#doitanyway, #freedom, #opportunity, #teens, #whiplash, Find A Way, sunshine & rainbows, Trauma

A Case of Whiplash

The most difficult class I took in grad school was called Group Dynamics.

I walked in to a large classroom set up with thirty desks facing each other in a circle. The only person in the circle without a backpack at their feet, was a lanky, tall guy wearing a plaid shirt and navy tie.

He resembled a 45 year old Alex P. Keaton with Dick Van Dyke legs. His legs were crossed and he looked way too casual for a student. His elbow was propped on the desk and his hand held a pen that he clicked repeatedly next to his ear. He continued to look at each of us, yet didn’t say a word.

When the clock displayed the 6:30pm start time, no teacher introduced themself. It was odd. Five minutes went by without anyone speaking. The clock seemed to move in slow motion. The quiet was deafening and awkward.

After about 15 minutes, we all started looking at each other with that WTF-bewildered-look. Some raised their hands, no response. Students talked out loud, asked questions, some whispered to each other.…crickets…most students shrugged their shoulders.

We sat there in silence for 50 minutes. 🦗

It was maddening.

At the end of the class, the syllabus was passed around and the teacher left.

His name was Dr. Wolf.

The Assignment for the next week was to turn in five group dynamic observations we learned from this class.

But, we didn’t learn anything?

I scoured the book for hours all week trying to figure it out. I turned my sentences in, received it back at the end of class -grade 0/5. What?

Week after week I would relentlessly read and compose informative sentences only to receive a big fat zero. So I tried harder, read the chapter longer.

Continuous weekly ZEROS.

Each class, the silent Dr. Wolf would remain unresponsive, despite the students were becoming visibly frustrated, emotional, & downright irate.

When I received a zero on my test, my chest collapsed in devastation. I remember walking out of school into the January cold, sobbing. That Ugly cry. I cried all the way home and considered dropping the class.

Unfortunately, the class was mandatory in order to graduate.

I never tried so hard at anything in my life. Finally, I got angry.

I said “Fuck it.” I stopped trying. I stopped caring. I didn’t look at the book for a week.

After the next class, I half-assedly wrote down what I observed in the class. I relished in my passive aggression to the teacher.

Get. Bent. Dr. Wolf.

My statements:

1. “Without proper leadership, a group begins to look to each other for a new leader because their current one sucks.”

2. “Without direction or rules, a group breaks into cliques or subgroups and complains or talks about their own topics.”

3. “When the leader ignores the group, the members become frustrated, disrespectful, or withdrawn.”

4. “Without leader guidance, group members may want to leave the group.”

5. “Emotionally unsupportive male leaders may become strangely attractive to group members.”

The last one cracked me up.

Clearly, I got a thing for tall, lanky, emotionally unavailable men. 😉

I turned in these statements at end of class. I didn’t even wait until the next week. I wanted him to associate my face with my answers. I gave him an obstinate look as I tossed the sheet on his desk.

That following week I was excited to receive my zero. At least I didn’t waste hours of my time for this F/Zero. I hoped to see some type of expression on Dr. Wolf’s smug, stupid yet sexy face.

The paper was given to me with a

5 out 5-100% in red ink!!!

My neck snapped back like I was in a head-on collision. My temples throbbed like I had a case of whiplash.

Huh?

Then the epiphany…

Ohhhhh, he wants to know what I think, not what the books says.

I learned this without him saying one word.

I was also trying way too hard instead of seeing big picture.

“Work smarter, not harder” finally became clear.

From that day on, I was on fire.

Once I “got it” … I was unstoppable.

Imagine if I quit before it clicked. What a shame that would’ve been.

I learned more from this class than any other in my entire educational career.

Why?

Now this occurred 20+ years ago.

What would’ve happened if this class occurred in 2024?

Most would’ve just given up, dropped the class, maybe even changed majors. There was no instant gratification.

The giving up reasoning aka whining or excuses would probably sound like:

“It’s too hard!”

“He is emotionally abusive.”

“I’m being bullied.”

“The teacher is racist.”

“He’s a narcissist.”

These are paraphrased statements that I have heard from my own children and from other kids/teens; even adults.

Which I usually counter with “Maybe they are, but what are you learning from this?” as my mind flashes back to Dr. Wolf…

However, I never realized that at times, I was enabling my kids to use their feelings as an excuse; or making them feel too special so they thought they didn’t have to try.

My intention was to empower my kids, instead, I may have been fostering dependence on my approval.

I believe collectively, we all wanted to ensure our children had a more positive upbringing than we did.

Unfortunately, it may have gone too far and it seems to be backfiring.

As Simon Sinek states here & in the below link that this mindset could’ve been exacerbated we started to give everyone participation trophies.

Kids learned that everybody gets rewarded even if they don’t try, so why bother exerting effort.

Painful revelation

I am humbled to admit this:

When my husband encouraged my kids to throw away all of their participation medals & trophies, my kids (7 & 5) were crying, I erroneously sided with my kids.

I didn’t understand what my husband was trying to accomplish. He was ten years ahead of me. All I could see is how upset they were.

My own childhood confusion was prolonged by not having the “WHY” explained, so I convinced my husband to explain WHY he wanted the kids to do this. It made sense, sort of. I still didn’t see how this would have an impact on their future.

I see it now.

How else are they are going to learn to get back up when they are knocked down?

When things get tough, are they going to get back up or quit.

Are they going to keep trying after they fail, or surrender.

Ten years later…

The whip lashes back at me.

https://www.google.com/gasearch?q=simon%20sinek%20participation%20medals&tbm=&source=sh/x/gs/m2/5#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:95ca8e54,vid:GjcuELSTYA0,st:0

https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action

https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action

https://medium.com/the-outtake/on-demand-for-a-second-look-whiplash-864f3530be4d

Autism, Grief, Uncategorized, Women's Fight

The Eye of the Sparrow (Part Four)

For about ten years, things were great with our team. We became a little family. We embraced each other’s idiosyncrasies. We invited our spouses and kids to our quarterly get together’s. (Mom Friend) MF invited all of us to her husband’s 50th party because all he wanted for his birthday was to “jam.” I had never been to a party where they had a real band in the backyard equipped with stage, dance floor, microphone, and instruments. MF’s brothers and brother-in-laws all were musically gifted as well. They all performed and sang on stage, even MF, her husband, her kids. It was by far, the coolest party I had ever attended.

I had planned on sleeping over so I was lucky enough to witness a real “acuostic jam session” between MF, her brothers, sister, nephews, nieces, and her kids etc. Everyone was enjoying drinks and were sitting around with their instruments.  MF nephew asked her if she had heard of the song, “Angel of Montgomery” By John Prine, sang by Bonnie Raitt. MF replied “Kinda”. He said, “All right, Let’s do it.” Her nephew handed her a notebook with the lyrics written inside. All of MF brother’s, nephews etc began playing as if they rehearsed this everyday; which they didn’t. They all had regular jobs but played music for enjoyment.

I always knew MF was a good singer, however, I was soul blown when I witnessed what I did that night. I hate to sound like Stepbrothers, but honestly, she did sound like a combination of Fergie and Jesus; as if Bonnie Raitt or the Angel of Montgomery herself was in the room. It was fascinating to watch.  When she was done singing and the guys were all done playing, everyone seemed to say “Whhooooaa” simultaneously.

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Soon after, MF’s husband hurt his back really badly while landscaping, his mother died of Alzheimer’s and his business fell apart. He was unemployed and lost.  Meanwhile, their son was approaching high school graduation and becoming a legal adult, which was setting MF and her husband into a tailspin of anxiety and concern about his future.

It did not help that MF was going through menopause and this seemed to trigger a new onset of mood disturbance symptoms. She could not sleep, she would fly off the handle and at times it was as if she could not stop talking. One day I teased her and asked her how much coffee she had that day. When she asked “Why!???” In a paranoid, attacking way. I told her she reminded me of Kramer from Seinfeld when he drank too many cafe latte’s. That didn’t go over well 😬.

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Thankfully, the Doctor and Rokstar could always get MF laughing no matter what was going on; usually by taking a break and watching a few SNL clips or Thug Life videos. Of course her flying off the handle led to some comical stories. MF would often to refer to herself as a “Straight up Ridah” inspired by “Ambitionz of a Ridah” by Tupac.

Our personal favorite “Ridah” story was when MF got into a debate with a bad ass, hilarious, six foot tall Amazon woman at work. At our next party, the two of them decided to settle this debate by agreeing to disagree and then by having a “dance off”.  Both tenacious women claimed they won and it was an event we still laugh about, mainly because of the “Ridah’s” perspective and comments about it.

Following the dance off party, MF was doing well again for a while, until her family was struck by another tragedy. Her niece that she was extremely close to,  lost her 10-day old full-term newborn.

Understandably, MF fell apart again, and it seemed to take her much longer to bounce back. This seemed to break her heart and spirit more than anything else ever had. Seeing a beautiful, angelic baby in a bassinet/casket is something that no one should have to witness. I went to the service. It was a traumatizing sight. It is one of those things I deeply wish I could “unsee” because that image is burned in my brain. I cannot fathom the pain that MF, her family or this baby’s mother had to endure.

One day MF conveyed to us that she finally found comfort from the tragedy in the bible verse Matthew 10:29, 31. It was difficult for her to see God’s plan this time through the baby dying, however her faith helped her find peace. I still was detached from my faith so I ignorantly teased her for being a “Bible Person”. When she explained it to me, I hated to admit that it made sense, I had not yet made my peace with God.

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After this incident, MF’s husband to seem to spiral out of control. It seemed he could not cope with the severe back pain, the financial pressure of losing his business, his autistic son’s future, his daughter’s financial & college career and then his wife’s grief and depression.

MF was struggling with her husband’s episode because he was always the rock that kept her and her son together. His patience with his son was limitless and MF would frequently say that he has the patience of a saint. However, since her husband was self employed, worked alone at home, he did not have time for many friends or a support system of coworkers as MF did.

Rokstar was very concerned when MF did not show up for work February 8th, 2016 and she was not responding to texts or phone calls. Rokstar, The Doctor and I were talking on the phone together on three-way and we decided that we should stop over at her house to make sure everything was okay. It was snowing and we were thinking something may have happened with their power. Deep down, we all knew something was wrong.

I live the closest, and already out, on the way home from work, so I stopped over first. Rokstar was on her way also. The doctor lives in the city, so no need for her to drive.

I rang doorbell, no one answered the door, it was eerily dark and quiet until the dog started barking. Then I walked by the garage and saw a dark liquid that looked like oil on the sidewalk from the garage.

The Doctor called the police on her home phone while the three of us remained on our cell phones together. We all had a sick, nauseous, trembling feeling. The bond the three of us share from that night changed forever that moment. It was an unspoken promise, we are forever together from this.

The police would not disclose anything to Rokstar and myself except that there was someone deceased in the home and that they would contact us once the identity was confirmed.

One can only speculate why MF, her 18 year old son and her husband were found dead in their home. One can only guess what happened based on the information that is known.

Ironically I found peace and comfort in “Don’t be afraid, you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.

One thing I do know is that when you have a a friend that you love, you do not want to see them in pain. I do believe she is no longer afraid. She is not in pain anymore and does not have to worry about her son’s future because she is right next to him. Additionally, she would be going ballistic everyday if she were here to see Trump president😂.

#Beyourself, #doitanyway, Apollo Creed, relationships, Rocky Balboa, sunshine & rainbows

Sunshine & Rainbows

I don’t know about anybody else, but I am definitely not myself from Martin Luther King day until about Presidents’ Day. Four long, full weeks, with no days off.

Flat affect on blast 💥

During this time, I’m pounding vitamin D supplements like nobody’s business. It takes effort to feel motivated. A tremendous amount of energy & preparation is required to go for a walk outside.

Work, grocery shopping, exercising, cooking dinner, raising-teens, dishes, laundry, etc. the day-to-day feels so much heavier.

Now, this is the time where it’s a good idea to schedule some self-care & make plans with friends and family. Having something to look forward to makes a difference. Seeing the people you love in person, has an impact. Social connection has the power to help get you out of this funk.

I know this. Yet, I’m too tired to reach out. I’d rather just sit on the couch and wallow in this.

Yesterday, a Wednesday & Valentine’s Day, was an exceptionally tough day. It is my husband’s birthday so I wanted to cook a special dinner. I always forget to take the day off, thinking I can handle working, then rushing around cooking an elaborate spread.

Yes, I was going to make my kids assist, but sometimes delegating is even more exhausting. I do not always have the patience. Plus they may screw it up. 😂

Clearly, I was in my head and taking everything way too seriously.

I received a random text from a friend, T, that I haven’t talked to in a while, like years.

I’ve been meaning to call her especially after finding out too late, that her mother had passed.

I have had a post-it on my wall to send her a card for almost three weeks. It’s like, “Why don’t I just execute and do it? Why do I keep waiting?”

I was waiting for a “good time” to call her and finding the “perfect card to send her .”

So instead of texting her, I just called her right then, even though I was in middle of a car maintenance appointment.

There is no perfect time.

The call was interrupted, chaotic and silly but in that 35 minutes, it was real. Also, we were both laughing hysterically.

We hang up and go about our day, working & juggling motherhood. I went for a walk on my lunch since the sun was out. I asked my retired friend to join me, which also helped me get out of my head.

Early evening, after we both got through our day, T texted me, thanking me for the call.

She then goes on to tell me some amazing stories about her mom.

Why do we find out how spectacular someone is, after they’re already gone?

Such as, her mother had TWELVE children.

My friend T texts about her mom:

She’d tell my husband “mi hija es chingona. Sabes porque? Porque es mi hija.”

Translation: “My daughter is a bad ass. You know why? Because she’s my daughter. “

How cool is this? She sure sounds like a fun & fiesty lady.

T texts:

Yep. I got all my seven sisters matching t shirts that say “chingona como mi madre”

Badass woman like my mother.👊🏻

T goes on to say:

She loved the Rocky movies because my brother that passed, idolized the character. I went to Philly for work and took her with me to walk the steps and see the statue of Rocky.”

I played the Rocky theme song on my phone while she walked up the steps.

This is on my bucket list, so I’m intrigued. T sends me these fantastic pictures.

I am tearing up & smiling. I have the chills. Now…I’m obsessed with her mom. I am grieving this woman that I, unfortunately, never had the opportunity to meet.

Good reminder: The grief is always there. The griever will want to talk about the experiences they shared & the great things their loved one brought to this world. If they don’t, let it be their choice.

Don’t ever feel like “I didn’t want to bring it up.” It’s not like the person forgot about the loss. That pain is always lingering in the shadows.

I assume and doubt anyone is like “Oh, I forgot my mom died, thank you for the reminder & ruining my day.”

We can’t be afraid or avoid talking about this because it’s part of the beauty of life. The more powerful the love, the more powerful the loss.

To my surprise, by T talking about her loss & grief, she remembered a great accomplishment of her own.

T Texts:

“Omg and when I ran Chicago marathon my niece (my deceased brother’s daughter) made this poster for me.

These trembling chills emerge down my spine, goosebumps on my arms as I’m reading her text, sitting in my office with these pictures right next to me:

If I never called her, I would’ve never known about this coincidence…this connection. This obsession we had in common.

I was chilly and involuntarily tingling for some reason. I put my cold hands under my thighs. I looked down at my chest and observe what I’m wearing.

I swear to God, this is 100% true

This is one brief moment in an ordinary day. Life again reminding me to:

Wake the fuck up 🫣

Make the call. Send the text. Go out when you don’t feel like it. Show up for your friends. It’s not about you.

That imperfect phone call at a horrible time…

Wow.

P.S. My Husband “slyly” suggested we go out to dinner instead. I didn’t shower first and I wore the Rocky sweatshirt. 🤗

I’ve been also grieving Apollo Creed, Carl Weathers, Chubbs like he was my personal friend.

I also knew never this:

https://www.menshealth.com/entertainment/a45810629/sylvester-stallone-reflects-on-relationship-with-late-son-in-sly-documentary/

#doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, #teens, Anxiety, Badassery, coming of age, Find A Way, Health & Wellness, Mental Health, parenting struggles, relationships, Trauma, under pressure

When the Levy Breaks

Have you ever had a vivid memory of an experience from decades ago come flooding back to you out of nowhere?

I had this memory tsunami happen to me yesterday.

I have been doing this Meditation challenge since the beginning of 2024. This app was referred to me by my brilliant colleague. (Links below).

Yesterday morning, I completed session four of the “Taming Anxiety” challenge. The topic was about cognitive distortions.

I haven’t thought about my own battle with cognitive distortions since college.

Feeling compelled to share my experience in case anyone is feeling stuck or discouraged. I could’ve used the information below way earlier.

This life-altering moment occurred when I met with the school counselor about my schedule. Apparently, something I said was a red flag to the counselor that I was struggling with anxiety.

Thankfully, she did not use the word “anxiety” at the time. Unlike now, that uncommon, scary word and its symptoms were foreign back in the 90’s.

The counselor handed me a paper describing cognitive distortions (CD). I distinctly remember reading these, with my eyes bulging out of my head. I was in utter shock that this wasn’t a “normal” way to think.

As a student, I was able to start seeing her weekly for free. If it wasn’t free, I would have never gone through with it. I needed to save my money for nickel beer night. (A non-clinical, absurd cognitive distortion. 😏)

Each week, I discussed all of the stupid, irrational, and impulsive behaviors I did while operating in a perpetually, anxious state-of-mind.

It took a tremendous amount of effort to retrain my brain, unlearn old ways and reframe the CD. I truly believed I would NEVER be able to stop them.

I kept showing up even though I dreaded it and was uncomfortable.

By going to counseling & actively participating, I inadvertently leaned toward anxiety and its clutches.

Then an emotion showed up…humiliation aka cringe.

All I can say is thank effing gawd there were no cell phones or social media back then.

I experienced all of these:

After about 20 sessions, the counselor subtly addressed my lifestyle and inquired about how I have been coping with these tricky little fuckers.

The counselor then pointed out that contrary to popular belief, alcohol will only temporarily help. “Alcohol and marijuana are like a band-aid, and they make anxiety worse if using them to “self-medicate”. They may also cause paranoia.”

Every single one of those pesky, mind-fucking, cognitive distortions were on blast all-of-the-time. Ironically, they were present before, but I did not notice because I was detached from myself.

Suddenly, when I got in-tune with my body & mind, I felt paralyzed with anxiety. I froze, couldn’t make decisions, and just stopped everything.

Which led to…

Social anxiety & social isolation

I was terrified that I would have a panic attack in public. Panic attacks are real & scary AF.

I was very confused that I felt worse in therapy. The counselor gently reminded me that “Things get worse before they get better, it is always darkest before the dawn.” I let go & trusted the process.

Once I accepted it…I became consumed with talking about anxiety and explaining myself to everybody.

Side effect of untreated trauma+anxiety=lack of boundaries…

Thankfully, I had a very, wise friend, who could see the big picture. She said something profound to me like this:

Engaging with a friend who “gets you” without judgement, makes a monumental difference.

With time, patience, and lifestyle changes, this way of thinking extinguished itself. Of course this anxiety got “canceled” by utilizing a combination of counseling, mindfulness, physical exercise, limiting caffeine/sugar/alcohol, spending time outside often, taking vitamins, journaling, yoga/pilates, mindfulness, medication and most importantly, in-person human connection.

Looking back, it appeared to be absolutely impossible to overcome.

Now it seems like no big deal. I had to feel it, do the emotional work and allow it to pass.

I am glad that there is less stigma & more awareness about mental health and anxiety, currently.

However, it should not be used as an excuse to give up. No one IS their diagnosis. The more you avoid, numb, or hide from it, the longer it takes. Running from it only prolongs the process. The process can be conquered with the proper guidance, effort, & dedication.

In 1998, there was no other option in my outlook, except to keep trying. It was also way easier to unplug and detach back in the olden days.

How terrifying for gen z, teenagers & children right now? The social pressure, “cancel culture”, picture-perfect-life-posting and the “it’s-too-hard-I-give-up” mindset is disheartening.

Humans have survived thousands of years before iPhones, social media and the internet.

Reminder: Humans are resilient.

The epiphany empowered me today to push my teens to face uncomfortable emotions that sting.

Pain teaches you something.

Nothing ever grows in a comfort zone.

It’s a constant effort to remind myself of what is considered a big deal to my kids.

Social connection is getting worse, not better. Therefore, it is never too early to start healthy coping strategies. I mean, if nine-year-olds are spending $900 at Sephora on anti-aging skin regimens, then it wouldn’t hurt for a child/teen to unplug their mind for 15 minutes a day.

What I really like about this app is it makes the decision for you. It is like a parent that perhaps all adults need sometimes. “This is what is on the agenda today, do it and stfu.” It has a calendar that keeps track of your progress. Lastly, the founder, Dan Harris, describes how he had a panic attack on national television.

Any generation could understand how mortifying that had to be.

He recovered.

He wrote a book and is now helping others.

https://app.tenpercent.com/link/download

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5NgnSCyzVkaVfgDwzFevtf?si=TU-6WTk5Q8yjLBwYHy7GPg

https://markmanson.net/podcast/david-brooks

https://a.co/d/9WpMZ9K

If numb & detached, you can’t feel love
Since I published this, I completed this 7 out 10 day challenge. I don’t know why but this little badge made me feel a slight bit of accomplishment.

#Beyourself, #brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, #opportunity, brene brown, coming of age, Grief, Health & Wellness, Mental Health, PTSD, unlockingus, vulnerability

Cruel Summer

This is a revised re-post. It’s was a therapeutic, free association that is too difficult for me to shorten…

September 8, 2020…When I saw that “Cobra Kai” was the #1 watched series on Netflix, my mouth dropped open. I started trembling. I assume this reaction was due to a level of euphoria that I have not been able to publicly get in touch with since 1986. It was an intoxicating feeling of true belonging, like “I am not that big of a weirdo” after all. Other people in this world are clearly are obsessed with Karate Kid as well.

My siblings and I can quote The Karate Kid pretty much word for word. I’m sure people who have witnessed us in “Karate Kid (“KK quote mode”) must have thought, “Jeez, how many times have you watched this.” Daniel Larusso’s self-righteous anger & Johnny Lawrence with his gleaming, blonde, visor haircut never gets old.

“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval.”

Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

Over the years, there has been brief moments where I’ve had the courage to be my authentic-KK-loving self. This was usually brought on, subconsciously, by enough alcohol that could kill a small child. Some may get white girl wasted, but I prefer to say Mr. Miyagi wasted.

This first incident was released by liquid courage, not true courage. I was 21ish, enjoying the last few hours of the weekend at Reilly’s Daughter. As Cruel Summer by Banana Rama began blaring, one of my sloppy, drunk, guy friends slurred these words to me “Hey! The Karate Kid song!” Omg. Suddenly, there was something there between us that wasn’t there before.

As he was clumsily swaying back and forth to the song, holding a pitcher of Lemovox in one hand, a full cup with a cigarette in the other; he stepped out of the friend zone and he became strangely attractive. I was captivated by his lack of rhythm and impeccable hand-eye coordination. I was entranced and ready to make out with him in the middle of the bar; kinda like how Daniel nearly swallowed Ali at Golf ‘n Stuff.

By the grace of God, he slipped and wiped out on the perpetually sticky and damp, bar floor. The pitcher of lemovox spilled all over his clothes, hair and eyes. He stumbled to get up, screeching that the cheap, acidic combo was burning his eyes.

The laughter of all the guys combined with his fall, broke the lemovox induced spell.

Where am I? Perhaps I should re-think this?

Anyways, it was a close call. This was my first indication that my private obsession with Karate Kid could potentially become a big problem. If I acted on my irrational impulses, it would have been, literally, a cruel summer for me. My friends would’ve ripped me apart for the next six months; perhaps years. I made sure to keep this side of me repressed in the future.

I will play possum until this goes away

The second time, the obsession re-surfaced during an emotionally vulnerable time. I was married for two years and had my first baby. The newness of having a newborn had run its course. The financial pressure of adulting with a mortgage and unpaid maternity leave left me no choice but to be back at work in 10 weeks.

I had just stopped breastfeeding/pumping and the hormonal-fluctuations resulted in giant eruptions on my chin. My body…that awful in-between phase of maternity clothes and regular clothes. Nothing fit right and I felt uncomfortable, bloated, and fugly. My wardrobe consisted of stained tops and a choice of either cameltoe khakis or muffin-top black pants. I wanted to hide.

All this combined with running on 3 hours of sleep and the fluorescent lighting of the emergency room where I worked; left me feeling real attractive.

To make matters worse, my husband and I were working opposite schedules to be home with our son. We slowly became disconnected, sleep-deprived roommates.

Meanwhile, a single, energetic, childless guy started training in our department who was extremely witty and funny. I was shadowing this guy to make sure he was performing the psychological assessments correct. The patient we were evaluating lived in Reseda, Illinois. The guy says to me:

“I never heard of Reseda Illinois. I thought it was in LA. I only know that because of Karate Kid. “Oh you have a date? With whoommm? Not that boy from Reseda.”

My eyes widened and without thinking I replied, “Yeah Dad, he’s from Reseda.” Then I nervously laughed, blushed, & started to sweat.

“Yea whoop dee do. You want me to do cartwheels or something?”

Suddenly, my KK repressed self was unleashed. I could not stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like this or felt so alive. We continued this banter the rest of the evening; driving my other co-workers nuts. Walking to my car that night, physically exhausted, but mentally, I am was in the best mood. I felt like “me” again.

At the time, I thought he put me in the best mood, but in reality, he just made me feel comfortable to be myself without pretending.

Sometimes joking isn’t about making fun of someone, it’s about making fun of a situation to disconnect ourselves from whatever uncomfortable emotion it creates in us.

Brené Brown 

Braving the Wilderness

This guy had the ability to connect with anyone, he had everyone laughing. However, I started getting jealous, wanting his attention. (Don’t judge me, when you’re dying of thirst in the desert, you don’t care who gives you the water.)

However, since I had not felt this type of connection in so long, I continued to make awkward attempts to keep it alive. Thankfully I got the hint eventually and knocked it off.

In hindsight, I did not recognize how disconnected I was from myself, my values and my pain. This having-babies-rite-of passage is a huge adjustment. The more I tried to “pretend” I had it all together to avoid feeling the shame; the more I kept myself in this vicious cycle. Kinda like Daniel LaRusso, who likes to blame the school, his bike, his mom, and moving to LA on his current situation.

It’s not about the bike asswipe

Most recently, this movie came up again last year when my son went on his first date. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a first date because my son kept saying they were “just friends”. When I picked her up, I witnessed how the two of them were interacting… Unfortunately, this revelation unfolded in slow motion in my brain; …omg my son is…a GUY.

Flashbacks of my son and I holding hands, snuggling on the couch began to flash before my eyes. My little boy is gone. In the middle of this bittersweet epiphany, the girl’s dad came to the car door to meet me. I behaved like a complete fool, a total awkward nerd. I turned into Lucille LaRusso and I had no control.

Lucille was a damn good mom.

Anyways, I have accepted my siblings and myself are weirdos. I love this about us.

In our defense, we have a good reason. Our memorization of KK wasn’t a typical situation. The Karate Kid was part of our daily routine.

You see, our brother, was non-verbal and wheelchair bound. After he got home from school, there was not much he could do but watch or listen to TV. So this movie was playing continuously in the background. My youngest sister would sit in her playpen eating melba toast and my brother would lay on floor and they would watch this movie (and The Muppets) together almost everyday. It was so cute that we would sit with both of them and watch it, again.

Despite our age difference, this movie connected all of us.

My Mom & Johnny

In spite of my brother’s limitations, his stellar personality and sense of humor shined through. Our brother, Johnny, would have this smirk on his face while watching KK.

Over time, we noticed a pattern in what Johnny found the funniest. He laughed the hardest when people were loud, yelling, angry or sniffling/crying. When I say laugh, I mean he displayed that shaking-silent-laughing-so-hard giggle.

One time I was crying about some nonsense, sniffling. My brother erupted with the laughing. I wanted to tell him to shut up, which is funny in itself. I stopped crying and started laughing too. This was the first time I recognized the irony of his reactions. There seemed to be a deeper, non-verbal message he was trying to communicate.

“I’m laying here on the floor, I can’t walk, talk or feed myself. What the hell are you crying for? Get some real problems”. -Johnny Durnell

Johnny passed away from respiratory failure on July 21, 1999 at the age of twenty.

I suppose repressing The Karate Kid is also like repressing the grief and all the uncomfortable emotions that go along with grief. Guilt, anger, despair, resentment, etc. feelings I don’t want to feel.

Trust your gut Johnny, ignoring those feelings. will only hurt you in the end

What these three examples have taught me is that the story I told myself kept me stuck. How repressing these emotions can result in HUGE mistakes if caught in an irrational, raw, vulnerable place.

The most difficult part of our stories is often what we bring to them—what we make up about who we are and how we are perceived by others. Yes, maybe we failed or screwed up, but what makes that story so painful is what we tell ourselves about our own self-worth and value.

Brene Brown

Thinking or talking about The Karate Kid makes me think of my brother, my childhood, and what this movie triggers inside me. It brings me joy, but it makes me feel pain in my heart. This movie unleashes a floodgate of all emotions.

If I want to feel, I have to feel it all. You can’t “show up” and “hide” at the same time.

Alcohol is a slippery slope, especially with trying hard to numb & repress grief. It is a band-aid that works at first, then it just makes it worse. Sleep deprivation, hormones, poor self-worth, disconnection contribute to an irrational & vulnerable state of mind. My coworker caught me at a weak moment emotionally and unknowingly made me feel safe by bringing up this movie. The connection felt euphoric because I blocked my story for so long.

If you won’t allow yourself to feel the sadness, anger, shame, grief and pain; you will also deny yourself the feelings of love, joy, growth and happiness.

Owning our stories means acknowledging our feelings and wrestling with the hard emotions—our fear, anger, aggression, shame, and blame. This isn’t easy, but the alternative—denying our stories and disengaging from emotion—means choosing to live our entire lives in the dark. It means no accountability, no learning, no growth.

Brene Brown

Doubling Down on Love

https://ideas.ted.com/finding-our-way-to-true-belonging/

quillankellydunn | September 8, 2020 at 8:17 am | Categories: #freedom | URL: https://wp.me/p9zGxM-iuCommentSee all commentsLike

#freedom, American, Mental Health, PTSD, Trauma, Veterans

FUBAR

Have you ever been through something extremely painful or traumatic and thought “I can’t handle this” or “there is no way I am going to make it?”

Perhaps you are dragging yourself through the day, barely keeping your head afloat, and spend the entire day dreaming about the moment your head hits the pillow. Praying sleep will be an escape from the nightmare you are living through.

You somehow get past this pain a little bit each day. Before you know it, you notice that you got through one minute without thinking about it. Eventually, you went one hour or one day without crying. As you keep pushing through the pain, the days turn into weeks, the weeks turn into months, the months turn into years.

You may even find yourself able to mention this event or loss without getting choked up. Hopefully, you are mindful enough to recognize this feat and reflect on it. It could be “I said their name today without tearing up” or “Someone asked me about it and I was able to respond.” 🤯

Eventually, you realize that you somehow survived a traumatic event and just blew your own damn mind.

Peace shows up around the time you have embraced the person you are now. Acceptance of this means that you are now a changed person forever, you cannot change back.

Change, Loss, Pain, and trauma of any kind is difficult.

Obviously some individuals have been through more than others.

As human beings, we have to provide empathy and compassion not only to each other, but to ourselves. This pressure to “get back to normal” after a loss or a traumatic event-only prolongs the process.

We also have to remember that we are not here to judge or compare each other’s pain. Example: “who endured a worse situation.” Or “who deserves special treatment”. Trauma and Loss are not grounds for a competition.

However, there are a precious few who deserve an automatic level of honor, respect, empathy, compassion and an immediate win in the unspoken competition of “who is entitled to special treatment.”

These precious few are not celebrities or professional sports players.

This is a group of individuals who have had to go through MANY of those painful, traumatic events over and over and that most likely took a lifetime to process. Everyday, these “regular” people probably said “I can’t do this. I can’t handle this. How am I going to get through this?”

They did it anyway, for us.

These courageous men & women provided us with an example of the sheer resilience that human beings possess. These resilient members of our society have sacrificed years of their life for our freedom and to serve our country…

VETERANS.

Yesterday, my patriotic side got fired up after I listened to my favorite podcast, Smartless, with guest Tom Hanks.

(This podcast is a comical escape hosted by Sean Hayes, Jason Bateman and Will Arnett. What I enjoy the most about this podcast, is the real, open-ended conversations and the quick-wit of the hosts/guests is captivating. Basically, they all rip on each other whenever they have the opportunity.)

Teacher & Baseball coach-then sent to fight in a War 🤔😢

Anyways, Tom Hanks was asked about his role in Saving Private Ryan and what was the source of his passion and fascination with being a “war guy”. Tom disclosed that during his “formative years every caregiver & adult would make reference to the war as this dividing line” that everyone collectively went through. “Another aspect is that a big chunk of their lives, they had no idea where they were going to be in the next week, month, six months. This was a time loaded with all sorts of problems that we are still dealing with.”

“I’m a schoolteacher. I teach English composition… in this little town called Adley, Pennsylvania. The last eleven years, I’ve been at Thomas Alva Edison High School. I was a coach of the baseball team in the springtime. Back home, I tell people what I do for a living and they think well, now that figures. But over here, it’s a big, a big mystery. So, I guess I’ve changed some. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve changed so much my wife is even going to recognize me, whenever it is that I get back to her. And how I’ll ever be able to tell her about days like today. Ah, Ryan. I don’t know anything about Ryan. I don’t care. The man means nothing to me. It’s just a name. But if… You know if going to Rumelle and finding him so that he can go home. If that earns me the right to get back to my wife, then that’s my mission.

Captain Miller, Tom Hanks: Saving Private Ryan

Will Arnett then points out to Tom Hanks that “What I love about this movie and is that your character is a school teacher, he is just a regular guy NOT a guy born to be a military officer. He had to go to the war, because that is what he had to do. This movie provides reverence for the bravery of these people who did extraordinary things. Captain Miller was an example of one of these regular guys called to do extraordinary things.”

I wrote this In honor of Veteran’s Day, 11/11/21, and “a regular guy that did extraordinary things.” He is the only person that I am privileged to know personally that served in a war. Except he served in a different war and a different time. A time when people were not proud of their veterans. When he arrived home after serving our country, he was treated cathartically. He was humiliated and shamed; he was told to take his uniform off.

Thankfully, on October 27, 2021, he received vindication and a moment of the honor he deserves, through a non-profit organization dedicated to honoring WWII, Korean War & Vietnam War veterans by flying them, all expense-paid, to DC for a day of honor, thanks and dedication.

His wife, children and grandchildren were also able to witness a glimpse of this priceless moment at Midway Airport before he boarded the plane. This beautiful and long-awaited experience was provided through the generosity of http://www.honorflight.org http://www.starsandstripeshonorflight.org.

On this momental Veteran’s day, 11/11/21 and in honor of all the “regular guys called to do extraordinary things” please donate to this brilliant organization to do our part in honoring those who served our country.

To Donate:

https://secured.honorflightchicago.org/np/clients/honorflightchicago/donation.jsp?forwardedFromSecureDomain=1

This listen to the podcast: 👇🏻

https://open.spotify.com/episode/0X7CI0m8VikarcpoRXOSyi?si=KBh5pv4dQGmftVPLwABP-w

More on this:

https://www.military.com/off-duty/movies/2021/11/08/saving-private-ryan-writer-set-pen-movie-about-marine-and-his-afghan-interpreter.html

Importance of Friendship :

https://www.nbcchicago.com/top-videos-home/wwii-vet-4-year-old-boy-strike-up-incredible-friendship/2680795/

#brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, #homeschoolingrealshit, #millenials, #opportunity, #sidehustle, Badassery, brene brown, glennondoyle, Health & Wellness, Lin Manuel Miranda, narcissism, narcisstic personality disorder, parenting struggles, relationships, unlockingus, vulnerability, Women's Fight, Yoga Pants

Sympathy For The Devil

I may not KNOW a lot of things but one thing I do believe for sure is that BOB (Esai Morales) from La Bamba is one BADASS mother fucker. He has to be THEE coolest and most captivating actor on the planet.

He should have won an OSCAR for best supporting actor for his performance; (Esai Morales) truly MADE the movie.

He literally SEDUCES the audience.

That being said, what I find most ironic is that no matter what he did or said, I still liked his character. I thought he was hilarious, I still do. What is even more puzzling, is that he is a complete dick.

(Side note: Esai also appeared on Ozark for a season or two- I was immediately entranced. )

As a woman, I completely identify with Rosie. As a mother and wife, I empathize with how she feels; I hate how she is treated by Bob. What was also puzzling is that she ANNOYED me. 🙈

I can actually feel her pain, grief, & confusion. You can see it written on her face. The “wait…wtf-just-happened?” face. The “how-in-the-hell-did-I-end-up-here” face. She displays this facial expression the majority of the movie. We all know that face.

This puzzled face☝🏻The “Rosie” face.

We all know that feeling: When you realize you’ve been had. You got screwed over. The worst part about it, the majority of it was your own doing. You assumed. ASS-U-ME.

I get how she assumed as well. Any woman in a could easily fall into Bob’s trap; especially the married ones. Bob’s seductive allure could have wise woman entranced in his spell: After Bob flirts with you: Huh? What kids? What husband? You don’t have a job you say? Ballsy. Hot…You drink every day? Wild & crazy. You live in your mom’s trailer? Sounds cozy. Humina Humina 😍🥰😛

I am embarrassed to admit this, but I remember thinking: Awwww just leave him alone Rosie.. it’s your own fault you got yo self knocked up

☝🏻This is the work of the devil.👆🏻

I STILL liked him after that horrible, disrespectful and honest statement by Bob. Like “Dayyyuuumm.” Why?

I am an educated & wise woman, yet I still like Bob. Wtf!? How come? 1. Clearly excellent acting by Esai Morales 2. Amazing directing

However, I am not satisfied with this. Inquiring minds want to know!!!

I was concerned with my reaction when I watching this movie recently. When the mother, Connie Valenzuela, minimized Bob’s cartoonist abilities and reminded him that he is about to become a father, I thought: Jeez Connie, buzzkill, what did you have to go and do that for!? Why don’t you get out of Richie’s ass and pay attention to poor Bob. He is trying. POOR BOB

Poor Bob: your womanizing, chauvinistic, selfish, entitled, immature, unemployed, alcoholic, manipulative, man-baby-son who just was released from prison.🤔 (Bob sounds like a real catch on paper doesn’t he?🤥😂)

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.Proverbs 16

From a biological & genetic standpoint, Bob does what Bob does best. Bob is a an alpha male who is genetically predisposed to flock his sexy shit to attract females. Bob does whatever possible to get laid; ultimately procreating more human beings to populate the earth. (Biology 101: It is vital for males to compete for reproduction and for females to choose between those competing males.

If a member of the opposite sex finds your tail, your song, or your dance moves sexy, you will have a chance to fulfill your primary biological role as a member of your species: to reproduce.

https://biogeoplanet.com/how-do-animals-find-mates-sex-and-sexual-selection/

This is “Bob’s” “primary biological role” aka his job and he rocks it. He got Rosie pregnant so now he needs to “move on” and to do this again.

It’s not his fault…yet. (Please don’t get angry, hear me out;)

From a biological/genetic standpoint, Bob is doing his job. He behaves how all male animals act. Bob is genetically predisposed to be what humans would consider “an asshole”.

The problem is, he also doesn’t know any better. No one has taught him otherwise. No one has had the chance to teach Bob to step above his biological urges.

Please don’t cause him to feel inadequate by making him have to THINK.

Don’t make him feel like a failure by asking him to have COMPASSION or EMPATHY? That is NO FUN.

What a DRAG it is getting old.

What would cause a human being to behave this way? Or to treat women this way?

Bob’s True Story & my psychological interpretation😜:

Just like Rosie, Connie also hooked up with a bad boy at a young age and got herself impregnated. The hot, sexy biological father took off.

I know you “love him” Rosie, but unless you want to cook dinner on his motorcycle…

Connie then met someone else (Steve) and Connie married Steve when Bob was two years old. Steve loved Bob and treated him as his own. Steve and Connie then had a child together, Ritchie. Ritchie was a reflection to Connie what she did right=Ritchie=golden boy. However, Bob was a reminder of her bad decisions.

Connie, Steve, Bob & Ritchie were doing well together for a while. Bob assumed Steve was his biological father and Bob loved him.

In an interview, the real Bob Morales states his life took a bad turn when he was 14 and his parents (Connie & Steve) separated.

“I moved in with my mom while Ritchie went with my dad. One day I told my mom that I wanted to live with my dad and and that’s when my aunt told me ‘Why do you want to go with him if he’s not even your real father.’Bob Morales 

Despite Steve conveying to Bob that he loved him as his own son, the shock devastated Bob. Also, it was horrible timing for Bob to find this out because soon after this discovery, Bob began high school.

Bob was getting into fights frequently so he stopped attending. Instead he gave money to the homeless nearby who would buy him alcohol.

While his now single-mom was working two jobs, Bob was not going to school and had no structure all day, no guidance, no direction=idle time which is the DEVIL’s playground.

Therefore, Bob ended up going to a detention center from age 12-17! Connie, his mother, signed him over as a ward of the state. He did not see his family that entire time he was locked up.

👆🏻Bob’s inner child translation: Go Fuck yourself Connie. I will never let a woman hurt me again.

The first time Bob saw his mother or Ritchie in years; was the day of Steve’s funeral. Which also means he didn’t get to say goodbye to Steve or to grieve properly.

Bob learned to adapt to his lonely life by becoming the life of the party. He learned how to get what he needed by finding comfort in women and selfishly move on. This probably soothed his resentment toward his mother for while, but then he felt guilty; so he drank the pain away.

Of course he was jealous of Ritchie. Ritchie got his Dad and his Mom. He got nobody.

The point is that all of US are capable of evil depending on what we are exposed to.

I thought of this blog when I was about to bitch at my son for not cleaning up the mess he made after making quesadillas. I realized that I can’t assume he knows how. I’m not going to shame him like Connie. (Wtf is wrong with you? Think like a woman) Instead, I showed him how clean it up. I EDUCATED him on what I want. I told him that this is what I expect. I didn’t talk to him like he was stupid. I thanked him for making his own food. I didn’t clean it up for him. This is the only way they learn.

Mothers: We cannot assume that our sons are just going to know how to treat women when they’re older. We cannot assume that their Dad’s are going to teach them either. Most Dads are working their ass off and are never home. (Probably chasing tail 😂 not knowing why. Kidding!🤪)

We have to teach OUR SONS what WE want from them so they can learn how to GIVE this to their future partners. We need to teach them about affection, connection, friendship, compatibility, respect, and the long term.

We have to teach them that this may be a biological urge to continue to chase women and populate the world, HOWEVER, we are not animals. Reality: kids are expensive AF.

It costs a lot of time, money, energy to raise a human child properly into a respectable adult.

We need to teach them that human females can be hot and smart. Women can be attractive, fun, brilliant, and confident. We have to teach them, not ASSUME, that a Human FEMALE’S purpose is not only to populate the world.

It’s Biology Rosie- I’m kidding!
You can have both!

We also have to teach our daughters: What they tolerate will become their future. Being a victim will not get you anywhere.

It’s OUR job to ALSO teach the FUTURE MEN of this world these skills. We need to teach them how to love unconditionally. Parents need to be a TEAM.

There is a chapter in this book on how we “go easy” on our sons because we don’t think they can manage it all and are tougher on our daughters 🙈

https://markmanson.net/love

https://markmanson.net/compatibility-and-chemistry

#markmanson

#ericthomas

#glennondoyle

#brenebrown, #doitanyway, #freedom, #greatpretender, Badassery, Find A Way, parenting struggles, relationships, unlockingus, Women's Fight

True Romance…

When I win my Oscar for best screenplay and give my speech; I would love to say “and last of all, I’d like to thank my husband for not giving a shit.”

Despite how it sounds, I mean this in a good way. By his “not giving a shit” or being “too tired right now” is actually helpful. My anger at him forces me to figure it out myself.

When I do, my self-esteem sky rockets. I am no longer mad at him because I am too empowered; but not in a self-righteous kind of way. Like in a “men and women are equal” way.

In the heat of a debate. We Both stubborn AF

Whenever I ask my husband for help, it is like an imaginary tennis match. He takes his pretend racket (tongue-on-roof-of-mouth-click-sound effect) and he just hits that request right back to me. My rebuttal (tongue-click) back to him. The longer I debate, the longer the match. Kinda like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/B-e3V7MDtMi/?igshid=z3swsvcatt03

I hate asking for help and I’m not a damsel-in-distress type of chic. I do not need or want to be taken care of or to be saved. (It does feel nice to think about it, perhaps my stubborn pride gets in the way.) When he does offer suggestions or the “right” way of doing things; he is met with a straight up tirade of obscenities from me. Therefore, deep down, I really do not want help.

Or…I would rather do it myself than deal with this:👇🏻

My husband after getting rid of yellow jacket nest 👆🏻

My old man is the most tired man in America; he works three jobs; so it’s understandable why he is exhausted. However, it was kinda weird that he was able to stay up through rain delays until 1:45am when the Cubs won the World Series. Miraculously, he was still able to get up for work at 5am the next day. But…that’s another story…😂

Anyways, I get that he’s tired; which is why I cannot expect much from him. They say having no expectations leaves you pleasantly surprised right? My expectations are so low it’s kinda like when someone goes out for a pack of cigarettes and doesn’t come back. 😜 When show back up, you are pleasantly surprised.

So I live my life expecting him not to come back, but he keeps showing back up to sleep, eat and watch sports here so now what? 😜

I work full time as well and handle everything at home with kids such as an being an Unpaid Uber driver, bank teller, chef, grocery shopper , scheduler, drama processor… I’m TIRED!….

I know that he knows it’s difficult at home and more difficult than what he does because my situation is unpredictable. He will never admit it. Raising kids/teens is not black and white how he prefers. I hate things that are black and white except movies. Being at home with kids plus working is all mutha-effin gray. You never know what you’re going to get.

Anyways, back to our most recent endeavor. About a month ago, our washing machine stopped working. It’s a LG High Efficiency washer, equipped with smart diagnosis. This means that I can connect my IPhone to the washer and it can diagnose what’s wrong. My washer continued to display “IE”. He has an Android, I have an iPhone which probably contributed to his feelings of inadequacy. 😂

For every insult, there’s a counter insult.
No one ever wins. 😉

In the manual, “IE” means that you have to clean out the water inlet valve, the Manual says to clean inlet valve monthly. I know we have NEVER done this. So I asked my old man to do it. He didn’t feel like fixing it right now which led to the “tennis match”.

While sitting on the couch, he told me to call the repairman we used for the dishwasher. The woman who answered the phone asked me what was wrong and I told her.

But what are you doing right now Floyd?

She replied, “Yea, that Washing machine brand isn’t the greatest. That code means you need to clean out the water inlet valve”. I said “Like I know what that is or how to do that, thats why I’m calling you.” (Whorebag, in my head)

So she calls me back and said she can get me in on Saturday between 12pm-4pm.

Me: “Ummm that’s four days from now, you have nothing sooner?” Whorebag: “Nope. Mmm-mmm. No. We will call you the day before AND the morning of to confirm.”

Me: “Ok, thanks” (In head: “Dont you condescend me, man. I’ll fuckin kill you man.)👇🏻

I confirmed the service call from the know-it-all, condescending lady on Friday night and Saturday morning. We go out to breakfast to do something together since he is going to work and I have to be home by noon for repair man.

I overeat carbs to feed my resentment.

So on my day off, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, I have to wait. Me sitting on the couch, after a large, carby meal and doing nothing but waiting is not a normal situation and unfortunately, I fall asleep.

Three unanswered calls later from the fix it guy, I missed my repair window. His voicemail:

“Yea, since you aren’t answering the phone, I am not wasting a 20-minute trip since you are my only call out there today.” Me: Ew. Wasting his time? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

Off topic: True magician, Gary Oldman as the pimp Drexel Spivy

Me: (Furiously calling him back-but I get the awful lady 😫) Me: “I thought after I confirmed three times, he would just show up. I left a note on the front door for him to just come in. I missed his call but I have been here waiting.”

Know-It-All-Lady: “Yea, no, he’s too busy. If you missed his calls, then we have to reschedule. Where were you anyway?

Me: (wtf-now who does SHE think she is?) “Where was I? I was home, sitting here waiting, doing nothing. I never do that so I fell asleep.”

Know-It-All-Lady: “You fell Asleep???”

Now if my husband dozed off on the couch, this would completely accepted and understandable. For a woman to fall asleep-Unheard of. This woman should know how tired women are in general as a species; this is a complete betrayal.

I’d rather die than have you fix my washing machine bitch

Me: “Well, I think it’s ridiculous that you guys make me wait four days for this appointment. Despite my confirming both calls and wait on my day off on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. His time is too valuable to drive here? I’m sorry my shitty machine isn’t worth his time. I’ll call another company.” She began to talk and hung up on her. (Damn that felt good)

So… I have had a hell of a time finding someone to fix this thing; but I REFUSE to call that company back. I really do not enjoy cleaning my cleaning appliances. 😂

So, I swallowed my pride, watched some you tube how-to’s DIY fix it videos and did it.

I thought of the jerky boys while doing this. “Should I bring all my tools?” https://youtu.be/5F-VQtEfbTU

Yea, I fixed it. It cost NOTHING. I’m a bad ass. I’m muthafuckin Charlie Bronson👇🏻.

You a bad ass.

In the end, I know how to fix the washing machine. I know what a water inlet valve is and what a pair of pliers is. I don’t need him to admit that I’m a bad ass. I’m not even mad anymore. The irrational thoughts have left and I’m left with realizing this was about a stupid, replaceable washing machine. As much as I hate his guts in the moment, I realize now I’m doing the same thing he is doing. Everything I say about him, he could say about me. He handles stuff that I don’t think about. I don’t give a shit either. 😂

The big picture.

However,👇🏻Admitting it is sexy, I hope men don’t wait until they are this old to see the truth.

Off topic: See the best of Floyd: I still laugh 18 years later

#Beyourself, #brenebrown, #freedom, #opportunity, #simonsinek, brene brown, davidkesler, glennondoyle, Grief, unlockingus, vulnerability

Quarantine-ING

DO-Ing

typing, writing, blogging, documenting, lifting, texting, Editing, painting, cleaning, spraying, wiping, exercising, scrubbing, folding, washing, bringing, dropping, returning, buying, framing, ordering, shopping, selecting, carrying, drinking, posting, networking, punching, pushing, pulling, decorating, eating, spending, clicking, entering, hanging, filling, loading, unloading, tapping, cutting, pasting, organizing, sorting, driving, downloading, uploading, swiping, scrolling, teaching, knowing, competing, disciplining, tweeting, taming, fearing, sorting, worrying, numbing, controlling, binging, guessing, confusing, dying, producing, moving, locking, journaling, questioning, debating, arguing, avoiding, fixing, finding, searching, planning, resisting, wishing, looking, filling, running, circling, drowning, refusing, fighting…

BE-ing

Sitting, sleeping, watching, hydrating, laughing, smelling, crying, listening, hearing, seeing, dancing, playing, talking, touching, baking, prepping, praying, snuggling, creating, bathing, planting, soaking, replenishing, strengthening, zooming, holding, learning, riding, napping, enlightening, dreaming, calling, connecting, hugging, stopping, quieting, soothing, reflecting, enjoying, smiling, loving, empowering, grieving, pausing, living, giving, feeling, staying, appreciating, facing, unplugging, growing, resting, helping, healing, shining, hoping, fasting, unlocking, braving, allowing, permitting, surrendering

Which “ING” have you been doing?

Yea, me too…

I recognized this morning that “I’m doing it wrong.”

Weekend Goals

BE-ing

#freedom, #homeschoolingrealshit, coming of age, Malcolm Gladwell, Mental Health, Talking with Strangers

Southside BLASPHEMY

This book was a tough read…
.
Took me a long time to get through it…
.
When I say this, it is because unlike Malcolm Gladwell’s @malcolmgladwell other books, this one touched on extremely emotional topics.
.
I didn’t get it at first, as usual (I’m slow) or perhaps it’s the haze of cognitive dissonance…

I didn’t like it at first is because it made me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

.

It made me think about topics I avoid…


It made me uncomfortable.

It made me nauseous…at times.

Then something clicked and I got it.

@malcolmgladwell pulls at your heartstrings with true stories, cases, that are controversial and breaks them down…

He discusses what WE can do to communicate better with people we do not know.

He reveals how some people “may not act the way WE think they should act”.

I will lightly touch on some of the topics in this book that I feel compelled to weigh in on so if you want to KNOW NOTHING about the book and read the book yourself: please stop reading here.

****Spoiler alert****

An intriguing example is when Gladwell explains the Amanda Knox case and what could have been done differently.

Malcolm clarifies that the whole ordeal Amanda was sucked into was because the Italian police didn’t think she “acted” the way she should be acting when her roommate was murdered.

Amanda didn’t “show emotion” or “communicate how she should.”

It’s seems like it should be such a clear concept, except we all know it is not. We all judge people on their behavior, their words, their actions. We judge because someone is not “behaving” the way we would.

On the opposite spectrum of innocence, Gladwell breaks down the Penn State/Sandusky scandal. (This is where I struggled the most with getting through this book.) Sandusky went years untouched and undetected because “he doesn’t act like a child molester” or “his victims don’t act like they were abused”. Sandusky was adored by all. Sandusky was a god on that campus.

Gladwell brings up many other controversial and historical topics such as Hitler, Sylvia Plath, and Gingis Khan.

Therefore, Gladwell solidifies his point that: The human race overall, sucks at talking with strangers.

Transparency is the idea that people’s behavior and demeanor—the way they represent themselves on the outside—provides an authentic and reliable window into the way they feel on the inside.

Malcolm Gladwell: Talking to Strangers
Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know about the People We Don’t Know https://www.amazon.com/dp/0316478520/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_9eWNEbRW7CFK5

Here’s the Southside Blasphemy:

BUZZKILL

But what does mean? What does “responsibly” mean? Is it like that vague moderation bullshit?


Gladwell painfully examines binge drinking and college sexual assaults. He breaks down the culture of socially-acceptable-yet-dangerous-binge-drinking and how this scientifically affects the human brain.

Gladwell goes into detail about black outs; the lack of communication between people while intoxicated and how so many assumptions are made. He brings to light how serious incidents are minimized and the misconception of society’s view of alcohol abuse.



Gladwell deliberates how men are called weak and berated if they don’t keep drinking, slam shots or chug beer bongs. He states how women are glorified if they can “drink a guy under the table” and how women are judged by “how cool they are” based on how much alcohol she can consume.



Then he dissertates the differences between men and women’s genetic make-up, how they metabolize alcohol differently and what happens biologically to the body and mind.

EYE OPENING.

I listened to this chapter with with different ears. As a parent, you have no choice but to imagine your kids in one of these situations.

I never considered teaching my daughter “how” to drink (not sure I am qualified either 😜maybe I need another adult to do that for me;).

I never thought of teaching my son exactly how to “be respectful of women”, knowing how to ask for permission and when no means no.

However, if you are on the fence, here’s some tasty vodka to assist you loosen up to say YES! (Mixed messages)🤨

I just assumed that my kids would make good decisions based on how we raised them. However, Gladwell discusses how alcohol, the impact of society & social media erases all of that.

Example: “Don’t do what I do. Do what I tell ya.” Didn’t even fly with me in the 70’s/80’s.

The impact alcohol has on sexual assault:

This part in the audiobook was exceptionally painful; listening to a real court case of a sexual assault between two freshman at a college campus. Listening to testimony of a 19 year old MALE who “assumed” the girl he making out with was “okay with everything” because “she didn’t say anything.”

In reality, she was in a black out; unconscious.

In the testimony, the 19 year old guy speculates what happens; then when asked directly, he admits he truly doesn’t remember the situation either.

Yet here he is, in court after making some bad decisions he doesn’t remember while intoxicated as a freshman in college: now facing a jail sentence, expulsion, felony charges and a 15-year listing on the sex offender registry.

I couldn’t help but have empathy for the female but also for the guy; he was just a kid who is 5 years older than my own son. He was clueless, naive, and he ASS-umed.

I could actually see myself and our friends laughing about a situation like this – (hooking up with someone in a black out-where neither party remember or know each other’s names) in college or even last year. However, when it is your child, it is a whole different deal.


…This chapter lead to one of many future discussions with my kids about alcohol use and how we all, as parents, have to educate our kids on safe drinking. I can say I “don’t want my kids using alcohol” however I know they will. So atleast as parents, we need to specifically educate them exactly how to “drink responsibly.” Brevity is key.

“Drink responsibly” is the message that is repeated, but what does that mean? I had to figure that out for myself and it took 30 years! I still drink too fast.

Therefore, if we know this, we need to offer our kids some guidance on HOW to drink responsibly.

However there are so many societal mixed messages. The ambivalence is similar to Frank the tanks “I have a lot to do tomorrow, but it tastes so good as it touches your lips.”

D.A.R.E. Is a great idea but it is not realistic.

D.A.R.E. Motto =just say NO. Reality: what happens when you tell most humans NO?

I’ve had kids tells me that D.A.R.E just made them more curious.

Most drugs are illegal so maybe just say NO works sometimes, perhaps for those who are rule followers.

Society Mixed messages: Alcohol is legal so how can we teach them the same concept? How about teach them “I’ll have, SOME, but I won’t wreck myself”. I will learn how much and what “moderation” means. Explain to them what does drink responsibly mean.

Like one alcoholic drink an hour?

Drink water in between alcoholic beverages?

In educating kids and teens, you cannot always say a specific number of drinks or beers because everyone metabolizes alcohol differently. Teaching them to pay attention to how they feel.

We also have to educate them on the social impact their “being responsible” might result in.

Transparent Translation: their friends and peers might give them a lot of shit for turning down shots or not slamming beer after beer.

We have to educate them that how much they can drink has nothing to do with “coolness.”

Slamming drinks every 10 minutes, Obviating yourself, Doing super shit and being sloppy isn’t cool either

Peer pressure is real, even after you have kids and are an “adult.”😂

Example: I was at a party last year and another parent offered me a drink. I turned it down because it was already 1am and I had to get up for my kids games at 9am. He smirked and replied “You used to be fun.”

My inner—insecure-socially-awkward-teenager-self-emerged and immediately wanted to grab a beer bong like Frank the tank and “show him!”

Adult peer pressure is real.😂

As a 40-something adult, I STILL had to remind myself he is kidding, he really doesn’t care if I drink or not and he honestly won’t even remember saying that to me the next day.

We all like to belong. We all want to be perceived as fun (Fun Bobby) https://youtu.be/3nJ_l5qMrdw

No one wants to feel “not fun” (turns out fun Bobby is not so fun anymore) https://youtu.be/Y9qR3y_oLXM

However, we all need to have these uncomfortable feelings and transparent conversations. 2020 Kids are fucking smart. They find loopholes.