I have put off writing this because I have been waiting for the perfect message to form in my head. The message where I say ground breaking things and I blow your mind with some unique life view that you haven’t thought of yet. Where I share wisdom that is profound yet utterly simple. I have been putting this off until I felt elegant on paper and had the stature of someone less ordinary and more…accomplished. Enlightened. Grand.

This idea of waiting for the “right time” goes against the advice I have heard over and over – There is no right time to start. Just pick up the pen and paper or open the laptop, and begin. Some days it will suck and the struggle to form a sentence will bury you in self-loathing, while other days you will find a flow and ease. It takes time, they say. It takes routine and practice. Anne Lamott would agree. In Bird by Bird, Lamott expresses that a “shitty first draft” is to be expected. “All good writers write them. This is how they end up with good second drafts and terrific third drafts.” So why wait? Why put off my writing any longer?

Self doubt. That is why. I read the platforms of others who have been at this writing game for awhile. Quickly I dive into the free fall:

You don’t sound like them. You are too ordinary. What they have is unique. 

They are professionals. They are experienced. Life qualified.

What do you have to say that actually matters?

I do not have all my ducks in a row, all my shit dialed in, or profound life statements that will shake the ground you walk on and open you to radical new ways of thinking. I am still in the mess of life. I am still picking up pieces from my brokenness. I am still tangled up and working on unpacking a knot of pain, worry, resentment, insecurity, fear. I am taking many breaks along my path and often they are spent having meltdowns and temper tantrums. I have held back from writing and putting my ideas out there because I am still too humanly flawed. Too ordinary. What I have to share is in the messy, not out of it – not packaged up nicely with the perfect life-lesson bow wrapped around it looking wise and insightful.

And yet, this morning I pushed past all that doubt and my want for the perfect message. I chose to write anyways.  Here I am with my scattered life toolkit to see what happens. This change of thought to dive in unpolished is the result of some late night reading – The Great Work Of Your Life by Stephen Cope.

Cope reflects on the lives of both everyday people and of well-known individuals. He unveils the idea that regardless of your stature, everyone has a journey to self discovery and to finding your gift, otherwise known as finding your dharma. This process of discovery will be different for each of us because we all have a unique footprint with variables in our lives that make the pursuit different. There is no one-size-fits-all template to follow.

Our size and how we show up in the world is a conflict many of us face. Cope explains that size is one of the biggest challenges when finding your dharma. He notes that, “Grandiosity and devaluing both represent unrealistic thinking about possibility. Grandiosity motivates us to try to be bigger than we could possibly be. Devaluing makes us think of ourselves as smaller than we actually are.”

We don’t need to act bigger and more grand than we truly are, because that will stop us from showing up authentically, nor is there reason to hide or minimize yourself either. Believing your worth and standing tall in your shoes is too important. And so we find this need for balance in where you rest among the bigness and the smallness of it all. Regardless, your size does not determine your value or what you offer this world with your gift, your dharma.

So how does this relate to my writing? To believe that my life experience is not enough to share with the world is devaluing. On the flip side, I am not going to try and write a self-help book just yet because that would be too big, too grandiose for what I know. There is a balance in choosing to trust and share what I have to say through writing, while making sure that I don’t begin to pretend to be more than who I truly am. I want to honor my life lessons by lending them out to the world to hear, for whomever chooses to listen, without falling into the trap of thinking I need to mold or shift my voice to conform to what I think people want to hear.

I am not seeking to be grand. I am seeking to reflect and continue learning, to share my vulnerabilities and build a community of thoughtfulness and relatability. Sharing my lessons and ideas on life is nothing more than releasing them to float out in the world for whomever they might resonate with. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not small. Not big. Just ordinary. I no longer wait for perfectionism and profound enlightenment so that my words might become more powerful or pretty. I start, right here, where I am. In the storms and in the triumphs, I am here.

I may not be Oprah with a Rolodex of intelligent and enlightened friends to bring to this table of conversation, but I do have 36 years of experience being a human. Somewhere in these 36 years the messy and the pretty paint a story of value and depth. As I put my humanness out there, imperfect and in the moment of learning, my intention is to show that it’s okay to show up in our current place of being, whether it be celebrating, defeated, confused, curious, hopeful, angry….wherever it may be, because in each of those moments we all have something worthy of sharing and that is useful to hear. Even if what we share is, what the actual fuck is going on in my life!?! There is value even in that because sharing honestly and being vulnerable is what ignites connection and acts as a guide for more people to look inward and check-in with themselves. It reminds us that we are not alone and other people are having similar experiences. What we share doesn’t have to be perfect or profound. Be imperfect. Be raw. That is what I am learning. That is what I will be sharing. We just need to show up and be human no matter if we are ordinary or Oprah. It all matters.

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It has taken 35 years to accept within myself that it is okay to do what feels right for me and to eliminate all the other noise—the noise that cripples me into thinking I need to consider how my actions are affecting another person and fearing the judgement my actions may create from others. A simpler way to say this is, I have finally stopped giving a fuck—most days. I still struggle and allow my head to get wrapped up in the noise sometimes and I do my best to remind myself often that this life I am living is mine, and not to be lived to appease others. This is advice I have heard for a long through various outlets—to stop giving a fuck about things that are not directly important to me. I have been reminded time and time again that it is a waste of my energy to worry about how I may be perceived because of what I am doing for myself to be happy. This includes the day to day adventures and what I choose to do with my time, to larger life choices in how I live and paths I walk down to experience life how I need to.
Let me explain how ridiculous my concerns with others opinions was becoming. One day here in Mexico (we are living here for a four-month stint) my husband left on a walk while I was tied up on a work phone call. He did not leave a note and I did not know what time to expect him back. Hours had passed since he had left the house and I was packing up for a late afternoon outing that I had planned. We only have one key to our home in Mexico and you must lock the door from the outside, with the key. If I took the key and locked the door, my husband would be locked out. If I left the door unlocked, our house was open for anyone to enter and possibly take our belongings—and I had no idea how long he would still be out. It was a risk to leave and not lock the door as our door tends to push open in the breeze.
I text my husband to find out when he would be home and after 15 minutes I had still not heard back. I wanted to leave and I was becoming frustrated that I felt stuck in this dilemma of if I should leave with the door unlocked so he had access, or stay and wait for his return, missing out on my outing.
And then it dawned on me. No one was stopping me from leaving except for myself. I could go on my outing and leave the door unlocked. I was creating the dilemma. My husband had not communicated his plans for return, so I could sit there and become resentful over the fact that he had been gone for hours and adjust my plans due to the issue of locking the door, or I could continue with my plans and do what I wanted, and not let the overlap of our plans be an issue. Yes, this required me accepting the fact that I was leaving our home unlocked for an unknown amount of time…with all our valuable stuff. My choice to leave had some risk, but as I sat there thinking about it, I asked myself what was truly holding me back. I realized I was worried about what my husband would think. I was worried that if someone did break in and take our valuables, that it would be viewed as my fault. Taking a step back and looking at this situation from a 30,000 ft view, I recognized that this situation was the result of poor communication between my husband and I. This was not a life or death situation. Choosing to go out anyways was not disrespecting anyone or making such a monumental mistake that we would never recover. Again, there were some risks, but was it worth not going out due to fear of what could happen?
I left. I went out anyways. I left that damn door unlocked. Ten minutes later, my husband responded to my text and let me know he was almost home. Everything worked out fine.
The example I use above is a little silly I think, but it sets me up for what I am sharing with you: do more of what you want and stop adjusting your actions based off fear or out of concern with what others may think.
In situations where you are feeling the dilemma of others thoughts, opinions, or judgements against your own choice of action, stop and breathe. Step back to a 30,000 foot view. What do you see?
I am guilty of living my life in an over analytical bubble where all my actions and words have been chosen based out of fear of what others may think, or how I might bother someone else by owning my wants and acting how I need, but the countless fucks I have given have become too heavy for me to mentally or emotionally carry. I have hit my maximum limit of fucks.
This is my advice—do what you want. Live and speak in a way where you feel authentic to who you are and do not alter yourself based on the idea you may be judged or affect someone else. Of course, do not be an asshole. Treat people the way you want to be treated and be considerate. You can be a nice and pleasant person while also owning your truths.

I have always fantasized about a life focused on writing and have dreamt about the day I sit down and create the movie scripts and fictional novels that swirl in my head. I have daydreamed about my blog… like this one…becoming a space people visit often for my weekly dose of life experience. I have always wanted to create a bigger conversation, like a podcast, being part of passion and creative enthusiasm. So why the fuck am I struggling so hard to make these dreams my reality?

I sat in front of the mirror tonight and these powerful sentences came to me that collectively was stitching together a dialog for a scene from a movie, or a character for a book. I could see it in my mind and I could feel who this woman was, what she ate for breakfast, the grease stain on her shirt from scrubbing the bacon pan….I knew the life experience she was having. As soon as I sat down to get it on paper, the moment was gone. In the five minutes it took me to finish brushing my teeth, use the restroom, and say goodnight to my husband, the entire drive and creative hurricane I was experiencing vanished. This woman slipped through memory and it was as though she never existed. I could not get her back.

There is a lot of frustration I have with myself. I have the perfect situation right now, living in Mexico with a work-from-home job that I can set the hours for, a home designed for creative exploration, and time. Lots of extra time! I could be writing and chasing this dream. So why am I constantly deciding I am too tired and putting this off… still! When I was working full-time in the states and feeling bogged down, wanting to break-free from the 9-5, I swore that if I had “this and that,” it would work. And here I am… with “this and that,” and it is still not working!

“This and that” have changed nothing!

Where is my passion? Where is my drive? This mundane existence has been hitting me hard the past two years and I am at a breaking point. I can’t continue down a path where I long for the weekends and dread when they come to a close. And when I look back at my weekend and what I accomplished.. it is nothing more than spending time running as far from my life as possible.

I want to feel life each day. I want to be enthused and ecstatic about what I am doing every morning I wake. I want curiosity to fill my soul and to feel a fever of creative madness. I am longing for a passion that fuels me and becomes my obsession… the thing I can’t wait to get to each day. Right now I have none of it. Where and how do I find it? I am desperate to get away from this lack of existence at age 35. I have so much more.

I do not know when I lost my drive and when I stopped feeling alive. It happen at some point unexpectedly, and I have welcomed this state of being for far too long. The guest of despair and boredom is no longer welcome, but like a pest, I have to figure out how to trap and dispose of it.

I do not know the first thing about trapping a rodent, but like anything, time and research will hopefully unveil the answer. More to come.

After years of moving boxes from one home to the next (literally 9 or 10 homes), my husband and I have landed in Mexico. We purchased a quaint home in the Michoacan state in a small colonial town known as Patzcuaro.

Ending up in Mexico was intentional, the dream for as long as I have known my husband.  We worked hard to get here and we had to make a lot of changes and shuffle our cards time and time again, even when we liked the hand we were holding. We played the game called life, and finally, we landed on the winning tile.

When we arrived in Patzcuaro three weeks ago and began to settle into this new part of our life, I was humbled. Here we were, emerged in a moment that we had been longing for, yet both of us were looking at one another overwhelmed and asking “now what?” There was a lack of excitement, and an overabundance of, “oh shit.”

We had a goal. We spent years making change after change and losing sleep over what next step to take to align everything perfectly. So, on that first evening here in Mexico, as we sat in the courtyard of our new home under the bright green lime tree, bellies full of homemade tortillas and carnitas, we were tight chested and glancing at one another in complete doubt. I was at a loss and frustrated that this was how we were feeling. Where was the exuberance of joy and self-rejuvenation? Why were we feeling more anxious than relaxed?

Did we do the right thing?

My husband and I awoke the next morning after restless sleep and agreed that for the next few weeks we would take it day by day. We would be open about what we were feeling. We spent our days venturing the town, miles of cobblestone streets walked. We sat in coffee shops and watched the locals bustle around. We milled around local stores and found our favorite vendors that supplied us with fresh ingredients and staple items.

Fast forward to the present moment.

Tomorrow, we head back to the states for the holidays. The time here has flown by and the girl sitting under the lime tree, feeling perplexed and confused, has vanished.

I look around our home here in Mexico, tidied up and ready for out departure.This space that once overwhelmed me I now feel empty leaving, a departure I don’t want to make.

What I’ve come to realize is that even in the things we know we want, the dreams we long for… even when we get them… they too challenge us.

There is something in longing someone or some item, or a lifestyle. There is a process required to get there, or a challenge to overcome to obtain it (or not). It is a journey. So when you make it to the end of the road, when you climb to the top of that mountain you have been climbing, what is next? For us, there was a sense of “oh shit… we are here, now what?”

My advice? Sit in that discomfort. Dive into the new adventure, even when feeling overwhelmed or insecure, unsure, scared, or wondering if you have made a mistake. Push past the self-doubt because there is a lesson in every new adventure, and there is space to expand and grow.

That first evening in Mexico under the lime tree, I looked at my husband and I told him, “maybe this does not become the dream we thought we wanted, and maybe at the end of this stay we recognize that this is a very short story of our lives… people love short stories!”

Well folks, the story is continuing and the next chapter starts when we return here to our home in Mexico, come January 2019.

While this adventure indeed proved to be the dream we spent years working toward, it started rockier than we had anticipated, and there were lessons to learn.

Change, whether expected or not… whether wanted or disliked, takes some getting use to. You’ve got to be willing to plunge into the deep end and while the water may feel shocking and cold at first, the temperature eventually mellows and the swim can become quite nice.

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………

…….. This is me thinking. It happens a lot. I live inside my head more than I would like, and it is something I am always working on. I want to spend less time worrying or caring about how I am perceived by the world. I want it, so like…just do it.

I am working on strengthening the muscles of my mind that I love and enjoy: dreaming, being creative, discovering new ideas, reminiscing on fond memories, contemplating what is next for me, pondering big life questions, finding beauty in simple things. I remind myself every day to let go of the pesky thoughts that result in loss of sleep, questioning myself, worrying over people or situations that amount to wasted moments of time. I am a work in progress. Aren’t we all?

I have been putting this first blog post off because I have wanted something profound to say  – waiting for the perfect unison of words to come to me… voila! I imagined it happening like the scene in The Wizard Of Oz when the good witch floats down as a iridescent bubble, landing in front of Dorothy to reveal herself.  I’ve been waiting for the big reveal and it hasn’t happen, a good reminder that life has its own agenda and will likely not happen how I want or anticipate.

So here are my thoughts, without the help of the good witch.

There are a lot of benefits to routine, like the fact that I always get up and get my workouts in, and I always make time to enjoy my cup of tea with honey and cream. I prepare meals every Sunday which allows for healthy eating during the week. Yet, routine can hinder opportunity. There are chances that pass me by to learn something new and to expand on life lessons because of my need for structure. I know this about myself, and I challenge myself more and more to L E T  G O and dive into the newness of things.

You will never know what the world has to offer if you don’t explore it… even if you are simply exploring your own backyard.

How is my life sitting, unchanged, due to missed opportunity to expand? How am I choosing to not grow as an individual by doing the same, day in and day out?

I was invited to coffee by a woman in Astoria, Oregon, the town that we recently relocated to. The gesture was nice and I was complimented that she invited me. I also left the invite unanswered in my inbox for days. I was hesitant to meet someone new and to put energy into letting her get to know me… because letting someone in and showing up to someone I do not know creates unpredictability, and I do my best to avoid the unpredictable.

Well, if you are curious, she was great, and our connection could have not come at a better time. I walked away from our time together feeling confident, excited, and blessed to have met her. She had coffee, I had tea.

Our lives change when people come in and out of them. I gain nothing by ignoring new encounters and adventures. Our coffee date could have amounted to nothing more than friendly conversation and I could have left indifferent. Would that matter? Isn’t it better to take the gamble and see what opportunity might be knocking? What is the harm in spending a morning doing something different and interacting with a new person?

Over the past 35 years, I have learned a lot about myself, the biggest lesson being that I will always be learning, improving, and becoming a better me. I’ve done a shitty job in the past at capturing my reflections and making sense of the lessons placed in front of me. I realize now that each lesson in my life has been its own, with an identity and a story. To bind all my lessons together into one book, or to paint them all on one canvas would not work. The colors of each lessons would not flow together, the textures and depth are too much for one space. To write all my lessons down into one story would make for a roller coaster plot that would only confuse the reader. Instead, I believe all the lessons in my life are a painting, or a story all their own, and together in the end, whenever that time comes for me, I will have a collection of pieces.

I am underway, 35 years late, and I have no idea what will come of this. My hope is that this experience will continue to push me outside of comfort and reward me in greater confidence, just like the teabag said.  Either way, it will be another lesson to paint, a story to write.