Because I haven’t thought this through all the way and I am currently operating on “holy shit, that’s kinda cool” right this second, I am just going start with a timeline of my morning and see where it goes.

0245 – My eyes popped open and I realize I am about three fucked up thoughts away from a full blown panic attack. I have done really well over the years managing them so I am pretty sure getting out of bed and starting my day is the best way to go. It’s early, but not so early.

0300 – Coffee is done and I start with some busy work to kinda feel myself out. If you have ever experienced some reluctant muscles, joints, or ligaments first thing in the morning, this is the mental version of those few stretches and steps when you get out of bed. Give the brain easy, but meaningful, tasks so that the more complicated thoughts, if there are any, can kind of flush themselves out.

0400 – I am two loads of laundry, a handful of emails, one sleepy child and one sleepy man put back to bed, dog poop cleaned up, and an organized computer desktop in. I know what’s bothering me and it is still nothing I want to address. It’s time to write and I know that will help. But I really don’t want to. I just can’t get there yet. So, more busy work.

0445 – I have organized four ongoing writing projects and I am feeling pretty good about getting to my own shit. I pull out my calendar and realize I have not looked at October birthdays at all. What a great procrastination task (judge, I don’t care. There’s some real transparency right there. I coulda lied). I log into Facebook and get immediately distracted by the “On this Day” link (it really is my favorite Facebook feature).

There are the normal whatevers. There also happens to be this quote by John Smoltz that I shared in 2013

In truth, my answer to all these questions is the same, and it’s far simpler than many believe: Why Not?

Why not do what you love for as long as you are physically able? Why not take risks, as long as they are calculated? Why not chase what some see as impossible? Why not believe in yourself? Why not dare to be great…even if it means being different?

Why not?

Then there was a link to this TAT I wrote in 2010 which started with a great truism by Rocky (there are many) and concluded with me saying

Today I encourage you to consider something you already know. Know what you are worth. Move forward and get what you are worth. If it were easy, everybody would do it. It’s not, but it is worth it, and moreover, it is possible. Life is. Challenges are. Struggles are. It cannot be overstated that it is what we do after that matters. There aren’t enough fingers to point, blame to place, or pity parties to have that will change the effectiveness of good, old fashioned, sleeve rolling. We can do this. I can do this. And oh the stories we will tell…

And then I had the “holy shit, isn’t that kinda cool” moment. Isn’t it kinda cool that on a morning when I am feeling a little scared because I am still not quite confident in, well, every-fucking-thing, that I shared a quote that has one of the best questions of all time, “why not?”

And when my brain answers the question with bullshit like

• because I’m scared
• I’m not good enough
• I’ll be a disappointment
• oh the judgement
• when I fail
• I lose the love of people around me

I am quickly reprimanded by my 34 year old self. Yes, I did have a brief moment of “what the hell does a 34 year old know” but that was just deflection. I know some pretty smart 30ish folks. And, if I do say so myself, I was pretty smart then too.

0526 – I am a pot of coffee down. I am still scared. I am still worried. I am still feeling less than confident about, well, still every-fucking-thing. But I am no longer knocking on the door of a panic attack. I know the people that love me. I am working on knowing my worth. I am encouraged again that writing is so good for the soul both in the now and in the future. I am reminded of the value of words, vulnerability, and their relation to each other. I am thankful for the loves in my life and have already made time for the nap I will need later.

0552 – I have proofread and double checked. I have found the TAT that later came out of the John Smoltz quote. I am about to hit publish. I realize I still have to process the thing that woke me up in the first place. I realize that’s vague, but whatever. I have realized that folks will criticize for being too open, folks will criticize for being too guarded, that those folks are often the same damn people. I also realize that I am getting off topic because I am looking for a bow. A bow, that we have already determined, I don’t always need.

#nobow

I have one of the neatest planners on the planet. Seriously, I really love the idea of it. When I bought it late last year, it was one of the things I was most excited about bringing into 2017. My bestie was getting one too. Could that be any more of a sign?

The planner has all of the cool things. And I don’t mean generally cool. I mean I specifically think they are cool and the ideas resonate with me. First, it is called “The Passion Planner.” Sexy, I know. It is designed around encouraging the user to define their passion and creating a life plan that fits. There is a focus on priority, reflections, and intention. There is even a blank space for every week called the “Space of Infinite Possibility.” Seriously. Cool right?

As we reach the end of September, I am going to go ahead and call it. I did not live up to this planner’s expectations. I am certain it feels neglected and wasted. This poor planner was probably hanging out with all of his planner buddy friends back on the assembly line totally stoked about the neat 2017 he was going to have partnering with an enlightened and driven individual facilitating passionate stuff. Instead, he got me. Bummer little planner dude and I am sorry.

But, I am determined to not make this poor little planners dreams suffer on the alter of despair without attempting to salvage his dignity. See, as cliche as it might sound, it really isn’t him – it’s me. This great little planner has fallen victim to what so many other qualified ideas have succumbed to in my brain…overwhelming oughts.

I am completely fucking overwhelmed with “oughts.” I am not even going to waste the word space to explain that. I ought to, but I am thinking you get the concept. This planner has been neglected enough and I am really going to attempt to keep the focus there.

This planner really never stood a chance. I expected it to be all the things I needed a planner to be for me all by its little self. My expectations were set so high and unrealistically that there was no possibility of success. But I ought to have been able to make it work. I ought to have been able to use it as prescribed. I mean, so much thought and effort went into its design, I ought to be able to passionately utilize this planner.

But I didn’t. I felt overwhelmed by the expectation of it all. The commitment to analyzing all of my perceived failures, my shortcomings, my not quiet good enoughs. The interesting things is however, that this cute little planner asks for none of those things. What I ought to do is ease the fuck up a little bit.

What I also ought to do is work within my truth. And the truth is I can do one thing right this minute. And, in the next minute, another thing, another thing the next. And that is. All. I. Can. Do. And…that is everything.

And the thing that I do in this second is my thing. I get it – this awesome little planner dude was created by some really great people with a really great idea. And, it is a really great idea for me. But simply because I need more, doesn’t make me less. I am not capable of functioning inside this beautifully mapped out system. That does not make me anything other than me. This fucking planner did not show up on my doorstep attempting to make me feel less than, incapable, too much, extra, petty, indulgent, under performing, lazy, overly ambitions, or like a fucking serial killer. It. Is. Just. A. Planner. A planner with higher aspirations, no doubt, but still just a planner. All of that nonsense that I felt – I did that. And it feels a little ridiculous if I am being honest.

Here’s the truth about planning and scheduling and general life for me. I am easily overwhelmed. For a long time I thought that was a weakness on my part. An inability to handle all the big things of life. Proof that I would never really amount to a whole lot of anything. So why plan? There’s all these things I fill my day with that I really don’t like and there’s not a whole lot in there that I do, so why plan? Because I can’t stay focused, get sidetracked by anxiety, distracted by feel good time wasters, because I can’t responsibly put those kinds of things into my day, why attempt to schedule a day at all? If I am just going to fail to plan or fail to execute the plan, why write it down as a glaring reminder in black and white about my abject failure as a person?

Being easily overwhelmed is not a weakness. It is an indicator. (Side note | That is something I have been saying to myself concerning a multitude of things for quite a while. I need to address it more fully at a later time.) Being overwhelmed is an indicator, at least right this second, of asinine expectations. I expect myself to perform a certain way. While there is nothing wrong with having expectations of ones performance, inflicting unrealistic or unfulfilling expectations on oneself created from bullshit oughts is self abuse. I am not overwhelmed. I am put upon and disgusted. What’s worse, I’ve done it to myself.

So many apologies Disappointed Planner Dude. It took me a hella long time to figure out it was not you and it was not me – it was those fucking oughts, again. One day I am going to get smart enough to start looking at those first instead of taking the long way around to the same damn obvious answer. But today, I am going to start redeeming you and me. I am getting you a little bit of help. I am cutting me a little bit of slack. And I am making a plan 🙂

To say that the last year has been a life changer would be an understatement. So much so that I reserve the right to say that at least 365 more times in a variety of different ways in a variety of different mediums.

Sitting here contemplating the events of the last 366 days, it is not lost on me the similarities they have with a social media post gone sideways. It started out normal enough. Then that one comment happens that ignites all of the lurking underbrush below. Escalation occurs quickly. There is a ton of activity from a plethora of different voices – some informed, most stirring the pot. The original poster is faced with the dilemma at hand. Delete the post? Remove some of the worst bullshit offenders? Scorch the thread with excited rhetoric of their own?  Sit silently and watch it unfold? Laugh, cry, rage, pray, question…when the conversation goes out of control, what is one to do?

This was the last six month of my year. Escalation, rumor, truth, fiction, acceptance, denial, and a whole lot of change. Some would argue that pumping the brakes would have been a better, more responsible thing to do. Some may also hold that so much big change in such a short period of time is a recipe for disaster. However, I have also noticed that those same “some” have a whole lot of strong opinions that they feel comfortable voicing as fact concerning very real circumstances of which they know nothing about. Moreover, they KNOW they know nothing. They have lived their life. They understand the types of relationships that they have engaged in – who they have a close relationship and who they do not. To put it bluntly, they know how many times they have been in my home, how many times they have not had conversations, the level of interaction they didn’t have.  Some of the closest people to me had no idea what was happening in my house. Intellectual honesty requires that you admit you are talking out of your ass when you attempt to make statements about my life.

However, if the last year taught us anything it is that a good many people have zero problem with talking out of their mostly uninformed ass. There is no shelter from it. On the grid, in the park, at the coffee shops, sitting in the pews – the legion of ass noise is everywhere. I have often attempted to contemplate the reason for the seemingly epidemic proportions of people who grow more and more comfortable making declarative, passionate statements riddled with obvious ridiculousness and no authority. I think people are bored. They are over stimulated and under utilized. There is a whole thought process behind that thought but that’s a conversation for another day. The important idea for our purposes is this – regardless of the reason, the outcome is the same and my control over the idiocy has always been and remains exactly zero.

At first, this idea jacked me up. No control. No control. There was all this inaccurate, hateful, bullshit being spewed by a collective that should, in fact, know better. A collective that would not tolerate for two seconds their behavior had it been a tactic I chose to employ; I could do nothing. I tried to convince myself that there was something I could do. I had the right to defend myself after all. I had an obligation as a strong woman to set the record straight. Right?

Sure I did. And had I done all of that there would have been a strong case to be made in my right to do so. But the truth of the matter is that there was nothing I could do or can do now to effectuate change on the opinion of others who have obviously decided that progress is not the goal. The goal in this case was complete assassination regardless of truth. The high was in the nasty, the drama, the vileness. That was the end game. Not healing, not support, not honest, not truth. The hunt was on for unadulterated indignation at any cost because the rage felt good. You can’t reason with people like that. There is no record to set straight and there is nothing to defend because although I was the scapegoat, it really had nothing to do with me at all.

After some great support from some folks with cooler heads than mine, I found the trick in the journey. I was having such a hard time walking along in my route because I was trying to stay on their roads. In entertaining their thoughts, ideas, and judgement, I had deviated from my path and was failing at trying to walk along on each of theirs. Have you ever attempted to take multiple routes in a single space of time? Yeah, it sucks as bad as it sounds.

But we are routinely guilty of falling into that trap. We succumb to the onslaught of judgement and self doubt and the nagging idea that an outsider’s opinion on our own personal journey is more important, more valid, more acceptable than our own. So we straddle paths and are left with little more than blisters on our feet.

I still find myself wandering into the winding trails of others, but it is happening less often and I catch it before a whole lot of backtrack is required. This shrugging off the judgement and condemnation of others has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It takes a bravery I didn’t realize I had. It takes the sense of humor I knew I had but pondered whether it was appropriate (spoiler alert – it is!) It takes a grace that expands from the empathy I feel for others, to realizing that it is completely appropriate to offer that kindness to myself. It takes time. It takes the willingness to own what is your own bullshit while still refusing to believe that means you deserve the extra that is heaped upon you by others. I have enough real shit that I actually have to account for to worry about imaginary wrongs that have been created for the perverse enjoyment of others. No control. Only courage, humor, and grace.

Oh, and love. Always love.

I have spent a wonderful weekend doing some pretty great self work. It helps when you are loved in a way that allows you to love yourself…when you feel so confident in the love of another you allow yourself to begin to fully love yourself. And I already know there are a few eyerolls going on at that statement right now. It’s fine. I get it. I understand that you are supposed to love yourself for yourself. I get all the self help ideas that say we must get right with ourselves before someone else can get right with us. I already know there is the whole “do not place your worth in the hands of someone else” camp. If that works for you, great. Rock on.

That’s not the place I found myself in.

I found myself in a place where all I was able to consider was what I was in regards to others. I found myself in a position where I had allowed the needs and wants of others to determine what my needs and wants were. This was no one’s fault but mine. I made life choices that put me in a situation where I had already established that the person I thought I was, the life I thought I was going to have was not going to happen. Therefore, the best I could do with what I had was to make a life where those around me were as happy to have me as possible. This meant changing to suit them.

I did well for a while. But there is something really funny about the truth. It often refuses to stay suppressed. It needs to be known. And that is exponentially more accurate when the truth being discussed is your personal truth. However, when that truth has been neglected and modified for as long as mine had, when it came time to work that out, I wasn’t sure what was truth or rubble from the remodeling demo. And working through that shit is scary. Fear is a mother fucker. It is much easier when it is supported by a love unconditional. Moreover, unconditional and strong enough to shore up my soft spots until I become strong myself.

And that is where I found myself.

For a brief period of time I employed the “I don’t give a fuck what other people think” mentality. That didn’t last long. It isn’t my truth. The truth is I care an awful lot about what people think. Working through that has been a fairly painful journey.

I worried that people would think I was less than. That they would look at all the life changes I made and make assumptions based on half truths and limited knowledge. They wouldn’t like me. They would think me horrible. And that hurt me because, while I am not perfect and I make less than perfect decisions, I am, at my core, a good person. I said fuck it, let them think what they want. And then people began to remove themselves from my life. People who should know me better. People who I thought I had created enough of an emotional bond with that I would at least get the benefit of a conversation before they just cut me out. People who would have been devastated had they been treated that way…but don’t think twice about treating me that way.

Caring what those people think is toxic. It’s that situation that causes people to bumper sticker the idea that you just can’t care what others think. And I get that.

So I don’t care what anyone thinks. Except behaving this way will hurt those that actually care about you. I care what my person thinks. She is always there for me. It’s important to me to consider her feelings. I care what my life givers think. They are my biggest supporters. Through everything my folks have always had my back, given me a safe haven been there for me. They may not agree with all of my choices, but their feelings about me are important.  I care what my children think about me. Granted they are still young and cannot fully understand or be clued in on everything, but insomuch that they are, I want them to see a good example, to see someone who loves them, and cares about their hearts. I care what he thinks about me. He is my soul tie and he sees the best version of me all the time. How could I not care about what he thinks?

Caring about what those people think is not toxic. It constantly makes me a better person. It creates a confidence to be myself truly. It gives me a reason bigger than myself to be the best version of myself.

I do care what people think about me when those thoughts are rooted in a sincere concern for me and my person.

I do not care what people think about me when those thoughts are rooted in that person’s self interest.

There’s more in that. It can’t just be about granting weight to who’s opinions about me hold weight. It is also a lesson in how I need to treat others. I am coming to honest terms with myself about my own selfishness. Or as honest as I can be about such a personal topic. Identifying selfishness in ones self is a tough journey – at least it is for me. If I expect others to hold opinions about me either coming from a place of my best interest or not at all, then I must be more aware of my motives in my own opinions about others.

At the end of the day it is still more evidence supporting my thought that love wins. Every time.

Unless you have been hanging out in Siberia (and maybe not even there), Pokemon Go has come into your field of vision. To say that it has been popular is an understatement. Since it’s July 6th release, the augmented reality game has boosted Nintendo’s shares by over 50% with $9 BILLION boost in value – in about a week. Reports show that hunting little Picachu is more popular right now than Tinder and Twitter. It would appear that catching them all is more important than trolling and sex. Who knew?

I was born in 1976 – I am not the target Pokemon demographic. However, when my two older (read “love the wifi”) children and their friends (read “also love the wifi”) asked if they could borrow a cooler to pack drinks and snacks because they had plans to spend the entire day walking around outside in downtown Savannah (GTFOH!), I became curious. I downloaded the app, and while it isn’t my thing, I can definitely see the appeal.

I caught my first Pokemon and texted the screenshot to my daughter. I was an instant rockstar. She wanted to text, talk, and damn near sit in my lap when she saw me. I’ve since deleted the app (like I said, not my thing) and she still loves me. She’s a little disappointed, but she has assured me that her love is unconditional and she is sure we can get over this little hiccup in our relationship. After all, I did birth her and she is responsible for my very first stretch marks so that has to count for something, right?

Evidently I was not the only parent experiencing this phenomenon of sunshine deprived couch children suddenly emerging from the basements and bonus rooms equipped with long distance hiking travel supplies.

Suddenly, there were people…everywhere. Walking around, exploring new places, talking to each other, interacting…everywhere.

And it took exactly from Saturday to Tuesday for the bubble poppers to show up in my social media sphere.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not talking about the funny meme folks. I am not a humorless twit. Some stuff, while snarky, is funny.

I am talking about the assholes. The ones who don’t play, don’t care, don’t know, don’t have any skin in the game at all – except when it comes to popping your bubbles.

Bubble poppers have come into my field of vision lately. I can’t quite put my finger on how the idea gained solidarity in my brain, but it’s there. I have vague recollections of watching children blow bubbles, having that create immense happiness, watching a bubble pop, and the look changing from delight to crestfallen.

Something about that recollection at some point was triggered when I experienced this played out in real life. I can’t remember when or how. I can’t even tell you if it was me.

But I can tell you I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, and, admittedly, I have been guilty of doing it.

Bubble popping – that moment when a thing is bringing you utter joy and someone decides to just stick a finger in it and deflate the whole experience.

Understandably, in the real world, there are some ideas and situations that need to be attended to. Not all happys are healthy and sometimes you need a little poke of reality in the midst of the joy. Admittedly there are real issues with Pokemon Go frenzy. Safety needs to be discussed. Personal space needs to be remembered. Respect for where you are and the people around you does not take a back seat catching them all.

But haphazard bubble popping is a bullshit move.

However, I am adult enough to know that this phenomenon is not going away. Bubble poppers either don’t know or don’t care that they are being assholes. Or maybe popping bubbles is their bubble and this will pop their bubble. I dunno. And frankly, I’ve decided I don’t care.

What I do care about is learning to better protect my bubble.

#nobow

Tennessee Williams Quote