It’s Okay To Be Afraid…

It’s not okay to give in.

When things happen to me, as I am sure with most, it’s never one little easy controllable thing at a time, but more often, a barrage of shit being hurled at you at break neck speed.

This entry is coming to you live from Danville, IL. We’re (most of us anyway) are here to support my sister as we’re preparing for her mastectomy on Tuesday. It’s a lot of people, a lot of personalities, and a lot of stressors. And I am quite sure we’re all afraid on some level of something.

For. Me.

It’s what’s going on with Keri. I don’t know, nor can I pretend to understand what she’s going through. It’s one thing to lose a tooth… it’s a whole other to lose your breast. And I can’t imagine for one millisecond how scary that must be. Followed by radiation, and in between, a million opinions (mine included) on how things are or should be or what we’ve heard by whom.

None. Of. It. Matters.

Keri, you are looking this monster right in the face. You have support for sure, but the fight is yours. And I want you to know Keri, that it’s okay to be afraid. I would think there’s something wrong with you if you told us any different. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to be brave. You don’t have to be anything more than what you are, right now, right in this moment.

Be. It.

Be whatever it is that you need to be in this moment. The only way, my sweet sweet sister to get through it, is to go through it. One step at a time. Some days, those steps will be so afraid that you don’t think you can move. Some days, they’ll be charging full force into the next part of the battle, and some days, they’re likely to be exhausted steps, completely tired. Some days, you’ll want to give up. Some days you won’t. Some days you’ll curse God. Some days, I hope you’ll thank God. I hope you thank him more than the days you curse Him.

Never. Forget.

Jennifer and I are here for you always. It doesn’t matter how many miles will ultimately separate us as we return home, Jennifer to California, me to Arizona, by way of Denver. We are your sisters. We are your first friends, your best friend. We are your girl gang. And we have your back.

Unconditionally.

So when you need to cry, CALL US. When you need to laugh, CALL US. When you need to scream, CALL US. When you just need to talk it out, CALL US.

Remember that God has equipped you to get through this battle, this one right in front of you, and there’s nothing He’ll put in front of you that you can’t handle.

https://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/1%20Corinthians%2010%3A13

Give it a read. Keep praying. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Remembering always, that we’ll walk with you for Every. Single. Step.

I love you Keri.

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Between Journeys and Burdens…

The Power In Taking One Day At A Time…

This is my last night in Phoenix… Before I am a permanent resident of the state of Arizona. It’s been and incredible journey. And… for the record, I hate the word “journey” right now. The last year has been full of burden.

In November “we” started building the house. It was the next step when the relationship is moving in a way that you don’t want to be with anyone else, anywhere else, anytime else. And so it went.

February.

We all know what happened and we all know that the following 90 days were some of the most burdened on the journey of 2022. Buy the house, don’t buy the house. Can you move…? Can you do it alone? Do you even want to?

I kept going.

One sometimes very painful step at a time.

We waited on framing. We waited on sheetrock.

We waited and waited and waited for cabinets. And they finally came, and it started a whole new cycle of worry and angst. Anxiety, distress, and worry. More heartache.

So much change.

In the midst of all of this, my sister has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She talks a lot about the journey and feeling like a burden. I think that’s something I’ve been struggling with. It’s hard to consider and wrap my head around a cancer treatment plan as a journey. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around anything unpleasant being considered a journey. Kauai is a journey… Maui a journey… NYC a journey. Heartbreak, not so much. Cancer, definitely not.

Keri worries about being a burden. She’s the good sister, the one with the kind heart, the always helper, the one you count on, the one who always cares. Genuinely. Cares. She’s not a burden. But ya know what? Cancer is a burden. It’s a shitty awful scary burden. The way that having no control over what happens next is a burden.

But…

We go on. It’s what we do. It’s the Italian in us. It’s the stubborn in us. It’s the we just don’t know any different in us.

So in between the burden and journey, in between the heartache and treatment plans we look for and hope to find the good days, the happy moments, the little sparkles, the evidence of better things to come, and memories of better times we’ve had and better times we’ll have and knowing we wouldn’t know them and wouldn’t recognize them if not for the burdens and journeys that all happened along the way.

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To My Sister…The One With The Biggest Heart.

#FightLikeAGirl

I am one of 6 children in my sibling set.

Three boys, followed by three girls. It looks like this:

Vito — he’s the oldest

John — the “middle” child in the boys

David — the “baby” in the boys

Me.

Carolyn — the “middle” child in the girls

Jennifer — the “baby” period.

Our parents divorced when we were all very young. Vito lived with my mother and “the girls” and John and David spent most of the time living with my Dad and stepmother Carolyn. Growing up and I am not sure where it came from other than necessity, that Vito was the caregiver, and when he moved out, the role fell to me. If I am being honest, and I try to be, there are many days where I felt, and still feel resentment for having been put in a place to be a “mother” to Keri and Jennifer.

But more days than not. Most days. Like 99% of them I am so grateful for the bond I get to share with my sisters. My first friends, my last friends.

Today I want to talk about Carolyn (Keri).

You see, the unimaginable happened to our family today. To Keri. She’s been diagnosed with Paget’s disease breast cancer. It’s rare. It’s slow. It’s scary.

Keri is the one in our family with the biggest heart. I’m not sure, but, think my siblings would agree, Keri is the biggest heart. She always has. She always will.

She’s seen more heartache and hurt than any one person should ever have to face. She lost her first boy still born in 1996. It was the summer that two of my sisters-in-law and myself were pregnant. The unimaginable. To this day, Keri still celebrates, Taylor Scott, her first born, her baby boy. It’s been an incredibly difficult journey for her. She moved to Danville, IL shortly after to help her then husband care for his bed ridden father, and for years and years, she was Bill’s primary care giver. She’s worked as a CNA, she’s cared for my grandmother in her later life. Keri has a gift for caring for people that amazes me. Lately, she’s been working as a school bus assistant for children in the Danville, IL school system. She thrives with younger children, children with special needs, children that are sometimes overlooked or not considered Keri sees. Every. Single. One.

Keri is married and she and her husband Jerry get along just fine. They are a perfectly suited match to the other. They get each other in the ways most envy. Little collaborators, partners in every sense of the word. Jerry and Keri are just good for each other, though this battle, the one that’s coming, the one that’s already here will test them in ways that are unimaginable.

Mastectomy and radiation.

A mastectomy and radiation are required on her treatment plan. So travel is booked. Vito, Jennifer, Dad, and I arrive on 8/27 and spend some time with Keri before surgery on the 29th. And I can’t imagine it. The fear, the angst, the heartache, the identity, the pain, the recovery, and all of the other things that my sweet sister will be battling in the coming months.

Sweet. Girl.

You are not alone. You never will be. Jennifer and I are your sisters, we’re tied to you, permanently, forever, to be old ladies sitting on a porch remember the days when. And I want you to know I am mad right along with you. I am scared with you. And I will walk this journey every fucking step with YOU. We are our first friends, and we will be our last friends. I love you and I don’t think I tell you that enough. For every good, every bad, every fight along the way… I love you.

So…

Fuck. Cancer.

If baldness comes let it. We’ll call the shots. We will walk step by step by step. We’re Italian, we won’t go down quietly and we certainly don’t go down without a fight, so bring it. We’ll fight.

Fight. Like. A. Girl.

#AnItalianGirl

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Scary Things…

A Girlfriend’s Guide To Getting Through

So there’s things I am struggling with. I tend to believe if I struggle with something, chances are, someone else is too. And I believe the best way to address is is to talk about it. So I am thankful for my blog, it gives me the space to work through the things that scare me, the things that make me sad, the things that give me hope and the things that don’t.

Fear.

I’ve been working on the house since November of last year, and the circumstances around it have changed more than I can literally put in to words. But, I believe the path is the path I am supposed to follow and so I do. I’ve been on hold waiting for cabinets. Nothing more can happen with the house until cabinets are installed. Well, cabinets are arriving next week, and so install will happen and so will a closing date. I am afraid of getting my loan to the finish line, of getting a move scheduled, of moving somewhere all by myself, of knowing maybe a handful of people. I wasn’t happy when the cabinets were in purgatory, and now I find myself unhappy because another step forward is inevitable. Starting all over at almost 49 years old. I never in my life imagined this is where I would be… today.

And yet here I am.

Relationship front.

Catching feelings and having to know when it’s time to reel them in, even when it hurts. But writing on the wall is writing on the wall and someone that isn’t willing to take up the fight isn’t. Right now, he isn’t. Even if I want it to be so, and it’s not some crazy run from the fire thing. It’s a set of unfortunate circumstances that are simply not allowing for forward progress, and I am having to be okay with that too. And… it sucks.

Being alone.

This is the one that’s still beating my ass nearly every fucking day. Part of it is self imposed and part of it not. Part of it is getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. I’d pay big dollars to have a companion on days like today when the couch is the place to be, but being here with my furry friend somehow isn’t quite enough. The next 60 days give or take are hard ones. I am waiting for the move to happen and so there’s constant limbo. I’m not quite here in Colorado and I am not yet in Arizona. So on the dating front, it makes it wholly ineffective. And lonely.

Getting into and out of my head.

What I would pay for the ability to get out of my head when I’ve managed to get into it in depths that fucking scare the outright mess out of me. So I’m going to try. I’m going to start with going to the gym, seeing how I do with that. I’m going to pack a box, or three. Three is what I committed to this weekend, I have to get ready for the move, it’s happening, and I need to be ready. And I need to know how to escape the scary place that’s my head. DBT distress tolerance is great here, it helps me to if nothing else shock myself out of the dark places I go. I’ll go to church tomorrow morning, that always helps, and then there’s the case for putting me first, the on-going ever-having battle of caring for myself first, not more than necessarily, but first above the litany of other people who carve out and occupy space in my heart and head.

The only way to get through…is to go through.

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The New “N” Word…

A Guide to Recognizing and Navigating a Narcissistic Relationship.

The Story of Narcissus from Britannica:

Narcissus, in Greek mythology, the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. He was distinguished for his beauty. According to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III, Narcissus’s mother was told by the blind seer Tiresias that he would have a long life, provided he never recognized himself. However, his rejection of the love of the nymph Echo or (in an earlier version) of the young man Ameinias drew upon him the vengeanceof the gods. He fell in love with his own reflection in the waters of a spring and pined away (or killed himself); the flower that bears his name sprang up where he died. 

This myth is what defined the psychologic condition narcissism:

nar·cis·sism

/ˈnärsəˌsizəm/

noun

noun: narcissism

excessive interest in or admiration of oneself and one’s physical appearance.Similar:vanityself-loveself-admirationself-adulationself-absorptionself-obsessionconceitself-conceitself-centerednessself-regardegotismegoismegocentricityegomaniaOpposite:modestydiffidence

PSYCHOLOGYselfishness, involving a sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.

PSYCHOANALYSISself-centeredness arising from failure to distinguish the self from external objects, either in very young babies or as a feature of mental disorder.

I knew self absorption was a thing.

I never knew it had a name, and…

I never knew I was a victim of it.

If I am being honest, I learned about narcissists, narcissism (that it was a real thing) when I left my ex-husband in May of 2020. We had been in an eleven year relationship that when it was “great” it was great, but when it was a disaster, well, that would be an understatement. There had to be a reason for the feelings I often, and when I say often mean almost always felt whenever we had a fight, argument, or minor disagreement. I was married to a narcissist.

Here are some consequences of narcissistic abuse (VeryWell Mind)

Anxiety 

Many narcissistic abuse survivors live with anxiety. After experiencing narcissistic abuse, you may experience extreme fear or anxiety in relationships with new people. Those who leave abusive relationships may experience separation anxiety, leading them to feel panicked and disoriented when they’re not with their abusers.

If your symptoms include anxiety attacks, panic attacks, or hypervigilance after being abused by a narcissist, know that these symptoms will ease over time, particularly if you can work through your trauma with a professional.

This has shown up for me in spades with my relationships post-divorce. When I wasn’t with my new partner, I experience literal separation anxiety, one of these relationships was a long distance one, and so add a whole other level of anxiety on top of an already loaded anxiety salad. I know I am not alone, I know there are a million narcissistic abuse survivors that have this same ANXIETY.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Depression 

Many people who have experienced narcissistic abuse also develop depression. Survivors often struggle with feelings of worthlessness after months or years of being told how useless and stupid they are by their abuser. After years of being manipulated and gaslighted, you may also isolate yourself, which can make feelings of depression worse.

I am not sure I experience depression in the “true” sense of the word. I do know I experience highs and lows and I likely experience them probably a little more acutely than another. I know there are a million survivors who are battling DEPRESSION.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Post-Traumatic Stress 

As a narcissistic abuse survivor, you will likely have symptoms of post-traumatic stress. Your brain will be on high alert, looking out for danger. This is because the traumatic events triggered a fight or flight response within you. As a result, anything associated with those memories can trigger an anxiety attack.

After experiencing narcissistic abuse, you may feel the need to be on guard 24/7. Victims of narcissists often mention that they never knew what their abuser was going to do next. You may struggle to relax because of chronic hypervigilance and expecting them (the abuser) to be around every corner.

You may also steer clear of certain situations or things that remind you of the abuse. This can range from avoiding certain places or particular people.

I am confident I don’t suffer PTS in the traditional. But what I will say is I am wired to believe the best, even in my narcissistic abusers to the point that I often mis-interpret “red flags” for circus flags. I know when I feel insecure I find myself stepping gingerly to avoid perceived relationship land mines. I do know there are a million survivors who are always walking on eggshells in the next relationship, and the next, and the next. POST TRAUMATIC STRESS is REAL.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Loss of Sense of Self and Self-Worth 

You may feel as if you have completely lost yourself. Narcissistic abuse is a form of brainwashing, and as such, it can destroy your sense of self-worth. You may no longer feel like the person you were before all this began.

In many cases, those who have experienced narcissistic abuse will struggle to recognize themselves in the mirror because they no longer see their true reflection staring back at them.

You may also have trust issues with other people (especially those closest to you), and constantly find yourself doubting or second-guessing yourself.

You may begin to feel like you are not good enough or that you did something to cause the abuse in the first place. This can lead to shame and embarrassment, which may often stop you from reaching out for help.

You may also have trouble making decisions. You may get confused by simple decisions, or you might feel unable to make any decision at all.

This one… this one here, I own in spades. I live with constant, consistent, loud imposter syndrome. The belief I am not, nor have I ever been “good enough” I have lived a life full of diminished self worth, and rest assured it was created long before my marriage and subsequent divorce. I believe, have believed, will believe I was not good enough yesterday, am not good enough today, and will not be good enough tomorrow. I think it’s why I love Snapchat filters, Facebook filters, lipstick, hair color and ANYTHING else that helps me to believe I am worth it, I am good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, funny enough, and whatever ENOUGH we can tag on to this endless list of ENOUGHS. When I divorced from my first husband, I cited a loss of identity, I believe this is because of some other narcissists/narcissitic tendency havers in my world. Loss of Sense of Self and Self-Worth. This one is big, and I really believe this one here has the most catastrophic effects one the survivors of narcissistic abuse. Oh my fellow survivors LOSS OF SENSE OF SELF AND SELF-WORTH is so REAL.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

So that’s it for today.

If you’ve been in a narcissistic relationship, you are not alone. You just aren’t. I know it feels that way. I know sometimes the crazy you feel will take you to the edge.

Don’t let it.

My next few blogs I am going to spend looking at the narcissists in my life, the narcissistic tendencies I have and need to be aware of (we ALL have them). More importantly I am going to share what we can do to recover, and navigate our relationships in the face of the abuse and trauma we’ve experienced, lived through and have survived.

WE ARE NOT ALONE.

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What Keeps Us Up At Night…

My desire for control….

If you know me, or follow me on Facebook, LinkedIn, or even here on WordPress through my blogs, you know I have a thing about control and having answers. Not so much in an OCD kinda way, but the I do so much better when I know what’s coming next kind of way. Maybe it’s a touch OCD?

So there are some things that have been keeping me up at night, and I believe they all stem from what I want to, but can not control.

The house.

I started building last November, and here we are and the finish line is not quite in sight, we’re still waiting on cabinets, but it’s creating an entire thought process that keeps me up at night. Changes to my credit report. Where are the cabinets? Do I have a closing date? No… because I have no cabinets. Will I find a fridge and washer/dryer in the face of supply chain drama? The fear of giving notice on my apartment too early. To pack or not to pack. What kind of knobs to buy? Who can help install ceiling fans… and I tell you the list just goes on and on and on. Really.

Work.

I am about six ish months in to my new job as a Regional Account Manager with Trane Technologies. I love love love what I do. Connecting with people and help the find solutions is one of those things that always makes my heart happy. But… the HVAC portion of the industry is new to me. The vertical and customers not really, though my decision makers and influencers is probably a little different. I worry about my performance. Am I doing enough? Am I demonstrating value? Am I learning enough? Can I navigate a clunky process? New boss… that’s a whole different can of worms, particularly when we all work remotely from one and other. Managing expectations. Travel. Quarterly bonus submissions. Trade shows… networking events.

It. Just. Goes. On.

Home. Life. Relationship. (and Tod Christopher)

My best bud and furry friend.

My son continues to navigate the finer dynamics of living on his own, being responsible for his decisions. Having a support system, and sometimes flat out still needing his parents. Or not. A strained relationship with my mother, and while it doesn’t keep me up at night, which might be seen as a problem, is something that always seems to be lurking in the background. Strained relationship with one of my brothers, really for reasons unknown. Again, not a keep me up at night thing… but, white noise in the background that bothers me. My younger sister in IL and her challenges, physically, emotionally, financially. Things I have seriously no control over. And… even if I did?

Tod Christopher. He’s literally my best bud and fury friend. And he’s aging, dramatically so. Losing weight at a pretty alarming rate for a little dog. Sometimes he wanders just mindlessly, like little doggy Alzheimers. He’s having increased issues with incontinence and so that brings an endless cycle of doggy pampers. Is it too early? I’m afraid of waiting for it to be too late. Is it me being a bad dog mom? This does keep me up at night.

Love and relationships.

Sometimes I still reel over the break up with Chet and still play a litany of what its and other various mind games. Even though, and I know, he’s back with his ex-wife, wife, not really sure but I guess wife is right since he never completed his divorce. The what if game if he shows up on my door step in Arizona, though, I know pretty decidedly isn’t likely to happen, and yet, sometimes it rears its ugly head and shows up and interrupts my slumber.

New. Guy. Long distance and somewhat complicated. I fall fast. Does he fall fast? Does he fall? Balancing red flags and circus flags. None of this stuff is easy. None. And there are some rough ish similarities between NG and OG. Do you trust NG or keep the wall up because OG totally smashed a very willing heart in to a million little pieces without blinking an eye? He’s sweet. How do I manage what I want and need in a next relationship with what he wants and needs in a next relationship. None of this shit is easy and it interrupts my sleep and keeps me awake at night. Go public. Don’t go public. Compromise. Expectations. Communication. All keep me up.

And then…

Making peace with the only thing I do have control in — in any of this.

Me.

I can only control my responses. My actions. My personal Liz expectations, not the ones I’d like to impose. Not the ones I’d like to see other people make. The only thing I can control is me and how I am showing up. And that’s hard too, and that keeps me up. On the whole, I believe I am getting better ish at it. I think. I at the very least am aware that I have a full on love affair with control, and it’s not likely to serve me well… though make no mistake having the ability to just take control can be as much a beautiful gift as a damaging curse.

So if you’re anything like me, and I imagine I know some people who find this very relatable. I see you. I feel your pain, and I am in your corner navigating our need for control.

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Catching Feelings…

Is it avoidable?

It’s kind of like catching Covid, chickenpox, or a cold… So contagious and you’re not really ever sure where you caught it from.

I recently caught a case of both Covid-19 and feelings. I’m not sure which one I caught first but I caught them both.

Let’s start with Covid. Easier to dissect where I got it from. A trade show. Three weeks ago. ish. Shaking hands and kissing babies and shaking hands. And kissing more babies.

The feelings… let’s talk about that. I’m not sure when I caught them, but I am guessing it was right about the same time.

I went to Simi Valley, CA, over the Memorial Day weekend. Visiting a gentleman I went on a few dates with before I started dating my now ex-husband, which makes me wonder if I chose wrong or, maybe not, or maybe needed to go through all of the places and spaces that brought me here. We started talking again after the break-up. I was so very afraid that I didn’t treat him with the respect he deserved and after having been done dirty and shitty and carelessly with Chet, I didn’t want to ever do that to another human. And…

If there was a chance I had, which in this case I thought I might…. I needed to clean it up.

So I reached out to clean it up.

“Chef.”

He’s sweet. Charming. He cooks. He’s kind. He’s all of the things that you look for in a partner.

He remembers.

That I like crushed red pepper on my spaghetti. He listens.

He’s sent me some pretty pretty things, and thoughtful gifts. He calls. He texts.

He doesn’t do PDA well. Honestly, I am hoping he gets better with that. I love dancing in public for now reason. I love kisses, hugs, hand holds and bootie grabs.

He’s not sure about us. Not in the way that lightning strikes kind of way. Maybe in the same way I’m not sure, but different. He caught a case of feelings with someone. Fell fast, fell hard, and has some skinned knees and a bruised heart to show for it.

He has some flags… are they red? They might be. He has some similarities to a previous relationship that scare the literal fuck out of me. See my don’t be that girl post.

But I take him at his word… for now.

He went through the struggle to spend some time with me this week and it wasn’t easy for him to do. And it was amazing…. and so somewhere between Memorial Day and this week, I’ve managed to catch some feelings for this man. And…

Trust is a bitch.

It usually only takes one person to fuck it up for the next six people.

I don’t know what to do with this case of feelings I’ve caught.

I caught them pretty fast and I caught them pretty hard. And that never surprises me. Because that’s just how it happens. It happened with Chet that way.

And… I’ve caught them at a different pace than he’s caught them. That’s scary. Because it’s vulnerable and scary, and did I mention scary and long distance. Let’s not forget to throw that in to the mix.

Honestly right? You might be wondering if I am just that oblivious or naive? It might be a bit of both with an extra shake of the naive. And… spell check is calling me out on my spelling of naive.

But I’ve caught them and now I have them and I am seriously not sure what to do with them. And so we’ll see…

I am hoping.

That he’s gonna find his way to where he’s happy, valued, not door-matted and loved. I’m hoping whatever is next on the horizon for me leads me away from heartbreak, toward love, fulfillment, success, peace and drama free days, and drama free nights. I’d love to see where he fits in that.

Never give up on love.

Never be afraid to catch feelings.

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When There Are More Questions Than Answers…

Then what?

Sometimes… there are more questions than answers.

And when that happens…

Then what?

Why is it that when I am quarantined and staying home I don’t want to… though this weekend prying myself from the house seemed like an all out chore?

Why do I want chocolate ice cream when there’s only vanilla.

Why is it some of us love Coca Cola and others adore Pepsi.

And why is it… that we only want what we want when we fucked around and fucked it up? When we could have openly have had it? But chose differently.

I tend to think of this as a pretty female phenomena but wonder if the same is true with men.

I don’t want you… until someone else wants and has you. Then… I’ll fight to the end, with all I’ve got to get what I had, tossed aside, didn’t contribute to, and otherwise was just a fucked kind of person to back. Now bearing in mind in any of the circumstances where this happens there is of course another side of the story. But it happens with such frequency but I can’t help but to wonder. Just how many of us do this?

Then what??

I’m trying to reflect on my relationships and wonder if I’ve been that person? I don’t want you… until someone else does too… Honestly, I think that answer is no. I can’t honestly recall a time where I was only inspired to act on a relationship because I had it and tossed it aside, and someone else saw the beauty in what I had relegated for trash… I honestly don’t see where I’ve done that, and I am grateful for that.

Because who wants to be that girl?

Knowing… there are a lot of “those girls” out there.

So to those girls… a suggestion. A little coaching if you will…

The grass may or may not be greener on the other side, I don’t know, it’s an answer that only you find when you choose to travel to the other side of the fence to find out. But when you do cross and you find that it’s not… be a bigger woman. Admit you fucked up, you didn’t treat the relationship with respect, you too were culpable in what happened and own your shit. Then… be the kind of woman you know in your gut you should be and grow up, pull up your big girl panties and move the fuck on. It’s uncomfortable to be sure, but I will tell you it saves you looking like a petty little bitch no one has time for.

No One.

This is directed in a few directions to be sure… one maybe more so than others. But I am unable to just let things happen, that happen and shouldn’t that as a woman I find this kind of girl, the one who wants her toys back after leaving them kicked aside… well I kinda wanna vomit in my mouth a little bit, and maybe I just did.

Be the kind of woman your next relationship deserves.

“I’m not a one in a million kind of girl. I’m a once in a lifetime kind of woman.”

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Be The Woman…

Or at least try.

Be the woman that wishes nothing but the best for another woman.

Even when…

You don’t want to.

You don’t think she deserves it.

She doesn’t wish it for you.

When she’s discarded treasure and wants to have it back.

She doesn’t appreciate what she has.

She doesn’t appreciate what she had.

Doesn’t give a damn who she hurts.

Takes advantage of another person’s kindness, love, and generosity.

Be the woman…that knows her worth.

Even when…

You don’t want to.

You don’t think you deserve it.

Others influence you NOT to.

You don’t know where to start.

Even if you’ve doubted it a million times before.

Even when…

Be the woman that loves again…

Even when…

You don’t think you can.

You don’t want to.

You don’t know how to.

You’re AFRAID to.

You know there is so much risk in it.

Be THAT woman.

“Behind every successful woman is a tribe of other successful women who have her back.” 

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Epilogue…

A Different Kind Of Tear.

So much has changed.

It’s been 94 days since I thought the world ended. 94.

And tonight is my last night in Arizona for this week, and I found myself crying.

A different kind of tear.

There have been so many moments in the past three months where I was convinced I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t go on a vacation, I couldn’t buy a house, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t get over him, I couldn’t or wouldn’t let myself love another human like that again.

94 days…

And so much has changed. I can go on. I did go on vacation. I am buying a house. I am moving. I am getting over him, and I will love another human like that again.

I went to the Capone Compound Monday of this week when I arrived to Phoenix. I was so happy to know my framing inspection was complete and passed. Sheetrock was on-site at my house on West Verlea Drive. Little changes that mean such big things.

Tuesday was full of sales calls, Wednesday a trip to Tucson, sales calls, and a client dinner. A drive home that included some crazy drivers, and cars on fire. Luckily, there was no flying scaffolding. Thursday I got to join one of my fellow Trane peeps on a meeting with one of his dealers, working through things that need worked through, resetting expectations and being on the same page. I got my first sale this week too!

Today.

Class at the Arizona Multihousing Association. My Lyceum Leadership Class. Today was all about personality styles, how our genetics and experiences influences the people we are. There are no surprises with me. I understand why I am how I am; and I love hearing all about my companions in class and learning where we are similar, where we are different and why that makes our industry such a great place to be. Media training. How to interview and respond. Such a great time…

And back to the house.

The sheetrock is hung. My house looks like a house. I can see the size and shape of the rooms, I can place furniture and see wall graphics. I can see where the Christmas tree will sit and if I try super hard… I can see where the swimming pool will go! (It’s on the five year plan) I can see where my touches and finishes will go.

Today I cried.

And these tears, much like some tears from last week, were a different kind.

Cathartic.

I can and will be okay. I can and will make it through that hard thing, and the hard things that are still to come. Tears that are hopeful because love is not lost on me, it is a feeling I will share again, a little wiser, but just as freely as I have ever given before. Tears that know I am smarter today than I was yesterday and still to be smarter tomorrow. Tears that will never give up on the good in people.

Always.

Tears that choose to hope for the best for the people I surround myself with, and those who have taught me the hard hard lessons I’ve needed to learn. Today, I’d still like to believe maybe there’s more to it and maybe not. Today I still believe I wish well for those, even those who by all counts don’t deserve it and it’s because it’s who I am. I don’t know how to do it differently and I don’t want to do it differently.

Today I take pleasure in a different kind of tear.

But smiles and tears are so alike with me, they are neither of them confined to any particular feelings: I often cry when I am happy, and smile when I am sad.— Anne Bronte

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