The Best Is Yet To Come

I have a chalkboard that hangs over my head while I sleep that is the full width of my bed. From time to time I would write meaningful words that I wanted to somehow absorb telepathically into my mind while sleeping or at the very least I would see and subconsciously start to believe over time.

The last phrase I wrote was something I felt had been impressed upon me about a year ago: 

The best is yet to come.

I didn't know exactly what it meant. I didn't know when The Best would get here. I simply heard those words in my mind and caught glimpses of it wherever I went. So, I wrote it down in hopes that over time I would unravel the mystery, be able to look back, and say "A ha! I see how The Best got here!"

The adventurous part about this mystery phrase I read every day I wake up and every night before I go to sleep is that the best is always somehow still coming. In some strange way this mantra has changed my perspective over time and made me appreciate when The Best is happening right that very moment and not always dreading the current place I'm in, constantly in agony over when the next big thing will happen.

That being said, I am waiting for another big part of my life to begin or happen, as it were. But for now I find myself being content to know that The Best is both here and still coming. My reasoning being that if I heard that The Best is yet to come a year ago then The Best must be here now.

And maybe The Best has been here all along.

Being The (Brave) Boss Is Hard

Honest Post About Being Self Employed and Bravery

I had a weird morning yesterday that started with me waking up in tears and slowly getting dressed and putting on make-up while intermittently sniffling and crying. I have been running at full steam for the past several...months, I guess. And yesterday it finally caught up with me.

Let me back up and paint you a full picture of me: I am a futuristic, ENFJ, Type A, Know-It-All, Perfectionist who rarely fails at anything. And when I do fail it comes as a huge disappointment and I'm way too tough on myself for not being awesome 24 hours a day.

My weird morning is starting to make a little more sense now, right?

I'm still exhausted and feel oddly teary (even though I really don't have a reason to be sad and yesterday was a fairly relaxing day). But I am realizing something....it's tough being the boss! And it's harder still to be brave all the time, in charge of other people, having all the weight of a business on your shoulders, and trying to shove it out of your brain during the off hours when you're supposed to be relaxing and resting.

When I was a kid my family had dinner together most nights and I remember my self-employed parents not being able to talk about anything BUT business at the dinner table. I asked my mom one night why they couldn't just talk about something else for a change. Her reply, "This is what we do all day long. If we stop the business stops. Besides, we couldn't push this out of our minds if we tried."

I am now learning she was right in every way with that response. I can't turn my mind off of business stuff no matter what I do.  

I'm exhausted by it, but it's all I can think about and talk about these days.

I could be out having the time of my life with friends and then I'll suddenly remember something that needs to be added to the to-do list and will frantically type it into my phone before my brain forgets that passing thought. And then, inevitably, I'll remember another thing and then another and another....

I recently won an award in my field for being an innovator which was wonderful. But if I'm being honest, I really wish that award had come with some sort of therapy or free pass to exhaustion rehab. Some days it feels as though the pressure is mounting and more things are added to my plate than I can handle. Other days, I feel like I'm on top of the world, the business is the best it has ever been, and nothing can go wrong.

Being self employed really has been the best thing I've ever done. But being self employed has been the one thing that I haven't been able to perfectly master and I'm learning (probably the hard way) how to let go of being perfect, fear of failure, and trying not let this super hard job trump the fact that this is the absolute best career I could possibly have right now.

Enough WIth The White Horse Already!

I never believed in The One. Whomever you choose to marry....well, you make each other The One.

Wise words and a huge relief for this City Girl that had been inundated with messages of Finding The One and Searching For Your Soulmate since she was a little girl.

I recently sat down to lunch with a friend and poured my heart out about love and relationships, marriage and other scary grown-up topics, and verbally processed through major life decisions that had been swirling around my thoughts. And the wisdom bomb she dropped was a huge relief.

Choose wisely whom you intend to be Your One and Only, but know that whomever you choose may not look exactly like The Knight in Shining Armor.

Some men are just men, not constant heroes who respond to my every whimper and sigh. And that's more than OK.

It was good to hear that the one we all look for – as well as all the other things in life one hopes will happen – may not look exactly like Prince Charming on His White Horse, but could instead look like real life.

And real life may actually turn out to be better than the fairy tale.

The Place Where I Belong

There's something so delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never can tell quite where they'll take you. Mine took me here. Where I belong. -Miss Potter

There's no name I'm aware of for that space in between letting go and holding on. It's that space of Just Being. That place where you allow things to grow and move. That area that allows a life to breathe. 

I moved back to The Beach 3 years ago next month. I had no plan for the first time in my life. I figured I would move back and the right opportunities would present themselves. I also knew on some level that I needed the space, my own space, to create and live and be.

I gave myself that luxury of living in that space of Just Being and I dare say I never left. 

And I didn't know where my plan of having no plan would lead me, but here I am.

I own 2 businesses, I teach 2 classes at the college level, and I write my own column for a local newspaper. I never thought in a million years that I would do any of these things. None of these things had ever been in any original plan I had drawn up for my future self. Not to mention the fact that I have been dating someone quite seriously for the past 6 months that I also had no plans to meet until much later when all of this career stuff could run itself. (As if it ever could.)

And yet this place of Just Being has turned out to be just right. It has turned out to be the place in which I belong.

Five Things I Would Tell My Younger Self

I recently read an article about the ten things some famous photographer would've told his younger self when starting his career and it got me thinking about the things I would tell my younger self....about life.

I know I had older wisdom circling around from time to time, but I wish I would have dived into the resources I had at the time and truly listened. And I don't know if being confronted with an older version of myself would have made any difference, but here's what I would tell my younger self given the chance:

1. Make friends with the older crowd and learn from their mistakes.
   This doesn't have to be a mentor type of thing, but a friend kind of thing. I think there was this all-too-formal set-up that had the stench of religion on it that made me veer from seeking out relationships with an older crowd. And now that I'm becoming one of those "older" people that has a thing or two to say about life, I find that it's not a religious thing–it's a life thing. It's a fantastic and amazing resource just waiting to be tapped into.
2. Let your freak flag fly.
   Don't try to fit someone else's mold or try to live up to someone else's standards. Make your own rules, live your own life, in the way you think it should be lived. Because trying to be perfect according to some altruistic set of rules will eventually lead to a massive meltdown and set you back to square one on the path of rediscovery all over again.
3. Be content.
   Wherever you are, at whatever stage of life you're in, be content. Choose joy instead of sorrow...or moping. Choose to believe that your life can and will be abundant and awesome. Don't fall into the trap that life is boring or a grind or that some things will never happen for you. Keep your head up and your eyes open to the good things in life. It's meant to be lived with a smile on your face!
4. Listen to your body.
   It's not lying when it says it's tired. Don't push yourself to do so much all the time. Learn how to live the balanced life and give yourself permission to take days off just for the hell of it!
5. Ask questions. All the time.
   I have found that my lack of being willing to speak up at certain times has robbed me of potentially great opportunities and some wisdom. I've also realized that in not asking questions, mainly about God and who that might be, I held myself back from a wonderful part of the life journey. I could have delved deep and enjoyed the richness that is the spiritual part of my life for many years in my twenties if I had only been willing to ask those questions that I thought were maybe innappropriate or not allowed. Such rubbish! It's OK to ask questions, many of them! Sometimes  over and over again. 

I'm sure there are other things I would tell myself, but I like to imagine this conversation with a time limit....say the amount of time it takes to drink a cup of coffee. And I don't know that this is even the best stuff to be said. But I can see, looking back, there was a pattern that I think most twenty-somethings fall into: worrying about what everyone else might say or think about what they are doing.

For me, it was a pattern of fear. 

And while I may not be completely fearless in all areas of my life, I can only hope that my passion for living a life of true freedom will continue all the way to the end. 

This Not Knowing Has Its Charm

I plan. I make lists. I make lists about making lists. I plot. I scheme. I will shed the brightest of lights on every last detail and nuance of every situation I enter. And I always have a plan to somehow master whatever I put my hand to.

You can't do this in relationships. Not possible.

I have a new mantra I'm trying out that basically entails letting go, ditching The Plan, and just letting whatever will be be. And I am taken aback at how quickly I've adapted to my new life slogan. Yet again, I find myself in a relationship, but this time with a new game plan in that there is no plan. I have no expectations, no designs on the man, and oddly enough no worries.

My heart is a kite tethered by a string of wisdom.

It can go where it pleases, but is ultimately guided by the experiences and smarts I've gained in my 32 years of living. And this not knowing of what will be has its charm. This not knowing is OK with me. Every once in awhile it may just be alright to not know every detail of every little thing that is yet to come. It may just be the right thing to be in dark for once.

Little Signposts

Sometimes, people like to bring things up from my past that really needn't be brought up. And sometimes, because I'm totally cool like this, I'll later hop on Facebook and end up comparing myself to someone or 500 someones just to drive those negative comments home to myself. And then I'll inevitably fall into a slump that deserves a blanket, big couch, and pint of ice cream to complete its pitiful look.

Sometimes, I'll do this at the least opportune moment so that I can feel awful when I'm, let's say, teaching a classroom full of students and can't possibly have the meltdown or pity party I want to have right at that moment.

Sometimes, I forget who I am, what I've accomplished, and what really matters and will ask the heavens in a shaky little voice, "Why am I here?" 

The question ridiculously implies that I've had no control whatsoever over my past decisions and that some Greater Being just plopped me down into a completely foreign place. And I think we both know that's not true.

And it's on days like those that I am grateful for little signposts.

The night of my stupidity and comparison relapse I decided to take my dinner break in the classroom. Almost all the students headed to the cafeteria and only one student stayed behind, pretending to not be hungry while surfing the internet. I began to chat with my left behind student about his low grade in my class and told him he was too smart to be failing when he turned around and with big eyes began to pour his little heart out to me about his personal life.

I let him talk and talk until he ran out of words about his hometown, how much he missed his family who moved away to the other side of the world the minute he left home, and how scary real life is for an eighteen year old kid. We talked about my first time away from home and how frightening it was to only be two weeks out of the house when 9/11 disrupted the world's plans and America's comfort level. I told him how it's always rough to be someplace new for at least the first six months. And he smiled. And he told me that I was right, he really was too smart to be failing my class.

He smiled. And he knew he was smart.

That was all I needed. I knew why I was there. I had always known, but sometimes I just need those little signposts, those little messages that tell you you're right where you are supposed to be and all is as it should be.

Peter, Peter

It wasn't too long ago that I embarked on an adventure.  Although, I find myself on an adventure that wasn't in my plans and each day has been a little bit of a battle.

Just to catch you up to speed...
I've recently stepped out of my boat.
I've started on a journey that's not exactly on solid ground.
I'm fully aware of the fact that no person can actually walk on water.
And yet I've been tempted to see if I am so special that maybe I could.

This morning I woke up feeling anxious. I couldn't take my eyes off my boat. It had drifted just far enough away that I felt I could never make the swim back. Panic-stricken, I look to the sides and saw monstrous waves waiting to barrel overhead and swallow me whole. If waves had eyes, these were staring me down. I felt my feet begin to slip beneath the surface of the water. And in the midst of my noisy sea all I could hear was this: 

Are you looking at the water, Peter, or are you looking at me? 

I know my name isn't Peter, but I recognized the voice and knew to whom it was directed.

I was looking at the water. I was drowning and all I could do was describe the strength of the waves and how deep they seemed to be. But then I heard that voice. It was The One who whispered to me about this adventure, knowing that danger and excitement lied ahead. The One who recently told me that this will be my best year yet. The One who has led me by still waters and fed me green grass before I ever got out of my boat.

So, I changed my gaze. I looked up; the raging waters only in my peripheral. And there, right in front of me, I found peace.

A Case Of The What If's

This is too hard.

It's never going to happen.

I give up.

Phrases I've spoken from time to time that are usually preceded by some difficulty or barriers that can be hurdled with enough determination and the correct mindset. Recently, I've found my thoughts bouncing between both ends of the spectrum, one side saying I'm almost there and that dreams will become a reality, the other side saying to throw in the towel and call it a day.

Last night, I was out for run with nothing but the fresh air, a little music plugged into my ears, and my trusty old running shoes. I always like the way it feels to run long distance. I know the minute I get beyond my neighborhood I'm officially on an adventure. Given the back roads and dirt paths that I often run, there's no one close by to pick me up right away if I get tired. There are no cabs, trolleys or shuttles waiting off to the side for emergencies. If I want to get home I'll have to get myself there. And while at times this is an exhausting thought, the thrill of not knowing whether or not I can truly make it keeps me moving forward, pushing through all those leg aches and side cramps.

It was at about mile 4 of my run last night when a cramp in my ribs started whining to my brain that it was time to stop or slow down. So, I did what I always try to do first and started breathing a little more deeply, counting to 3 on the inhale and counting to 3 on the exhale. I know what it's like to push through the pain and taste victory. I also know what it's like to stop all together and inevitably end up kicking myself for not trying to get a little farther down the road. It was while I was breathing deeply that I started to have "what if" thoughts.

What if I gave up right here and just around the bend was a pile of cash just waiting for someone to pick it up?

What if I stopped running and just around the corner is Ryan Gosling, stranded, and in need of a cute, single girl's help?

What if what I truly want is right in front of me and just within reach?

What if the reason why life is sometimes really tough and the feeling to quit becomes so overwhelming is because our goals, our dreams are just about to be realized? 

I finished that run last night without slowing down, stopping or quitting. I ran just about 5 miles and it was the longest distance I've ever run by myself. No one was next to me chanting in my ear, "You've got this, girl!" There was no elusive pile of cash around any of the corners I rounded and Ryan Gosling was nowhere to be found. But I reached my goal last night. I finally ran the distance that I've been wanting to say is my short run, all by myself, without it feeling too painful.

I went to bed last night in peace. It was a peace I had been missing; the kind of calm presence that says, "I'm not worried. I know what I want is just up ahead." I may not know exactly how the life I want is going to become a reality, but I'm up for the adventure. I'm willing to keep going, to see what's just around the bend.

This Little Light Of Mine

I'm about to embark in a whole new direction. I'm taking a risk. I'm actually taking a whole mess of risks. It feels like cannon balling in a tank full of eels and hoping that none of you them make you regret making the jump.

I've been house sitting for some family friends this week and have had so much time to myself in the past 7 days it's been down right silly. I can't remember when I had this much alone time. And while at time's it's been a bit too quiet, it has been one of the most enjoyable weeks I've had in...I can't remember when! I've just been marinating in the sweet peacefulness of solitude and listening to the little whispers that tell me to keep moving on, to just float and enjoy the momentum that is carrying me forward.

This morning I woke up and shlumped around the house, decidedly taking the morning off to figure out the source of a funk that nagged at me since the moment my eyes fluttered open, when a dear, old friend called and showered me with much needed praise and encouraged me to do more, be more. For the rest of the day her words of praise echoed in my head and made me wonder if I have been holding myself back in certain areas. Had I been restraining myself from using all of my talents in fear that they would separate me from others or that it would drive people away?

I wondered if I had been hiding my light under a bushel, as the old song says.

And isn't that ridiculous? Isn't it completely nuts to assume that the people who will and do love all the different parts that make up who you are would run screaming for the hills, because you posses a talent that they don't? Yes. The answer to that insane question is yes.

So, here I go, ready to take a leap yet again.

Dear Lover

Have you ever had a time in your life where every day is so jam-packed with signs meant only for you that your whole self is exhausted at each day's end just thinking about It All?

This is the very time in which I live.

Not too long ago this City Girl learned how to identify her own seasons without depending on someone else to point it out. And this Girl has since then experienced a few different kinds of weather, if you will. Some days the storms raged, the rains beat down upon this body while other days heralded some glimpses of sunshine and the birds all around sang overhead. It was on one of those sunny days that deep in the recesses of this Girl's mind were heard these words, "The adventure starts now."

I am on the brink of yet another short move and a possible small shift of the career that is both exciting and frightening. While I starfish on the floor at the end of every day, exhausted and overwhelmed, I look up at the aged ceiling, full of strange holes and cracks, and wonder to myself how this life could actually be mine. How could this life, so full of the amazing and mysterious, belong to this Girl?

I never knew life could feel this full, this wonderful.

It was during one of my daily drives to the center of the city that I felt a tingle in my very being; an odd spark, a feeling I hadn't felt in some time. It's a feeling that is often accompanied by all the songs on the radio making sense, being kind to strangers for no reason, and gushing to anyone within earshot. I was in love. I still am. And as strange as it may sound, I find myself in daily love with The One who whispered to me that it was time for adventure, The One who has been overwhelming this little heart with omens of a great and glorious future, The One who has been with me since the very beginning.

The adventure, dear lover, has indeed begun.

One Thousand Gifts

Sometimes you don't know when you're taking the first step through a door until you're already inside.

I have a framed chalkboard that hangs over my bed where I've written on it one word that I hope will somehow transfer its syllables into my brain while I sleep. At the very least, I figure if I see that one word when I wake and before I fall asleep every day it will somehow become a reality in my life. And as of last summer, this has been the place where I hang the biggest reminder to myself of what I want to see become a permanent part of my character. 

I just started reading this book about thankfulness and not because I thought to myself, "Hey, this looks great! I should read this!", but because everybody and their uncle have been telling me how life changing it is and that it's the best book they've ever come across. Quite frankly, I'd just like to be able to say I've read it so that people will stop trying to sell me on what I thought was excessive grandeur. Of course, now (much to my chagrin) I'm just a few chapters in and I find myself walking through an open door to a place I didn't know I needed to be and every word on every page is magic.

The word I wrote on my self-reminding chalkboard a few months ago is JOY. All in capital letters, written purposefully with the intent that I would truly discover what it means to have joy and be happy in all times of life. Turns out that joy isn't just some loner emotion that you take hold of and viola! you're instantly blissed out. As the book says, it's something that you get, not something that you grasp. And it has a buddy that makes it possible to have joy for ever and ever. Enter Thankfulness.

Thankfulness: The ability to be aware and appreciative of a benefit.

Much to my surprise I realized after starting this book that I had already been training myself. These past few months, if I found myself ready to gripe about something, some situation or irritating person, I would immediately stop and force myself to look at the bigger picture. And the bigger picture always showed me that on the other side of that complaint was something to be thankful for. There is always a bigger reason or plan beyond what we can immediately see in the midst of crappy situations. And so I've been training myself to assume the best and continue to preach to myself that when things don't go my way it isn't necessarily a bad thing or the sad finality of an opportunity that will never come around again, but rather it's for the best. It's for my best.

Practice is the hardest part of learning, and training is the essence of transformation. 

In complete honesty with you, dear reader, this has not been an easy thing to practice or a simple habit to change. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that my immediate reaction to most seemingly negative things in the past has been to reiterate Murphy's law of whatever can go wrong, will. Ironically, it took being thankful for the negative things to get that gift of joy. And it's not like I've been waking up every single day raring to go, but I have found little bits of joy in unexpected places. Enough to equal one thousand gifts....maybe even more.

All of the words in bold were from One Thousand Gifts or the dictionary. I'll let you guess which one was from the dictionary. ;)

Lessons In Learning, Part Fourteen.

Lesson Fourteen: There's no rush. We're just cruisin'.

I've shortened the title of these posts to be Lessons in Learning. Period. End of title. Because I've recently discovered that all the lessons posted on this blog have been myriad of exercises in learning. Learning how to truly settling into my own being, how to slow down or how to move forward in my own life.

And on that note, this is the post where I say that I don't know how to really master this lesson. I'm attempting the whole slowing down concept, but in reality I don't have a clue what I am doing. All I know about my current situation is that I have two speeds: the speed of light and being at a dead stop.

Let me set the scene...

While on my glorious Hawaiian vacation, I went surfing with my new friend. (I'm going to skip the part where I looked like a baby giraffe on a surfboard and underwent multiple baptisms by the rougher-than-I'm-used-to waves.) At the end of our little surf session we both paddled back to shore. Correction: He effortlessly made his way toward the beach like he had been born in the water. I frantically splashed my arms around in the shallow waves with a strained look on my face like I was reenacting the final scenes of Cast Away.

Somewhere in the middle of my Tom Hanks impression my friend turned around with a look of surprise on his face, smiled and said, "Hey, there's no rush. We're just cruisin'." At which point I let out a huge sigh and laid my face down on the board and just let myself float with the sway of the tide. I was exhausted. I also didn't know how to "cruise." I knew how to get back to the beach and I knew how to surf. I didn't know what cruising was, what it meant, or what it felt like. 

We ended up floating on our boards for the next 20 minutes while he told me about the history of Kauai, Hawaiian traditions and how Disney butchered the pronunciation of Hanalei Bay in the movie Pete's Dragon. Turns out cruising just meant enjoying where you're at without the ferocity of taking an extreme approach toward the destination.

Basically, it means slow down and smell the roses once or twice.

The destination isn't going anywhere. I'm not going to get amnesia and forget where I'm headed. And chances are I will have more fun stories, more enjoyable experiences and a fuller life if I allow myself to cruise my way to the finish line.

I don't always need to be busy, because busy doesn't mean I'm getting there any quicker. And not everything I do has to be done with a fierceness that says, "This chick is hard core." Being hard core doesn't add meaning to what gets done.

That being said, this is tough. I wasn't entirely sure where to start. So, I've started by not filling up every second of every day on my calendar. I've let myself sleep later than I've slept in months. And when I find myself raising the leather strap about to crack the whip over my own head I tell myself to chill out. There's no rush. I'm just cruising.

Aloha!

I want to move to Kauai. There. I said it. I'm in love. With an island.

I know. I know. People go on exotic vacations and come back so tan and happy that they are convinced they would have a better life back on a beach in some remote location. Well, this time it's true. I would actually have a great life on that beach back on that remote island. I know the title of this blog is The City Girl, but truth be told I'm a Beach Girl. Always have been. I can't help myself. While I love a good pair of heels and getting all dolled up, I just adore a good beach day. In fact, I've been known to schedule work around prime beach hours just so I can get the absolute best sunshine of the day on this already tan skin.

I felt like I became a different version of myself on that island, the real version of myself. I finally slowed down. I slept more soundly. I craved time in the ocean and actually got out there. I laughed more. I smiled bigger. I let my hair down. (Like actually stopped wearing it all tied up on top of my head.) I lived more life on that island than I ever have back home. I enjoyed work more. (Yes, I worked while I was there. I didn't completely lose myself!) I made new friends.

I lived the good life that everyone talks about.

There is one set back, though, to the idea of actually living out there. I'm an habitual slave driver of myself. I will work until the cows come home, have dinner, brush their teeth, and go to bed. My idea of slowing down is driving the maximum speed limit. And while I was there I was constantly reminded of how much I over-live my own life (if that's even a thing). I never slow down and smell the roses, because I'm too excited to get to the destination already! So, I had to ask myself: Could I really live there and be happy in moment and really enjoy that place? And in that case, can I still live here at my beach and start to enjoy this place more than I do?

So, the plan is this: I will try to enjoy my life here a little more while secretly planning to somehow move my life out to my little island in the sun.

Ross and Rachel

Will they? Won't they? Will they? Won't they?

And they danced and danced AND DANCED around their feelings for each other for years...

I have unknowingly become a part of a Ross and Rachel relationship and it sneaked up on me like a ninja. Two years of wishing everything could go back to the way it was, a few well-timed conversations, one too many moments alone, a couple nights that ended in kisses and BAM!

Just call me Rachel.

Since discovering that both parties have had lingering feelings for each other, I have found myself sleepless and frustrated wondering if the mystery of What's Really Going On will ever be solved between this City Girl and Bachelor Number Two.

This is pretty much the gist of it.

Some days there just isn't enough wine in the bottle.

Serenity Now

I recently made a new acquaintance the other day and casually mentioned that I had just booked a ticket to Hawaii and how I am planning to skydive while I am there. Within a matter of minutes this new friend began to describe his skydiving experience to me in full detail. (How my conversations with new people quickly turn to odd subjects involving intense feelings, I'll never know.) He said they make you get on your knees in the doorway of the plane, rock back and forth 3 times before jumping and then chaos ensues for the next 120 seconds while you somersault in the air, simultaneously plummeting back to earth at an alarming rate. He said it was the only time he enjoyed being completely out of control, but at the same time was freaking out on the inside because he was completely out of control. And then (and this is my favorite part) he said the rip cord got pulled and he immediately went from a state of total insanity to complete serenity.

 

I couldn't help but think of my past year in relation to this story and felt I had already been skydiving through my own life. 

The last 365 days of this Girl's life have not only been chaotic they've inhibited the very definition of a tailspin. Everything was out of my control, I was freaking out on the inside, and some days felt as if there were no up or down; a complete lack of stability. As my sister-in-law likes to say, I was ass over tea kettle for days on end. And at the end of it all I looked back and saw that everything that happened, all the seemingly schizophrenic situations, were going according to a bigger plan. Now I didn't exactly know what the bigger plan was, nor do I know now, but I am starting to see the edges of this puzzle fall into place. The rip cord has been pulled. And while I haven't landed on the ground just yet, there is peace and calm.

There is, at last, some serenity.

The Seven Day Itch

I recently reread an old Bible story about Noah the other day after being reminded of something I'd heard years ago that coincided with that old tale. I absolutely adore reading stories that were read to me as a child or stories that I once discovered on my own that changed my life. And this is one of those stories.

When I was first read the story of Noah and his oversized boat I remember thinking as a kid that he was a complete loon and likened him to an old biddy that had a weak spot for all things feline influenced. Hence, the ship full of animals. As an adult, however, the story began to resonate with me about how difficult it can be to go against the grain when all you want to do is go with the flow and become a wallflower in your own life. Or how choosing to be a part of all things good and right can sometimes require every last bit of our strength and patience.

But now...well, now a different part of that story resonates so deeply I can feel it in my toes.

While Noah's biography is fairly well-known there's a small little fact that often gets overlooked, but may be the most important part of the whole thing. After he built the ark and loaded all the animals and his family onto it, he had to sit there for a week before the rain started. That's right! For seven days he lived his life inside that ark with the sun shining outside and not a cloud in the sky. And there's a good chance that he felt his labor was in vain. There's a good chance that Noah started to doubt himself, God and everything he knew to be right and true.

There's a good chance he got the 7 day itch.

There are times in this City Girl's life where waiting isn't just a thing that happens in long Disneyland lines or behind the old, slow lady at the grocery store, but seems to have become a way of life. And let me just preface my next few sentences by saying that this Girl's life is good. Really good, in fact! But there are days when I can't help but look around, notice that the boat has been built, or at least as far as I can tell, and now I'm just sitting inside it waiting for the sound of water droplets landing on the deck.

There's a time to work and build. There's a time to set sail. And then there are times when waiting is the right thing to do. This isn't the first time I've had to wait for something and I'm absolutely sure it won't be the last, but I look forward to the day when that itch will finally be scratched.

Scaredy Cat, No More.

"Men [as opposed to boys] know what they want and they don't let you in on their inner monologue, and that is scary." -Mindy Kaling

Or for this Girl, used to be scary.

I found myself saying to a friend the other day that I just wished that So and So could have seen the old me; the scared, non-committal, skiddish me. (I wanted 'Ol So and So, who had wrongfully judged my intentions, to be fully aware that the new me is still very new.) My friend responded by rolling her eyes and said, "Yeah, you've come a long way! You used to be scared to commit to a parking space for fear of being blocked in at a party where we both knew you would end up sleeping on the couch."

It was an embarrassingly true statement. I used to be scared. Of everything, including (but not limited to) parking spaces, lunch decisions and commitment to relationships of any kind. When I got my first (and only) tattoo my friends who accompanied me to the parlor, probably to make sure I didn't back out, kept chattering on about their first tattoos and how they couldn't wait to be under the needle again. All I could think about was how many hours I would have to work before I could afford laser tattoo removal. I don't think I had that one-inch by one-inch tattoo longer than 10 minutes before I started inwardly panicking about its permanence.

Today, however, I am a different girl. One might say I've graduated from girl to woman. Although, I hate that word "woman". It sounds like I should be wearing pantyhose and a dress suit everyday. I blame commercials from the 80's. They really warped my little brain into thinking that all grown, confident women must wear suit jackets, shoulder pads and own an abundance of hosiery while having developed a very mature palette for diet soda and low-fat yogurt. I don't drink soda and I usually hate the taste of any food labeled low-fat.

Anyway, lately I've felt confused by my most recent relationship that appeared to be with a man, who at times acted like he was an old man, but was in fact with a boy. I've been remembering conversations we had that, in retrospect, were orange flags. (I would say red flags, but they weren't deal breaker conversations like him saying he wanted to ultimately live on a commune someday. Just things that should have signaled to me that he was not ready to take the next step.) And today I finally made sense of all those things that were said. Today I realized why that last guy wasn't going to work out, at least not yet. I want a man and apparently have wanted one for some time. I thought I had accidentally stumbled into a dating relationship with a man only to find out that he was just a boy parading around in a grown man's life, wearing all the right clothes, saying almost all the right things and acting like he was ready for retirement. And that's ok. He will get there someday.

But I'm not talking about possibilities in the next 3 years. I'm talking about today. I want someone who knows what he wants, doesn't feel the need to constantly fill me in on his every waking move so that he can hear himself say it to make sure it sounds right, and who isn't afriad to go after all those things he truly knows he wants to have in his life.

That idea would have sent the old me running scared in the opposite direction, but it doesn't scare the new me. Not one bit.

Trying Out For The Lead Role

"Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend."  
-Arthur Abbott

I've been rather enlightened lately by TV shows and movies which means only one thing: I'm either spending way too much time on the couch or I've been gaining wisdom from the most unlikely sources. For the sake of keeping a positive momentum let's just say that God works in mysterious ways...via my television.

I was enjoying a few much needed hours of down time the other day, sacked out on the couch, convalescing my sick throat while watching Christmas movies. As I drifted in and out of my sore throat haze that afternoon, my brain was just about to check out when I heard Arthur, from The Holiday, challenge Iris to start behaving as the leading lady in her decision-making. She had been acting as if someone else was in the driver's seat for all of the choices she made for herself. She had let some guy take command of her feelings for far too long and it was time for her to take the reigns again or forever be playing the role of the sidekick.

There they were again: words of wisdom. From my television, no less! And they prompted a string of questions that hit me in that part of the gut that tells you you had better start paying attention or you'll soon lose the game. Had I been playing the best friend role in my own life; the one who is at the mercy of someone else's control? Or had I been behaving as the leading lady; the one who moves forward without trepidation and accomplishes what she sets out to do?

Have I been moving forward in certain areas of my life as I should or have I been sitting on the side lines scared and unmoving?

Without saying too much, I know that there are areas of my life where I've been holding back or holding out....waiting to see what will happen. When, the truth is, I should be the one playing the game, not watching it.

So, dear readers, with some shaky steps on an unmarked path, I will be bravely moving forward knowing that the risk of failing will not be greater than the risk of regret. And if all of my friends' advice is right, it will all work out for the best in the end. If I can just keep moving.

It's A Wonderful Life

I would normally save a post like this for the new year, but when a major revelation dawns via the wisdom of a television show you just gotta say, "To hell with the time of year! I'm writin' this down!"

I was recently watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother, a beloved TV show that I keep watching in hopes that Ted, the main character, will finally meet the woman who later becomes his wife. I assume by the title that the protagonist will, in fact, meet the mother of the children his future self is telling all the stories to, but after 8 seasons it does make one wonder. Aaaanyway, I was rewatching an old episode and listening to Ted tell his future kids how "that" year was the year he lost his job, broke up with the love of his life, and essentially lost his dog, fishing boat, and any other item listed in a country music song and I found myself nodding along in commiseration awaiting the crescendo of a spectacular mope. I was waiting to hear him wrap up his monologue with words similar to, "I couldn't wait for that year to be over." Or, "But next year was THE year for me." But he didn't. Much to my self-loathing dismay, his exact words were, "And it was the best year of my life."

The thoughts that immediately ran through my mind in a matter of 10 seconds or less: It was the best year of that guy's life?! He lost everything! His life was in shambles! Everything he knew to be right and good was turned on its side and any ounce of comfort and dignity he had left was ripped away from him! Are you effing kidding me?! Who's writing this show, anyway?

And then a small voice inside my head whispered: Was this year really all that bad for you?

It wasn't.

This year really wasn't all that bad. Parts of it weren't great, but it didn't outright kill me either. No one died. I didn't get diagnosed with a life threatening disease. And, lo and behold, the world didn't implode. I've been so consumed by the idea that this year was so hard that I neglected to see that hard does not necessarily mean horrible.

Difficulty does not equal disastrous. And life being easy does not equate to a wonderful life.

This was the year of making new friends that I really like, a new home in a fabulous location, learning how to love someone for better or worse, and new business endeavors that are actually working out quite well. This year may not have been the easiest year, but darn it if it wasn't full of twists and turns that got me that much closer to becoming the amazingly gracious old lady that I want to be someday.

And this year isn't even over yet!

I may not be able to smile and say just how delightful the past 365 days have been, but someday I will look back at THIS year and say to my future children how this year was ultimately one of the best year's of my life. Someday this year will truly make sense and won't that day be wonderful.