Goodbye Naivete

Earlier today I posted a blog, frustrated with how I can't seem to find anyone who wants what I have to offer.

I realize now it was more childish venting and panic, than anything.  I thought I would meet my goal through faith and work.  I see now there wasn't nearly enough of either.

I cried quite a bit...somewhat ashamed of myself at what I thought it took, and what I now realize it will take.

They say the truth will set me free.  And I believe them.

I will be off of the internet for the next two weeks.  It's supposed to help keep me accountable, and I've been using it as motivation all week.  Now, I'm ready to get down to business, so I don't think I'll miss it much.  I'll be using my laser-like focus on something worth working for.

My First and Biggest Failure: Part 1

Many of my close friends have called me a "lucky" person.  Even more so, to people who don't know me that well, I can make things look pretty effortless.  (Hint: Making things look effortless is a defense mechanism used (sometimes) by people who have loads of dirty laundry and don't want to wash it in public.) 

Anywho, I’d go after what I wanted, whether it be a job, scholarship, or finding the perfect apartment, and I’d get it. One of my friends even said to me once, “Alicia, you could shit in a swinging bucket!”  This southern colloquialism apparently means I am really lucky.  My mom went so far as to say, “Alicia, you live a touched life.”

To me, the thought was incredulous. Keep in mind, this is NOT a pity party, but... A touched life?! Yeah! My mother is a neglectful and abusive drug addict and I have a chronic illness that causes a myriad of issues most people will never know in their life! 

I began to resent these comments. I felt strongly that I worked hard for all my successes.  Hell, I even failed at quite a few things!  There are jobs I've applied for that I didn't get. My first time applying for an internship in DC, I was rejected.  I didn't get accepted into grad school the first time I applied either.  But my grandfather (the strong male figure in my life) always said, "The harder I work, the luckier I get."

3 & 1/2 semesters into grad school, I was put on contract with my program for a number of reasons.  *Contract basically means I can't move forward to internship until I demonstrate that I'm committed, get my GPA up, etc.)  I was also finding it difficult to support myself.  

Has anyone seen my MOJO?

What has happened to me?! When I was younger, falling down didn't faze me.  People didn't recognized my failures, because I never really dwelled on them. I didn't see it as productive! Instead, I practiced a faith-based optimism (or cognitive dissonance) that led me to believe what happened was for the best, and maybe the Universe wanted me to pursue other opportunities, or try harder.  I couldn't quite figure out what had happened, what particular instance or where I lost my mojo.  Why was it so hard to overcome failure?  I don't wallow in it, but I'm so scared of it I feel paralyzed!

Then I realized, it began about the time I moved to Knoxville and started grad school.

How could that be?  I got into my dream program, and was even deemed a top applicant, receiving a small scholarship. *That totally took me by surprise because I was just praying to get accepted.* Then my boyfriend said, “It might be because you thought of DC as a failure.”

*&^%$#MIND**BLOWN*&^%$#

I’ve always spoken about my time in Washington, DC as though it were a blip on my radar, or some crazy thing I did after college.  Almost similar to how people talk about experimenting with drugs or homosexuality, only to conclude it was “just a phase”.  I dismiss it that way, because the experience is a source of shame for me.  The less I talk about it, the less I have to think about it.

What was SO shameful?

I started and completed a 3 month internship that led to a year-long associate program.  I hated my job because I worked in a small office with only two people, and need much more social interaction than that. To supplement my social interaction and make more money, I worked as a waitress/bartender in one of the BEST bars in DC, Madam’s Organ.  I worked the two slowest nights, Sunday and Wednesday.  This meant that two days a week I got close to 4 hours sleep, not including the partying I did with my own friends or picking up weekend shifts to make extra money.  It was a fast pace but I was keeping up.

Five months into my experience, I received the greatest blow to my heart and soul that I'd known in my life: my grandfather passed away.  He was the greatest man I’d ever known and one of my best friends. I was crushed.  I literally could not picture what life was going to look like with him gone.  I was scared.

Physically, I felt my body was failing me too.  I started to feel incredibly anxious all the time, and when I talked to my doctor about it he said, “What are you scared of?” "Nothing," I replied.  "I just feel anxious.”  My heart would race and I’d feel antsy, like I was crawling out of my skin.  This is fine if you can be up and moving, but 40 hours of my week were spent at a desk, in front of a computer.  Because of my increased anxiety, and grieving over my grandfather, I’d started drinking more, but only at the bar where I worked.  In DC it's legal for employees to drink alcohol on the job, which can be fun because your customers can buy you shots, and it took the edge off of dealing with super rude customers.

In late August I received my first wakeup call: I was pulled over on the way home from the bar because I crossed the double yellow line at 230am.  I was reaching for gum in my purse and not paying attention, but I was scared because I did have two drinks around 8pm that night.  I prayed it wasn't still in my system.  I told the police officers this, but because of the way I was dressed coming from work (mini skirt and cowboy boots), I was still made to do all the sobriety tests. I passed all of them, and then I did the breathalyzer.  The results were consistent with my story, but they still made me park my car and get a cab home.  The next morning my roommate let me borrow her car so my friend and I could pick mine up before it was ticketed/towed.  Pulling out of her parking spot I ran into a pole and caused $1500 dollars worth of damage to her car.  It wouldn't END! 
That's when I knew something wasn't right.

Life was not supposed to be like this.  The universe was telling me I needed to reevaluate the direction I was going.  I called my friend Kristen at work and said, “I’m not going to hurt myself or anything, but you need to come over when I get off work.  I’m in trouble and I need help.” She came over and we evaluated my goals, and I’d decided the one thing I wanted was to get into grad school.  I didn't feel like I was going in that direction and I made my mind up to leave DC.

People who know me know I’m motivated, driven, and have an old school work ethic that makes most people look like pansies.  So when I say I need a break, or wanna give up, people rarely question it.  They usually presume I've done ALL I can do.  I will love her forever for many things, but particularly for this: Kristen said, “I think you can do better.  I think you can work harder.”  Don’t get me wrong, I cried.  I fought it.  I tried to persuade her that leaving DC was the best option.  But in the end, she and I drew up a schedule of what needed to be done to get into school, I followed that plan to the best of my ability.

The first item on my “Get into Grad School To Do List” was three recommendations.  I didn't have any research experience, and I'd only taken ONE psychology class in college, so I knew they needed to be stellar.  I already knew where two of them would come from.  When I figured out who the third lucky person would be, I went to work.  Mind you, I didn’t actually know the person.  I knew of them, and thought to myself, “Now they would make a great recommendation letter! The fact that I didn’t know them yet didn’t faze me a bit.  This was the type of person I was.  Think of what I want, decide the best way to get it, and then do it with a laser-like focus.  Meeting this person was the biggest blessing/heartbreak/lesson I’d had in my life until that point.  They loved me (just like I knew they would), and they became sort of a mentor to me.  More than that, they provided the stability and security that I craved ever since my grandfather had passed.  Then something happened that I did NOT plan.  I fell in love for the first time in my life.  It did not end well, mind you.  Nonetheless I got my third letter and was accepted into grad school.

And Just so you know, getting your heart broken is a legitimate life event that causes grief.  Grief is not just something that happens when someone dies.  It can be your dog dying, a divorce, losing your childhood home, or anything else that causes a severe emotional upset/disruption in your daily life.  Also *VERY IMPORTANT*: Grief does NOT just go away on it’s own.  TIME does not heal ALL wounds.  An open and untreated wound gets infected and given ENOUGH TIME...you have to amputate a limb cuz the neglected wound gets infected and hurts the healthy tissue around it.   Like any other sickness, it requires reactive and proactive care to get better.  I did not know this, and because I’m not the type of person to sit at home and wallow, I lived a life where I didn't think about my grief: working a ton, drinking, partying, and moving at a rate that would not allow me to think about how much my heart hurt.  And YES, my heart ACTUALLY hurt.

This dangerous and viscous cycle of numbing my pain finally caught up to me. A friend/coworker of mine was sick and pleaded with me to work her shift at the bar.  I obliged, and by no later than 9pm, I was told I was too drunk to work.  Even in my drunken state, I felt the shame run all over me in full force, and I couldn't escape.  What I did next I cannot divulge, but I can tell you the action was a cry for help, a desperate desire for control, and as I started to sober up, I had a serious heart to heart with myself.  

WILL the REAL ALICIA please stand up?

The truth is, I didn't even recognize myself. My behavior was so Un-characteristic of me. I was not this person. I was not someone who got too drunk to work, or let my fear and pain overtake me.  I remember staring at the Washington monument as I sobered up, knowing this was the end of my time in DC.  I felt as though I had been conquered.  DC had gotten the best of me, and now it was time to pack up and get the hell out of dodge so I could actually recuperate.  I remember the next day very well.  I didn't go back to the bar, even though the next night was my last scheduled shift. I knew if I went back, there was a good chance I would drink myself to death.  Even though I loved my employers, I loved myself more and I had to trust they would understand.

I stayed in my apartment, feeling numb, yet a strong and quiet resolve. I let the activities of the night before run through my head as I tried to figure out exactly how I'd gotten to that point.  To be honest, there was no conscious decision made.  No one gets up one day and says, "I think I will be self destructive today. I think I will use alcohol to evade my feelings."  I had reached that point due to a series of decisions to ignore my pain.

It's been over a year, and what I didn't realize until now is that my feelings about my failure were severely affecting my resilience.  It took me over a year to gather the strength to REALLY process what had happened in DC. I had talked about it with friends, but never fully recovered from the feelings of shame and doubt that lived inside of me because of my experience.  What I couldn't see was, those feelings were still there, quietly whispering to me, sabotaging my new ventures.  Moving to Knoxville, starting a graduate program, disconnecting myself from an abusive parent (and my only remaining parent at that).  Not coming to terms with my mistakes, and more so not having forgiven myself, was continuing to hurt me as I tried to move forward.

DC was my first BIG failure.  But let me make myself clear, I DO NOT regret the experience.  It was one of the toughest periods in my life, which is a big statement for someone with my experience, but here is why.  It was one of the toughest periods in my life because I almost lost myself.

Weeks, months, and now years after, it has continued to remind me exactly the stuff I'm made of. It is my biggest lesson about choosing to numb pain out of fear versus confronting it head on from a place of courage.  Is confronting the pain easier than numbing?  Not really.  But the end result is quite different.  The difference is this: As I choose to confront the pain, I do so from a consciously cultivated foundation of self-love. The result is that I grow stronger, and am literally a better version of myself. I get to know myself more.  I am more forgiving toward others and toward myself.  I love others more, and look less for their approval.


To be continued...

Walking out in Faith and Obedience: My Response.

Earlier today I responded to a post* from an online support community I am in.  To see the post (aka the impetus for this post), go to the footnotes. 

Why am I posting my response on my own blog?
It's my very humble story of how and why I quit my job.

My response to the post*:
"...When I read the subject "Walking out in faith and obedience" it caught my attention and made my heart race. Why? I mean, I took my beta blocker today! #IST&POTS<3 ;) It's because earlier this afternoon, I felt sick. I felt stifled. I felt heavy. I felt dread. I was at my new job (big surprise). **More heart attacks occur on Monday etc...well Saturday is my Monday because I sold cars.** Anyway, I'll save you the gut wrenching details of the inner moral dilemma I was struggling with. I'll just say this. It was UGLY. I was scared to death. Of so many things. Feeling down on myself for not being able to hold down a 40 hour a week job even though I'm 26 years old. I can't sleep. I can't get to work on time. I can't sit still. I can't remember things they've told me over and over. I'm anxious. I can't keep my blood pressure up when it's 67 degrees outside. I can't wear hats to shield the sun (like the men do) because it doesn't look "feminine enough". It's hard going to work every day when you -know you're going to get in trouble for something, like you're always failing. I started to feel depressed, forgetting there WERE things that I was good at!

Long story semi-short, I looked at my phone and got a sign. It was 11:14. 1114 is an Angel number I'm familiar with. I looked it up (my usual reference is sacredscribesangelnumbers.blogspot.com and it said, "Angel Number 1114 (or 114) asks you to keep your focus, intentions, actions and positive affirmations on manifesting your true goals and aspirations. If you act with caution and wisdom you will be successful in business, money matters and life in general. Now is a perfect time to begin worthwhile projects that will bring you long-term benefits and future success. Repeating Angel Number 1114 is a sign from your angels that they are there to assist you with manifesting your true desires."

Some people may be thrown off my someone quitting their job because it was a certain time of day. This is my spirituality. I believe that angels are working for the soul of the world, ready to guide us with love, if we'd take time to listen. It similar to someone seeing 3:16 on a license plate and looking up the verse in the bible. As my boyfriend describes it, it's their way of tapping us on the shoulder, giving us a heads up to opportunity (paraphrased).
So in the spirit of faith and obedience, I walked out of the dealership. I'm being led to a wonderful career of helping others and strengthening my connection to myself and Universal Love."
And Just so You Know, below I have posted a screenshot of my response, because I want to you all to look at the top left corner, to the reply number: 1148080.  Coincidence?

FOOTNOTES
*"My dear sisters out there. I know it is a,reality that we live daily with ain and uncertainties of what the future will hold for us but please do not let this crazy EDS get the best of you, especially in your mind and soul. We are still here for a,reason and purpose. Live each day to the fullest knowing that we are not on this journey alone but that God is with us in every season of life, guiding and teaching us lessons we learn even in those pain days. My prayer for myself is that I continue to grow in God's word and become the women he intended me to be. Praying he will allow my feet to walk out in faith and in obedience to his,will for me. Eds will not define me as God's child. I believe deep inside me what he started in my life he will bring to completion because I belong to him, he loves me and he is strong in me when I am weak. Hang on to the vine for you will always be victorious. Blessings and peace to you all." - The author will remain anonymous for purposes of respect.

Butterflies, Alchemy, and Monday Morning Obligations

Are you waiting for me to start detailing all the woes of my Monday morning?  What about statistics on the most common day of the week for heart attacks to occur?  Not going to happen.  Sorry to disappoint, but you won't find that here - aka: Sorry I'm NOT sorry.
 

Butterflies

For those of you who did not know, I have Adult ADHD.  My biggest challenges in coping with it are time management, planning, and strategizing to reach goals. 
 
WARNING: small tangent ahead
Rated: PG
 
Please, PLEASE spare me any comments such as "Oh I have that too!" or "Tell me about it, I can't sit still!"  I don't ask this to be mean.  I simply want to communicate this: ADHD is not one symptom, some of the time, (i.e. sometimes I fidget in class, sometimes I can't focus, sometimes I get distracted).  It's also NOT something most people are happy/excited/bragging about, unless they've managed to work through the coping process and get their lives back in order. 

The reality for me is that even on medication, my ADHD almost got me kicked out of my Graduate School program.  

Butterflies continued...

For this reason, the first part of the day can be the most stressful for me.  What am I going to do today?  I have my list of things I need to do.  Here come the butterflies. What do I do while I'm waiting for the sun to come up?  Should I take a shower so I can leave right away?  Should I take a run first? More butterflies.  Will I have the energy to run later, if I don't do it now?!  

Monday Mornings

But it's not all negative, you see.  The other part is wondering which book I should pick up and what I should blog about!  How will I make a difference in the world today?!  The biggest Butterfly that visits me EVERY Monday morning is called, "So much to do, so little time." Where do I start? 

In the past, this Butterfly has rendered me helpless.  Analysis paralysis takes over and I spend the morning goofing off until 15 minutes before I need to leave the house.

The following is an excerpt from my latest book purchase, a "classic self-help book for adults with attention deficit disorder", aptly named You Mean I'm Not Lazy, Stupid, or Crazy?!  I like this because it's an affirmation of sorts, (good food for your subconscious).  I can also use it to help me cope with my chronic illness on difficult mornings, of which there are many.  The ability to turn a bad morning into a good day should be considered a superpower, in my opinion! The quote is by Cathy Better of Reisertown, Maryland.

Each day that we wake is a new start, another chance.

 

Why waste it on self-pity, sloth and selfishness?

 

Roll that day around on your tongue, relish the taste of its freedom.

 

Breathe deeply of the morning air, savor the fragrance of opportunity.

 

Run your hands along the spine of those precious 24 hours

 

and feel the strength in sinew and bone.

 

Life is raw material.  We are artisans.

 

We can sculpt our existence into something beautiful,

 

or debase it into ugliness.

 

It's in our hands.

 



When I read this affirmation I think, "Ok! I can do this!  I decide that today is going to be a great day!"  Sounds easy, right?  Read a poem, save the world!

Alchemy

So this morning, as I politely told my Butterfly of Indecision to take a hike, I picked up The Alchemist**.  As usual, one of the first passages I read related to what I was dealing with at that very moment.

(He refers to the shepherd):
 
"He still had some doubts about the decision he had made.  But he was able to understand one thing: making a decision was only the beginning of things.  When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision."

Wow.  So true. 

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings, I wake up at 4:30am, long before the sun rises.  I thoroughly enjoy being up to watch the sunrise, simply for the feeling it gives me.  It's empowering, signaling a fresh new day is here.  The sun coming up says to me, "The world is your oyster!  Now go make a difference today!  Choose to make today special!

Where do I start?  In the spirit of improving my time management skills, I have a list of weekly obligations to choose from.  Plenty of different types of activities.  But none of them seem like the best way to start such an important day!

Then the Universe hands it to me.

I think, "Hmm...I should write a blog post.  I really want to improve my writing and I love connecting with people on that level."  Then I look at the inside cover of the book. 

"To realize One's destiny is a person's only obligation." - from The Alchemist
 
SWEET!  The Universe just gave me permission to spend my morning blogging!  I know I sound like a nerd but blogging is not just typing randomly on a page.  Blogging and written communication remain two of my biggest challenges. They give me butterflies, as they're the type of challenge that get me locked-in, my heart racing, and my mind hyper focused.  Pretty awesome stuff.

What are YOUR Monday Morning Butterflies telling YOU? 

My intuition tells me there are two groups; people with Butterflies, and people without Butterflies. 

People with Butterflies are in the contemplation stage of change.  I just learned about this in class last week.  They are anxious/excited about something, but maybe not quite sure how to go about it, or unsure of what the next step is.  They do acknowledge that something needs to change, and as such are at the very least aware of a sense of unease.

People without Butterflies are in the pre-contemplation stage of change.  They don't believe there is a problem.  First step is admitting there's a problem, and they've yet to take that step.  Other people that fall into this category are those who have become comfortable being uncomfortable.  You know who I mean.  The ones who don't want help with their situation, they just want to bitch.


If YOU are lucky enough to be visited by these flirty fun creatures, do yourself a favor and listen to them.  Holy cow this is so Gestalt. If your Butterfly could talk, what would he/she say?

In closing, I'll leave you with the great words of a guy I met at a summer program, (GSP alum holla). As I waited to take my turn on stage and sing "Take My Breath Away" in front of over 500 people, I remember telling him, "I'm nervous! I have butterflies in my stomach!"

Though I don't remember his name, he said something I'll never forget.  This beautiful man said to me, "Then make them fly in formation."




Footnotes/Tangents
**The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho: One of three or four books I'm reading and listening to.#  I'd heard of it before, and decided to read it when I heard Will Smith (one of my soul mates) give a glowing description of it.  JSYK, the story is truly amazing for the person that is ready.

#@dhd@lert: I'm always reading more than one book.  Also, when I really want to absorb the material I will listen to the audiobook (because my strongest learning style is auditory) in addition to reading it.

I just want it to be over!

What did you do on March, 9 2014, a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in Knoxville, TN?


I woke up and packed up my cleaning supplies, jumped in the car and made my way the 45 minute drive to my old apartment.  Am I  moving out?  No, I have already moved out.  I'm going there to clean because the person I once thought was suitable for a roommate has broken so many rules that I'm getting hounded by my landlord and now threatened with eviction.  What could he possibly be doing there?  First our next door neighbor told me that there was an excess amount of dog poop in the backyard, in fact there was dog poop ON HER PORCH.


This is against the rules.  The grass beyond the concrete block of a back porch is owned/manned by a homeowners association.  Oh, I may have failed to mention that my complaining neighbor is THE PRESIDENT of said association.  I tell my roomie, and he goes on about what a c*** she is.  The woman has CANCER, y'all.  This person I'm living with is calling the neighbor names because she's bitching about dog poop while going through CHEMO.  I straight up asked him if he thought he might be bitchy when going through chemo, and he told me that he honestly could say no.  What an idiot.


Then, he got fined for trash.  After I moved out, he let the trash build up to an inordinate amount, "forgetting" to take it out the night before or morning of trash day.  Again, the back porch is a concrete slab that doesn't disguise overflowing trash. 


Why don't I live there anymore?  Besides the obvious,  I actually moved in with my boyfriend shortly after Christmas.  It's worked out well for me because it's in a much more quiet, country, rural area, which is much better for my heart condition and my sanity (both of which are closely intertwined).


Because I was still paying rent, I took my time getting my things out.  I went as fast as I could, but was struggling with constant shoulder dislocations and a jammed/sprained sacroiliac joint (aka butt joint and by far the most interfering joint I've injured yet).  Anyway, I still have a box or two of papers there, but it's all in a room they use for storage.


Who is "they"? I forgot to tell you that his girlfriend and girlfriend's sister moved in.  "They" are lovely girls who don't take responsibility for themselves or their situation, and have promised to pay me two months rent, only to ask me to talk to my Ex Roomie about money matters, when he has been late or non existent in paying me back since the first time I ever made the mistake of loaning him money.


Okay, so back to the beautiful Sunday.  My landlord told me that I was faced with eviction because my roommate had been fined $500 for smoking marijuana inside the house.  (The fine for trash was $700..? Any comments on that one?)  She even forwarded a letter from the Owner, kindly, graciously, and sincerely stating that he felt his house wasn't being respected and he, unlike what we may assume, is a working man to whom which an issue like bad renters is not simply a mere inconvenience.  Who could blame him!  I had told my rental manager that I would do everything I could to help, especially since our names were still legally tied. 


I thought, "Hey! If they evict us I won't have to deal with this crap anymore!"
The rental manager said it would result in fines, court fees, attorney fees, and paying the remainder of the lease.  Crap. Ok what can I do to make it right?


I'll go, have a talk with Ex-Ro and deep clean the apartment, including steam cleaning all the dog pee/crap stains (from his dog, his girlfriends dog, and the new not potty trained, undisciplined puppy they got shortly after I left).  This was my plan.


Here I am, one more day off before the week starts, on a gorgeous Sunday, and I'm spending my hard earned gas money and free time going to try and keep us from getting evicted (and me owing a ton of money).  I even missed lunch with my boyfriends mom.  We have it every Sunday and I sent my boyfriend along with my apologies.  I listened to forgiveness affirmations ON REPEAT the whole way down there, as I went through the different emotions of being pissed, to grumpy, to resentful, to tired.  At one point, I'm sure, my blood was boiling.


I got there, and lit some white candles before getting started.  The energy in that apartment is so stagnant negative, I always try to bring a candle with me when I go there.  (It raises the vibrations of the apartment, making it a more pleasant atmosphere to work in. 


I lit the candles and got started on the kitchen.  The girlfriend's dog was in the crate.  Ex-Ro's dog at and puppy were out and about, tearing stuff up.  The kitchen was so nasty, I felt overwhelmed just looking at it.  I remembered that on the drive down, my boyfriend told me he was coming to the apartment to help me clean after he finished his work out.  What an angel.  I knew soon I'd have help so I kept going.


I made it to the upstairs bedroom (my old bedroom, and my old bathroom) before the dogs started driving me nuts.  They were constantly barking, and the older one is scared of vacuums so you have to lock him in a room or he'll try to kill the vacuum when you turn it on.
Cleaning was next to impossible and I'd never attempted such a dirty apartment for no pay.  My energy is valuable.  When you have a chronic illness and a heart condition that causes debilitating fatigue, you have to be very careful about where you spend your energy.  Because once it's gone, it's gone.  (For a great explanation of productivity with a chronic illness, see The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino but you don't look sick)


After texting Ex-Ro and his girlfriend for help dealing with the dogs and getting no reply and a hateful reply (respectively), I texted my bf Daniel, telling him I was an inch away from saying "screw it".  Daniel called me, explaining that he had spoken to his rental manager, asking about my situation.  She told him that as far as she was concerned, I was in good shape from a judge's perspective if he (we) got evicted.


I feel like I'm smushed between a rock and a hard place.  Far be it for me to tell anyone how to keep their living space, but when I'm partially responsible to the owner, what else am I supposed to do?


So now, I've learned a lesson.  Think twice or seventy times before getting involved with someone you don't know, LEGALLY.  Also, if you're the "easier" one to deal with, all the responsibility will get put on you. **my rental manager keeps reminding me that I'm the primary on the lease, as if this gives me more accountability than Ex-Ro, which apparently is false.**


My next step is to meet with Rental Manager and tell her that she can do what she will but I have no control over the dude who is trashing the place, not to mention she is also partially responsible for allowing him to live there. 
The whole thing makes me sick, honestly.  I am ready to be done with the entire contract.  Lucky for me there are only a few months left.  I can't help but think of all the things that could have been solved with a little communication!  So to end this post I'd like to share the most entertaining/obnoxious/insane notes ever written to neighbors.


http://happyplace.someecards.com/3941/the-most-entertaining-obnoxious-or-completely-insane-notes-written-to-neighbors


Happy Monday y'all!!!

The Universe has Spoken.

The Universe has spoken.
The other day I was having a conversation with a good friend after class.  Her dad had recently been diagnosed as a type 2 diabetic and had to start taking insulin shots.  She knows that my company (Qivana) sells a system with the FABULOUS success rates in treating type 2 diabetes with no chemicals. She also knows, however, that her father will not drink a shake as breakfast.  He wants to eat food.  Her sister is a nurse and the two of them discussed , "hey, wouldn't it be nice if..." (Just so you know these are the beginning words for any thought or idea that has radically changed society) "... There were people who came in your home and were trained in cooking for specific diets or conditions, like gluten intolerance or diabetes.  Like an in-home chef.

"Yeah that would be great." I replied.

Fast forward 3 hours later.  I'm at my condo preparing to leave for my nanny job.  I had no idea why but it was taking me longer than usual to get outta the house.  I knew I was running more late as minutes passed, but for some reason I wasn't in a hurry.  Which is really odd for me because I usually have intense anxiety when it comes to being on time.

Anywho, I finally leave the house.  I turn left out of my neighborhood and as I head toward the stop sign I see a guy walking on the side of the road, headed in the same direction as me.  
I could see he wasn't on a leisurely walk.  It was too cold for that and he was dressed in a sort of uniform.  From a restaurant or something.  Again, in no hurry, I thought to myself, "I wonder if he needs a ride."  

This thought crosses my mind most anytime I see a hitch hiker, but the reality is I am 5 feet 1.5 inches tall and a buck fifteen after a hefty meal.  And being in the driver side of a car doesn't leave much flexibility for a range of defense mechanisms.  So I go through these reasons, say a prayer for the person, and hope someone else with less risk and more
ability can help them.  I have to be okay with this.  I would be putting myself in danger otherwise.


Let me be clear: I am almost 26 years old and I have never picked up a stranger in my car, male or female......until two days ago.

I drove past him, going through my justification process and prayer, but when I reached the stop sign, I looked in the mirror, and then turned my head to look back at him.  I rolled the window down and shouted, "hey do you need a ride somewhere?"

"Actually I'm just headed to the Walmart".
Before I thought about it, I shouted ," yeah that's on my way hop on in!"

At this point there were at least two cars behind me that I was holding up.  Usually very sensitive to that sort of thing, for some reason I trusted that they were okay and no one behind me was in labor or rushing to the ER for any reason.

I cleared whatever debris was in the front passenger seat and he came to the side of the car.  As soon as he sat down and closed the door, I looked at him and I finally drove through the intersection.  Relief washed over me because his energy felt harmless.  As soon as the relief settled in, I thought to myself,  "What in the hell did I just do?" "What on earth could have compelled me to pick up a stranger MAN and put myself in close quarters with him?!"  All I could think about was that I kept getting feelings that it was right.  It wasn't logical, nor do I believe it was from this earth. Acts such as these are demonstrations of faith, according to my religious beliefs.  It's not logical, you just listen to the feeling and act on what it's telling you.  Even if you look crazy to other people.

If you are hoping for a gift, from Santa, God, or the Easter Bunny, you have to be prepared for stepping out of your comfort zone, in honor of what you're trying to manifest.

I made sure to let him know this was not a normal thing.

I asked where he was going.  He was on his way to the bus stop so he could go to work.  He worked at Cracker Barrel.  And he was a cook there.  My first instinct was "cool I could possibly recruit him for Qivana! (If he wants to make more money).  I was expecting him to say something entirely different, but shortly after divulging that he's a cook, he said "what I really want to get into is being a private, in home chef"

Holy Shit.

I literally responded with "You're f***ing kidding me."

Friends... Think back to the beginning of this post and my conversation with Mary!!

 "Hey, wouldn't it be nice if there were people who came in your home and were trained in cooking for specific diets or conditions, like gluten intolerance or diabetes.  Like an in-home chef. ?!"

"Yeah that would be great."

So I had that conversation just FOUR hours prior to picking up the first roadside traveler in my whole life, a male nonetheless.

After I explained everything to him, I was flustered and excited and said "Hurry get my number before we get there!!"

I told him I had no idea what this meant, where it would go, or what to do with it but it was placed on not a silver platter, but on a diamond studded gold leaf painted platter, sprinkled with gold dust.  It would be a disservice to the universe and to ourselves not to follow up and follow through.  Literally un-faith-ful. There would be zero faith in doing nothing with a gift like that.  Turns out my new friend also has a communications degree and went to culinary school.


The Universe has spoken.

What happened next? I profusely thanked the universe and remained in awe and wonder at the love I feel from the Universe.

What's gonna happen with Kyle?!  If you want to know what the result was, you have to

1. Leave a comment about an instance where you followed your gut even though it wasn't logical and you could have or did fave criticism for it, and how it went for you.

LOL - Learning to Own my Lovely.

I've always been told I'm attractive but never put much stock in it.  Looks can't do much for you anyway.  

“If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that’s all that you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind: Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage. These are the things I cherish so in you. I so wish I could give my girls a more just world. But I know you’ll make it a better place." -- Marmee, Little Women”
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women 

 I once dated a man who told me I was nowhere near my "peak" and that one day I would learn to own how "lovely" I am.

The following story may come as a shock to some. To others, it may seem like a justification. For me, it's accountability.  I've recently decided to embark on a life path that many would call nontraditional or unconventional. After all, it's me! I am both of those!  Until now, I
have worked my way through my bachelors, I am about 3 semesters into my masters degree, and my master plan was to get my degree and then.....while I do, maintain faith that when I finish something will come along.  It always does.  I'm not completely delusional. I don't think money to support myself will just show up without any hard work.  

And supporting myself is very important to me. I've been doing so since I was 18. My grandparents help me with bills while I'm in grad school and it absolutely drives me bonkers.  I hate sending the email asking them, and I always ask for the bare minimum.  I try to earn
money through nannying and over the summer I would clean houses and cocktail waitress.  I've done it all. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. After all, I grew up on a horse farm cleaning stalls and throwing bags of grain and bales of hay.   I know what it takes to
earn money.

So back to this new plan.

Many of the people I go to school with have plans of completing their masters' and then working at an agency, or for an established practice.  This never appealed to me.
I always knew my life would not be a 9-5....but I didn't know exactly what it would look like.  

Recently I've had some trouble collecting on debts people owe me.  I know this time of year is tight for everyone so I've tried to be understanding.  There came a time, however, when the prospect of collecting money seemed nil and my dog needed food, so I got creative.  There was a best dressed contest at a country bar I had been to once. I decided to go for it. Someone told me that you could make $500 and honestly, what would I not do to make sure my dog has food?

Now, I haven't always been comfortable "showcasing" myself, or attracting attention for my looks. Quite the opposite in fact.  I was molested by my father when I was six, and always harbored a kind  of shame when it came to my body.  I also developed earlier than most
girls, and this attracted more of the attention that I didn't want.  It got to the point where I elected for a breast reduction at 19 years old.  It wasn't because of my back pain, although there was some.  It was the emotional pain; the isolation and disconnection I felt when
people would not look further than my chest.  There was so much more to me, so much more that I was proud of like my heart, my soul, and my values.

Oddly enough, even though I've never wanted to limit myself to being seen for my beauty, I've always had a sharp awareness for what was deemed beautiful by society, and I was able to find a formula that worked for me.

My junior year in college I started taking a medicine for chronic migraines, topomax.  This medicine is an anti-seizure medication and one off-label use is weight loss because it suppresses appetite.  After about 6 months, I had about 100 lbs on me and I looked gross.  I had struggled with anorexia in previous years, so I was overly sensitive to people thinking I was anorexic again.  I had overcome it, but I still looked sick.  Too big, too small. Too thick, too skinny.  The triangle had a talk and one of the members said, "you need to learn to love yourself and how that has nothing to do with the shell you call a body. It has to do with your soul."  That was 2009.  It's 2013 and I'm just getting to the point where I can say I love myself, mind, body, and soul.

I've grown enough in my love for myself, as a child of this universe, to know that the difference I'm going to make for humanity has nothing to do with my face or body, but with my mind and my heart.  Why then, is it so much easier to earn fast cash showcasing good looks?!  This is not my preference, just reality.  Women get paid thousands of dollars to model lingerie, compete in bikini contests and Sexiest Santa's Helper contests.

 So this is my conclusion.  I have performed many jobs that did not define me (tending bar is one).  They were fun, I got to meet great people, and they paid the bills.  Fast and easy cash, so I can use my brain cells for writing or researching.

 What if I could make money from Qivana, modeling, and contests? Then I could use the daytime to write and research and work!  I checked with my life coach to see if I was being lazy/delusional or if this was actually a good idea.  Turns out, she felt it was aligned too!!
I wanted to write this post because if it hasn't happened already, I'm going to be tagged in photos wearing lingerie.  I got paid to do a promotional shoot for a wonderful business called "Tastefully Taken".  It's a photography business that specializes in budiour photography, working with many brides to be.  The pictures may come as a shock to people, and they may question certain notions they had about me.  I wanted to have available, somewhere, my thoughts about this kind of work and why I was doing it.
I'm really proud of the way the pictures turned out.  It was an interesting and wonderful feeling knowing you helped to create a piece of art.  I definitely want to do another shoot at some point.  I know the difference I want to make in the world. I've always known there was a purpose for my looks and figure.  I hadn't figured out where they fit in to my life, but at some point I knew they were meant to help me get myself heard. I am excited because I feel they can help me sustain myself financially and meet amazing new friends.

P.s.  If anyone is interested in doing this type of shoot...as a gift, soul booster, or just for fun, I highly recommend Scott Sanders from Tastefully Taken.  I'd love to share my experience with you. Just hit
me up. :)