Now that whirlwind of the holiday season is over and we are collectively experiencing a massive dopamine crash…
Let’s take a moment now to reflect and ponder…How the hell did we do all that?
Or maybe “What was I thinking buying that?”
Bedazzled
The glow of the Christmas lights ignites a warm feeling in our hearts and a goodwill toward others. It courses through our veins like heroin. It’s as if the high of “giving the perfect gift” intoxicates our mind and clouds our judgement. We think with our hearts instead of our brain. Thankfully for our bank account, it only happens once a year. Yet, I still love every minute of it and will do it all again next year.
This year, however, it seemed more apparent to me than in years past, the weeks before Christmas are more of a rush than the actual day. The preparation for Christmas, the tree, decorating, shopping, & wrapping gets us excited. This excitement from Black Friday until 12/25 is a perpetual, steady, high like no other.
I noticed on Christmas day, there was a slight sting hovering in the background; mourning the loss of the “anticipation“.
Don’t get me wrong, my Christmas week was a blast. This was an ambivalent feeling of pure joy, combined with a lump in the back of my throat. I miss “looking forward to it”. I miss being excited. Must be aging…
This got me thinking… if I live to 100, I’ll only have 49 more Christmases. 😢
While I was watching my annual Christmas movie selections; I noticed another surprising change. I found that I was annoyed with George Bailey. I’ve been loyal to him for 35 years so it’s tough to admit, but I have lost patience for him in my old age. He sounds like a whiny brat at times.
I have been identifying more with the true hero of the story..Mary Hatch Bailey. Mary knew what was going on the whole time.
Mary Hatch knew she loved George even as a young girl.
Mary whispers in his bad ear, “George Bailey, I’ll love you til the day I die.”
She was subtle and assertive when something or someone stood in her way.
Aka Back off Bitch, you can’t have ALL the boys in this town!
She knew where she wanted to live. She visualized and wished with her heart; it worked. Little did she know without the internet or Instagram, that she was manifesting dat shit into her life.
Most of all, she innately knew what was important and could see the big picture. She didn’t need a whole production of angels coming down from heaven and putting on a show of “not being born” to let her know what life is all about…
Love
Acts of service
Social connection
Mary stayed focused on her goals and didn’t pay attention what other people were doing.
Mary: “Get Bent Sam Wainright.”
When there was dilemma, Mary found a solution.
When the whole town was bankrupt, she “lent” her honeymoon money to the community.
She fixed up the old house to make it a “home.” She he found a solution instead of whining about the cards she was dealt.
Am I still allowed to say she added a “woman’s touch?”
She didn’t get embarrassed that her car was a p.o.s. or by what she was wearing.
Mary: “Why are you wearing diamonds and furs on a roadtrip?”
Mary had four babies, volunteered during the war and supported the well-being of her husband and kids.
When the $8000 went missing, she knew WHEN to ask for help from her friends. One person or family can’t do all the giving. She is aware that friendship is a two-way street.
Shit just got real.
She knew when to stop giving and to ask for help, she knew that pride doesn’t save anybody.
Therefore, we need to be aware of when to stop giving and start asking.
The key is, recognizing what is in your control and what is not.
Knowing when you need to LET others do what they are going to do.
Let others THINK what they are going to THINK.
Let people gossip.
Let people judge.
Let people display their true self all over the place.
Why? Because it is out of your control. Why expend the time and energy? If someone acts like they want to leave and doesn’t treat you the way you want, you can let them GO.
“Why don’t you GO HOME! aka GTFO George Bailey you lil bitch.”Feel it Get pissed Regroup Move OnGive them a chance to want to change
Below is a link to 60 minutes of the best therapy ever (you can fast forward through commercials.)
This podcast episode provides the tools and mindset on common situations such as: Dealing with a stressful boss, a break up or a divorce, when your children can’t get motivated or when you feel guilty about disappointing your family, or friends & more.
The game-changing concept that is also discussed “If every thought you had cost a dollar, would you keep thinking about it?” Would you keep wasting your energy if it cost money?
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 “CobraKai” 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.
I have been feeling very uninspired lately. I have not felt like writing or speaking my truth because it seems like there is no point. Feeling disheartened, discouraged, disappointed, and unpatriotic is a terrible mindset to be stuck in.
Thankfully this changed on Thursday, August 11th, 2022, when I accompanied my sister to her friend’s book signing.
It was a privilege and honor meeting a true HERO, Major Tom Schueman. . And Added bonus, he is from the Southside of Chicago!
Major Tom Schueman & my baby sista AllisonSee pic 👆🏻Tom is writing on his hand 😉 …just a quick quote by William Faulkner 🤯😂- you can take a guy out the south side but ya can’t take the south-side outta the guy;)
Major Tom Schueman, A Marist High School, Loyola and Georgetown graduate raised by a single “hippie, cop mom” has authored his first book with Zak, an Interpreter from Afghanistan.
This one- hour interview, had me choked up-then-laughing numerous times about Tom’s experience growing up and what he went through serving our country.
Laughing when Major Tom describes his Grandma having a crush on Tom Cruise and A Few Good Men was on all the time at his house growing up.
Major Tom describes the values his mother instilled in him, the childhood friends he made, and how both combined helped build the foundation of the amazing man he has become today.
Tom’s core values of resilience, adversity, integrity, persistence, and always being faithful led Major Tom, to not giving up in any aspect of his life.
These core values provided him with the stamina to persevere in his deployment in Afghanistan, watching his military brothers become wounded or even killed and in helping his friend Zak and his family escape from the Taliban to the United States.
Zak wanted to improve the quality of life in Afghanistan and chose to take a life-threatening job as an interpreter to the United States military.
Zak’s expertise and cultural knowledge saved lives of countless lives of US soldiers.
Zak is not a trained UNITED STATES soldier, yet he faced the same challenges as US troops and over time, he became one of them and served our country without even being a United States Citizen.
Tom so eloquently describes how some individuals can have American values and “BE American” even if they are not born here.
This story of adversity, loyalty, friendship and always being faithful provides readers with the empowering journey of how Major Tom assisted in getting Zak and his family to the United States after after two previously failed attempts.
If you have been feeling uninspired, discouraged, disheartened, disappointed and unpatriotic, read this book. 🇺🇸 ❤️ 💙 🤍
The biggest fights I had with my mother were about her relentlessly forcing me to watch old movies. . It was so “unfair”! I wanted to watch “normal” stuff like everyone else. I would fight her to the end. . I was SO stubborn! I STILL am! Right now, I am gritting my teeth like these defiant toddlers & teens below.👇🏻🤬.🙈
I refuse to touch the grass!
I’m not moving, what you gonna do about it?
I haven’t watched THE BISHOPS WIFE since I was an eye-rolling teenager- too busy scowling to see the magic. Even if I did, I wouldn’t admit it.
To keep from slipping into that Charlie Brown-what-is-Christmas-all-about-depression this year; I needed something bigger than Buddy or the Red Ryder BB gun.
So I made a point to watch The Bishop’s Wife over Christmas weekend, remembering how much my mom loved it.
Watching this movie now at 46, in 2020, was like fuel for the soul.
How did I miss the sweet snowball fight scene? (Or my favorite kid of all time- the young George Bailey—Bobby Anderson). Probably because my mom was trying to tell me to look.
George Bailey I’ll love you til the day I die. (Just don’t tell my mom or I’ll have to kill you,)
I didn’t appreciate the ice skating scene; probably because my mom gushed about it; which in turn made me think it was “dumb”.👇🏻
In pouting and covering my ears, I also missed the story about the shepherd and the empty stocking.🥰🥲😢🤩 . I see it now. I feel it now.🙈👇🏻
White Christmas- I dreaded this one too- “I hate musicals!” is all I would defiantly scream.
My Mom: “You don’t hate musicals. You love Grease, West Side Story, Wizard of Oz, The Sound of Music & Mary Poppins.”
Me: (grrrrrr🤬) “Those aren’t musicals, shut up and don’t talk to me!”
When my mom is right. Me: 🖕🏻
Over the last few years, I finally swallowed my pride and let myself enjoy White Christmas. Fine!
Ok! The songs are kinda catchy. 😜
Who am I kidding? I love all of them. 🙈 I get the true meaning of the story now.
That General Waverly chokes me up every time😢…
Sobbing like a bitch at home 12/26/2020
I now appreciate the insane dedication, practicing and hard work that went into this movie: the real dancing, the real singing, (not computer generated ) the lighting, and the dresses! Perhaps it’s because we live in lounge wear & jammies now but I never truly noticed THESE outfits!
I mean…who wouldn’t feel sexy AF in this?
I am grateful that my mom is still here for me to tell her THANK YOU for being so annoyingly persistent. It only took 30 years+a quarantine for me to come around.
Read this true story about Irving Berlin. It will break your heart even more about this song, the story and the👇🏻 movie.
This year, I recognized the greatest gift I have ever received. The gift of this knowledge presented itself on Christmas Eve and was about as welcome as Ebenezer’s three spirits.
A old friend casually joked with me “at least you got to believe in Santa Claus.”
I never thought of “believing in Santa” as a gift or that having the “chance” or “opportunity” to believe in Santa Claus was a privilege.
It makes me sad that my friend did not have this opportunity.
I realize now how much effort is put forth into having your child “believe”. Perhaps some parents don’t have the energy, imagination or faith to keep this alive; or maybe some parents do not know how.
The innocence, imagination and simplicity of a child’s mind made the magic of Christmas easy to pull off.
Their excitement over little things made me excited; which in turn made me WANT to make it fun and magical.
The last two years have been opposite for me with two teenagers. I honestly had no clue what to do for them because they are genetically predisposed to be selfish, ungrateful assholes.
The vibe & statements I received from them was, “Christmas isn’t as fun anymore mom, it’s no big deal. It’s okay.”
The message I would give back, “It’s okay kids. I have nothing left to give anyway you life-sucking punks. I am empty.”
Which in turn caused me to NOT WANT to do anything for them this year. I didn’t care.
However, this is the year they needed me to care the most.
Then I remembered what my mom would do.
Despite what we said, she would do it anyway. My mom still did everything the same even when we were teenagers and early twenties. She still put presents out from Santa on Christmas morning and put stuffed animals in our stockings despite the eye rolls. It was as if she could still see our inner child; kinda like this commercial.👇🏻https://youtu.be/QJntbYytPz8
She had the ability to be where we were at… yet she still knew what we still wanted; even though we were too stubborn to admit it.
I did what my mom did and I did it anyway. I stayed present with where my kids are.
I had no expectations of them or their reactions. Instead of being mad about their lack of excitement, I rolled with it.
I made my kids wait until after church to open gifts.
I stalled a little longer to finish wrapping gifts for others. Even though “it’s not fun like it was, mom”…they may have accidentally displayed some anticipation and a glimmer of childlike-Christmas-morning-glow.
By expecting them to be as they are instead of what I hoped them to be; I was pleasantly surprised by their pleased reactions and gratitude.
It was a beautiful Christmas and my kids were grateful, sweet and thoughtful.
My mother gave this gift to me…
My mother “showed” me how to “do” Christmas.
Mom, I should just wrap you up and put you under the tree every year because you are truly a gift. 😢☺️
And you were right about everything.🤬😂 (Inner Teen: Thrashing defiantly inside.)
Well, almost everything….
I refuse to stay up til 4am wrapping – that shit is done way ahead of time while kids at school or out with friends. I also learned from this SNL skit to ask for exactly what I want, buy it for myself if I do not get it and to stuff my own stocking!. 😂
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.
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 maleanimals 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 🙈
The First rule about fight club is that we should talk about fight club.
We should talk about the constant fight for women to do it all. We are supposed to be business women, short order cooks, waitresses, housekeepers, unpaid Uber drivers and oh yea, moms.
What I envision when someone says “Business Woman” is Sigourney Weaver in Working Girl.
1. Power suit with huge shoulder pads
2. Big office with name& Big TITLE on the door
3. Briefcase & Business cards
4. Stiletto heels
5. Big coffee
6. RBF
This vision seemed to be the only kind of women who could support a family on their own.
Have you ever tried to cook dinner in a dress, blazer or pantyhouse? Total fire hazard.
I could never imagine myself in this role, nor did I ever want to be. Plus I like to be comfortable in my clothes. I thoroughly enjoyed being a worker bee and a mom. I tolerated some humiliating treatment in the past because I thought that’s “just the way it is” and some things “will never change”.
When my kids both were in school full day, the “mom-brain fog” seemed to lift and I was able to think about myself again. I got my health and nutrition back in order and found personal development.
It began with podcasts by Chalene Johnson. I noticed that my day went so much better when I would listen to her podcasts before work. I felt more empowered all day and I finally believed that I did not have to tolerate anything I did not want to.
These podcasts brought me to the realization that after working at the same job for 12 years; I was bored. I was unchallenged, frustrated, fed up with coworker-scheduling dynamics and micromanagement. In my heart, I knew I was meant for more. I was also tired of working evenings, weekends and holidays.
I was ready for the next step…BOSS.
That is what “moving up” means, right?
You become what you think about.
So, I made Pinterest Boards entitled “CEO” “Like a Boss” & “Boss Bitch”. I began actively looking for clinical supervisors and managerial positions.
An opportunity presented itself and I was offered a Clinical Director position.
I enjoyed giving my two weeks notice to my manager and advising him that I would be leaving to be a DIRECTOR of a department (a title higher than his). I fantasized about this moment for months and his uneventful reaction solidified that I made the right decision to leave. (However I was disappointed he did not beg me to stay, counter with a pay increase etc.)
If you could fight anyone who would you fight?”
“I am the Director of this department” was broadcasted by me as many times as possible throughout the day. I relished in watching people’s facial expressions change or check their tone when speaking to me.
I am IMPORTANT.
I am POWERFUL.
I thrived on getting up early, working out, sending emails, checking the status of “MY” department.
I owned it.
I rocked boots and $12.99 dresses from ROSS (I know-I am so fancy).
I listened to audio books on my commute. I was UNSTOPPABLE. This is what I wanted! I made it happen! I am killing it. I am making more Money and MONEY IS POWER!
After one month, I was hysterically sobbing after working late…again… and receiving a humiliating phone call with the CEO on my “day off”. My brothers wedding was that night and I didn’t want to go. I went with puffy eyes.
After two months, I was miserable all the time .
I was so confused. After all, this is what I wanted?
Why am I so unhappy? I assumed it was the growing pains of change. I missed the connections and laughing with my coworkers.
I was lonely.
However, I told myself every morning
“It’s lonely at the TOP” and I persevered.
I focused on what I COULD do. I created a cohesive, unstoppable team like a tribe! I worked on empowering my team members. I devoted time cultivating relationships with my staff and knowing them personally. I got in the arena with them and did the work. I became the manager I always wanted: Someone who has got your back!
I EARNED the title I had and proved to my team that I am their fearless leader.
That did not matter to management though. Now I understood my previous boss a lot better.
Now I was miserable…empty, exhausted, and depressed.
Yes I made a lot more money “per year”. However, In reality, I was putting in 55-60 hours a week at work and spending 3-5 hours in my car commuting.
How much more money was I really making?
Also, I noticed I never felt free. I finally was “off” on weekends with paid holidays; but I was never truly off.
I had no clue what was going on with my kids. I was missing the kids games and planned dinners with my family and friends. I was passing out in my work clothes next to my kids because I missed them so much. I was not sleeping well. I was getting massive carpal tunnel in my hands from holding the steering wheel so many hours and from typing, writing, and holding the phone.
The coworker “drama” I used to deal with became silly and comical; like a family argument that you look back on and laugh about. The coworker drama I was exposed to now was some serious shit and I was the one who was supposed to handle it!
So what did I do? What does every girl do when they feel empty? I shopped. I bought more stuff. I justified to myself that I, I need to look good: I AM THE BOSS. If I look good, I feel good. I worked harder and got deeper into the trenches of my arena.
I refused to give up.
I noticed at my kids games that I did make, I had to answer the phone and be available. I was preoccupied with how my department was doing.
My kids were not doing well at school.
I actually craved punching in and working a weekend shift like I used to. I missed working my ass off and then leaving for the day, completely free.
I believed I was being immature and this is what being a “Business Woman” is all about.
I have to tough it out. I have to keep fighting.
Then one day a friend said to me, “You never smile anymore.”
I started to cry. It was the painful truth I was avoiding. I was no longer myself. I realized my kids looked sad and stopped asking me to do things with them “because you always have to work.” Then I noticed that I stopped giving a fuck…about anything…
“Worker bees can leave. Even Drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club.
One night another friend said to me, “Your kids need you.” The guilt, pain and loneliness was unbearable.
After a chain of extremely stressful events that left me feeling lost and sitting in the parking lot, crying by my car; I had a moment of clarity.
What I wanted to be is the BOSS…OF MY LIFE…
I knew in the gut that this job was not the answer. I didn’t call my husband. I didn’t ask anyone for advice. I didn’t ask for permission. I trusted myself. No excuses.
Thankfully I kept a plan B, I stayed on as registry at another hospital. My supervisor there said he could guarantee me at least 20 hours a week. 
I walked in and resigned from my “BOSS” job.
I felt like a failure. I felt like a quitter. Yet I knew I made the right decision. It was a terrifying ambivalence.
It felt like I put my heart and soul into building and decorating a house and establishing relationships with a family; only to hand it to someone else. -Quillan Kelly-Dunn
Then I randomly found some podcasts by Marie Forleo who described failing as a “WIN” because at least the risk was taken and there wouldn’t be that “what if”.
By taking a risk, you found what didn’t work. At least you know now what you don’t want. -Marie Forleo
Not gonna lie, things were rough in my marriage for two months, but I appreciated my kids and every moment I had with them more than I ever did in my life. That was PRICELESS.
I enjoyed going to their games, being present, making dinner and punching in and out. I enjoyed the “freedom” of being a worker bee.
My husband eventually realized how stressful it was without me being home and how much time and money we were spending on gas, tolls, and trying to figure out childcare. I was smiling again without the stress of what to wear, what to eat and was able to sleep.
I assumed the full-time career I longed for did not exist; however, I wrote it down anyways.
I surrendered by trusting the universe and having faith. I let go of worrying about how my resume looked. I let the chips fall where they may. I gave up the illusion of control.
Things became desperate financially. Out of this desperation, I accepted the first job offered to me. It was less money, temporary, and not that great of benefits. It turned out to be an amazing fit for me that utilized all my strengths. I found my passion, my drive, my balance and my purpose again.
It turned out to be a job I had never done before in the field and working from home. I spent less money on clothes, food, gas, childcare, & commuting. I was free to drop off and pick up my kids every day from school. It also turned out to be exactly what I had written down:
I wrote down: “a job where I could balance between my family and career while maintaining myself, my sanity, my integrity, and be in charge of my own schedule.”
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club.
I was looking to feel important, powerful, unstoppable, assertive, ballsy, fearless, empowered, driven and fulfilled. I was looking for a job to make me feel that way.
What I truly wanted was to feel in charge of my life=a title does not equal that.
I am without a full time job again today 1/23/28(my company closed 1/12/18). I am writing this in my yoga pants, with messy hair/no make up on; yet I feel more important than ever.
I feel in control and more powerful than I ever have.
I feel like a business woman.
I can give myself whatevertitle I want.
My office is anywhere I want it to be.
I can wear yoga pants or a Ross dress if I want. I’m ready to FIGHT.
“What you see at fight club is a generation of men raised by women.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
After all, you do not have to “get ready” to fight if you are already wearing yoga pants.
Quillan Kelly-Dunn 