#100happydays volume 3

As I've settled in to wrap up the 100 happy days series, I've been looking back at the last 34 days; I noticed a really important trend had occurred, and without planning it, I found myself thinking, saying and texting "I got a piece of myself back." And so it seems a fitting way to end this exercise---ending with a little more me than I started with. 

I should explain, of course, what getting a piece of me even means. It's all manner of things, and it happened with all manner of people. First and foremost, it means I went back to my past to resolve something unsettled. A Facebook conversation with a young woman I knew in another life, reconciling a confusing evening and establishing some new connections. A short afternoon with an old friend, someone with whom I always felt a tad shy and awkward. After both casual but important interactions, I felt like all these unsaid or uncertain things were closed. There was nothing more to fret about. There was no more reasons to feel guilty. There was nothing to be shy about. The healing, it appears, was  already finished.

Secondly, I took time to reconnect with people I haven't talked to in years. Some of them I have seen, but we didn't have an opportunity to really catch up about life. Karen, SA, cwcaldon, jbrown, Arthur...all different people I deeply care about but lost.  They became lost out of circumstance, out of fear, or out of life events. The revitalized relationships secured a sense of self, of belonging, even after so many years of feeling alone.

But this exercise wasn't only 34 days, and so I must look to 66 before it - and when I do, I'm reminded of a sweet little indigo girls lyric "don't forget where you come from, baby, 'cause there's truth in it."

Ah, yes.  Truth.  This whole experience considering happy things became, for me, about the truth.  It became about my truths, my realities that I've ignored for so long, and the beauty in little moments that are my building blocks of joy.  

And so, it turns out, I'm not anymore me than I was before, even if it feels that way.  The truth is, I've always been here; I just needed to make time to see it, to enjoy it, and to take it back.

I don't do very many things consistently.  I struggle with getting into habits because I can't seem to keep myself focused on the task.  Maybe it's because I hate convention, especially self imposed convention.  Except as I conclude this I series, I realize this was an exception to my consistent inconsistency.  Without fail,  I found something, I photographed it, and I posted.  When I string it altogether, not just in some of it, but in all of it, I find that maybe I could keep doing it because everything I've ever wanted is already in front of me; the parts I thought I was missing were simply waiting for me to find them. That, my friends, is what makes something a proper happy day.

Cheers!

#100happydays Volume 2

If you want to read Volume 1, you can find it here.
If you like to see my #100happydays album, you can find it here.

Thursday of last week was Day 66 of my 100 Happy Days challenge. That makes it 2/3 of the way complete, which means I owe everyone a blog entry.

I didn't mean for the the timing to work out this way, but it so happens this is an exceptionally fitting week for me to be reflective about my life - this week is the 3rd anniversary of a good friend's death.  It also happens to be the 3rd anniversary of someone else's decision, which kickstarted my whole new, pretty great life.  Both of those events are weighing heavily on my mind this week.

I think of Toni often.  In fact, nearly every time I walk into my local coffee shop, I remember how we used to meet for breakfast - the four usual suspects plus my little buddy TF (who was young, and quiet, and at that time, not my little buddy, but I digress).  I think of her fierceness, and how she owned not just her thoughts but her space.  I think about how she could say something that made the rest of us fall out laughing, and all she would do is flash us an impish grin while we struggled to breathe.  I think of her strength, her will, her drive to beat the cancer that ultimately won.  That the anniversary of her death happens to coincide with this 100 happy days, I find myself occasionally wondering:

Which ones would she "like" on fb?

Which ones would she be with me for?

I hope the answer is a lot of them.

A mere 38 hours after Toni's funeral, The Breakup occurred.   TxB's departure from my life was and is undoubtedly the right thing for me, but in times of anniversaries both good and bad, I find myself stealing moments to remember some of the ways in which he will always be part of me.   There are some really great memories of late night Nintendo challenges and coke bottle fights.  There are times when I felt safer with him than with anyone else.  Then I find myself remembering some other really tragic times, times of loss and struggle, times when I couldn't tell my dreams from his, times when I felt lost unless I got to be Band Girlfriend - because that was the only person I knew how to be.  To tell you the truth, I hate to remember the good stuff and the bad stuff - but they are real parts of who have turned out to be, real parts of the wars I still wage with myself. So this week, I remember it all with just a little more reflection and a lot more melancholy.  Afterall, I grew up with him. 

Needless to say, focusing on happy days lately has been a good exercise for me.  It's not that I'm struggling to find joy these days; actually it's pretty opposite.  Instead, it's just that looking to find happiness in small moments. and even in moments of great sadness or regret, is what makes my bittersweet life worth having.

All those thoughts above aren't really what I intended to focus this entry on, but I shared it because it's important for me to chronicle the space this occupies in my brain.  Happy days, on their own and without context, are merely opportunities for you to look through jagged glass.  It's what's on the other side of the glass, where all the moments are actually happening, that make them worth documenting.  At least, I find that true for me.

Maybe I should boil this all down, shouldn't I?  I think what I'm trying to put into words today is that the last 33 days were a series of tragically frustrating or totally fantastic hours and days and weeks that impacted my mood, my behavior, and my heart. A lot.  The way I felt about things swayed a lot, or a little, in mere seconds.  Fabulously happy events turned me inside out before I even know what was happening.  Challenging co-workers made it extremely hard for me to put work aside after the day was over.  Arguing and defending everything I am exhausted me, more than once.  Past losses completely overshadowed my heart.   Yet, everyday, I thought: 

This is the best life I could ever ask for.

And its true.  You'd only need to glimpse at what I've posted to believe me.  If you did, I know that you'd find a smattering of the best love I could ever have.  If you read the words, you'd understand that it's people like my UnlikelyFriend, TF, Roomie, and Spunk that take really rough days and turn them into merely rough hours.  You'd see that even in hard manual labor, I can find joy sorting through old cardboard boxes full of dust covered finger paintings and childhood memories.  You'd understand how ecstatic I am to have a new little person in my life, someone to love and watch grow up, while I get to watch my little sister navigate into this new role of parent. Lastly, you'd see that the beasts who take up residence in my home take up even more residence in my heart.  What you'd see, my friends, is my life.

It's the very same life I had 66 days ago.  It's the very same life I'll have when 100 days have come and gone.   In a rough 33 day period, I found myself so incredibly grateful that there are people who love me not just in spite of my shortcomings, but perhaps because they are just part of what you get when you get me.  In my good days, and in my really ugly bad days, it's clear to me that finding happiness is really about finding love and laughter without being anyone other who i Am.

#100happydays Volume 1

If you like to see my #100happydays album, you can find it here.

33 days ago, on what amounts to a whim, I decided to join the #100happydays challenge.  The reason?  I don't have one.  It's kinda unlike me.  Normally I think and I brood and I agonize.  I guess maybe I was watching WonderPup recovering from surgery thinking "I'm so grateful today" and before I knew it, Day 1 was born.

I'm committed to the idea now though.  It's not that I think we have to be happy all the time.  It's unrealistic to expect something like that.  There were times in my life when I would have been ill-equipped at finding anything to be happy about.  There were other times in my life I would have agonized over whether I was happy enough.  Lastly, there may have been times I'd have had a full throttle anxiety attack every time I tried to take a picture of something.  Somehow, it's not any of those things today.

With the first 1/3 of the challenge completed, I'd like to share just a couple of thoughts with you about why I like this, what it means to me, and what I've learned.

1. If I could rename this, I'd call it #100gratefulmoments.  As I mentioned before, its not realistic to always be happy.  Life is a series of ups and downs - hell, even days can be that way.  It's easy to get sucked into the violence and brutality of your day, even if you genuinely lead a happy life.  But this is, for me, an exercise in finding gratitude and joy in relatively small moments.  After all, the biggest moments of our lives are made up of all the small things we had to do just to get there.

2. It's empowering to be free.  I try not to prescribe the moment.  In fact, many of my pictures aren't even very good; they are often blurry, uncentered, or not entirely related to the text in the update.  But too much emphasis on snapshot of the moment means you lose it.  Too much orchestration of the people and places and it sullies the joy.  I love being present and suddenly deciding "this is my happy day today."  There's a coke picture that says "friend" and "bff" from Day 31 that maybe is my favorite.  I hadn't considered that could ever be a happy day, particularly not when I thought it would be a boring picture of the TEDx sign.  Instead this awesome organic thing happened, and I got to tag my UnlikelyFriend and HumanM instead.  100happydays - 0: Indian Mushroom - 1.

3. Hard days are hard.  Really hard.  In 33 days, I had more of them than you'd expect from what I posted.  Those of us who battle Depression and Anxiety or have loved ones who do understand that sometimes it's just a struggle to simply get up.  And yet, I found something to post everyday.  Three times I wondered "well what could be a happy one today in this shitty endless day?"  But then something struck me and even in those days I had something to reframe into joy: fresh coffee in a favorite mug, finding a misplaced remote in a silly place, and last night - a picture of me getting ready to go out, feeling good about myself, because I had the courage to ask for what I needed --- and people came through.

4. My happy day are probably predictable now.  Nearly all of them acknowledged these fantastic humans I have in my life.  I'm eternally thankful for all of these people, but to see them posted one after another, in different variations, in different situations, for different reasons, I am no longer simply thankful; I am humbled.  What a tremendous reminder to me that even the hardest of days are made easier by people who love me.  How lucky I am to spend my life with these dear friends, the very people who prove to me that opening my heart is a risk worth taking, an irrefutable decision that connects me to friends I can't live without.

I leave you with those 4 things for now.  There are 67 more days to go, with another entry in 33.  I'm not sure what else I will find in the next 1/3 of the challenge, but I sincerely appreciate your patience and support as I participate.  Thank you for seeing the updates, liking the pictures, and reading this entry.  Cheers my friends, and may you have InfiniteHappyDays.

Forgiveness

Today's topic is forgiveness.  Why today?  Why now?   Simply stated, I'm grappling with how to grant forgiveness when someone doesn't ask for it - and worse - when they don't really deserve it.

Sometimes we are hurt deeply by those we love, and they will never know, see, or understand it.  It's not that they were accidentally insensitive; instead, they refuse to believe that they could ever be wrong.  In their steadfast trek on the path of "rightness", they don't see that words and actions can pull apart a relationship with even the strongest foundation.

With that in mind, I've started searching for what I think forgiveness really is, and who it is for.  There are a lot of really wise words out there about how forgiveness is really about the forgiver.  It's about making peace with someone who has wronged you.  It's about moving forward with your life, and maybe your relationship.

I buy that.  I can get there.  But isn't it really something more?  Isn't it a gift?  Isn't it possible that granting forgiveness is an act of love?

When I have done something so terribly atrocious to someone I love, I don't simply apologize.  Apologies are for spilled milk or losing someone's casserole dish.  They are for forgetting to run the errand you promised.  They are for thoughtless decisions that spiral slightly out of control. But that's not where we ask for forgiveness, is it?

Forgiveness, true forgiveness, shouldn't be asked for lightly; being truly sorry is perhaps the most tragic experience we face as humans.  It's for those times when you've done something that hurts someone deeply, and in such a heartless way, that you fiercely regret your actions.  It reserved for those times when you fear the end of your relationship is near, knowing you no longer deserve it. When you find someone willing to grant you forgiveness in these moments, it's special and rare.  He or she isn't just accepting your request, but is accepting you when you have been the worst you can be - and he or she still wants to love you anyway.  How humbling that moment becomes.

So in this separation of apologies versus forgiveness, where does that leave us when there are people who don't even understand the magnitude of their impact?  How many times should we be required to open our hearts to love, only to be torn apart again?  Of course, there isn't one answer for everyone.  And yet, I wonder, can we truly live with such inequitable relationships?  Can one person continue forgiving out of love when the other isn't willing to humble himself even enough to see the damage it's causing?

Sometimes maybe we can, but in those times, our relationships morph into something else.  Maybe they are a little less close, a little less honest, or a little more guarded - but still existing.  Expectations are different, more appropriate, and it becomes easier to protect ourselves from continuous injury.  There are other times, especially with archetypal relationships, that that transition is simply impossible.  We become caught up in what it should be, and how someone should feel about their transgressions.  The opportunity for love simply diminishes.

I guess that can be a healthy transition; after all, someone who can't ever see your perspective is at worse, abusive, and at a best, a likely narcissist.  But even still, it is easy to feel like you've failed, that you could have done better, that you can still do better to save it.  I suppose in those moments, we fall on our knees to beg forgiveness of ourselves; to grant it then may actually be the ultimate act of love.

Always choose your family

The other day, someone on fb asked "what are you passionate about?" and without hesitation, I said "being madly in love with people and places." Ok, not exactly, but that was the boiled down intention.

So often and recently, I'm humbled by how many people I get to love, how many kids who look up to me are in my life, how many friends I can honestly consider close. It's overwhelming really, how much time I get to spend with people I truly adore.

I'm reminded of an entry I've worked on for awhile but I couldn't articulate the message. It was about the ways in which we live with, care for, and choose our families. I made distinctions I didn't really want to make at all, so I abandoned that piece and set off to find some new inspiration whenever, and wherever, that inspiration struck me.

It turns out, I found it right here in the course of regular life. We choose to be family. Let me say it again, because it's true: everyday, and with all those people we live for and love, sometimes blissfully, sometimes tragically - we choose to be family.

It doesn't seem like that makes sense since none of us get to choose our moms and dads. We sometimes get saddled with brothers and sisters, or aunts and uncles we certainly didn't ask for. And yet, it remains true. Family is a choice.

We choose to spend time sitting around a table shucking oysters and laughing with brothers and sisters. We choose gathering on holidays instead of solitude. We choose graduation parties on a moments' notice, because a wonderful woman graduated from nursing school. We choose nail salons on hard anniversaries. We choose adventures in karaoke instead of protecting our pride. We choose to love.

Sometimes the family you were thrust into isn't the family you choose at all. My family is loud, crazy, and boisterous --- and loving, fun and close --- but even sometimes I choose to make more room for the other family I am so lucky to have. Sometimes the family you choose is an obligation, a chore, or a responsibility, but even those things are born out of knowing that some kind of love drives us.  Why? Because, we choose love.

I have so many people who get to be family - my mama and The Bald Eagle, my dad, senior, jdogg, MandolinMan, Swati and Nani of course. But there so many more than I can barely keep track. My oldest friend, my UnlikelyFriend, Teach and PAG3, trespagjr, little TF who couldn't possibly be more important to me if he tried, Roomie, kittykat. Family sometimes falls away, like TxB or Pepper. And sometimes you know in your heart you've already met someone to add. You don't just make him family; he earns it. Nevertheless, your heart has already chosen.

If anything has struck me over the last several months, it is that there is no end to how many people can be in our families. There's no rank order to categorize or prioritize who we love "the most." A person's capacity to love is only limited by her willingness to open her heart, and for all the fear that may bring, the rewards returned are exponential.

Value lessons

Sometimes I find courage in moments I never thought could even happen. I ask questions I don’t really want answered because I know there’s a potential for an answer I don’t want to hear. But then I surprise myself with a realization that things don't always have to end up just exactly as I expected.

A few months ago, I wrote about how the idea that letting go of something I always thought I would have isn't the same thing as accepting defeat. And though I believed it when I wrote it, it’s awfully hard to accept. I don’t actually know why. Maybe I find peace in believing it’s always cowardly to put old dreams aside for awhile to explore new ones. Or maybe I think it’s wise to cling to The Plan; you know, the one that will no sooner be realized than the last time I considered it. And what of distraction? There’s no option for distraction when I have to go get something I always wanted, even if that “distraction” may well have been much more if I only I had explored it.

My ever practical father has always said :

You can do whatever you want, as long as you have values that are your own.

He encouraged me to define them, refine them, embody them, and make every decision, day in and day out, based on those values alone. "They can be different from mine", he said, "but you must have them."

And so I have them. My values emphasize love and compassion for people - old and young people, “my” people, strange people – all people. I’m known for compromise – the ever steadfast diplomat in all things work, family, and personal; though that may easily transform into losing parts of myself, the fight for being fair and decent makes me a reasonable, trusted friend – a friend who is fluent in the delicate art of giving and taking in all relationships. But the one that defines me most is my dedication. I have an unwavering mind after decisions are made. It’s all consuming. I’m determined, in spite of all obstacles, all naysayers, all logic, and even in spite of myself, that what was decided will be so. In my academic and professional life, this has served me well. I have a talent for taking chaos and turning it into order.

Yet I’m now asking myself, what else has that done for me? Has my never-ending obstinacy and arrogance given me all the people and relationships I've wanted in my life? Are my lists of stark “unfavorable” dealbreakers wise? After all, this ever forgiving diplomat can overlook behavior like manipulation, control, self loathing, and addiction. Does it make me wise then, to dismiss something simply because the answer wasn't what I was looking for after the exhaustive list of questions have been asked? What if that something is something you never even knew you wanted? Or worse, that you could have?

It’s wise, of course, to keep doing the things I believe in. It’s wise to make decisions and have goals to work towards. And it’s wise to be ever protective of my heart – or the heart of someone I care about. But isn't it also wise, my friends, to sometimes look deep inside and wonder “aren't there sometimes things worth exploring, even if it doesn't track to my goals?”

And well, I think the answer is yes; if, and only if, the core of your values are in tact.

When priorities misalign

As a kid, my mom talked a lot about priorities.

"Get your priorities in line, young lady!"
"School work is your priority and everything else comes next."
"My priority is you kids."

Priorities, priorities, priorities. BOR-RING.

I think we use the word incorrectly sometimes.  Not that my mom did - thank god she nagged me about priorities because mine weren't in any sort of order.  But as a grown person with grown friends, I find we throw it around a lot.  And I wonder, why do we always have opinions about other people's priorities?  Why do we judge them?  Why can't your priorities just be different than mine?  Why must I explain the ones I have that seem a little out of the ordinary?

What are my priorities now?  Well, my top priority is myself and that means I'm putting the things that make me happy at the top of my list.  Right now, there's a lot of joy in quality time spent with family and friends.  There's a lot of fun in getting to know someone new and seeing what becomes of it.  There's a lot of peace in being a role model for my little buddy TF. And there's a lot of value in allowing myself to find deep satisfaction by taking care of and helping the people in my life whom I adore.

These priorities are no longer misaligned with my lifetime hopes and dreams.   Once, they were.  But, everyday I find something new that challenges me, humbles me, or satisfies my need for connection with other people.  

I've always talked, hoped and dreamed about a family of my own, and I've really only meant my own kids.  I'll always want and need that, and someday, whenever the time is right, I will have that.  Lately though, I am reminded about something amazing; I already have pieces of my family now.

And those pieces --- well, they are my priority.

Timelines

I play out situations over and over again in my brain.  Situations from two minutes ago.  Situations from two years ago. Longer even.

In these plays, I rewrite a line or two and it changes everything.  A different word. A different action.  A different intention.  And then a new timeline is built.

In some timelines, I walk away before we even begin.  In other timelines, a baby is born, a wedding is planned, a bad breakup is less bad, and a sour relationship never went sour at all.

Unfortunately life doesn't come with a rewind button.  And, if it did, there infinite numbers of possibilities and outcomes that are unpredictable.  Plus, even if multiple timelines exist in me, there's no breaking out of this one. Parallel universes are just science fiction mumbo jumbo. Right?

In rare moments, something happens to me and I find myself replaying without changing my words.  It's the same scenario over and over again.  In those instances, I realize I don't need an alternate ending; what transpired is all that need occur.  Whatever could have been different is no longer, or never was, in my control.

My hope for my life, and for the lives of those I love and cherish, is that these multifaceted endings die out.  I want to be secure in my decisions, unwaivering, unwilling to second guess my motivations or emotional state. My wish is that all these parallel timelines fade away into the layers of ourselves where healing has already begun.

Let us not rewind. Let us simply play out.

Just let it go

Just let it go.

Ever heard that?  Ever notice how hard that can be?  I think it actually may be hardest part of healing.  

We all have to do it.  It's good for us to stop clutching these imperfect expectations of what we wanted our lives to be.  It makes us more productive with our days because the weight of all those unrealized expectations no longer drag us down.  We probably sleep better at night having accepted that our lives have been altered from "the plan" and it's ok.  And you know, that final act of letting go can sometimes soothe our hearts when they have been battered or bruised or worse --- broken.  

Sometimes it's a simple thing like letting go of an idea that we'll always love our job or that we should always argue when we're right. Other times I think it's hard to workout just exactly what it is that's holding us back at all.  

We have these things, these expectations deeply rooted in our families and values.  When we let go, have we rejected those who love us most?  Can they handle our decisions to make peace with ourselves?  Because maybe, just maybe, we could let go of these things if everyone else could let them go too.  

Then I think we wonder - when is letting go really giving up?  Isn't it important to follow our hearts, our dreams, our passions?  It's always occurred to me that the line between the two is thin and very feint.  So what's the difference?

For me, the difference is emotional.  When we let go of heartache, confusion, stress, and the shame of unrealized dreams, it's like calling a time out. It becomes a moment to look at our options and redirect our strategy.  It gives us a chance to take a breather and get our heads back in the game.

By contrast, giving up simply means it's over.  It's a defiance towards growing or learning.  It's an opposition to being flexible about what our dreams were and what they could be now.  It's resigning ourselves to this idea that happiness isn't an option any longer.  Frankly, it sucks.

We've all found ourselves stuck somewhere in the middle, I think.  We give up because we are afraid to let go.  We define ourselves by what we wanted to be and not by what we are.

We shouldn't do that.  We should be open to possibilities and answers we never conceived of before.  

Let go.  Let go of the things that kept you down. Let go of the things that didn't work out.   Make room in your life for the things you don't want to give up on. Your bruised or battered or broken heart will thank you.

The balance of fear

Perhaps the quintessential question of humanity is "what are you so afraid of?"  Everyone asks it.  Everyone receives it.  I can't think of anyone who likes to answer it.

Fear is so complicated.   Sometimes it's easy to put on a brave face; other times, we're lucky just to get out of bed.  It can simultaneously paralyze and kickstart us into action.  It holds us back, it pulls us forward, or it allows us to hang lifeless in stasis.  I don't think anyone reacts to fear consistently, because there external factors that weigh on us: how we feel about ourselves, how we feel about our loved ones, how we feel about people who might not even exist.  Sometimes the factors aren't people at all but instead money, risk, inadequacy, friendship, vulnerability - and sometimes we couldn't identify the factors no matter how hard or carefully we try.

I don't know what today's message is.  I've just been personally wondering what makes us react so differently in similar moments of our lives.  Why did a new job opportunity at 25 scare me so much?  Why does it scare other 25 year olds?  Why doesn't it scare me now?

Why wasn't I afraid in relationships from the past, but in the future I see I should have be?  Why does some of that linger, spilling over into the new ones that come to me?  How much space do I let fear take up in my head or my heart?  How much effort do I spend to let my guard down?  How much energy do I spent, alternatively, to keep it up?

I'm afraid of a lot of things.

Afraid to disappoint; afraid to be disappointed.

Afraid to fall in love only to have a broken heart; afraid to guard my heart from breaking so that I never fall in love.

Afraid of asking for what I need for fear (see what I did there) I wont get it; afraid of becoming someone who can never give anyone what (s)he needs.

Afraid of never having the family I so long for; afraid of having the family I so long for.

Today these things seem less scary, but tomorrow I could wake up with a whole new twist on something to fear.  All I can do is adjust.  All I can do is make the right decisions in the moment - and fret about whether it was the right one at all.

We all have fears.  We all have things that keep us up at night.  All the stupid adages about getting over our fears and doing it anyway --- I don't know what the point of those really are, except perhaps to give us something else to worry about.

Maybe all we can do is just navigate through this life letting today be scarier than tomorrow, or the other way around.  Maybe instead of trying to fight it, we support each other when someone admits that fear is part of their lives.  Or maybe, the only way to deal with fear is to just simply pretend.

When people do you wrong

In the last few weeks, it seems a few friends and I have found ourselves being tested - our patience, our love, and our capability to forgive.  It's become like some sort of surprise exam you didn't know you needed to study for.  The only question printed on the top is "why do you, [insert person of choice], have to make this about you?"

Why do they, indeed?

It seems to me that so many of our friends, our families, our coworkers, our churchgoers, our neighbors, our book club partners --- they have agendas.  Sometimes it's innocuous.  Sometimes I'm not sure they even know it.  And sometimes, it's at the forefront of all things they do or say.

We all have our shit.  We all have these experiences and memories, bad juju or karma, things that paint and cloud our judgment.  There are things we feel self conscious about, things that never go away, no matter how much work we do to make it so.  In one moment, that little bit of confidence we hold so dearly onto can be washed out by these people who are supposed to love us unconditionally.

A friend, who likely means well, can shatter even the smallest glimmer of hope that somebody out there can understand your reaction to something.

A father can latch onto the things you feel the most insecure about, and turn it back on you.  As if, you know, you needed his reminder.  As if, in fact, you didn't already know it on your own.

A boyfriend, a man who is meant to support you, understand you, and value you, asks you a question so deeply unfair that there is no alternate choice but throw up your walls, a decision you will no doubt, hear about again and again.

So why is it that these people you are supposed to love and trust, the people who are filling all of the archetypal relationship roles in your life, can so systemically break you?  And why do the other people around us offer up sayings like:

You can't change people.
You're offense collecting.
Don't take everything so personally.
Your reaction is wrong.
You are overreacting.

I think we ought to be allowed to be scared of our demons, even if everyone else doesn't understand.  I think we ought to feel safe being ourselves, expressing our opinions, our grievances, and our insecurities to those who proclaim they love us.  And we ought to find validation when we are so utterly disappointed by these reactions that break us down.

As there always is, I find myself rolling a lyric around and around inside my brain lately.  A sweet indie Lilith Fair artist sang her heart out about what it feels like to find your own way, only to find that those around you are disappointed in who you have become.  Even my fourteen year old heart was pulled when I heard it, though I didn't know how much of a reality it would become in my thirties.  Her sad and sweet words, grasping for answers read:

There's just one thing I need to get a handle on; 

People can love you, and still do you wrong.

So how do you get a handle on it?  Where is the reconciliation of asking to be loved in your way, and accepting the best love someone is capable of providing?  Where is the line between forgiveness and protection drawn?  When do we get to decide that these people who love us are unable, incapable, or unwilling to give us what we need?  And when we do decide, why does it take us so long to feel good about it?

This is a world full of exams we didn't know to study for.  I challenge you, as the people you love, as the people who love you come to you, don't try to rationalize why you should talk them out of something.

It's hard to be vulnerable and ask for help; so when your loved ones push you, pull them back.  Open your arms and hug them.  Open your heart.  Nothing replaces the need for safety like finding it.  

Insert semisonic lyric here

I'm thinking of the semisonic song with the lyric "every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

And I think - sure, it's 2014 now and that's a new beginning.  But it's so much more than that for me.

It's new confidence. It's new job titles.  It's new potential opportunities.  It new furniture arrangements and windows.  It's a new body image, a new hair style, a new life.  It's new relationships and all the risk, and fear, and potential that brings.

It's fitting to remember that new beginnings come from another's end when the year changes and we blow noise makers and toast champagne.  But it's also fitting to remember change is happening all around is, and it's always in us.  The calendar doesn't have to shift to celebrate a new beginning.

Happy new year to my friends, family, loves who are lost in the past, and those loves I may find in the future.  

May you find a new beginning whenever and wherever you seek it.