Not Exactly What I Had in Mind When I Pictured Living the Dream

When we were in Naples, I found clotheslines in the city so romantic. Not quite
the same when it's in my backyard in California.

I remember that when I started my job at Yahoo! back in 2005, everything felt slightly uncomfortable. It was strange being in an office all day after having freelanced for 3 months. It was hard to write ads about new products I didn't fully understand. My coworkers weren't old friends. Everything felt a little stiff like it needed to be broken in. It took about 6-9 months before I started to finally feel at ease.

I try to remind myself of this in change situations.

It takes time. It's always hard in the beginning.

People keep asking me how things are going with the new house and the new life. Their eyes light up with hope and excitement like they're cheering for us from the inside. And I find myself wanting to fake it for their sake. So I try to focus on how beautiful the surroundings are. How lucky we are to have nice neighbors.

But the truth is that it's just plain hard. All of it.

When Mr. W and I imagined this wonderful wine country life, we thought we'd be here together. Not the case yet. Instead, he gets to struggle in a 330-square foot basement apartment while I try to manage the demands of a bigger house and giant yard.

Nothing is easy right now. Dishes have to be washed by hand. The oven burns everything if you're not careful. We don't have a proper sprinkler system, so every day I have to go outside and water. We're constantly playing bug police, trying to contain the wayward wildlife that continually crawls and flies through invisible holes in screen doors and windows. We've had an ongoing summer flea infestation that has required multiple cat baths and more vacuuming than I've done in months. And until this weekend, we've been without a washer and dryer here. Unfortunately, the dryer can't even be hooked up until we get connected the central gas line on the street, which could take months.

I don't even want to use this lovely machine because it doesn't
have a dryer to go with it. Good thing I work from home. I
can just stay in my pjs all day and not wash my clothes.

Every time I feel like we start to get a handle on things, or make progress in some area, something goes wrong. Primarily when it comes to the cats. In the nearly 6 weeks I've been here, we've had 2 bladder infections, fleas (even though the cats stay indoors full-time), one scary reaction to flea medication, and now a delightful case of the runs. I've never purchased so many supposed cat remedies in my life. (Did you know canned pumpkin is good for cats with upset stomachs?) I don't know how people with kids survive...

That little brass cat on my shelf is my favorite cat in the house. He only cost
$3 at a yard sale and he never has to go to the vet.

When I post pictures of the sunset or wine tasting on Facebook or Instagram, I think part of it is just to remind myself that it's not all hard work all the time here. Because that's largely what it's been feeling like. And that is so not what I had in mind.

The key to feeling better may lie in Mr. W and I being back on common ground. Which should be about another 6 months away. Perfectly aligned with the usual time period it takes me to truly settle in to a new situation. It'll be just in time for us to start tearing the house apart for renovations and putting everything in turmoil once again. Good thing we didn't choose to move to orange juice country. It would be much harder to cope.

36: A Year in Review

I can't believe it has taken me an entire year to write about what happened to me on my 36th birthday. Last April 12th, I woke up to an email from one of the carpenters from FoodNetwork's Restaurant Impossible. He had seen my Etsy store and wanted to know if I could make him ten of the wine bottle hurricanes I had for sale. Here he is. Lynn Kegan. He's in really good shape by the way...surely he frequents the gym....

The show didn't air until August and by that time, I'd lost some major steam on the Etsy thing. Here are a couple shots of the bottle hurricanes in the renovated restaurant space:

 

The same day I got a call for the Etsy order, Mr. W and I went and bought a new couch. And that weekend, we threw a great wine and cheese party to celebrate the completion of Mr. W's last movie project. It seemed like 36 was going to be a great, easy-peasy year. 

And then on April 19th, our friend Pete died. And everything changed. 

It's strange how it still doesn't seem quite real that he is gone. I still picture him walking through our front door from time to time. I guess he probably does walk through that door and I just don't see him as clearly as I used to. 

Losing Pete broke open this strange sense of urgency and impermanence and clarity.

I think Mr. W and I both started looking at life differently and felt like we needed to make some important changes. So 36 became the year of change. A constant ebb and flow of undefined, yet wholly palpable change. 

I found myself feeling my way through the year, using my gut and my heart as my guides.

I enrolled in a life coach training program after ruminating on it since 2008. Mr. W and I bought our dream house. We began the never-ending process of packing up our current life and transporting it bit by bit to a new one. We got comfortable with the fact that we wouldn't be seeing each other a whole lot over the next year or so. We scheduled a multitude of flights between LAX and Vancouver. I made friends with all sorts of interesting people in Martha Beck's program. I did my first oyster shooter. I learned new ways to deal with stress and paid more attention to the small joys. I did a lot of crying and a lot of laughing. 

I feel very ready to go into this 37th year, even though I know now that there's no telling where it will go. The unexpected will creep in again and again. The change spin cycle probably won't stop. 

But that's all part of the ride. 

And this aging lady is finally beginning to be at peace with that.       

Sometimes the Lives We're Giving Birth to Are Our Own

I don't know about you guys, but the older I get, the more I feel like I'm laboring over new parts of my life—trying to push a new phase into existence—and it is HARD WORK. (The women who have actually given birth to babies are laughing at me right now, I know.)

I'm talking about the pains and the magic of it all over at The Path to Wonderful today.

Hip Hip Hue-ray!

Our garden has made a whole lot of progress in the time since my last post about it. In fact, it's sort of beginning to slip into a late summer, dried, golden place—far away from the green stage it was in for so long. But when I shot these pictures, we were at the height of the rainbow.

With everything ripening around us, we've had some really delicious plates of caprese salad, figs and cambozola with honey, and even grilled butternut squash.

We're trying to enjoy everything in these last weeks of summer, with the intention of digging things up and planting our new, autumn garden soon.

If there's one thing that the garden reminds us of again and again it's that change is inevitable. Right when we're starting to enjoy something, its season shifts. So we better enjoy it while we've got it. And when it moves past its prime or even wilts before its time, we can take it out of the ground and put something new in its place.

These are important things to remember as we navigate our next couple of years. Our housing situation is a bit of a roller coaster, but we're hopeful in the end it will lead us to the colorful future we're craving. And if it doesn't, we'll just try to till the soil and replant. And when the conditions are right, I trust that we'll be able to grow and grow.

The Next Step

When I got laid off last fall, I felt like the Universe was thumping me in the butt, telling me, "Now's your chance to do something different."

Although I wasn't entirely sure what that different thing should be, I was committed to figuring it out.

Then in January, I met with a friend who had gone through the Martha Beck life coach-training program a few years back and, without much effort, she convinced me it was the direction I wanted to head next.

Still I dragged my feet, second guessing a decision that felt right, and I missed my opportunity to join the June program (which continues into March 2013). I figured there was a reason it didn't work out and that I would have to table my desire and sign up in September.

But a few months later, the Universe gave me another jolt: an additional June class was being added and I was on the list if I still wanted to participate.

I signed up the next day.

Telling people that I'm making this transition hasn't been all flowers and sunshine. The term "life coach" carries a sort of stigma that you're either totally woo-woo or a know-it-all or someone who doesn't want to tie themselves down to a "real" job.

People close to me have reacted in ways ranging from complete support to laughter and ridicule to downright judgment and doubt. There was even my favorite line, "How can you be a life coach?! You don't even have kids!" 

Has every orthopedic surgeon had a broken femur? Has every dentist needed a root canal? Is having children a prerequisite to becoming a pediatrician?

I don't believe you have to have lived through every life circumstance (difficult or not) to help someone else through the same thing. You just need the right training. I'm pretty certain that my male therapist (who was married to a woman) had never been cheated on by a guy who was hung up on his college girlfriend, yet he was still able to help me navigate my way through that situation pretty darn well.

I come from a family of helpers. My brother is a firefighter, sister is a nurse, mother pretty much has an honorary PhD in Mothering, and dad once tackled a burglar to help the cops chasing him. And then there's me...the copywriter. Not that writing isn't a totally noble career—I just want to be able to do something more with it. I want to be of more help to the people I know are hurting, be more efficient when someone in transition comes seeking my advice, be happier with what I am doing every day.

Am I a sage old soul? Heck no. But I don't think you have to have decades of life experience to help people tap into their intuition, jump over their life hurdles, or find peace.

Thankfully, my biggest cheerleader through this has been Mr. W. Sometimes I feel like the voice that comes out of his mouth is my own.

I had my first coach-training class yesterday and it was pretty cool. Good vibes, good people, and, I hope, good things to come. For myself and those who turn to me for help.

Checking My Pulse

 

That beautiful covered pathway above is one of the streets that Mr. W and I walked along in Positano during our Italian honeymoon in May. Because neither of us had ever been there, everything we saw was a surprise. A delight. 

This is one of the things I love most about traveling. 

You can wander around, not really knowing where you're going, and experience something novel at every turn. Much different from trekking through familiar territory. 

Today I read a journal entry I wrote in July where I lamented the fact that I was feeling stagnant at work. I wrote about how I thought I should be appreciating the comfort of my cushy, stable job. And then I wrote about how I thought the problem was that discomfort made me feel more alive. 

Thus, the love of traveling to unfamiliar places. 

Now, I'm not talking major discomfort here. I don't need to be dropped in a jungle somewhere and contract a case of malaria to feel a sense of adventure. I just need some space for not knowing. A glimmer of possibility that my routine could get changed up or that I might stumble upon something totally unexpected and wonderful. Like a new office and time to work on my own writing projects...

When I wrote that entry in the summer, I was feeling really stuck. I didn't think it was "right" to walk away from a top company. I didn't want to abandon my coworkers or my boss when they've taken such good care of me these last 6.5 years. But I did want to feel alive. 

Funny how the Universe hears us when we put these things out to it. 

6 more days in the office. And then the adventure begins.

 

A Few Thoughts on Authenticity

Mr. Wonderful and I often joke with each other about how we better never expect one another to change because we've both been the same people we are right now for as long as we can remember. We're set in our ways. Defined in our personas. Consistent in our behavior. Thankfully, we both like each other's unwavering personalities.

Although I wouldn't call myself averse to change, I don't often seek it out. I like familiarity and comfort. I like knowing my way around—places and people. Some of my closest girlfriends have been in my life since kindergarten. I've lived in the vicinity of my childhood home almost my entire life. I still love Grease as much as I did when I was 4.

I do not understand people who can swing back and forth like unstable pendulums. I have a very hard time when I don't know whether someone is being authentic or a chameleon. It just doesn't compute with me. And frankly, I think people like that are doing themselves a great disservice. Because in one or another (or yet another) dimension of their lives, they are not being who they really are.

Several years ago, after our break up, one of my ex-boyfriends began actively attending church—something he never did when we were together. At one point, we were having a conversation and he told me he believed that if you didn't accept Jesus as your personal savior, you were going to hell.

My brain scrambled.

Not just because that notion seemed ludicrous and there was no way the God I believe in would ever punish a good person simply because they'd never had exposure to Christianity, but because my ex-boyfriend suddenly looked like a stranger to me. He was not the person I once knew.

And once you show me that you're a complete departure from the person I thought you were, it's really hard for me to want to maintain a relationship with you. I want the person I signed up for in the first place. Not the swinging pendulum.

This may make me seem short-sighted, close-minded and judgmental. But at least I know it about myself. At least I'm consistent. At least I'm authentic. And at least the people in my life know they can count on me to continue holding them to the same standards I have since I met them.

There are no chameleon scales underneath this skin.

Working on Life Support

 There's a certain irony in the fact that one of my past clients included
a job-seeker website. Also ironic that it too go cut from our company...

A couple years ago, I read Joshua Ferris' acclaimed novel Then We Came to the End which tells the story of a slowly dying advertising agency. Through lost clients, layoffs and personal tragedy the agency disintegrates character by character until there is no one left.

That book keeps popping into my head lately as I watch my coworkers deal with our impending department death.

We're lame ducks to some degree right now, putting finishing touches on projects we started Before The News. Handling the few assignments our clients beg us to jump on because they don't want to send them to the mothership in Sunnyvale. Mostly, though, we all come in and work on our resumes and portfolios and LinkedIn pages. It's rather nice that we're earning paychecks while we gear up for unemployed life.

It has been an interesting character study to observe the different attitudes of the people around me.

There are the angries. The people who say, "I'm checked out," and no longer want to invest in providing the service we once offered. There are the panic mode-ers who want a job immediately because the instability and wondering is just too much. There are the nostalgics who are most upset because this was a job they loved and they don't want to think about leaving.

And then there is me.

I am caught in the middle of a muddle of emotions.

I'm endlessly excited about having time off to work on my outside writing projects. Although my rational self doesn't feel scared about getting future jobs and income, there's a ratty little voice that has popped up a few times and said, "What IF you can't ever find a good job again?" Then there's the prickly little sadness that crept in over the weekend when I realized I won't get to be around the inside jokes and quirky personalities I've enjoyed so much these last 6 1/2 years. I suppose I'm feeling bittersweet.

I don't know how many more days we'll be in the office—if we'll actually continue coming in until our exit day, November 1st. I wonder if we'll just slip away unnoticed or if our client coworkers will feel our absence and rant about us being gone.

I wonder what my new normal will look like. Whether I'll segment my day into crafting, writing, cleaning and networking spells. Or if I'll talk Mr. Wonderful's ear off when he returns from his 12-hour days because I haven't had enough human interaction. Maybe I'll need to have skype lunch dates with people where I save money by eating leftovers from my kitchen, but still get to chat with a live person in the process.

I'm hopeful that the "great" will outweigh the "unknown." I'm hopeful that I will get paid to write in a new capacity that fulfills me more than ever. I'm hopeful that this job was not the pinnacle. And that I will continue feeling that this has all happened for an important reason. I am hopeful. I am hopeful. I am hopeful.

There's No Crying on the Doorstep of Possibility

The outpouring of sympathy and well wishes over my layoff have been quite astounding to me. I have to credit social media for a large chunk of that. After one post on Facebook, people I hadn't talked to in years were contacting me with optimistic notes and potential job leads.

As appreciative as I am for all the nice attention, I feel pretty strongly that I don't need sympathy. I wrote a post about this once before—about how everywhere we land in life is a direct result of the choices we make. I could've chosen to look for a new job months ago when I saw things starting to slip out of whack at work. But I chose to stay. I took the risk, I'll pay the price. It was my choice.

I have a hard time with people who play the victim because I believe that many rough situations are simply our opportunities to create change. Every day is a chance to take a different path. Turn things on their ears.

When my team got the news that our department was being shut down and our work being moved to the Sunnyvale office, I felt a mix of shock and sadness, but also a huge flood of excitement.

What did it all mean? Where would I go next? Was it a sign that I was supposed to move on to something new?

Yes. Of course it was a sign. The old Yahoo! door was swinging shut and 50 new ones were flying open in front of me. I would have time to write. I could get caught up on projects at home. I'd be able to take a little breather from a workload that's been wearing on me since January. I could possibly travel with Mr. Wonderful on his next movie.

The possibilities of what I could do with this layoff—this gift—and where I could go as a result of it were overwhelming.

Of course, when I got up and went to work the next day (we're on the books until Oct. 25th) I felt pretty blue.

But every time I stop and think about what this change could mean, I feel energized.

I may be the victim of a corporate amputation, but I am not a victim. I wish more people I knew would stop feeling sorry for themselves and start exploring the possibilities around them.

Sorry, I think I get saucy when I'm not under a day job's thumb...

In Distance and in Closeness, for Richer and for Poorer

I was planning to write a post about some dismal thoughts I had a couple weeks ago. The distance between Hollywood (where I am) and London (where Mr. W is) was beginning to weigh heavily on me, and I caught myself thinking, This isn't marriage.

Marriage is about two people being together. Not apart.

Then I thought about military wives. And how I have nothing to whine about. Military wives actively participate in marriages where togetherness is impossible for long durations of time. Military wives have to worry that their husbands may never come home to them. Military wives are rockstars.

I then realized that surviving distance is exactly what marriage is about. It should be one of the worst-case scenarios covered in the vows. In sickness and in health, in close proximity and in differing time zones. Commitment is commitment even when external factors complicate it.

I thought I had a clearer perspective on marriage.

And then today I found out that my entire team at work is being laid off.

And that really gave me perspective on marriage.

Of course, Mr. W was the first person I contacted after I found out the news. After asking me if I was okay, he made a joke about us moving to Tuscany. Then he assured me that I didn't need to worry. He would be there for me. My soft place to land.

When I was laid off from my advertising job in 2003, my family and friends were really wonderful and forthcoming with their support. I knew I could turn to them. But there's something really incredible about having a husband to turn to this time. A partner I know I can count on. I really do love this whole marriage thing...