase bad coffee and a slurpee, a quart of milk, a laxative, Pepto-Bismol and a lottery ticket.

I love knowing that jean jackets will always be in style.

I love knowing that I can find french fries at half a dozen places within a five mile radius of my home at a moments notice (otherwise known as a french fry emergency),

I love knowing that God never makes mistakes, there are no “extra” people on the planet and that love will always prevail. Don’t you love knowing that too?

Whew!

Carry on my loves,
xox

I don’t think this needs any explanation.
Love you guys, Carry on,
xox

openingtothepossibiltiy.com

There she floats, on a cloud, halo glowing, with cherubs at her feet.
Her disapproving eyes cast upwards toward the heavens, beseeching God to take mercy on my shriveled up raisin of a soul.

Casbah Mary.

She is my backyard-living-room Mary, who inhabits the outside “casbah” as it has come to be known — or the den of inequity, as I’m sure she would refer to it.

Shit goes down back there.
Being that it is the most used area of our house, it is where you will find copious amounts of food, wine and gossip, cigarettes, raunchy stories, raucous laughter, unending barrages of f-bombs and sex (I think there was sex, I can’t remember anymore) and did I mention waaaaay too much booze? (probably why I can’t remember).

She hears it all. She bears witness. Hands crossed over her chest, feigning an imminent heart attack, shocked at all the hedonism,

She watches it all without uttering a word. There’s a lot to be said for stoic silence.

The little naked cherubs just giggle, they’re like honey badger — they don’t give a shit.

You see, I hung her out there for a reason.
For protection and guidance — not judgement; yet my Catholic upbringing makes me want to apologize to her when it gets particularly salacious back there. I often lower my voice and wince when I curse, or throw a “sorry” in her direction when I let a “fuck” fly.

I had a friend pause once, in the middle of a juicy story, and beg me to turn Casbah Mary toward the wall, “I swear, her face” she grimaced, emptying her wineglass, “she looks disappointed in me — like my mother!”

Although she reigns supreme over the virtual Valley version of Sodom and Gomorrah, Casbah Mary has bestowed her heavenly grace on her surroundings several times: saving things from breaking, warding off criminals — even blowing around so wildly in a windstorm late one night after a party, making such a racket, that I got out of bed to investigate, only to find that we had left all of the candles burning…in a windstorm…hey, I said there was too much alcohol.

Can you say thank you and I’m sorry in the same sentence?

Thank you Casbah Mary and your creepy little naked babies — for gracing a wall of our home and protecting our family; for remaining silent in your obvious judgement of our shenanigans – and I’m sorry about all the shit we put you through from March thru October.

Carry on & Happy Sunday you guys,
xox

This post was a monster hit. People still email me for the title.
I know it really resonated with you guys, and even though it has only been a couple of months, I needed to read it again so I’m assuming you do too. Happy Saturday!

LET IT GO…

This is a sculpture I own which I call LETTING GO.
I had to show you the entire piece, but if you zoom in on her face –– it’s eerily peaceful…in her free-fall into the abyss. Hauntingly so.
I learn from her every day.

This poem by Safire Rose is the perfect reminder for this BIG energy of NEW BEGINNINGS that is currently pouring in. FIRST you have to Let Go. BTW –– it is in no way gender specific…men too!
Carry On,
xox

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

~ Rev. Safire Rose

BEFALL:
verb: (used without object), befell, befallen,befalling.
to happen or occur.
to come, as by right.
3.verb: to happen to, especially by chance or fate.

I have become aware of late, that I am a pain in the Universal ass.

I suppose I always knew it, I suspected as much, but today I feel that it has become an undisputed fact.

You see, when I take off on my morning walks, one of the first things I ask the Universe, besides helping me to sidestep the dog poo; is to give me a message — hey guys… you know what I want — show me something I need to know!

That means the Universe has to put down its coffee, get dressed, and pay attention to…me.
The pain in the ass.

If you follow me regularly you are well aware that most days I get jack-nuthin’, (the Universe gets caught up in an article on the Huffington Post) while other times I actually receive some answers in the form of a cryptic haiku on a Post It, a tiny gnome village or a bird-strike omen — you know, the usual.

Anytime I spy something out of the ordinary I pick it up, truly convinced that it holds a message just for me, and today was no different.

It seems our entire neighborhood is under construction these days, developers tearing down the smaller, quaint, 1930’s homes to throw up another two-story, Leave It To Beaver style behemoth.

At eight in the morning the streets are lined with construction trucks, roach coaches…and men. Lots and lots of virile young men.

Now, as a woman, I have a kind of built-in shame meter that makes me automatically cross the street when I see men in tool belts and hard hats. All those years of wolf whistles and cat calls have trained me well.
The thing is, I am no longer the age where I elicit that sort of display of machismo. I am just south of sixty, and even though I am still technically a woman, I’m sure I am older than most of their mothers.

These days they are polite, they smile at me and say “good morning” like I’m their fucking grandma in yoga pants. I haven’t heard anything resembling a catcall in over ten years; (she says with immense resentment) yet, still I run. Middle aged wishful thinking I suppose.
Anyhow…
This cruddy, yellow flash card caught my attention as I jumped up on the curb after sprinting across the street to avoid a construction crew and their catcalls.

I actually ran past it in my zealousness to escape the nonexistent wolf whistles, but once I had seen it I knew I had to take my chances and double back around to find out what it was. When I bent over to retrieve the card I made sure my ass was pointed in the opposite direction of the men, you know, so as not to tease them.

It was the flash card pictured above. It has the word “befall” in middle-school-aged boy scrawl, with a couple of the definitions on the back.

It was trash day yesterday so I’m pretty sure the card had just escaped its fate by falling on the ground. I have to tell myself that to override any guilt I have about sabotaging some kid’s English final by hijacking card #2 with the word befall on it.

Technically I was picking up litter, so calm down.

Befall. What an old-fashioned, Elizabethan kind of word.

“What fate will befall you Janet Bertolus?”
Can’t you guys just hear those words spoken by a handsome King, who wants me to be his Queen (naturally) as I ride off into the sunset on a white horse with a young construction worker who has found me irresistible? Yeah, me neither.

My immediate reaction? Foreboding. Like it was a warning.
But when you throw down a word like BEFALL Universe, you get me thinking. And then I remembered the bird strike, and omens, and the fact that sometimes things that SEEM awful…aren’t.

What if it’s foretelling something magical that’s going transpire by chance or fate? What if befall means: to come as if by right — like I’m entitled to everything wonderful?
Much better, right?

“Great success was to befall Janet Bertolus in the very near future.” Oh, I like that one.

So you guys, what if you were as big of a pain in the ass as I am, and you asked for a sign from the Universe? What word do you think you’d get? Remember, these guys are tricky — nothing is ever obvious.

What fate will BEFALL you this fine weekend? A trip? A graduation? A great meal? The time to curl up with a good book?
More importantly, what are you entitled to?

Aren’t you liking the word BEFALL more and more? I am.

Carry on,
xox

I can’t ever imagine taking pleasure in someone else’s misfortune. Can you? No, of course you can’t!
Yet, I know people like that exist.
You know, they hang around the not so nice people.

I hear them in line at Alfreds;
I’ve overheard their telephone conversations (okay, just one side, but you can still get the gist) in airport terminals;
and someone has actually said something snarky and malicious TO MY FACE about a mutual acquaintance.
More than once.

The first time it came as such a shock that I just stammered, the food falling from my surprised lips, and to my credit I neither agreed nor rose to our friends defense — I just got up and left.

I say it’s to my credit because if I had agreed with the villainous, insane pleasure this woman was taking at the expense of said friend, well, I would have had to join The Douche Bag Club, a club so fraught with stink that you can only remain a member for about one month before dying of asphyxiation.

If I had come to our friend’s defense it would have come to blows and the place we were in was public, and although I may be on the small and polite side, I’m a scrappy spider monkey and I would have taken. her. down.

Plus I was wearing a skirt. And heels. And you have to take those things into account. You cannot wage a good assault in that kind of outfit.

All this to say: When it happened to me again, with someone different, I didn’t hesitate to speak up.

This time I had on pants; and comfortable shoes; and it was a telephone conversation so I could count on very little blood being shed.

Someone we knew had lost a ton of money when one of their stores closed. A real shitastrophy.
I had actually been in on several of the discussions leading up to the closure so I was aware that it had been an extremely hard choice for them to make.

This other person was deriving such delicious gratification, satisfaction, even enjoyment in relaying all the lurid details, as she understood them to be, that her glee reached a fever pitch as she exclaimed how much she loved when “rich people failed big.”

“Hold it right there.” I ordered, after finally hearing enough,
“Although it may look otherwise, it was a smart business decision, besides, that rich person is out in the world doing good things. Remember? They used to pay your salary and health insurance, and although they can probably absorb the loss, it’s still a shit-ton of money and I can assure you, none of this feels good to them.”

My words fell on deaf ears; she had HER story to tell that was a lot juicier but — nowhere near the truth.

It was a tale rife with bankruptcy, botched Botox and marital woes — and I gotta tell ya, this woman was in pig-heaven.

Can you imagine?

Here’s the thing you guys, and I’ve found it to be true time and time again: Those that take pleasure in other’s misfortunes; in failures, divorces, even accidents and tragedies are the side-line sitters — the ones that never take any risk. They live with their butts glued in the safe-seats, and pass judgment on those of us that get our asses kicked on the playing field of life.

Of course they hate rich people, because they don’t have the courage to leave their shitty job and go out on their own. They never ask for a raise, pose the hard questions or have an inspired idea.

Instead, they keep their binoculars trained on the ones that do — watching and waiting for a mis-step.

They are also known to be riddled with envy.
They can’t be happy for anyone’s success; they dismiss it, chalking it up to luck, family money, contacts, astrology, nepotism, anything but hard work, and the guts to take chances.

They also have a hard time with happy marriages, good health, washboard abs, and expensive vacations. Oh, how they hate a nice vacation story!

Please, when you encounter someone like this — and they spew their toxic nonsense all over you — set them straight.

And then drive away…and take an expensive vacation…with rich people.

Love you, Carry on,
xox

I don’t know if you guys saw this essay by Liz Gilbert on Facebook yesterday, it’s an important topic and if you’ve already read it — go make yourself a sandwich and then read it again because you probably missed something.

It is my belief that our tolerance for someone being less than kind to us starts in childhood when we are powerless to stand up to authority or “sass” back a teacher or family member who lobs something unkind our way.

But there’s no excuse for putting up with that shit once you’re an adult — no excuse whatsoever!

The unkind words of others can cut you to the core (because really, isn’t that their intention?)

Other people grow a callus, a hard surface that the unkind words just sort of roll off of, I’m probably one of those people; but don’t let anyone tell you it doesn’t hurt — because it does.

Please take a minute to read this, it’s really good.

Here is the takeaway in a one sentence:
“Generally speaking, people are pretty much what they show you they are — not what you wish they were.”

May I also say right here, right now, that you guys, my readers, my tribe, are SO freakin’ kind and thoughtful, and…nice! It’s a rare commodity on the Internet and greatly appreciated. Love you guys!

Take it away Liz—
xox

“Dear Ones-
So I saw it happen again the other day.

Last week I watched as a friend of mine got (quite savagely) verbally attacked by a friend of hers. As I was comforting her later, she said, while brushing away tears of pain, “It’s OK. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. I know that deep down she’s a really nice person.”
To which my question was: “HOW deep?”

I mean, if you dig down deep enough into ANYONE, you’ll find some traces of decency and humanity buried in there, right? (As they say, Hitler loved his dogs.) But how deep do you have to dig, in order to find that goodness?

How much toxic waste do you have to claw through with your bare hands, before you reach any evidence of hidden kindness?

How many layers of concrete do you have to blast through, before that person will let you see their one deeply hidden molecule of niceness?

And how much abuse do you have to take, in the meanwhile?

And is that really how you want to spend your life? Exhaustively trying to excavate scraps of decency from someone who has basically buried their goodness beneath a rubble of darkness?

I have the same reaction whenever I hear someone make these kinds of statements:
“I know she seems rude, but deep down she’s actually really kind.”
“I know he acts stingy, but deep down, he’s truly generous.”
“I know he lied to me and cheated on me, but deep down he still loves me.”
“I know she has a horrible temper and says awful things to her children, but deep down she’s a sweetheart.”

I don’t know, you guys. I don’t like it.

I’m not saying that you should throw people away or condemn them. Every major religion in the world asks us to search for the common light of humanity that is hidden within everyone. Of course you should always look for the best within people. Of course it’s enlightened to give people the benefit of the doubt. Of course it’s the highest virtue to forgive others for their shortcomings, as we would be forgiven for ours. Of course it’s compassionate to look at the difficult circumstances of a person’s life, in order to better understand why they may have turned out so broken, bitter, and mean. (Remember, though: Lots of other people had equally difficult destinies — or worse — and still find ways to be kind and generous to others.)

But it doesn’t mean you have to voluntarily expose yourself to abuse and cruelty.

Without denying the possibility that every thorn has its rose, I think it’s wise to keep your distance from people who repeatedly and consistently demonstrate injurious, neglectful, or flat-out cruel behavior. You can pray for them and wish the best for them, but you might want to cross the street when you see them coming, just to be on the safe side.

I don’t think it makes you extra spiritual to keep putting yourself in the pathway of degradation and suffering just because you have decided that — against all available evidence — this cruel person is actually a sweet person.

Generally speaking, people are pretty much what they show you they are — not what you wish they were.

People who behave cruelly toward you are more or less cruel people.

People who behave nicely toward you are generally nice people.
(Unless they are full-on sociopaths, of course, which most people are not.)
You can almost always count on that.

That being the case, I think you’re allowed to choose what sort of people with whom you wish to spend the precious waking hours of your one rare and beautiful life.

I choose to spend my life with people who are not afraid to wear their goodness and their niceness on the OUTSIDE.

I choose to spend my time with people who aren’t afraid to show love, or to receive love.

I choose to share my life with the nice humans.

I don’t find nice humans to be boring; I find them to be an oasis.
Keep it simple: Be nice to others, be nice to yourself.
ONWARD,
LG”

“Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”
~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Hey you guys, how do you handle it when a project goes south, a relationship doesn’t work out or you lose your iPhone?

Processing loss.
What does that feel like to you? Kinda like you wasted your time and it,(the love, the attention, the years spent) was all for nothing?

Like a failure?
Do you go over and over the reasons in your head? All the coulda, shoulda, woulda’s?
Are you your own judge and jury, sentencing yourself to twenty years of sit ups and lunges for bad choices and various other transgressions?

Or is it more like a bump in the road?
“Okay, I gave it a shot. A ton of my time, energy and devotion went into this thing but the time has come to give up the good fight. I’ve been here before and I know how this works. It’s gonna hurt for a while, I’ll spend some time alone, licking my wounds; I will cry and scream and kick my dog until I rally, getting back on my feet…and then I will transfer all my contacts and info into a new phone and try to get on with my life.

I’m thinking it depends on the clarity of the ending. Some are clear-cut, easy to see; while others are ambiguous, shrouded in doubt.

Maybe you’re more like me — somewhere in the middle? Even occasionally ambivalent?

Don’t get me wrong, I can come unhinged, feeling completely abandoned when the book that I love or the TV series that makes me laugh out loud ends. When I see one lost glove I actively mourn their mate. So there’s that…

It gets worse.

I had a pair of huge, overstuffed down pillows that cost me more than I made in a month — for twenty years! I purchased them in Austria on vacation (naturally, I would have NEVER spent that on pillows at home — I didn’t even need pillows, I was pillow shamed by the rosy-cheeked Austrian goose down pillow lady in Salzburg) and then I lugged them all over Europe with me like a high-end, dough-boy gypsy — for three weeks.

Train stations, airplanes, restaurants, if I was on the move, they were with me. Why I didn’t ship them home I’ll never know.

Dammit I loved those guys.
Recently I made the long overdue decision to toss them. They were stained, lumpy and I’m sure mite infested. It took me FOREVER to make the decision, after all, we had been through so much together. I could only part with one at a time. It took me fifteen minutes to get up the strength to lower it into the disgusting black trash can on the morning of pick-up. Tears filled my eyes when it came time to do the same with the second one. I told my husband, late that night that I felt bad because it was so cold outside.

He just snarfed, he doesn’t understand when I give emotions to inanimate objects.

Remember when I couldn’t part with our ridiculously expensive sheets? (which I’ll have you know were also a vacation purchase).
http://www.theobserversvoice.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=4471&action=edit

Yet I’ve been known to walk away from commitments and projects, friendships that I deemed toxic, and even some romantic relationships — and never look back.

Ice queen or pragmatist?

I’m not sure which response is better so therefore I’ve come to the obvious realization that I suck at processing loss.

I am the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of endings.

Some things I am able to love and lose without much heartache at all, others gut me. I walked around in a marshmallow head stupor for five years after a bad break-up.

I’m either in tears about parting with a favorite sweater that is riddled with moth holes; unable to cope with decisions regarding my long dead business; or on the other hand throwing away mementos and keepsakes, photos, art projects and drawings from times gone by like a cold-hearted pirate separating his booty.

All this to say, I may not know shit from shinola but I do know this:
Death is sad;
friends come and go;
break-ups hurt;
gloves are made to be in pairs;
failure is inevitable;
And all loses are not created equal.

So, I’m in a quandary you guys and I’d love to know…

Which one are you? The sentimental saver, big-hearted devotee of all things you’ve loved? Or the cold, hard, rational pragmatist who understands loss and is able to move on unencumbered.

Or are you both and it depends on the loss?

Carry on,
xox

(This was taken during my five,eleven, fifteen-year “awkward phase” —you can see she had her work cut out for her).

I was reminded recently, as I continue my snarky, sweaty slog through my fifties, that I’ve done so without the guidance or fair warning of my mother. In all fairness she was too busy; engaged in the parental heavy-lifting of getting the three of us into adulthood, that it never occurred to her to share these pearls of wisdom.

So I’ll do you all the favor of pulling back the curtain, exposing all the hidden truths (in no particular order), of life in middle age.

1.) Invest in a good bra, and for godssakes if you have anything over a D cup, don’t jog. It is for that reason alone that I have to tell the girl at Nordstrom that I wear a 36 long.

2.) Carry an across-the-shoulder messenger bag and keep the weight below thirty-five pounds. Yes, you heard me. I have a divot in my shoulder and the posture of a Sherpa from carrying a bag that has been way too heavy for over forty years.

Oh, and ladies—after you stop menstruating, you can toss all the tampons. I’m giving you the all clear. I put them in my time capsule along with my Midol, my flat stomach, my perky tits, and my happy-go-lucky disposition.

It’s okay—give up the fight.

3.) If someone says they’re sorry — forgive them. You may never talk to them again, or wish them well, but the forgiveness will set you free.

4.) Make eye contact and remember people’s names, My trick? I repeat it back to them and use a rhyming game (in my head, not to their face).
Along those lines—Listen without interrupting, ask people questions about themselves and always introduce yourself and anyone standing with you.

These are the Golden Rules of any dinner party, staff meeting, black tie event or ladies restroom line — really, any social situation you may find yourself in.

5.) Use those dental-pick-thingies every night. I brush and floss like a maniac and yet I still manage to pull an entire steak dinner out from between my teeth with those things!

6.) Listen to advice but only from the smart people — Never the stupid ones. Pay attention. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

7.) Word to the wise. You can forget about those mustache and chin hairs.
After forty, pubic hair will lose its genetic coding and start migrating around your body.
It will crawl up your stomach and onto the back of your legs if you let it. I tried to wrangle mine, to fill in my over-tweezed eyebrows (a seventies fad that went horribly wrong), but to no avail.
I did find one on my arm last week. Consider yourselves warned.

8.) Men stay boys all their lives. This needs no explanation.

9.) Stay curious. About people, life and the planet. It will help to demystify every seemingly mundane, stupid thing that surrounds you.

10.) Beach hair only looks good on twenty-three year old models named Tia. The same goes for a navel piercing. Trust me on this.

11.) This is a big one. A lie is someone’s imagination working against them. Remember that.

12.) Always carry matches or a lighter. And lipstick. Always carry lipstick.

13.) You will never use calculus beyond college—but good table manners, clean fingernails and comfortable shoes will carry you far in life.

14.) Carrying (and reading) an interesting book will be an amazingly effective airplane conversation starter—and the perfect companion when dining alone.

15.) Be polite and try every food that is offered to you, (which means eat a bull testicle even if you’re a vegetarian). It will broaden your horizons in unimaginable ways and make you a sought after dinner guest.

16.) Self-tanner is a catastrophe-in-a-can waiting to happen. Make peace with your paleness. End of story.

17.) Know that your looks will fade and reconcile yourself with that. Your neck will waddle, the hair on your head will thin, and your breasts will sag. If you decide to take matters into your own hands, make sure your surgeon has a light touch.

You still want to look like you — only rested.

19.) Pay attention to your feet. They will start to fight back after fifty. All the years of squeezing them into severely pointed, one size too small, five-inch heels have made them…cranky.
Can you blame them?

20.) Take the effort to make a good first impression — you may never get a second chance.

And last but not least—reinvent. Don’t rest on you laurels, don’t question your intuition, and don’t tell yourself you’re too old, too fat, or too busy to reassess your situation and reinvent yourself.

Now pay this forward and don’t say I never gave you anything.

Carry on,
xox