To Forgive

I’m a hypocrite.  As humans most of us are.  Honestly ask yourself – have you ever dished advice to others that you find almost impossible to follow yourself?  I know I have.  And more regularly then I care to admit.

But here I am, admitting.  My husband often tells me to cut myself some slack.  In at least one phone conversation per week, my mom tells me to be nicer to myself.  My typical responses range from “I’ll do my best” to “I’m truly working on it”.  The truth is I have no idea how to actually put said advice into action.

On paper it all sounds simple – don’t take things too seriously, forgive myself for my mistakes, and embrace my imperfections.  It’s not that I want to be perfect all the time, nor that I want to be mistake free.  I just don’t want to let myself down.  I have this inner voice, a moral compass if you like, that guides me when making most of my decisions.  This voice comes from a place of goodness and heartfelt sincerity and only rarely steers me in the wrong direction as long as I am tuned in to its frequency.

There are times, mostly hectic or stressful situations, when I’m not as connected to my instincts.  I make a rash, quick decision and later realize it wasn’t the right one to make.  Typically these decisions are small, they don’t bear any significant consequences; yet I berate myself later for the misstep.  It can be something as simple as forgetting to return a customer phone call before the end of the workday.  Sometimes it can wake me up in the middle of the night, my subconscious stumbling upon the mistake jerking me into an alert awareness that can keep me up for hours.

Truly it’s not that dramatic.  I can usually move past the mistake in 24 hours or so, but will feel the guilty remnants for days afterwards if I let my mind drift back.  It’s absurd really.  If someone else were to make such a small mistake, I would dismissively tell them not to worry about it and make a joke about how silly they were to overreact to something so meaningless.  And I mean it.  For them.  Not for me. 

It’s so much easier for me to forgive others, and to rationalize a mishap done by someone else.  They’re only human, of course.  But I’m human too, so why can’t I forgive me?  I am sure a psychologist or two could reference different experiences in my life that have led to this complex of mine, but a professional opinion is outside of my current budget.

I think I am similar to many other women today.  We hold ourselves to superhero standards, and when we don’t meet the impossible ideal we are disappointed and embarrassed.  For me, my pride definitely takes a hit and that’s one of the lowest blows. 

The fact of the matter is Wonder Woman isn’t real.  We would all love to be the perfect wife, friend, daughter, employee, student, yogi, runner, surfer, wine connoisseur, but where would we fit it all in?  And if we are striving for perfection in so many different aspects, when do we have time for ourselves?  Time to put into our inner core beings?  And maybe that’s the problem.  If you don’t take the time to nourish and cherish your inner self, you’re left vulnerable and insecure.  You’re susceptible to place unrealistic pressure on yourself in situations where mistakes are bound to happen.

Everyone says to learn from your mistakes, and I hold that mantra close to my heart.  I’ve learned hard lessons from many of my mistakes, but they have made me the woman I am today.  And although I am not always nice to the person in the mirror, most of the time I am proud of who she is.  As I continue to grow and change, while continuing to make plenty more mistakes both big and small, I plan to treat myself more gently.  Step back, take a deep breath, and be a little more empathetic to my inner self.  Because I realize as I finish this blog, I deserve it.    

The Inevitability of Change

It’s funny how life evolves.  One minute you are freezing your ass off in the middle of winter in Michigan quietly wondering if you will ever be warm again, and the next you are sweltering in your small apartment in San Diego cursing yourself for not specifying a place that offers central A/C. 

To me these events only feel days apart.  In reality, they are months.

We have been through quite a lot of change in the last 6 months.  We bid farewell to our life in Michigan – well most of our material possessions anyway – and started anew, or should I say again, in Southern California.  Michigan was a difficult chapter to close.  It was akin to a novel that although starts out very bumpy at first, turns into an incredibly heartfelt and rewarding story.  It’s like rooting for the underdog you never thought you would give a second glance.

Michigan is where Scott and I started our marriage, bought our first home, adopted our first dog.  And where I started my first big girl job, learned how to drive in snow, and discovered the importance of a down coat.  It’s the place where Scott perfected blobbing as a sport, the art of microbrew beer drinking, and received his PhD.  And although some of the aforementioned activities may suggest otherwise, Michigan is the place where we took on the role of adulthood.

And as many of us are acutely aware, being an adult is seriously overrated.  Especially on a Monday morning when you only have $4 in the bank account and another paycheck isn't due to arrive until Friday.  In the early days, balancing our limited budget definitely wasn't our strong suit.  We survived, and dare I say, even thrived.  We had an amazing network and community of friends to tap into for good laughs, and even better booze, when things were too much to handle.  If there’s one message Michiganders have communicated the clearest it’s to not take life, or myself for that matter, too seriously.     

So I return to San Diego with a new perspective.  And although San Diego hasn't changed all that much since I was last here, I sure have.  Although to be fair not everything has changed, I’m still feisty as hell, typically willing to take on a good argument, and occasionally have the ability to make a sailor blush with my language when so inclined.  But I digress.  Simply put, I have matured from a naive college undergraduate into a married woman with a career.  As expected with those major life changes, I have developed a different worldview, more responsibilities and a slower approach to life.

At first the transition wasn't easy.  Sure, I was living in a tropical paradise, but I missed my friends like I imagine an amputee misses a limb or like a mother misses her child when she leaves the baby with a sitter for the first time.  It was painful.  I wanted to share our wondrous experience with this amazing city because although most things looked the same as when I left, it all felt so new and thrilling!  And I wanted to share these emotions with the same people that we had created so many exciting memories with in years prior.  I have since adjusted, and although I still miss my Michigan family daily, I have rekindled relationships and friendships out West to expand my community.

I’ll tell you this much.  Since returning to San Diego, we have yet to take a sunny day for granted.  And if you know anything about San Diego, it’s mostly sunny here so we have been quite busy.  It’s been a grand adventure thus far.  Now that the stress of putting a home together is behind us – Scott and I struggled on a shared vision for furniture and home decorations – we are reacquainting ourselves with the Southern California lifestyle.  Our evenings and weekends are filled with time spent in the ocean, mostly surfing, but when it’s flat and I’m desperate even a swim does the trick.  The beautiful landscape inspires me daily, and when Mea and I take our lunchtime walk, I quietly give thanks to live in such a perfect place.

The ocean speaks to my soul in a way that is difficult to describe.  I feel at peace in the water.  While sitting on my surf board, I feel humbled by the vastness and enormity of the ocean.  Scott and I don’t talk too much out on the water- other than to compliment him on a good wave or critique my latest wipeout - we are mostly left to our own thoughts.  I reflect upon the past, and think about all of the people and events that have led me to this moment.  I fantasize about sharing these experiences with the people that matter most, and look forward to the day when I get to tell some of you “We’re going surfing!”

Furry Child

I love my dog. A lot. My Facebook and Instagram posts can substantiate this claim. It's pure fact. About 70% of my updates on social sites are Mea related. She's awesome. Sweet, smart, pretty, affectionate and exceptionally loyal. My husband even gets jealous from time to time.  At his weakest moments he wonders aloud if I love the dog more than him. Notice when he's jealous Mea loses her identity. She becomes, simply, "the dog".  

Many have joked that Mea is our trial run for having and raising children. If kids are as easy as Mea then sign me up! Mea was potty trained in a matter of weeks, and even though she has had the occasional spit up, I can honestly say it's never landed on me or my clothing. Mea will eat anything in sight and has no particular inclination to a specific type of food. She's an equal opportunity eater. She was sleeping through the night by her third night in the crate. My hubby may contest this claiming it took a few more nights for Mea to sleep through until the morning. Apparently I could sleep through the Apocalypse and definitely would not have heard a couple of whines from a little puppy downstairs. 

Regardless. I've heard of children who don't sleep through the night for years.  Family members actually take turns watching the child on a 24 hour cycle so each member can get a decent bit of rest.  A child who is on the bottle until they are almost 5 because they refuse to eat any other solid foods with decent nutritional content. This same child is colicky and spends most of her waking hours screaming, or fervently trying to pass a stool. The worst part - I am said child.

Some of you may argue that I have turned out better than most. First off, why thank you. However, I credit that to excellent parenting, supportive neighbors and a sister 14 years my senior. Truthfully, there was a crew raising me making great sacrifices including taking me down to the Las Vegas strip at 2 a.m. hoping that the lights will be enough of a distraction for me to forget about the pain in my stomach and stop screaming to eventually fall asleep. Think I would enjoy driving around at two in the morning to get Mea to stop whining? Especially if it had been going on for a couple of years? And I still had to get up for work the next morning? Let's put it this way - most of you should be very skeptical.  At best. 

I'm a firm believer in Karma. What you put out into the Universe you get back. Ten fold. In my early years, I gave the world a lot of screaming and difficulty. Although they are reluctant to admit now, I am positive that I pushed my wonderful parents to their absolute limit. They aren't patient people, this isn't much of a stretch. What's in store for me, Sweet Karma?

The fact is, I got lucky with Mea. It's the Universe's special gift to me before the hard work begins. If you're lucky enough to know her, you understand how precious she is. At times she is so expressive and insightful, I swear she is part human. My mother attests that Mea's sweet nature and good behavior has everything to do with mine and Scott's parenting. "If your dog is this well trained, I can't wait to see what your children will be like." Here's to hoping.