autobiography

When I first started blogging, I desperately wanted to become a Huffington Post blogger.

Fast forward a year and change later, and that dream was realized.

I was elated – cried a few tears of gratitude upon seeing my name in the byline. And the support from my friends and fans was just, well, it was heartwarming and made me cry even more.

Now here we are, present day. And I’ve realized that the dream I had of what it is to be a Huffington Post blogger is not all that I thought it would be.

Everything I share on that platform is ripped to shreds by faceless strangers who read the title (which the editing team writes – I have no say) and use it as an invitation to attempt to shame me and my story.

Don’t get me wrong: I know that anytime you put yourself out there, and be 100% you, you risk the chance of being rejected and ridiculed.

But NEVER have I been met with such toxicity in response to my writing on other platforms, like mustlovecrows.com, twitter, Medium, Instagram and good old Facebook.

So what is the lesson here?

The lesson for me is that it’s time to let go of the dream I had of what it is to be a Huffington Post blogger. It’s time to say thank you for the opportunity, but I won’t allow my writing to become an impetus for hostility.

I cannot control other people; I cannot make people face the reasons why they hate so passionately.

But I can stop offering up bits of myself – bits of my soul –  on a platform that is a breeding ground for all that is wrong with this world.

Which by the way, is a lack of love.

I appreciate you all so much for your support over the past couple years. And I look forward to continuing to connect with you here on mustlovecrows.com.

You just won’t catch anything new from me moving forward on The Huffington Post.

xo

A

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So I came across this quote on Facebook the other day: “Winners are not people who never fail. Winners are people who never quit.”

And I’m going to offer up a big F you to that guilt-laden crap, because guess what?

There ain’t nothin’ wrong with quitting something that isn’t working for you.

Puhhllleeeaassseee with all this pressure! Seriously! All this so-called self-help stuff that guilts us into believing that we must suffer — that we must ignore our soul calling out when it says “no more working for the man — time to invest in me!!”

I’m over it, and I hope you give yourself permission to be over it too.

Because damned if life isn’t hard enough — now we have to stick it out through everything? Even the stuff that is making us depressed and anxious and miserable?

Nuh uh. I’m done with that way of living.

Does that mean I’m going to walk out on my part-time gig because it brings me occasional discontent? No. Because not having the guaranteed cash flow every week would cause me even more stress. Plus if I’m being real with you, it has really helped me work on my patience (I wrote about that here.)

But if something came up that made me happier, you can sure as shit bet I would take that new gig. And you know what I’ll do when that comes about?

I’ll quit.

Sure I’ll give my two weeks (probably more, because 2 weeks is super short ) but I’ll still quit in order to get going on something that better jives with me.

And I’ll do it because there’s nothing wrong with quitting if you feel it’s time to do so.

Right there, I’ve dispelled this whole “never quit” belief that quite frankly, is causing everyone a whole lot of unnecessary pain and shame.

So my friends, if you feel called to quit, quit. And don’t shame yourself for it.

And please unfollow any accounts in your social media feeds that offer up silly quotes that attempt to shame you into accepting discontent. No one needs that unproductive pressure to be perfect shoved in their face.

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I just got back from vacation where I acquired a tan and some clarity.

Somewhere between the beach days and the exceptional meals, I tapped into some realizations that have me feeling pretty damn good. (Side note: never down play the importance of taking a few days off.)

Over the last couple of years I’m been pretty focused on unwrapping and showcasing what’s underneath all the pretending we do in life.

Social media is one big fake game, what with everyone being obsessed with looking perfect. And perfect isn’t possible, which I know is such an obvious statement but still, here we are as a society, trying to be perfect all the time.

And I am one of those people.

While I am motivated to speak the truth about life and not be fake, I still very much struggle with my ego’s need to be perfect. That goes for looks, career performance, and interpersonal relationships – pretty much everything.

Looks wise, I want to be a conventional beauty and appear a certain way to others, but it’s not possible. I will never look like anyone other than who I look like. 

Career wise, I am always thinking about making more money. And in doing so, I am not appreciating how great things are, right here, right now, in this moment.

And I’m forever badgering myself for my perceived failures when it comes to social interactions. If I just let all that shit go, I could be more present for the news ones.

So in trying to be perfect in all areas of my life, I’m forever focusing on ways to improve myself, which takes a lot of energy.

If I just said fuck it and embraced the fact that I’m not ever going to be the way I envision myself being (ie: perfect) I could free up a lot of time spent ruminating on my failures.

If I just admitted I sucked at something, and felt how it felt to suck, I could process the feelings surrounding it and move on.

Clarity this weekend has come in the form of realizing it’s OK to suck at something – that I don’t need to be everything, all the time. And if I embrace the fact that I suck at things, instead of berating myself for my failures all the time, I can focus my efforts on things I am good at. Like writing.

Let me tell you, there is some holy hallelujah relief that comes when you just say “fuck it, that’s not my thing” – and focus your efforts on the stuff you give a shit about and are good at.

So with that in mind, I’ve decided to blast through my fear of not being good enough and share what I suck at, in no particular order.

1. I suck at socializing in large groups. OK so it’s not that I completely suck at this on the outside, but on the inside, it’s one of my least favorite things to do. I find it overwhelming AF, and being an uber-empathetic person, it’s just plain hard on me, mentally. I daresay at times it’s a form of torture. So moving forward, if you invite me to a party, I will most likely have a work deadline and won’t be able to make it.
2. I suck at being patient. My brain works really quickly; I process ideas and thoughts at a high-speed – faster than most people in my life. Which means I’m waiting for people to catch up to me quite often, and I get really impatient with them at times. Like no joke, I can be a fucking jerk about it. I’ll do the whole dramatic big sigh to let them know they are wasting my time and everything. What an asshole right? Before you start judging me, know that I always end up apologizing, and I don’t act like this all the time. But some days I do, and when I notice it I admit that it’s better for me to not be around people, so as to not spread my jerk germs.
3. I suck at being fake. Truth: I get supremely annoyed when I am met with people being fake, particularly if they are people I have known for a long time. I’m talking zero patience for it. And yes I know there are some issues lying underneath that truth, and this obviously isn’t the only scenario that lends itself to me being impatient, but I’ll get to unpacking all that once I unpack my suitcase.

Bonus #4 Thing I suck at:

I suck at optimism. OK so I’m getting better at this, but it’s something I’ve had to religiously work at. I was taught how to be pessimistic from an early age, and then refined my skills over the years. Changing this default view I had of anything and everything in life came about when I got in touch with my emotions. I learned to acknowledge that it feels really shitty to think badly of someone, and it feels really good to think generously, by way of optimism. Still a work in progress, but I’m committed. Disclaimer: I am a realist and know that some people are not capable of being kind or generous, so I still selectively use pessimism as a survival tactic and have zero shame about it. I just generally do my best to view random interactions and people with a positive spin these days, because to constantly do the opposite is to suffer.

So those are the things I suck at. It’s not an exhaustive list, but it’s a start, and a step towards embracing imperfection, which is my goal.

What do you suck at? What would serve you to just admit you ain’t so great at, instead of beating yourself up over it? Let’s talk about it in the comments. 🙂

xo

A

My life over the past few years has been a steady flow of life altering realizations, and I can thank the full moon for it.

That sounds hippy-ish, which I have no problem owning — I am a hippy at heart. I just still shave my armpits and wouldn’t pass up vintage Chanel if I came across it.

But let me explain further: not all of these realizations are “holy shit — are you kidding me?!” moments. Some are “Gee, I never thought of it that way” situations.

Although lately, there have been many more core-rattling, soul-freeing moments of recognition than minor insights. And it’s been intense.

Usually, the most extraordinary moments of wake-the-fuck-up clarity come after a period of severe mental and emotional shutdown. I’m talking, I-shouldn’t-be-allowed-in-public kind of terrible. These are the days that, no matter what I do, nothing appears to be powerful enough to shake the overall shittiness I feel.

So I just try to stay away from people, read uplifting books, stretch and meditate, and stay the F away from social media. Because I’m way too volatile to handle random DMs on those days.

Did I mention this next-level doom I find myself consumed by always coincides with the full moon?

Years ago, if you had mentioned anything about the full moon being responsible for my problems I would have given you my are-you-fucking-kidding-me look and called you a weirdo as soon as you left.

But nowadays there is no denying it: the full moon brings out the emotional instability in me.

There is, however, some glory on the other end of these periods of despair. I ALWAYS come out with something solid, like a golden bar of guidance which was only achievable and attained through a period of wretchedness.

So yeah, the shit brings gold. And here I am with another bar of it, after the full moon that has just passed. This month’s golden wisdom?

My co-dependent relationship with my mom needs to end because it’s causing us both a lot of pain.

This is a huge one for me because I keep holding onto this image of us being BFFs, and being in sync and relating on every level. I’ve been wanting this to be the reality for years, even though I know in my heart it’s never going to happen. And this past weekend has finally pushed me outside the bubble of that dream and into reality.

We are very different people. We clash quite a bit, and I find myself irritated and annoyed and often times insulted, as I’m sure she does as well. 

And it’s my own fault because I keep coming to her about everything — not because it’s necessary but because I am so used to doing so. Some days I get so excited about things that have gone on with my writing career, or a new insight I’ve had that I want to share it with her, forgetting the fact that she’s just not into the things I’m excited about.

In reality, much of what I share with her could do without being said: there is no need for me to talk to her about everything and anything. I just do it because it’s what I’ve always done.

On her end, I’m sure she get’s annoyed with me. In fact I know she does, because she has a tendency to zone out when I’m talking to her. As I said before, she just isn’t that into what I have to say. But she still relies on me as her main source of companionship, and I her, which is proving to be super unhealthy and we both know it. In fact, we’ve both admitted it, on multiple occasions.

I feel she needs some acquaintances with similar interests, because people need to connect with other people, or else they get depressed – and I know that first hand. But I can’t be her sole source of connection. I don’t have it in me to be that, and what’s more, it’s not fair. That’s too much pressure, to be my parent’s everything.

And it’s not possible for me to fulfill that role either, at least not well, because at our cores, we are so different. I wish it weren’t the case because I’d love her to understand me more and get what I’m trying to do with my life: evolve and become a more conscious human being. And I’m sure she wishes I understood her more as well and was more agreeable with her words, actions, and decisions.

But here we are, two people relying on each other way too much, and it’s not working anymore because we just don’t fucking relate.

Yesterday this wild aha moment came to me:

you cannot evolve into the person you are destined to be if you stay in this state — in this codependent relationship. The longer you stay in this dysfunction the more both of you will suffer. You have to stop being so desperate to connect with your mother over everything and anything because she will never relate to you to the level you want her to, and vice versa. To do so — to endlessly hope for the impossible — is to suffer. Do you want to suffer?

The short answer is no, I don’t want to suffer. And I don’t want my mom to suffer. I think my worries about her suffering is what got us here in the first place (did I mention we are in a time out at the moment?)

I worry about her. I feel bad that she has no partner: that she has no one to go to tea with but me. I feel guilty that she isn’t happier and healthier, and that (in my opinion) she doesn’t take any ownership for where she is in her life.

I also feel bad that I don’t relate to her as much as I’d like to. But you know what I really want? I want my space. I want to feel free to be myself, 100%, without the old school comments that, with a snap of the finger, make me feel less than.

I want to not feel responsible for her isolated way of living, and for her lack of connection with others.

I want to not feel like I owe her all of me, all the time.

What do I know I need to do?

I need to stop the constant check ins, and excessive amounts of time spent with her. I do not need to have lunch with her 3 times a week or invite her on every single walk.

I need to acknowledge that just because I feel she doesn’t value me the way I want her to, doesn’t mean I’m not of value.

I need to accept that she doesn’t get me, or what I’m trying to do, or who I endeavor to be – at least, not to the level I do.

I need to give her space and time, so she can fill it with activities and people who are closer suited to her personality and beliefs.

I need to do away with the dream that she will be kind to me all the time. And I need to accept that sometimes I need my space, and when I do I should stay far away from her because when don’t, I can be a righteous bitch. That never feels good.

I need to admit that my incessant need to run things by her and have her understand me is not working – some things she is never going to understand, and that’s OK.

I need to realize that the longer I feel bad for her and fill up her days with my voice and my presence, the longer she will abstain from connection with anyone outside of me.

Sounds like I know what I need to do. Time to give us both some breathing room, and stop trying to take responsibility for someone else’s happiness (damn these control issues! lol!)

Of course, I’ll always be there for her. And it’s not that I won’t go out for lunch and chat with her and make time to be there for her and help her.

But for the sake of both of us, the codependency has to end. Time to cut the chord, and I can thank the full moon for that realization.

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About 10 years ago I got arrested for being drunk in public.

Long story short, I was in a really bad state. I was severely depressed, drinking heavily, and couldn’t see past the bottle in front of me.

No one in my family was capable of helping during this time; they didn’t know how to deal with me. Neither did the psych nurse that came to see me in jail when I’d sobered up. She basically told me that if I did it again there would be charges pressed. No offers for counseling or help.

So it was all on my own shoulders , to heal and get better. It was like, “You’re fucked up and there is no reason why you should be because  none of us are fucked up. So it’s on you to figure out your issues and get over them.”

Do I think I deserved better treatment? If I was eager to jump on the self-pity train I’d say yes. But I’ll repeat what I said previously: no one in my life was capable of helping me; they didn’t know how to deal with me. And I think I scared the shit out of them because I was like this volatile fucking rocket that was ready to go off at any time.

I learned a lot from my experience. One being that generally as a society, we lack compassion for scenarios and people we don’t understand. We get so scared, and default to simplifying and minimizing another person’s struggle.

So we say “You fucking loser drunk” instead of “You deeply troubled girl who doesn’t know how to love herself.”

And obviously, it takes less time and energy to call someone a loser, or a fuck up, and wipe your hands of them. No one wants to take ownership of a shitty scenario so they just blame it away.

Parents do it too.

And egos don’t like compassion or empathy. They are horny for power and control, and there’s tons of that in the judgment process. So generally, our ego-dominated society digs judgment, because it boosts people up, albeit under dirty, false pretenses.

What am I saying? I’m saying I wouldn’t change a thing. I got better on my own and I’m proud of that fact. It didn’t happen right away – not even after that night in jail – but it happened. And through the process of recovering and discovering some love for myself, I learned a lot of stuff, particularly about my family.

I learned it takes two to tango. That just because someone does something shitty doesn’t mean it warrants them a lifetime of judgment and ostracization. And I’m not talking about myself here, though of course, it is relatable to my scenario.

I’ve realized that the avoidance of any and all responsibility for one’s actions causes great imbalance. I’ve long held one parent responsible for all the issues in our family, sheltering the other from any ownership. When in fact it takes two to create a shitty situation. To capitalize on the other’s mistakes and use it as fuel, in order to dismiss ownership of the unsightly, and proclaim “I didn’t do anything wrong; I am innocent” is to create an imbalance that causes much discontent — for all parties involved.

Blame is high-grade procrastination — it’s like the THC in weed. It keeps you from seeing your own contributions to the discontent you feel. For whatever reason, my journey has entailed blaming others and outside sources for all the shitty stuff that went on in my life. I was taught how to blame away my problems, and now I’m teaching myself how to release the need to do that.

Because I am hyper cognizant of the fact that blame is a recipe for suffering.

Truth: if you find yourself in a shitty interaction, you had a hand in it. You are not innocent. This does not mean you are a piece of shit and unworthy of love. It means that to say you had no hand in the events surrounding your discontent is to avoid the lesson. And I don’t know about you, but I WANT TO KNOW ALL THE LESSONS. I want to make sense of the struggle, and come out of it like a fucking phoenix rising from the ashes.

I think my hope for what I wanted my parents to be was so intense that I couldn’t see who they actually were: flawed humans. That’s not a slight, it just is what it is. Yes, they have talents and abilities and positive qualities — but they are human, and to be human is to be flawed. Part of my journey has entailed realizing that they will not always be right, or kind, or compassionate, or loving.

They are capable of being jerks, just like me and every other person walking the planet.

And they weren’t and will not be capable of being my saviors. They won’t be able to fix me or teach me to appreciate myself; they won’t be the ones leading me towards enlightenment. Though, through their dysfunction and perceived failures, I have learned to love who I am, and function at a higher state.

So even though they aren’t good with apologies; even though they judged me and gossiped about me in the past; even though they may not consider the repercussions of their comments and behaviors — each moment of disappointment I feel is actually an opportunity for me to just accept them, as is, for who they are.

Because when I do that, I open the door for them to be generous enough to do the same for me.

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I’ve been slightly obsessed with the idea of pessimism lately.

I keep thinking about how it harms us, but also how it serves us. Lot’s of note jotting and talking to Siri about it.

I used to be a hard-core pessimist. Things are better these days, and I’m generally quite capable of swapping out negatives narratives for positives ones. But there are still times when I struggle to think positively about others and myself.

I acknowledge that my self-directed pessimism does me little to no good. It’s caused me heaps of world-ending anxiety over the years, which as of recently has led to some rather severe health issues (you can read about them here.)

So overall, I’m trying to focus all my activities and thoughts on positive things, with the exception of a bit of what I’m calling healthy, outwardly directed pessimism.

Because sure, it doesn’t serve me to berate myself with thoughts like, “you’re going to screw this up and no one will like you anymore.”

But it does serve me to think, “He’s going to be difficult to deal with so I better take a moment to prepare myself for how I will respond to any hostility, so as not to make the situation any worse.” Do you see how this might help a sister out?

I think this whole idea of pessimism as a survival tactic is extremely valuable.

I started thinking about it when I saw this YouTube video on pessimism by School of Life a few months ago. The idea that it could be used to my benefit was fascinating to me.

Because I harmed myself for years by being pessimistic. And then I beat myself up by harshly judged myself for doing it. Now, to find a way to use it to my advantage – that’s some cool shit right there.

And talk about empowering: the very thing that caused me heaps of problems can be refurbed into something that makes my life easier.

Needless to say, I’ve tossed out a lot of emotional baggage over the years. I overhauled the contents of my belief system and started afresh. Many steps forward were taken. Many fear-laced steps were taken back. And lot’s of tears and mini emotional break downs were had.

But here we are today: today is good. Save for some soon to be sorted out health issues, I am solid. And I’m here because I decided to let go of all of my past beliefs.

Save for my buddy pessimism.

Here’s the logic: in order for me to be the bad ass boss woman I am today, I can’t be pessimistic about my skills, my drive, or my abilities. No room or time for that.

But what has served me so very well over the past few years has been a dose of pessimism when I’m dealing with other people.

Case in point:

• an ego-centric employer who is incapable of thinking of anyone but himself (True story. Read about it here)
• a family member who flings his insecurities onto others via heavy snark
• a friend who got a pink slip for shaming me (yep, this happened too – and I wrote about it here)

The common denominator in all three of these scenarios is that everyone was struggling with their ego. That sucker was running the show and keeping them from one incredibly valuable act: connection with others. Because who the hell wants to hang out with people who are mean and unsupportive?

And their eg-sponsored unkindness was reliable. So after many a repeated acts of ego, and dealing with my exhausting emotional response to it (“Why is he/she doing this? Why are they being so mean? Waaaahhhhhh!!”) I realized I needed to get reliable with my use of pessimism.

I needed to start assuming they were going to act shitty, and amp myself up to set a good example. I needed to not respond to their aggression (well, sadness is what it really is) with more aggression.

So I needed to not give them what they unknowingly wanted: more fuel to keep their pain fire burning.

The way I use pessimism these days is in a diluted, based-in-kindness form. So I think stuff like:

“I know this guy is struggling to function, so I’ll commit to calling out the rudeness in a calm and kind way, if and/or when something comes up that’s not appropriate.”

Rather than:

“This guy is a righteous asshole and I know he is going to f*** with me today – so I’m going to get myself jacked up with come backs for his inevitable insults to my character.”

Harsh, yes. But not far off from the old me.

The past is the past. So I do my damnedest to stick to the first scenario these days and wow, does it work well for me when I do. I can focus on doing my best, and not get so rattled or obsessed with other people’s perceived inefficiencies. ‘Cause we all got ’em.

Which brings me to another act that makes life easier: accepting that I will never be perfect. That I make mistakes. That I do not always get things right, but that I’m doing my very best, and that has to be enough.

And that’s one of the reasons why I’ve been able to use pessimism in such a healthy way. Because I am hyper accepting of the fact that as humans, we were made to be flawed.

Some days my best is just not my best. And I sure as hell don’t have it all figured out. But when I do struggle or screw up, I’ve always got writing to help me make sense of it all. Storytelling heals, so cheers to that!

And cheers to pessimism, in all its tarnished glory. It might have a bad rap, but when you use it to your benefit, it really is a top-notch survival tactic.

(PS: there was a bit of pessimism over whether or not the hubby would get the boat ready for floating today – so I snapped a pic of my relieved face upon finding he had!)

So I got car shamed last week and it was lame. Here’s the back story:

I was at work when I got an email from one of the tenants (we rent spaces to people) urging me to check out an article on how to give my car a poor man’s paint job. Why? Here’s the back story:

I drive an older car (see above). It’s a 1991 Honda hatchback station wagon, and it has some paint peeling off of it, not unlike a lot of cars you see of that vintage.

And I love that car. I even named her Neenee. She’s reliable, and when she has problems she’s cheap to fix and rebounds like a newborn. She just won’t quit, like the woman who drives her.

What’s more, I really appreciate my vehicle. It get’s me to my part-time gig safely and reliably, and is cheap on gas to boot. Best 1200 dollars I ever spent.

Which is why I got irritated when this guy sent this weird, slightly insulting email.

It’s really my ego that got defensive and pissed off, as can be deduced by the following diatribe that rolled through my head shortly after receiving the email:

“Who does this moron think he is sending me an email like that? I’m not poor, I’m smart with my money. And I don’t need to show off in an outside-my-means leased car to prove my worth to random people like him. Plus: I’m here to work asshole, not to deal with weird, passive aggressive messaged like this.”

Whoa! Do not poke the bear! But I know where that aggression is coming from. I have a hard time with ego-centric comments, which I’m guessing comes from my long-standing commitment to my own ego, which is still alive and well. I’m making progress, but it clearly likes to take center stage on occasion.

And the fact that I worked for and with so many egotists for most of my life is a top contender for why I voraciously reject men who try to dominate me with not-so-passive aggressive comments.

(And I dated a lot of them too, which you can read about via my latest Huffington Post article.)

But here’s the thing I know and acknowledge: the fact that I get so pissed off is proof that my ego is still kicking it old school. It wants to be in control. So when it perceives a comment as negative, it takes off in full justification mode (case in point the rant a few paragraphs up.)

But when I take the time to breathe and 5-4-3-2-1-it (have you read Mel Robbins’ book yet? Doooo it!) I can take back the reigns.

Still, even with all that knowledge and understanding, I’m fascinated over why this person tried to car shame me.

This guy’s ego-centric comments come in many more flavors. Car-wise though, he has made cracks about mine before. And he makes cracks about other people’s cars too. So the psychologist in me just wants to know why the f*** he cares about what other people’s cars look like. Seriously, what gives?

And this isn’t the first person who has not so subtly alluded to the fact that my car isn’t acceptable as is.

I had a family member openly admit to being embarrassed about getting a ride in it. And an acquaintance was adamant that we should lease a brand new Honda and get rid of the old one. “It’s only X amount of dollars per month…”

But that’s my point: it’s X amount of dollars per month. Why would I spend a bunch of money, or borrow cash from a bank to buy a car just to appease the people who are uncomfortable with how mine looks? Especially when my car still works?

I’m not going to pimp my ride alas Xzibit (remember that show? They need to bring it back) when there’s no return on investment. A paint job on a 1991 Honda does not serve someone who is in empire-building mode. (Thanks for those two paragraphs ego – but I’ll take the reigns again now)

Regardless of who said what and when it’s all so fascinating to me how uncomfortable my car makes other people.

Every single one of them is living in the faux-zone. And they’ll do whatever it takes to keep up the pretenses – overspending, ruining their credit and causing themselves heaps of anxiety in the process (case in point: that family member who found my car unacceptable.)

What these people seem to have in common (oh I’m in dangerous territory here with all these stinky assumptions that are rolling out) is that in rejecting me and my car, they reject themselves.

They have these self-perceived inadequacies, and instead of facing them and working on them, they choose the easy route: pointing out other people’s perceived issues.

Even if said person doesn’t see them as being issues.

If I’m honest, there are moments where I feel the pull to live in faux-mode. It’s not surprising, as those beliefs were ingrained in me from a young age. But I’m working on them.

Would I like a new car with a shiny new paint job? Yes. But I refuse to go into debt over it, and I’m not in the tax bracket (yet – but soon) where I’d be comfortable dropping a lot of coin on a car.

These days I do my best to follow the old school rule: if you can’t afford to pay cash, don’t buy it. I’m all about good credit ratings, probably because I wasn’t for so long.

So maybe this push from the egotist at work is a lesson, there to reaffirm what I already know: it is ridiculous to worry about how things look to others.

All that matters is that I stay true to what I know to be right for me.

These days I fancy myself a pretty good business woman. And I know it’s a bad business decision to sink money into something that gives no return on investment. Case in point, a paint job on a 1991 Honda.

And I’m a realist – I know sooner or later we will have to upgrade our car. Which means we will look after Neenee as best we can, and keep on saving our cash money until the time comes.

It’s very likely that we may borrow money to get a newer car down the road.

But the purpose of whatever new car we do get will be because we need it. Not to appease the egotistical need to live up to the expectations of others.

So even though my ego wanted to tell this guy to f** off, I listened to logic and Eckart Tolle, both of which reminded me that aggression would only disrupt my commitment to living in a peaceful state.

And I’ve already allowed my peace to be disrupted enough when I allowed myself to be temporarily consumed with that email when it came through. Enough ruminating on that garbage.

So what did I do? How did I handle this not-so-passive aggressive snark mail?

I said and did absolutely nothing, save for a bit of reflecting.

I acknowledged that this guy has no tact and that it’s not my job to show him that maybe he should do some thinking as to why he is so obsessed with my car.

And I realized that his comment was just a comment, and it’s my choice to keep thinking about it or not.

And I acknowledged my own ego getting riled up about someone elluding to me being less than because of the car I drive, and told it, “Not today ego! Not today!”

Andrea 1.

Ego 0.

Jerk at work -1.

May the peace be with you friends. And may your car be steadfast, with or without a fancy paint job.

*This post has been featured on Huffington post, albeit with a different title that I’m not a major fan of. Oh well. Choose your battles right? 😉

I was listening to John Mayer the other day (thanks Spotify for the random playlists that really just get me), and I thought, “I don’t care how many Hollywood broads he’s bedded — this guy’s voice is dreamy.”

Then I acknowledged the fact that yes, this is a guy I would have been drawn to in my 20s: an edgy bad boy who would have given me just enough attention to leave me wanting more.

Because I’m one of those chicks who has been drawn to bad boys to no end.

I loathe the term associated with that scene, “daddy issues.” Mostly because if we’re going to minimize a woman and her struggles stemming from her issues with her father, we should be highlighting how many men have the same problems. It seems over the years it’s become a way to shuffle women into a less-than category — a way to label them as f***ed up, but still acknowledge that they are victims of neglect. All with a sprinkle of condescension and unkindness.

“Hey I know you suffered, but I don’t want compassion to give you a big head so let’s give your issues an insulting label.” It’s lame AF.

I used to use the term daddy issues a lot, back when I was in a self-loathing zone. But now I’m of the mindset that the words we use are powerful, and being impeccable with your word is paramount to health and wellness (thanks, The Four Agreements). So I’m wary of the terms that leave my lips these days.

My research, self-reflection and life experience has proven that when kids aren’t given enough love, they suffer. Badly.

Which is why I now refer to daddy issues as “not enough love syndrome.”

You can take a kid with all the abilities, talents and opportunities in the world, and they can and will choose cocaine over it all if they weren’t given appropriate doses of love.

If a parent isn’t capable or willing to model healthy self-love, the kid isn’t going to know how to love themselves. So they’ll look to fill the void in other ways, which is how people become addicts. When you’re depressed and sad, you want to feel good. Alcohol and drugs fix that emptiness pretty damn quickly. Sure the hangover is horrible, but when you’re desperate you’ll do it all for the dopamine.

And then we have the parents who helped create the scenario, judging and dismissing ownership. “My kid is f***** up,” they say, forgetful of the fact that kids learn everything from the actions and belief systems handed down to them from their parents.

Ask a dog trainer about why a dog a bites, and she or he will tell you it’s picking up on the owner’s aggression. And yes, I’m saying we are like dogs. We are connected to every living thing on the planet.

The longer we ignore that truth the more we and the entire planet suffer.

Now that I’ve lost half the audience (Hi pessimism! I was wondering where you went!) let’s go back to John Mayer. I don’t know him from a hole in the ground, save for what the tabloids and Taylor Swift has not-so-elusively said. But he’s the quintessential womanizer, at least that’s how he has been painted in the media. And women who lack self-love adore those kinds of men.

Take me for example: I was infatuated with self-righteous egotists who were incapable of kindness. I wanted their attention, with the problem being that I couldn’t keep it. The confident, sophisticated part I played was a very thin ruse, and a millimeter below the surface I was broken. As soon as I felt a tiny bit of connection, the desperation bubbled over and the truth revealed itself.

Not many guys think it’s fun or sexy to be broken. They like pretty, strong, and confident women, all of which are impossible to attain full time. I mean you can have the most amazing life, but you’ll still have moments where you feel like a shell of a human. No amount of contouring will erase that fact.

Which is why I think women are so obsessed with beauty. It’s a wonderful distraction, to make yourself pretty, even though all these ugly feelings are haunting you. Playing pretend is fun, but it’s just a distraction from what’s going on below the surface.

Don’t get me wrong — I love makeup. But I also love myself enough to know that a three-in-one contouring stick won’t show me how to love myself.

And neither will seeking validation from some some jerk-ish bad boy. I have to be OK on my own terms if I want to be happy, and so do you.

Through the years I’ve learned to analyze my motivations, both past, and present. I’ve asked myself, “why did you really want that <person/thing>? What was the motivation?” Here’s some answers:

“Because if I can get him it will prove that I’m important and lovable.”

“Because if I have that contouring stick people will think I’m pretty, and I’ll feel temporarily superior which will boost my self-esteem.”

“Because a thought made me feel bad and that thing/person will make me feel better, albeit temporarily.”

Questioning the motives that underlie my actions has been so damn valuable. Do it. Get a notebook and start being your own shrink. The answers you need are already there, you just need to do some self-reflecting. Be honest with yourself and I promise you, your life is going to change in incredible ways.

It’s not easy to crack open the vault, but once you understand why you chased so many bad boys, and why you bought all those contouring sticks, you’ll open the door to self-love and healing. And there’s some amazing stuff on the other side of that.

We create a lot of disappointment for ourselves when we make assumptions.

Case in point, a previous employer of mine. He had a pretty distinguished career as far as labels go. And based on his credentials and the professional accolades he displayed throughout his office, I made the assumption that he was high functioning in all aspects of his life.

But I was wrong. The guy was socially inept, mean, and incapable or unwilling to pick up on social cues. He’d make heaps of inappropriate, should-have been-called-into-HR comments. And he wouldn’t even blink after saying them.

As bad as that kind of stuff was, the thing that really got to me was that he was always assuming things hadn’t been done correctly or at all. It was common for him to ask for something to be completed a specific way, then fire off a snarky comment about how it was done incorrectly two days later.

Self preservation, as well as the need to not get fired told me it was best to track down proof that I hadn’t screwed up my work. But try doing that day every time you get into the office. That is some exhausting shit right there.

I found myself more often than not putting my actual to-do list on hold, in order to rangle up the information showing that I hadn’t screwed anything up. So I was perpetually defending myself, and my ego was out of control.

I would complain about him all the time, which was equal parts exhausting. I let myself get worked the f*** up about this dude’s behaviour on the regular.

At the time I would have given anything to be able to pull the plug and walk away from that job. But I needed the money. And something about his behaviour was eerily familiar to me –  my previous employer had been equally as big-headed and bullish in his requests. So I said to myself, “girl you gotta stick this out and figure out why you keep getting the same types of employers over and over.”

So I stayed. And I came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to change, but I could change how I viewed him and the job.

I started focusing on the good things about this highly dysfunctional and chaotic gig:

• At least I had a job;
• At least I had work to do and wasn’t sitting alone at home day in and day out, scrolling job boards, getting wrapped up in my depression;
• At least I could pay the bills.

And then I thought, “gee, I wonder what life has been like for him?” In asking myself that question, which I could never really know the answer to on my own, I began to release my grip on all the assumptions I had made about him.

Namely, that he was capable of being polite or kind to me or the other employees.

The day I stopped making assumptions was the day things started to get better.

I realized that regardless of his professional designation, the guy had some serious issues. And although he was really good at what he did, he wasn’t good at dealing with people.

I also realized he had no friends outside of work, and lived a very isolated existence because of his inability to converse in socially acceptable ways. And I realized he lived in the fear zone, constantly paranoid about not getting paid, or people screwing him over.

And then I though, “hmm…I wonder what happened to him as a kid? How did his parents act, and how did they treat him?”

Based on all that wondering and pondering, I realized that just like everyone else, he had some things to work on. And in assuming he was high functioning in all areas of life, I was causing myself a lot of inner turmoil.

So I decided it was time to drop the assumptions, and stop amping myself up for disappointment.

Regardless of titles, humans are programmed to be imperfect. And I’ve noticed over the years that a lot of hyper-talented people lack social skills. While it’s great to see the amazing work they do, talent doesn’t give them free rein to treat people badly.

When I realized this, I ended up calling the guy out. I told him that if his behaviour continued I would quit. And though he initially pushed back with another snarky comment, he quickly figured out that if he kept up the rudeness, I wouldn’t be around to listen to it.

And even though fear rumbled me to the core that day, standing up for myself was worth it. Because after that day things got better. I set the stage for what I wouldn’t put up with, and he started being kinder to me.

I could go into all the other reasons why things changed (how I began to value myself more and found that people responded better when I had a deeper appreciation for myself and what I bring to the table) but that’s not required for this post.

What I want to focus on is reminding everyone to dial back their expectations.

I’m not saying you should walk around assuming everyone is a moron and incapable of functioning. I’m saying don’t forget that behind every accomplished professional is a kid who has yet to work through their own unresolved emotional issues.

And while compassion and empathy go a long way, you don’t have to put up with being treated badly.

Yes, my ex-employer ran a highly profitable business. He had multiple employees and won awards for his work. But emotional intelligence-wise he was not unlike many other folks walking the streets these days: insecure; blindly egotistical to try to compensate for his insecurities; and scared shitless.

I learned a lot through all the complaining and snark and dysfunction that came from that job. And as much as I loathed it for quite some time, I wouldn’t change a thing about the experience. I am who I am today because of it.

It taught me to dial back the assumptions, and in doing so, my life became a heck of a lot more peaceful.