Gratitude

 

Coldplay concert at the Hollywood Bowl. Photo from stereogum.com

I've been watching Oprah's Lifeclass on OWN and this Monday night's episode was all about gratitude—how even in difficult times, it's good to find things to be grateful for.

Listing our fortunes can help us heal faster, I think.

Although I used to keep a gratitude journal, I've fallen behind on it. And even though things have been rough around here lately, when I stop and think, I'm thankful for so much.

Tuesday, Mr. W and I got to go to the Coldplay concert at the Hollywood Bowl.
I had multiple moments throughout the show where I just felt my heart swell. They did a great job with audience interaction—handing out these cool light-up wristbands that blinked different colors throughout the concert, shooting confetti everywhere, launching beach balls from who knows where. Everything was choreographed like we were all at one big party together. And then there was the music. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Echoing off the Hollywood Hills. I love being around other fans and feeling like you're all there together, just completely in love with the performers on stage.

Last week I dropped a knife on my foot and stabbed myself in the toe.
But I didn't cut the toe off! That's lucky, right? And it was a smaller knife—not a big ole meat cleaver. And at least it was my foot and not one of the cats.

Multiple days over the past two weeks, Mr. W and I haven't gotten out of our pajamas. 
It's pretty nice to have that luxury, especially when you've been feeling blue or have a cold like I have for the last week and a half. Sure, if anyone had stopped by our house they would've thought we were staging some sort of hygienic rebellion, but at least we were happy and comfy.

We planned another trip to our beloved Solvang and Santa Barbara County.
We're heading up Memorial Day weekend and plan to start exploring neighborhoods and property. Life is short. We want to move as soon as we can.

My niece got into Georgetown, but ultimately decided to go to University of San Diego.
As an auntie who has already shed a few tears over the thought of her oldest niece growing up and moving away, I'm beyond delighted that she's staying closer. And very excited that now I have a new reason to take weekend trips down to SD!

Can you find things to be thankful for even when you're feeling down? What are your top gratitude drivers right now?

Compassion Ain't My Fashion...Or Is It?

Back in college when I worked as a coffeehouse manager, I believe I was known in some circles as a hard ass. If you had a headache during your shift, it was only going to annoy me. If a late night made you even more tired for the morning rush, I would tell you to pull it together. And if the blender spewed smoothie all over your shirt, I would likely laugh.

That last scenario was one that first made me aware of my cold, cold heart. We had a line out the door and my sweet, sensitive coworker was visibly frantic over the sight of all the people. In his frenzied state, he went to make a smoothie, forgot to put the lid on the blender, and was quickly doused in a wave of pink goo. As I laughed, he ran back into the kitchen and burst into tears. And all I could think was, you've got to be kidding me. 

I tried to be nice, but all I wanted to do was smack him in the arm and yell, "Get Over It! It's just strawberry yogurt! No one is going to die you big baby!"

Given that irritation has been my reaction to a lot of people's misfortune over the years, I was surprised when Mr. Wonderful used "compassionate" to describe me. We were flying home from visiting his family in St. Louis, and I duped him into telling me what he thought my top 3 strengths were so I could complete an exercise I was reading about in O Magazine.

He said that I'm compassionate because I worry about other people's well-being and cry all the time when I'm watching sad TV shows and movies. I had never thought about that being a sign of sympathy, but I guess he's right.

A few days later, I was engrossed in Oprah's new LifeClass webcast, and someone (maybe Iyanla Vanzant?) said something that struck a chord in me as the key to being a compassionate person. She was talking about one of the troubled viewers and she said, "Everyone just wants to know that they matter."

It was like someone had given me a magic pill that suddenly caused all human interaction to make sense.

The whiny barista with menstrual cramps just wanted to know someone heard she was in pain. The relative who called then sent two emails because I didn't respond fast enough just wanted to know I hadn't forgotten about them. The guy with strawberry smoothie all over his shirt probably just wanted to be told he didn't look like a fool in front of all those people. They all just wanted to know they mattered.

We all just want to know we matter to someone, don't we?

I feel like I've learned a new mantra to apply when someone is bugging me. It makes me want to put a hand on their shoulder, tell them I see them and that it's going to be okay.

So maybe Mr. W wasn't so wrong in his assessment. Maybe there's hope for my fractured sympathy bone after all.

Knowing When to Hang on and When to Let Go (of Guilt and Friendships)

When I started this blog, it was supposed to be all about life with the delightful man who married me. I'm finding, though, that because of my natural instinct to write my way through conundrums, I can't help but want to use it as my own personal sounding board—just like I did with my old blog.

If you have a problem with that, you'll just have to blame Oprah.

See, last week she started this Lifeclass series on her network and website. And being an O devotee, I've been watching. Riveted.

Today at lunch, I watched a webcast all about the lies and secrets we keep. It was co-hosted by Life Coach Martha Beck, who I adore, and darn it if she didn't have me wanting to barf out my secrets as a way of moving through them.

So, here I am. Proclaiming my guilt to the Internet over a friend who I partly want to let go of, partly want to rescue, partly want to punch.

This old dear friend has made a lot of self-destructive choices and although we don't have a lot more than a surface relationship these days, I've been trying to reach out and be helpful to her for a couple of years. I've tried being sympathetic. I've tried tough love. I've tried to build her self esteem in case she was feeling so bad about herself, she didn't know she could pick up her life out of the gutter. I've tried to learn who she is now, in case the key is seeing things from a different vantage point.

But I've hit a point where I feel done. And I'm feeling guilty about it.

There's my secret. I don't want to pretend to have a real relationship anymore when really, it's just fake Facebook messages and pretend email exchanges. It is not a friendship of substance, and despite various attempts, has not been for a long time.

So I've chosen to just put it away in a drawer in my head. Because I feel guilty about abandoning this person. Even though I don't feel like she has really been there for me. Even though I don't feel like I would even know who I was supporting because she's spun so tightly in a web of lies. I feel like it's my duty to hang in the shadows just in case I can somehow help. Just in case she morphs back into the person I used to know and calls out for me.

Oprah and her spiritual pals have me trying to unravel what this means. Am I lying to myself about being done with the friendship? Am I lying to myself when I think there's even the faintest glimmer of it ever being the friendship it once was? Is it wrong to either tell myself this is NOT my responsibility—or that it IS my problem to help my friend?

I'm trying to find some truth here and I guess I felt like I should summon the great Interwebs to weigh in and help me find the clarity through the muck.

Anyone else been in a situation like this and have some wisdom to share?

The Science of Certainty

If I'm going to start a blog about my relationship with Mr. Wonderful, I really should start at the beginning. Which goes back before I even met him.

See, I don't think it was just luck or fate or coincidence that we found each other.

I believe it was science.

Oprah likes to talk about the third law of physics to explain it. According to Wikipedia, this law states that "The mutual forces of action and reaction between two bodies are equal, opposite and collinear." Every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Or, what you put out will come back at you as an equal force and an equal energy—positive or negative.

Before I met Mr. Wonderful back in the fall of 2007, I made a conscious decision to put certain things out into the Universe. I believed that what I put out would not only shape WHAT but WHO came back to me. So I did a lot of thinking about who exactly it was that I wanted heading my direction. I made lists. I made a collage. If you've ever read The Secret, you know this drill.

But more importantly, I focused on who I was. I worked on being my best, most authentic self. During the 3 years leading up to Mr. W's arrival in my life, I took some big risks (quitting my job and ultimately landing in a much better one), I tested my physical limits (beginning to run and doing a 17-mile hike to climb Half Dome in Yosemite) and I dug deep into the cracks in my psyche and self esteem (hello, Therapy, I heart you).

I wanted to make sure the Me I projected was a Me I was proud of. By the time Mr. W and I met, I was in a great place. I was ready for him. I knew who he would be and I trusted myself enough to identify him. This was something I didn't have in the past. That ability to discern.

The reason I feel the need to talk about this is that I believe other people can do the same thing I did and end up with just as much happiness. I think anyone can concoct the right recipe for this kind of wonderful.

I also think that Mr. W and I can project goodness out into the world to create the life we want moving forward. And maybe this new blog will help document some of that.