Abundance

My word for this coming year.

It inspires me. That's important. I don't want to pick a direction that isn't rich with meaning and excitement or that doesn't provoke action. I don't want a word that I will dread like a chore, like a "should," like a burden. I pick words that I can live with and explore and that will help me to grow.  Never pick a word that represents a negative, an absence or a removal. Don't leave holes. Don't try to build from a place of regret. Won't work. Focus on a negative and what do you get? That's right, more negative.

Abundance is something I can almost taste. I'm super excited about this. And I just spent 9 days with my parents in my house, who do not live in abundance, never really have, and it brings it into such focus for me, the importance of abundance as part of my bloom quest. I love that I can share my vision with my life partner and he instantly gets it. Loves it for me. Says, "That is perfect for you." I can't share it with my parents, those who raised me from a child and know my history but do not know me as a person. They will not understand it. It will fall flat in front of them.

My abundance will open my heart, my eyes, my trust, my acceptance. I will live in abundance, create abundance, and inspire abundance. It will help me to crowd fear into a corner. To recognize worry as unproductive and abandon it for possibility. To push farther, trusting that there is enough on the other side to carry me through. That I can create enough. That I am enough.

I will set a goal for each month, a measure of abundance, to create a 20:20 on 2019 that will blow my mind, it will be so rich and full of living and giving.

Gluttony

Time to fast, cleanse, clear out and make space.

Tomorrow is the last day of the year, and I am feeling crowded. Not just in my gut (oh my gosh so much food), but in the spaces all around me. Too much stuff. Too many tasks. Crowded. Over stuffed.

My kids' rooms need a good de-clutter to make room for the new goodies they got for Christmas. The pantry needs a total reorg. And I am feeling a strong urge to clear out cabinets, shelves, closets and drawers...as part of a refresh. Prepping for a fresh new year. Simplifying. Making room for possibility, for movement, for the beauty of just having space - not to fill it, but to feel it.

Feeling very gluttonous after this week -- shopping, cooking, baking, eating, filling trash bins with garbage. Ugh. Glad for a ceremonial end of the year -- I'm going to have a cleansing fire ritual with my kids tomorrow.

Let's refresh.

Juried Application?

It was suggested to me this evening, by an artist I tremendously respect, that I apply for membership in the McGuffey Art Center, which would involve a juried assessment of my artwork by all existing members of the Center.

OMG.

This idea makes me sparkle on the inside. I'm a glowy bulb of excitement and anxiety and what-ifs.

Is this my next challenge?  I need one -- to spark my painting. What would my submitted collection look like? Would I get all the portraits back and show them? Would I make more portraits? Of maybe famous people? Recognizable people? Local celebrities? Would I play around with landscapes? Abstracts? Blossoms ala Blandino?

The next application round is in January. Too soon. But May is possible. What could I accomplish by May? What would I learn being part of an actual Art Society???!!!

OMG OMG OMG

This is going to keep me up tonight.

20:20 on 2018

January:  Job hunting, Volunteering, Networking

February: Trip to Connecticut, Laurie Visit, Job Hunting, Old Rag Mountain

March: Job hunting, UX project, Yoga workshops, and birthday #45

April: Carmelo Blandino, Anniversary #18, Job Hunting, Auction Gala

May: Virginia Beach Girl Trip, Job Hunting, Networking

June: Interviews, Consulting Project, OBX Week

July: Swim Team, Job Hunting, Interview in Chicago

August: Launch Shine, Start Public School, Painting

September: Networking, IN Board, WildRock Project, First Shine Project

October: Second Shine Project, Ring, Festy, Birthday #5 Extravaganza, PackExpo

November: Portrait Showcase, UVA, Spill Teem, Friendsgiving

December: Gap International, Laurie Visit, E Birthday #9, Third Shine Project, Christmas

Crazy to view it as a snapshot. As I review it, I have an overwhelming feeling that I could have done so much more with my time...and yet, there's some pretty intense stuff in there. It was a year of spinning, of exploring, of learning and failing and trying again...An amazing year connecting with my kids, taking them on outings and doing projects together, throwing them special celebrations that I hope they will remember as full of intention and love. A year of reconnecting with my main squeeze, my life partner; remembering all the reasons we like each other so much, and falling deeper in love as only seasoned married people can, reacher deeper into a relationship than a newlywed couple could ever imagine possible.  Finding parts of myself again. Building new parts of myself that I am proud of. And creating a wide range of possibility for 2019.

It looks a bit like a year of Blooming. I want to celebrate that.

Day Tripping

Lived in Memphis for almost 20 years and didn't ever really venture out to adventure -- it seemed so land-locked. Nashville was only 3.5 hours away, but we didn't really head there much.  Everything else was a day's drive.  So when we moved, I made a deliberate effort to write down all the places and things that we heard were fun to do, cool to see, and great to eat at.  We filled a wall with post-it notes, creating one column for "DO" and one for "DID."

It was super easy to glance at the Do list and make an itinerary for the weekend. We did all the things -- and there are so many that are just 1 hour away that we could knock them out no problem. Great memories of hiking, playing, and favorite places that have become frequent haunts.

Yesterday was an epic check-the-box day -- we headed off to Snowshoe Mountain and skied for 5 hours, then drove back home again. Just me and my man. It was awesome. I keep pinching myself that we can drive along these amazing mountain roads, with these incredible vistas, just a short way from home. Jaw-dropping beautiful.

Making the time, carving out a day, to create an experience that feeds a relationship, a couple of souls, takes planning (or maybe, as in our case, a balance of planning and spontaneity) but we won't hesitate to hit the launch button next time the chance comes.

Stories Worth Telling

When I was in high school and especially college, I was painfully aware of my lack of stories. I didn't have any cool stories of misadventure or daring or mystery. And I wanted them, desperately.

So I started building my stories. And no, they weren't really that edgy (I'm far too midwestern to join in on the naked stranger cliff diving outside Sedona or the beach-side hippie orgy in Big Sur - I was just happy to have been invited), but they were mine and I was in build mode.  I look back and think, not bad. Tried some stuff (jumped out of an airplane), did some things (took a global job and traveled to Europe and Asia), and I'm super happy with my domesticated life - I don't mope past windows yearning for a life I somehow feel I missed out on or am being held back from.

But.

I want to use up this life with experiences, with learning, with experiments and adventures. In 2019 I want to create a story that will stay with me the rest of my life. I want to do something daring and maybe a little crazy. I want to stretch and risk. I'm opening this door in my mind, and I KNOW that means something will come strutting through. It always does when I crack it open. I will turn 46 in 2019. Before I turn 50 I want to set the stage for a life of adventures, of great tales to tell. I want to make stories my new habit. Staying organized feels good, but it's BORING.

I don't want boring.

Gifts

Does anything feel better than giving a gift that you KNOW is dead perfect for someone and you see them light up when they recognize it for the ultra personal and loving gesture that it is?

In that same space, it feels amazing to be on the receiving end of a gift given with a true view to who you are. It feels incredibly anchoring; gives a sense of belonging. Of being seen. Of being cared for.

And what about small gestures? Those caring, simple but deliberate gestures that let you know somebody notices and cares enough to make an extra effort to help you, to serve you, to comfort you.

Also on the spectrum of giving are acts of random kindness. Random kindness doesn't require in depth understanding of the stranger you're reaching out to. It just requires contextual insight, letting the person know that you see them, you see them as community, you care enough to lean on that community and create stronger connection.

It all builds abundance. A sense of flowing generosity. The more I give, the more I want to give.

I want to create this every day.

Anticipation

I love the day before.  Before an important event, a big holiday like Christmas, the arrival of a loved one. That feeling must be a very human feeling. Our brains know what's coming, but it isn't cerebral - it's an all over feeling. Can take over. Wash over. Even overwhelm.

I love the build before Christmas, always have. And now that I have young children who eagerly anticipate the magic of Christmas morning, I'm full-on emotional investment in getting the magic in full swing.

I almost love the day before more than the actual day -- there's something so intensified and rich and electric about the day before. And the day of, while joyful, feels a bit like sand slipping through an hour glass, bittersweet.

Must be wisdom that comes with age...that comes with years of experiencing the cycle of anticipation and watching how quickly the days slide past. Wanting to slow it down. Dragging fingers over every soft moment.

Wow, This Feels Great

The eve before Christmas Eve, and my typical scenario is a mad-rush list of groceries, cooking, shopping, wrapping, cleaning and crazy all crammed into a few hours that are meant to be reflective and restorative.  This year, thanks to a flex schedule and a lack of actual paid work time, I am completely on top of things.

Tomorrow, I get to drink coffee leisurely, run a couple minor errands to add the finishing touch on a couple recipes, and enjoy a glass of wine while I cook up some yummy meals for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas morning breakfast.

That sounds like absolute heaven.

I'm marinating in gratitude for this amazing, unique time. I'm here, in my cozy home, with my healthy family resting peacefully, and all my tasks done that will help to foster the happy festivities that I love so much. Yeah, the money stuff scares me. Racking up some debt that the first few billable months will go toward paying off. But it's going to be okay. These memories are INCREDIBLE and I am not rushing through them trying to work full time and travel globally for a company that doesn't value me, while juggling sick children and meals and the house and two elderly dogs and a needy puppy all while neglecting my husband.

When have I ever had this much time to focus on domestic stuff? My own stuff? Not since I was in college! And I was lost in possibility then, rolling around aimlessly and feeling the anxiety of an undefined future. Now, I have a list a mile long of great things I want to do, and a family to do them for and with.

I am bursting at the seams. I am drenched in amazing gifts. Thank you Thank you Thank you for this special time. Tomorrow is a gift that I intend to sip one drop at a time, savoring every bright moment.

Prepping for Kindness

My parents arrive for the holiday tomorrow. We're all very excited to have them join us, and join in the celebration of Christmas. It wouldn't feel like Christmas without them.

And yet.

There's some pre-game warmups that I am requiring of myself. Because....I have a bad track record. For whatever reason, I get partway into visits with my parents (starts early on Day 3) and my manners start eroding. Tag calls them trip wires. We can't see them, but they're sure as hell there, because I stumble into them. Every. Single. Time.

Why is this???? My absolute intention is to have a great visit. To enjoy the time. To be patient, to be loving, to be a happy hostess. But now I've become gun-shy because I can't seem to avoid the triggers. What are they even? In the Princess Bride, they stumbled on the 3 curses of the Fire Swamp and figured out how to avoid them. What is the popping sound preceding my triggers that I can look for, giving me a chance to remember my mantra [I am loving, calm and relaxed] BEFORE things fall part?  I need a clue.

Gratitude is clearly a strong weapon here. Filled with gratitude, it will be hard for the triggers to break through my happy, gratitude-rich shield. There's plenty to be grateful for - they're my parents for goodness sake. But on Day 3, I need backup.

Leaving the past in the past, and whatever might be lurking in my memory to draw out such poor behavior, such angry feelings toward the aging, eager parents who raised me and are now attentive grandparents, this is something I'm not sure how to do. Because it's nameless, the anger - I don't know what's triggering it. What it's about. How to describe it. So ironically, this stuff I can't name is the stuff that's getting in the way.

I will need an arsenal. Gratitude is the front line. Breathe brings up the rear. And hopefully, God willing, I will be joined on my right and left flank by gentle awareness and forgiveness of whatever starts to charge the field and challenge my peaceful, loving ability to make my parents, my guests, my family, feel welcome and content.

Game on.

12 page menu

I hate these. Hard enough to sort out what to order, especially when I arrive at a restaurant STARVING. A good restaurant will pare down the options, because they want to be exceptional at those few items they offer.

I'm feeling like a 12 page menu these days. I have trouble paring down to those select few things that I want to be exceptional at. In my consultancy, what is the key service that I want to offer? What is my main focus? What is my mission and purpose, guiding my work and helping clients get behind what I do? I can't even explain it well to people. This is extremely frustrating, because I don't want to pick the "wrong" thing and then miss out on opportunities that I could very well tackle.

This is not abundance thinking. It's fear-based, that if I pick the wrong things to focus on, there won't be enough opportunity to keep my consultancy going. And that will affect my family and the lifestyle goals that we have. Aaaach!!

My big problem is a lack of authenticity. This work is "should" stuff. Stuff I know from my professional experience. Stuff I'm good at because I've done it for so long.  But it isn't the stuff I would chose to do if I could choose anything. Isn't that the way it is with all of us, though? Isn't that why there are "I'd rather be fishing" bumper stickers?

I want to line up my passion with my consulting, so it all becomes clear. A polarizing lens on this 12 page menu to blur out the stuff that isn't compelling and pull into focus those few bits that I can really grow into a strong offering. My gut will have to be the guide here, because clearly I can't trust my head to sort through all these options. Might as well send me to a Cheesecake Factory while my blood sugar is plummeting.

To Write a Book...

...first you have to start.

This is on my bucket list - publishing a book - and I want it to be on the short list.

I met up with an author acquaintance of mine at a holiday party, and she gave me simple, practical advise: keep a file, and whenever you think of something (a quote, a moment, an idea) related to your book topic, just jot it down and put it in the file.

Brilliant. Break it down into small bits. I can do this. And I will start immediately.

I am going to write a book this coming year. At least the skeleton of a book that I can build on and turn into something I'm proud of. I've always felt like an author, and I every time I wander the shelves of a bookstore I think, "Man, these guys all just decided to write books! They didn't say, oh, there are so many books already...They knew the world needed more books!"  My voice will be among them.

This is 45

I love #thisis45 as a hashtag. Like a "dig this" badge you can stick on anything you like.

Brené says we're unraveling in midlife. Unraveling to rebuild. I can see that, feel that. I know my 20's were a mess of figuring out the whole adulting thing through a series of high risk experiments. My 30's were when I finally got traction and carved out a direction for myself. And my 40's are full of reassessment and reflection, deciding what works for me, and what doesn't. And not caring much about the stuff that used to have me so self-conscious. It's nice. I like that freedom.

Something I wish I could have helped myself with was being able to laugh a bit at myself. But that takes a level of comfort in my skin that I just didn't have when I was younger. I avoided situations that might showcase my awkwardness, my lack of athleticism. When I said the wrong thing, I flushed red hot. When I got caught in a situation where I felt foolish, I would lash out, or worse, fall apart in embarrassed, mortified tears. Cowardly behavior. And so painful.

I love my mantra [I am loving, calm and relaxed] because I think it helps me get over the dumb stuff I might say or do. That stuff hasn't changed (still awkward and say wrong things all the time), but the way I feel about it and react is getting much better. Easier. Less concerned. I can actually laugh at myself when others are laughing, or even when they're not. How great is that?

I'm no confidence queen, but I don't have the same expectations of perfection in myself that I used to have. And that allows a softer response. I'm taking myself less seriously, and more realistically. More lovingly.

Man, that feels like a bit of blooming right there.

Choose Life

My husband bought a vehicle from a work friend, and drove it home from Tennessee. It belonged to his friend's mom, who passed away. The car has been here with us in Virginia for a while now, and he keeps meaning to get the license plate updated.

It's one of those specialty plates you can choose, and he's a little self-conscious of it, preferring something far less remarkable. This one bears the face of a plump, smiling baby and the tagline "Choose Life."

Tennessee is what you might call a red state.  Virginia is pretty much blue. And Charlottesville is, let's say, Vivid Blue.  Driving around with a Choose Life license plate in Tennessee is pretty run of the mill. Not so much in Cville.

Now place yourself in the parking lot of a Charlottesville Whole Foods grocery store. And picture yourself, tall dark and handsome with a fashionably trimmed salt and pepper beard, getting out of a mid-size SUV with a collection of eclectic bumper stickers and a ski rack. And, of course, The License Plate.

Now imagine an elderly, slightly overweight woman, walking with the assistance of a cane past your vehicle. She pauses, takes a sweeping look at you and the SUV, and with a deliberate glance at the License Plate, makes a face of utter bewildered distaste before delicately shuffling her way onward.

You smirk a private little smirk, though feeling a bit scathed, and then, because you can't help yourself, toss out a retort, "Beats the alternative!"

God I love him.

Metta

This is a new word for me. I haven't studied Buddhism, but yoga tends to expose you to these concepts as part of a peaceful, loving practice that balances mind and body.

Metta means Loving Kindness. That is awesome.  And the "how" of metta is beautiful:

Be capable, upstanding, easy to talk to, gentle, humble. Be content. Live simply. Accept support from others easily, without being a burden. Prudent, courteous. Composed and serene (yes!). Wish happiness for all beings. No deceit or hate. Protect and cherish all others. Radiate boundless love over the entire world.

In all of this is the mantra I look at every day: I am loving, calm and relaxed. In this is also a beautiful forgiveness - a letting go. An allowance for abundance and light.

*Note: I am feeling really hokey right now - this stuff isn't the typical conversation I have in my day.*

If you don't fill up your day with good stuff, then it gets filled with all sorts of other stuff that you didn't intend. So I want to fill my days with great stuff. And keeping metta in front of me, as an awareness, is something that will help me do that. And the more great stuff I can fill up with, the more great stuff I can give away.

Allowing patience with myself will allow me patience with my family. Forgiving myself will help me find the grace to forgive others. And doing more volunteering, making an impact in the real lives of other people who aren't nearly as fortunate as I am, that is KEY to my building metta in this life. I will forgive myself for not having done more in the past - and look to how I can be helpful going forward.

Abundance

This next year I think I want to dedicate my focus to generosity. Giving. Abundance.

I love the well-worn quote about becoming what you respect and mirroring what you admire. I respect generosity and admire people who live abundantly. I think I have lived a life of scarcity for most of my years. And scarcity is a myth. It's based in fear; fear that there isn't enough. Time, resources, money, patience...all of it. The truth is, there's plenty. The more we give, the more there is.

I want to move through each day with a sense of abundance - and I want the people around me to feel that and be uplifted by that. Giving generously of myself, because I am enough and because I feel solid in myself.

I'm excited about this - it feels really empowering and I think it will help open up new doors for me in  my marriage, my family, with my friends and in my work.

I miss my brother

This is one of those deep seated ouchy topics. Because it isn't about missing my brother in the "Gosh I haven't seen you in so long" kind of missing. It's the "I used to have a brother but now he's disappeared from my life by his choosing" kinda thing.  He has a new family, his wife's family, and he doesn't choose us anymore.

I sound (and look) a lot like my mom. I can hear her voice and even her words coming out of my mouth. Her mannerisms. The way she makes faces. I feel it in my forehead, my lips. Becoming my mother. And this doesn't help my relationship with my brother. Because he has unresolved issues with my parents, and I remind him of the reasons why he doesn't want to hang out with us.  This is my theory anyway. Why else would you opt out of holidays and vacation opportunities where our kids (cousins!!) could hang out and know each other, build family relationships? I want my kids to know his kids. I want to know my nieces.

And the finger pointing could start there and never end.

Have I done all that I could to be a great aunt to them?  No.  Has he done anything to try to connect with his niece and nephew?  Nope.  And back and forth we could go.  Doesn't help move to a solution. I'd like to build from the possibility that we could have a relationship again.

My parents and I, we're not cool people. We're awkward. Sometimes that isn't easy to be around, especially if you're terrified that you're like us. So avoiding us might be easy. You might be able to easily round up excuses to avoid time with us. Put all the blame on our side. Make it sound, to yourself, like we never try, we don't understand you, we aren't any fun, and justify all those trips to see family on the other side of your marriage.  Convenience factor doesn't hurt either.

I feel rejected by my brother. He's my family; family is supposed to love me no matter what. Maybe he loves me, but just doesn't like me. Or, doesn't like me enough to make the stretch to get our families together.

In any event, it hurts and I miss him. I miss what our relationship should be. Could be.  This next year, I will look to the possibility that we can create that...and see how I might foster a careful, no pressure reconnection.

Midlife Unraveling

Brené Brown again. I feel like she speaks in a language juuuuuust outside my capability - Like I should know what she's saying, and I'm embarrassed that I don't actually really know, so I pretend I get it. Is what I'm experiencing an unraveling? Or just recovering from a major career detour. Or was it the Universe calling me out and forcing the point.

Self-conscious. Afraid of being wrong. A bully when things don't go my way. This is the Heidi I see in the past. The one I'm working hard to strip off. Who's underneath there and what has she got to say? I'm tired of the question. Bloom Dammit. Is that unraveling? Unravel to rebuild?

I'd really like to know what my story is. And I'd like to believe it's important enough to share. Not just another ordinary joe story. Pretty sure I'm thinking about it too hard, with too many "importance factor" filters on it. I'm often struck by the success of someone who had an idea that seems pretty common sense to me - I resent that they had the grit to make it their story and tell it.

This time in my life has such a feeling of immensity. Like there's an undercurrent of actual electricity waiting to be tapped... But it's layered beneath, and I haven't sorted out how to peel back to get at it. I don't know what else to do but to keep hunting, keep feeling my way, keep breathing, keep counting blessings and building gratitude...

What will I miss most?

Lately my daughter has waves of affection for me and her father. "I love you so much mamma," out of nowhere, even 3 minutes following an outburst of "You are the worst!" She's working through emotion management is my guess, so we're riding the waves and my husband reminds me not to roughen the water.  Looking back on this for a second though, I think I should simply focus on loving this.  These are moments I will hunger for down the road. And now I have them in spades.

My little guy is this incredibly funny, affectionate little person too. How many moments am I streaming through in my haste to "get things done?"  He is in full-on five year old fill-the-air-with-noise mode. So it can be a lot. Of talking. Of noise making. Of questions.  And yes, I'm going to miss this.

This is the time that my aunts and uncles are missing as they look back on their family lives. Maybe my parents too. I know my husband's siblings miss this time.  And I am IN IT RIGHT NOW.

Loving this - all of this: happy, family, children-filled, snow-day mayhem, chaos and cuddles moments that I will one day wish with all my might that I could get just one day back.

A bit of Opposite

I love trying new things. Especially local, artistic, low risk things. This evening I got to exercise my play muscles in a super fun Drink and Draw class with a MASTER of botanical drawing. She's incredible.

And instead of a broad, flat brush splooshed with paint, we were each armed with an ultra fine point ink pen. Crazy different from what I've been practicing. But it was totally for fun, and to learn (!) about how to attempt realistic renderings of natural items you'd find on a hike behind my house was a great stretch for building my eye, seeing shadows and texture.

I got a hand cramp halfway through.  And I didn't give up! Tried to remember to relax, as much as you can relax when you're fine-pointing your way around a winter berry... And the end result is lovely. Not awesome, but not offensive. Lovely. And a great memory of another deliberate side step into a new space. (the pic is her berry twig, by the way - not mine)

There's an intriguing book out about Right Brain thinking as a required practice for success in this age of Conceptualism. The skills you need in this age are about design, empathy, and starting with psychology instead of technology. I am naturally inclined to think about design, in everything. Exercising this design skill can only help me leverage my right brain advantage with clients, uncovering the story and guiding the design elements to bring real value to my projects. Plus I just love that stuff.

Carmelo told us that drawing is the best place to start as an artist. Rendering what you see with sketches. Understanding lines and shadows and the space between the space. I used to draw all the time as a child, and now my drawing muscles are pretty badly atrophied. But I love drawing, so I think I'll pick up the suggestion from this evening and start a sketch journal...see where that takes me.

Blow this !!

Just back from a SUPER HEALTHY spontaneous gathering of the gal friends and I Feel Great.

Women are amazing -- we can provide each other support in just the most sublime ways. We can't go an inch more, but suddenly we are emboldened to go the mile.  With the shared energy of our lovelies on our flank. I hear you. I feel you. I got you.  Go for it.

We're in the midst of a societal shift, one that has the voice of women as the rising melody. Being real with each other, being supportive of one another, and understanding the unified front that will ensure a steady bloom of female influence, this is what we must nurture and protect.

My friends and I, we're on the second snow day - which is soon to become the third in a painful row - and we're all a bit edgy, struggling to balance our mothering with our careering and our healthy pursuits...and failing (? winning !) at all three.

But with the nourishment of shared complaints, and a sense of knowing that this is, in fact, the life we long to live, even with it's frustrations, we can gird up and allow a sense of grace for the day to come.

So grateful for these women who have claimed me as one of their own.

To Bloom...

Every year I choose a word, one that serves as a compass for where I want to go, what I want to focus on and accomplish. How I want to be.  These words have proven very powerful (ask me about the year I chose Sexy, or the year I chose Escape).

This past year, I chose Bloom.  And it has meant, for me, a path to grow and use what I've been given (good and bad) to make something really worthwhile, something memorable, something that signifies a transformation.

They say shit makes the best fertilizer -- so thank goodness for the yuck that has fed this journey and compelled me to make something good out of it.

But there's an interesting aspect to blooming that I hadn't considered.  What happens after the bloom? The plant is weakened; it needs to seek it's roots again and pull more from the soil to make up for the deficit of nutrients that blooming demands. And the bloom dies.  You don't just keep perpetually blooming. And it isn't "the end."  It's part of a cycle - and I'm wondering what phase of that cycle I'm actually in right now.  Feeling like I need a bit of restoration, to fuel up for another charge at blooming, or whatever it is that I am going to focus on for 2019.

So have I bloomed?  Have there been blossoms that I haven't stopped to enjoy? What does Blooming look like to me? How will I know I've met my goal if I haven't really articulated in my mind what the goal looks like, smells like, feels like?

I think I wanted to arrive at a place that felt like success. Something that felt like a big, bold accomplishment.  Maybe launching a consultancy was big enough. Maybe hosting a portrait showcase was bold enough. But maybe it wasn't about building a big, bodacious bloom - a grand Dahlia. Maybe it was about blooming in a less dazzling but prolific way, like a wild rose bush or a lilac. Maybe it was about shifting my mindset in various places and shining new light on healthier, more generous, kinder perspectives. Lots of little, subtle blooms that, when grouped together, make for a transformational display.

I Love You Elbow

Appreciation builds affection -- so to love your body, spend time appreciating it in all it's imperfection and reality.  This is wisdom I've been reflecting on as I developed a healthy fever blister on my upper lip. Not the kind that camouflages itself inside the limits of my lip line. No, this one had to cast a vivid outline of it's very own above my lip. Fancy.

In the past, this would make me avoid social situations. But I opted to set an example for my kiddos, particularly my daughter, and I put my best face forward with a, "Hmm, I have this cold sore on my lip that I wish didn't show so much, but oh well, when I smile they won't even notice it." And she said, "Yeah, it's no big deal and it happens to people all the time." I love that.

I have always taken issue with various parts of myself, and have often hated the way I looked and felt in my clothes, and all that stuff that women (and men?) often feel as we move through life. It used to be much worse; since I had children the concern over my physical appearance has seriously, noticeably diminished. Partly because I am so proud of what my body was able to accomplish. Bearing children is like a super power, and I really felt that, appreciated that about my body. And worrying about little ones took a definite front seat over worrying about my cellulite or the girth of my stomach.  But lately, as yoga has reshaped my body, I have started really working to appreciate my physical self and be kinder in how I think about and talk to myself.

For 45, I feel damn good.

So, appreciating the strength in my legs, in my core, appreciating how capable my hands look, the way my ankles now enable better balance, is serving to overpower the negative assessments.

Taking stock, looking myself over, isn't something I'm comfortable doing in front of a mirror. It's just not something I take time for or that I think would end well. But I get the idea. Maybe soon I'll be comfortable doing a quick scan, "Hello earlobe, nice to see you belly button, I love you elbow..."

Got Brain Clarity?

What is UP?  Never have I felt so unable to tow the line, get on top if it, lock and load, run through the list and snap it together.  I wander the grocery aisles, repeatedly staring at my scritched list of needed items as if they are somehow multiplying. And still I check out, arrive home and immediately forehead smack as I think, "Crappola! How could I not think to pick that up?!"

Gone is my crystal clarity of thought.  I heard that you can learn memory skills, and better use your brain. It isn't about intelligence, it's about practice and technique and use of the brain. Anybody can do it.  Shoot, I need to sign up for some of that!  Something. Anything!

If it's hormones, I'm screwed.  If it's because the kids are underfoot 70% of the time, then I need to sort that out. And if it's because I'm simply allowing 10,000 things to swirl in my head at any given moment, then I need to get real about prioritizing and scheduling and knocking it OUT. Because I can't take this anymore.

Monday:  Kids, Yoga, and then Hammer Time. Punch it out and get that calendar loaded with focus.

In fact, there is NOTHING stopping me doing that Right Now.

Amen.

Sick Day

Off my game.

Frustrates me because I feel the weight of so many tasks that need to be planned, against goals that have yet to be well articulated, and I'm swimming through jello. Ugh.

My littlest is also unwell. Day 3, which is a little scary. He usually bounces back after 24 hours. So I'm house-bound for him, mopey in my own body, and feeling the frustration of not getting anywhere (in terms of progress).

Not a Breakthrough Thinking day.

But this QUEST is not about whining, or complaining. So enough of that.

I was listening to several podcasts (again, my new obsession), in the pursuit of new thinking and ideas that can help me develop the marketing around my new consultancy.  And I was inspired today to consider creating educational content. Training. So I starting thinking about stuff that I love and that I know well (or would be interested in studying deeply) and that would align with what my "brand" is.

It strikes me that these particular podcasts get me excited about all the ideas of things I could do - but they don't actually create the work, because (duh) that's my unique job. And today, this jello swimming sick day, is not the day to create that work.

My Too Easy

Today is an investment in myself. I'm sitting in a room with amazing professionals at a Gap Executive Mastery class, staring at my interpretations and being called out (gently) for allowing those files to roadblock my progress. They're truths I have been telling myself, but they are not TRUTH.

There are some beliefs that are not serving me well, and I need to assess them and move through them, and complete them.  Move that shit out of the way. It isn't true, it's all fear based.

The woman here coaching our table shared a first impression with me, about me. She said, "I watched you walk across the parking lot, and without knowing who you are at all, I turned and said to Bryan, 'Here's a woman who has the world by the tail.'"

I want to be that woman!

Visionary. Intentional. A little swagger.

My entire career, I was able to advance in responsibility and influence. Then I took a leap and left for a new challenge and two years later I was out of a job. In my head, this meant 1) That my career had been too easy and I actually didn't have the credibility I thought I did, 2) That I was given my career by a large, insulating corporation that compensated for and hid my weaknesses, and 3) That I now had proof that I wasn't good enough after two years of painful fighting in a company that didn't want me on board.

This story that I told myself, my interpretation of the past 20+ years of my career, left me without credibility, expertise, or any value really. Questioning myself at every turn. Imposter syndrome to the Nth degree.

None of that serves me.

Instead, I will choose possibility. I will choose to remember the great relationships, the great launches, the great learning that I have gained in my career. I have a fabulous record, and an even more fabulous network of people who support me and encourage me because they believe in me.  For the two years I took on the challenge that ultimately ended when a new president took the helm of my division, I know I did my best - and dammit if I didn't build a great team, articulate a strong pipeline of product ideas, and install a development lab that everybody told me was impossible to do. In just two years. So yeah, maybe I wasn't selected to continue on in the new organization - but I'm good with that. I would have stayed. I would have continued to suffer through their toxic, non-supportive, back-stabbing culture. I would have. But luckily for me, the universe shoved me out and forced me to find a new path. And I'm super excited about it - because I can see a future full of successes and learning and new partnerships and a life balance that would NEVER have been possible if I hadn't stepped out onto this scary new platform.

Too easy? Nah - I've worked hard to get here. And I had amazing teachers and supporters along the way, and a great team to work beside for so many years. I will not discount my journey. It's still rolling out in front of me, as long as I stop building roadblocks for myself.

Wings, Not Wheelbarrows

Carl Jung has that famous quote: “The greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of the parents.” 

As I think about what I've already burdened my children with, ever-evolving human that I am, my biggest concern is that they have witnessed anger in me. I've thrown it at them, at our dogs, at their father, at the frustrated man in the balloon line, at the lady who braked out of nowhere in the lane ahead of me... and I consider my poor anger management to be part of this unlived life of mine. Work that I need to do. And I better hurry up. Ev is already 9, the age that starts looking externally for role modeling; the imprinting from me and her dad is near completion. Crap!!  I haven't done this the way I want to! There's no Do-Over!

Shit.

Thankfully, I do think I'm living a pretty full life - I am amazed at how full my life is, actually. And I have lots of bucket list stuff that I fully intend to keep checking off. I think I'm living in a way that gives my children freedom to pursue their own passions - there are no gaping voids that I've dug out under them to try and make them fill for me.

Right?

I think that's right...

But the piano?  Yeah, I want them to learn to play it. Am I forcing them? No. But heavily promoting it, yes. Ballet? I encouraged it. Did she do it for me? I hope not...  Is there other stuff that I subconsciously corral them toward...? That's something to observe, to build awareness of.

The most important thing to me is to know I'm doing my best for them. I don't want to dump all my neurosis on them, though I know at least some of that is inevitable. So my goal is to keep the dialog open so we can at least talk about it. And they can at least be less neurotic than I am. They have their own weight to lift and carry - I sure don't want them bogged down with any of mine.

Expectations...Kill Joy?

Much better to float along without expectations and be happily surprised when things go well, than to have grand expectations that erode into puddles of disappointment. Yes? Maybe?

I always said, when helping to raise my step children, that setting expectations was key. The excuses they'd been raised on by their mom didn't seem to get them too far. When you hear, "I knew you could do it," that goes farther for building a child's self esteem than, "Yeah, that was too hard for you." I believed it was far better to expect a good decision, to believe they could reach a higher goal, than to dish out excuses for why they shouldn't try so hard.

Today, as I feel the sting from yet another disappointment that slipped off the back of an out-of-reach expectation, I wonder about the whole notion.

A while back I heard somebody speak about expectations in relationships, specifically marriages. That the real killer of relationships was expectations. You expect him to read your mind. He expects you to be cheerful everyday. You expect him to pick up his shoes and put them away. He expects you to love his mother the same way he does.  And so on.  Essentially, the wrong expectations. The kind that aren't communicated or agreed on. The kind that erode the ability to see a whole person, with all their faults and talents.  The less your partner meets your expectations, the less you see them as part of your team, the less you feel connected to them, the less you want them around.

In my case today, I eighty-percent expected a meeting to happen that was key to getting a great project up and going. And it didn't happen. Shifted to an undefined future date.  That's the second great project to slither out from under me. I have no control over this - it's the client's prerogative. Yet, my expectations are dashed, at least for the moment, and it stings. It's scary. I start questioning everything. Seems my patience is getting yet another lap around the track.

The question is: How do we set the right expectations to enable joy?  If I expect my husband to read my mind, obviously I am setting myself up for disappointment. That isn't realistic or fair. But if my expectation is that he listens and respectfully considers my thoughts when I share them with him, I think that's reasonable. And when he does, it feels amazing. If I didn't expect him to do that, I might never bother sharing my thoughts with him at all. If I expected my step children to be perfect citizens and conscientious of everyone around them, that was a recipe for disaster. They were still young boys, still growing their frontal lobes, for crying out loud. Expecting them to finish their homework, that was reasonable. But the foundational expectations that came before that had poisoned the well, so everything that came after was doomed to failure.

Our expectations are an exercise in balance and grace, just like everything else.  Will I settle for lower expectations in this consultancy challenge I've taken on?  Maybe...but I don't intend to give up too easily. My grit will allow for some healthy disappointment along the way.   Will I lower my expectations for my marriage and settle for a shallow relationship? Never. And I know that means I'll have many moments of frustration with my spouse (and myself) as we work through the chapters of our life together. Some of that is great because it pushes us. And some of it will be damaging and we'll have to decide if we want to work to heal those bruises. But it all makes us stronger, and able to manage the rough stuff a bit better.

Being intentional with our expectations seems to be a worthy exercise. Not just setting intentions for ourselves, but allowing for some consideration of the context and the flavor of how our goal will materialize. That allows for a long reach, honors the joy of the stretch, and respects the risk of juuuuust missing the trailing edge...

Elephant in the Room

I somehow managed to completely miss the biggest Hot Topic in my post yesterday.  Is that Freudian?

I was laid off in October 2017. That's over 1 year ago (!). The new leadership decided she wanted to build her own team, not inherit one, so we all got the boot. I was essentially fired, if I am truthful with how it felt. I felt rejected. Spit out. Dismissed for not being good enough.  There was shock and ugly crying and outright panic. Didn't even see it coming, optimist that I am.

And the next 10 months were spent collecting more rejection. I attacked the job hunt like it was my JOB, getting up on the same schedule at 5:15AM, pouring over job postings, contacting people in my network, joining industry organizations, setting up meetings to build up my network -- All the stuff you're supposed to do to find a new job.  And I failed. Or, rather, I gave up after 10 months. Literally, one day I said, NOPE! No more. DONE with that.

And that's when I decided to use what I know, to use what I'm good at, and start my own thing.

NONE of this has been easy. I have been grappling with my self-worth, my ability, my sense of purpose...  I am on a roller coaster of doubt and delight.

How could it be that nobody wants to hire me? 

How great is it that nobody hired me because LOOK at what I've been able to do! 

How will I possibly make this consultancy work? 

Wow I can totally make this work!

So yeah, I got cut loose. And yeah, it gouged me pretty deep. But I'm working hard to find trust that it was exactly the right detour for my journey. And maybe when this blog is done, after 365 posts, I will have a stronger answer, and that elephant will be triumphantly decorated with celebratory bells.

What I'm Not Writing About

Looking at what I've been choosing to write about so far (about a month's worth), it strikes me that there are a bunch of hot topics I've neatly avoided so far. In the 11 months ahead, I'm thinking it might be tough to avoid these and have much of an authentic quest to bloom...since they are fairly foundational.

Perilous topics I've avoided so far:

• Step parenting and step children
• What it looks like at the brink of divorce
• The case of my missing brother and his family
• My mom and how I don't want to turn into her (because I am my own person)
• My dad and how we don't connect in a real way
• Being a biological parent and how I almost missed out on that, and how the experience is flavored by having first been a (crappy) step parent
• Losing a friend to alcohol, and what being a poser feels like

In particular, I think there's a bunch of stuff to revisit on the step-parenting phase of my life. Lots of unresolved stuff. I don't have a good relationship with my stepsons. I don't have "any" relationship with them actually. And they lived with us full time for 8 years.

How sad is that?

And, of course, I'm married to their father, who loves them dearly. So there's that.

That list could be crazy - full of violent survival or illness and surgeries. But it isn't. That's my hard-to-talk-about list.  There are things I remember about childhood that I feel badly about, but they're normal growing up things:

• I distinctly remember making fun of S.R.'s wrap-around plaid skirt and pulling on it until it unraveled on the playground, and then laughing (UGH!). 
• I remember joining a sing-song group of girls poking fun at A.B. on the playground until we made her cry (UGH!!!). 
• Begging for an elaborate (expensive!) pirate ship play mobile set, getting it for Christmas, and then never playing with it.
• I remember being targeted by mean junior high kids who graffitied my locker, and being teased for wearing a red home-sewn A-line skirt and a new yellow cable knit sweater to school (never wore that skirt again, despite all the work my mom put into it and how much I told her I loved it). 
• Being abruptly dumped by my best friend A.D. for another girl whom she met once we got to junior high; she pretended I didn't exist any more.
• Utterly and completely mortifying myself by trying out for the high school play without ANY preparation (OMG that was awful).
• Bringing a boy back to my college dorm room and pretending I didn't know my roommate was there, trapped in the upper bunk while we made out in the lower (hot flush of shame....).

Like I said, pretty normal, dumb kid stuff. 

But looking at the top of this post, there's those old bones for me to chew on. As I work through my quest to bloom, I don't want to be held back my guilt, old regrets, or lingering resentment. I want to address and move ahead. Learn and grow. Practice adulting. What's really dragging on me that I can't see? Am I really okay? I don't think so -- I'm too quick to anger. Too insecure and unbalanced. Too quick to feel that I don't belong. I want to be present and fully self-aware and able to give authentically in a loving, calm and relaxed way. All the time. That's my goal. And I want to find my purpose, at least my "next purpose," and figure out how I'm supposed to contribute and what I want to say. Doing that with a bunch of anchors dragging is not the way.

I intend to peel it back. Flay it open. Let it bubble out. And let it go.

"Loose Brush Work - You Go Girl"

Amazing compliment I received from an incredible artist. And I really love that she got that from looking at my painting, because that has been my entire goal. Loosen up! Flow! None of this cramped, tight, restricted poking with a paintbrush. That never felt good, never looked good. I don't have the talent to pull off fine brushwork. Give me a big flat brush and force me to focus on movement and shadow. That was the genius of Carmelo, and why it's so amazing that I ended up in his workshop - that was the hand of a higher power. Really crazy to think through how I found Carmelo -- completely by chance (destiny?).

I had an experience yesterday that seemed to parallel this. I gave in to something and didn't try to structure it, just followed my instincts and it was wonderful. It was powerful. And the person I was with picked up on my trueness, my authenticity in that moment, which created a stronger connection.

What if I could do that all the time?  It was relaxed, it wasn't negative -- I fear my instinctive responses so much but this was all good. It came from a place of self, a place of calm.

I believe that the more I paint in this new way, the more it will grow as a practice in my life, beyond painting, and become more available to me all the time. This is a FANTASTIC excuse to paint more. 😆