From Summer Fling To Heart Sting

After the heartache, the mess, and the challenges that occurred two days ago, I’m feeling the light breeze from my open windows, thinking to myself “I needed that.” Seems bizarre considering a few days ago, what I thought I needed was a therapist and a sedative. To be fair, I probably still need both.  

Rewind to one of my first weeks as a LA native. I open up an unread message in my DMs on instagram that I had been ignoring for days. 

I read “Hey there I think we had a little chat on okc about your mesmerizing eyes and smile haha How are you?”

I told him I’m not on the dating app much, and gave him my instagram. I didn’t think he would actually send a message. He created an instagram account just to talk to me, which gave me some serious serial killer vibes. 

Initially, he seemed like the type of guy that would send me a random friend request on Facebook and I’d think, “What in the no mutual friends do you want from my life?” 

Then, foolishly accept the request, only to receive daily cringy messages and maybe an unsolicited dick pic. 

He’s Israeli. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, and a bright smile. He had been working at a summer camp in California, and was spending his final month traveling America until his flight back to Israel. 

Eventually, my judgments of him being a creepy serial killer faded. I knew that we would have a good time if we met up, so we did.

We met at the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I wasn’t nervous. I was happy to have good company in this new city. 

When I first saw him crossing the street, I wanted to take him shopping so he could buy a new wardrobe. His jeans weren’t doing it for me. However, that’s not my job. He can call Queer Eye for the Straight Guy if he wants help.

Instead, we walked up and down the outlandish crowds and buildings on Hollywood Blvd. We talked, laughed, and teased each other until the California sun inspired us to take a seat at a table in the shade. 

After 45 more minutes of fun in no sun, a man who had been sitting next to us walked over with the wrapper to his sandwich, and a nearly empty soda. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard your conversation. I just had to say, you guys have such amazing chemistry! It’s beautiful.” The stranger said to us with a smile.

That moment my friends, encapsulated our connection that day, and week to follow. However, that connection didn’t last forever.

He spent the following week traveling with his pack of Israeli friends. All the while, texting me all day, and FaceTiming with me every night. He would tell me daily how much he missed me and thought about me. I generally don’t miss people, but I pretended I did because I liked him.

He came back to LA early just to spend his final week with me at my apartment. *Insert dramatic impending doom music here* 

We had completely different ideas of how we wanted to spend our week together. I wanted to explore the city. Maybe walk to the Hollywood sign, or take a trip to the beach. I thought about going to new restaurants or a bar in Hollywood. 

He wanted to stay at the apartment all day, eat ramen in bed, and get his dick sucked. Our differences became more obvious each day.

On the fourth day, we were laying in bed, once again. 

He put down his phone and said, “Change of plans. I’m going to spend my last few days with my friend in Pomona.”

I instantly felt a rush of emotions. Old trauma of abandonment issues and unworthiness began to bubble up within. I looked over, confused. 

“Okay.” I said as I rolled over to face the window.

I couldn’t fathom having a conversation with the aching in my chest. I knew if he liked me the way he did before, he never would have wanted to leave. 

After about 45 seconds he asked “How are you feeling?”

He knew something was wrong because my mouth usually doesn’t stay quiet for that long.

“Sad.” I said, as my eyes began to tear.

I could have played it off like I didn’t care, but I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to act like a little bitch to make him feel bad. I wanted to feel my aching heart so I could give it the space, love, and attention it was desperately searching for. 

I let myself cry. Yes, in front of him. I wasn’t about to shove my feelings down and not give myself the opportunity to heal because of some 24 year old, ugly jean wearing dude. 

I wasn’t Kim Kardashian’s ugly crying face sad. My eyes filled with tears, and in between my wavering words, I sniffled. 

“I can’t see you like this.” He picked up his phone to book an uber instead of staying one more night.  

He continued “Look, I’m just a 24 year old….” 

“This isn’t about you.” I interrupted. 

“I’m not mad at you. This is not about you. This is old shit coming up for me.” It felt good to say. 

I selfishly didn’t want him thinking he was that special. He wasn’t. We had a special connection, but he definitely was giving himself far too much credit. 

I had a line of guys out the door waiting for him to leave so they could see me. If he thought all my eggs were in his basket, he was sadly mistaken.

He did not create this feeling of unworthiness. He was the catalyst for this trapped trauma to resurface and, with my willingness, heal. 

This was not about him. This was my father leaving when I was a child. This was my first and biggest crush choosing to be with someone else. This was me, looking myself in the mirror every day as a kid thinking “You’re not good enough.”This was me, taking a knife to my body in middle school, and developing additions to cope in high school, because I wanted to escape the internal pain rather than face it and transcend the trauma.

Wasn’t expecting this to get so dark, but here we are. Don’t worry, it lightens up.

I acknowledged that it wasn’t about him and I did nothing wrong. Ever.

This is life. I am worthy of a good one. My worthiness is not dependent on the actions or feelings of others. 

I let myself feel all of the past pain, and gave it the space to exist without judgement. 

By the time the uber arrived, my tears and aches passed. 

I’ll never forget the sad look in his eyes when we hugged goodbye. I made a lighthearted joke which I can’t remember now. Then, with a smile, I turned around to leave his sight for the last time. 

We haven’t spoken since and I’m genuinely fine with it. I truly believe he was brought into my life to help me heal, and help both of us grow in profound ways. 

…But for fucks sake, I was only the second person he had ever been with romantically. I should have at least gotten a written thank you card after all I taught him, if you ask me.

Jokes aside, I didn’t expect it would end this way. I will say, when it’s all said and done, I am beyond grateful for how things played out.

Sometimes the experiences that feel bad, are the ones that bring you what you are needing the most. 

What’s Making My Life Great But My Heart Heavy

Have you ever thought to yourself something along the lines of “Yeah, I’ve got legitimate reasons to feel mildly terrible, but in the grand scheme of things, life is fucking fabulous, so stop being a little bitch.” Just me? In that case, maybe I should have kept seeing my therapist oversees. I have a feeling what I’m saying is at least resonating with some of you though.

Why is it that life can be great, but you still feel as though you were ghosted by your crush while having the guilt of eating an entire tub of Ben & Jerry’s, even if that didn’t actually happen? Well, currently I have to spend a stupid amount of money to see a doctor, and have been coughing my lungs out like a chain smoker with asthma just attempted to run a marathon. I’m also trying to people please, which I know I shouldn’t even be doing in the first place, and seem to be failing miserably. This past week, I went on a trip and had as much nutritional value as Cookie Monster does. My caloric intake in one meal was probably more than a football quarterback has in an entire day. My body is expanding accordingly. Did I mention I can’t sleep for shit? That said, the only reason I feel any sort of negativity is me, myself, and I.

Currently, I spend my time traveling the world, seeing some of the most beautiful places. I have such a great community and amazing friends. I have plenty of free time to work on projects I’m passionate about. I love where I live. I’m supporting myself financially. Need I go on? So the fact that my emotions are anything but positive is entirely on me and because of what I’m giving my focus and attention to. Even if all hell seemed to be breaking loose, the fact that we have the ability to grow and become stronger from hardships, and have food on the table or shoes on our feet, we can still feel good by giving our attention and gratitude towards those things.

Gratitude, consistency, and perseverance, builds positive momentum, and allows us to move through times like these more effortlessly. The more I find appreciation, the more my life will be a reflection of that. Some may look at this as some woo woo hippy dippy shit, but I’m not talking out my ass. It’s scientifically proven that gratitude changes our brain chemistry. (Let’s pretend I added a link here to some studies so I seem more credible. You can google that on your own time. I’ve got suitcases to bring home and doctors to see.)

What I’m trying to get at is our feelings are, and always will be, a result of how we choose to look at life. In each situation, there is good that can come from it. In each moment, there is something worth appreciating. In each second, we get to create our lives and how we experience our time on earth. So now, I’m going to appreciate any free time at the doctors office to learn my Body Pump routine, and be grateful for being in this cab ride, taking me home, so I am able to write. Comment ⬇️ and tell me what you will be grateful for right now!

How To Wake Up On The Right Side Of The Bed

Have you ever woken up, and within five minutes of going about your day, you already feel like sucker punching everyone in the face who has the nerve to ask you a question? Just me? Great… Anyways, maybe this’ll help. 

Good morning world what a beautiful view, I’m alive another day and get to spend it with you!

Before I look in the mirror and cause a potential fright, let me take a few breaths and acknowledge what feels alright. 

Don’t pick up the phone and scroll through Facebook. Grab a nice cup of tea and head to the kitchen nook.

Hold the cup in your hands while you conjure love and appreciation. A lot of good will come even if only one minute of  dedication.

Then play something positive that makes you happy. Perhaps affirmations, a podcast or song that’s fun and snappy.

Put on an outfit that makes you feel on cloud nine. There’s no need to worry, you’re looking mighty fine.

Go in front of the mirror and strike a power pose, feel the positive energy run from your head to your toes.

Take these vibes and go on your way. I’ve got a feeling you’ll make this a merry day. 

The Best $300 I’ve Ever Spent

I don’t care what anyone else has to say about the matter. Having a session with Rebecca Dawson, a medium, was the best $300 I’ve ever spent. Regardless of whether or not half of it was hocus pocus, though I don’t think it was, the hour long session was worth it. No candles, chants, or crystal balls, just an awesome authentic Australian chick, who channeled like she had been doing this since she popped out of the womb. 

As a result, I feel more confident with where I am and where I’m going. I feel relief. I feel clarity. I learned things about myself that I wouldn’t have been able to know otherwise. I wouldn’t have been able to get answers and clarity if I spent $300 on hair extensions and that souvenir at the Grand Canyon that I just had to have. 

Yes, we all have the answers within and blah dee blah, but getting in there to find the answers can be like trying to put on spanx, blindfolded, in heels. Not that I’ve experienced that scenario, but I’ll pass if I can help it. 

Although I would highly recommend what I did, I’m not putting this out there to turn people into a metaphysics freak like myself, or convince someone that this is what they need. Quite frankly I enjoy writing, so I’d be doing this regardless. However, there is always a purpose to what I do, and a hope it will inspire and help someone in some way. 

The moral of this post is to use your resources to enhance your soul, not your ego. It is to not fear taking chances or spending money if it is something that excites you and will enhance your wellbeing and quality of life. I feel like there should be one more sentence to sum this all up, but this post isn’t about perfection, so I’ll leave it at that. 

Wait

I’m currently waiting for a train to head back to Santa Barbara, sitting on a cement ledge as thin as my patients because some girl is letting her backpack take up the seat next to her. I’m being a little bitch and not asking if I can sit there because it looks like she’s had better days. My butt is numb, the train is delayed, and I almost let this be a negative experience. Why? Because my expectations are not meeting my reality. Because my ass has felt better before. Because I’m not being present. Because I’m letting the outside circumstances dictate my feelings.  

Instead I can choose to be productive or introspective, or pace around as I look up at the sky and marvel at the planets ability to give us another day after all the BS we put it through. 

What if we made every moment of waiting valuable? What if instead of pulling out a phone, we appreciated the good in our lives, or struck up a conversation with a friendly stranger?

We collectively have agreed that waiting is an unfortunate predicament rather than an unexpected present from the universe. If we looked at waiting as an opportunity for growth rather than an inconvenience, many moments of our lives would be spared. I’m going to make the most of this hour and a half delay. Hopefully the next time you have to wait, you can make the most of it too. 

What Would Someone Who Loves Themselves Do?

What would someone who loves themselves do? Hustle back to work as though they’re Cruella de Vil’s little bitch because they fear of a coworker thinking less of them? That doesn’t sound like love. 

Would they have more disappointment in themselves than most citizens have about the current state of our nation because they’re not some enlightened millionaire yet? That doesn’t sound like love. 

Eat a half carton of vegan cherry chocolate chip ice cream, followed by peanut butter pretzels from Trader Joe’s, and a cookie for dinner? I don’t know, I’m still trying to justify that one.  Probably not though if I’m being honest with myself. 

If we truly questioned if our actions are out of love, we’d find more often than we’d like to admit, they’re not. Before you act, ask… What would someone who loves themselves do?

I almost ended this post with that last paragraph, but then fear rose up like bubbles in a glass of champagne in the hands of a recovering alcoholic. I feared it would not be long enough. I worried someone would take the time to read my work and find it a waste of their time. That’s not love.

Someone who loves themselves would express themselves without fear of judgment or ridicule. Someone who loves themselves knows they are good enough and worthy regardless of the opinion of others. They would be happy that they authentically and creatively put something out into the world to potentially help someone else. That’s what someone who loves themselves would do. So here is my work. Unapologetically, authentically, creatively, lovingly me.

Welcome To Hell

Welcome to Hell. You may be wondering where the hell Hell is. Earth? The White House? The person in the White House? A town? Some mystical fiery land that has a creepy red tenant with hooves? The answer is none of the above.

You’ve been living there your whole life, but let me be the first to welcome you. Welcome to the hell created by non other than you, your mind. 

Have you ever heard a little voice in your head bitch about wishing you had done something differently? Or question your self worth? If your answer is no, the little bitch in my head just told me you’re full of shit. That voice is the soundtrack in Hell, and the life you live will match the soundtrack you play. The more we positively change the tune, the happier hell will be.

Whether you consciously know it or not, you’re in Hell. You’ve done it to yourself, but here me out!! because understanding and acknowledging the hell you’ve created is such a critical step to improving your life and making it a little less hellish. 

 Don’t be afraid of Hell. Make peace with this place. It’s teaching us, and allowing us to grow. Plus, we’re going to be here a while, so might as well get comfortable while we work on our tunes. 

The Excellent Choice

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it all, I want to preface that I’m a bit of an Oprah groupie. Not really, but I think she’s the bees knees. Anyways, I was listening to a speech she gave where she told the audience three tips to follow. If you abide by them, you’re basically golden. 

The final tip, which may come as no surprise considering the title, was “Always make the excellent choice- Do the right thing.” Now before you say “Duh” and roll your eyes like a conservative talking to a millennial about anything progressive or current, hear me out. 

Was it an excellent choice for me to have that entire bottle of prosecco last weekend and say regrettable things?(Knowing very well that I hadn’t had any alcohol for several months prior to that night) Obviously not, if I’m being candid. However, unlike that example, the excellent choice isn’t always clear as day, or as obvious as my drunken shenanigans and hangovers.

The excellent choice may be to lean back and not say anything even though you feel the need to explain or defend yourself. Maybe it’s to not do what everyone else is doing so you can “fit in” or feel good temporarily. Maybe the excellent choice is to sign up for that class or workshop even though it scares you. The excellent choice may be to leave a toxic relationship, even though you still love them…. The list goes on and on. Keeping that tip in mind has certainly made me think twice in many (though I wish all) situations. Hopefully next time you have a choice to make, this will inspire you to think about if it’s the excellent choice, and perhaps change your plans accordingly. 

Frugal As Fuck

Frugal as fuck. That’s me in a nut shell. Not a pistachio nut shell because they are too damn expensive.

I wasn’t always this way. I’d like to say my spending habits have changed because I’ve grown up, or that maybe the Jew in me is coming out, but I don’t believe that’s the case. I believe it’s fear based. Fear of needing to make sure there will be enough for a rainy day when I know damn well it barely rains in Santa Barbara. I needn’t worry, yet I will do just about anything to save a dollar. I’ve become so frugal, that treating myself to anything that involves a monetary exchange causes more resistance than rowing up a stream, using a dollar bill as an oar.

I once attended some business guru’s seminar. She said something that really stuck with me. “You either say no for two reasons. You either don’t value the product or service, or you don’t value yourself enough to say yes.” When those words went into the microphone and echoed out into the room, my face resembled that of me as a child when I got caught using a butterfly net to scoop out shit in the toilet. Busted. I don’t value myself enough to say yes. That being said, I’ve certainly been improving and working on valuing and treating myself more (mostly in ways that don’t require a payment). When you boil it down, it’s all about self worth.

“Grow your self worth to grow your net worth “ #truth #preach is another valuable piece of advice I’ve learnt. Yes, I learnt it, but have I been implementing and embodying a woman with the self worth of a goddess? Ehh debatable. I’d certainly like to think so. My therapist would tell me otherwise. However, I’ve made leaps and bounds over the past few years, and I’m seeing results. Slowly but surely, It’s only a matter of time before I’m a baller who treats myself like the goddess I truly am.

ATtractive MAN

Summer 2017

This week, the “OMwork” as they like to say, is to write about how and when I come in contact with my Atman. At first glance, one might think “Atman, what’s that? Is that short for attractive man? If so, where’s the man at?” Well, that’s not exactly what Atman is. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Atman is neither male nor female, person nor thing, rather the energy and space between, it is the eternal witness. Atman translates to “ The divine spark within”, and I’m about to get deep (with a side of sarcasm) and talk about how I connect with the divine spark within me.
One way I come in contact with my Atman/ higher self, is when I do things that light me up, and bring me joy. Since the month prior to embarking on an extreme spiritual journey, I have noticed that the activities and people that made me feel like Squidward around Spongebob, have been leaving my experience, and have been replaced by that which sparks the divine within. I also connect with my Atman daily through physical experiences such as meditation, runs in nature, yoga, and so forth.
Though meditation can connect me with my Atman in a positive way at times, its been more of a sob fest or pity party lately. I’ve realized I’ve got to wipe the dirt off the diamond before I can put a ring on it. Connecting on the deepest level with my Atman, means it’s not going to be all rainbows, butterflies, and fairy dust. (Lets replace butterflies with unicorns or puppies because butterflies are kind of creepy looking up close.) Working through old resistance and detaching from the ego in a healthy way, will help me come in contact with my Atman on a deeper level, and enable my Atman to express itself through my physical body more fully.
On that note, it actually bothers me that I’m writing statements such as “…enable my Atman to express itself” I’m making it sound as though my Atman is something separate from me when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I am Atman and everything else is an illusion of the mind. I’ll save this for another day because this is going to turn in to a novel if I don’t steer this ship around quick. Actually, I take that back, I’m not turning the ship around, we’re about to sail like Captain Jack Sparrow.
In yogi language, or as others say, Sanskrit, the word “maya” is the concept that the world in which we live is an illusion made up of individual and collective judgments. Identifying too much with maya hinders Atman’s ability to express itself fully through me. It’s like when I thought my happiness relied on that guy to like me, or to win a ton of money. (I’m not saying not having either of those things aren’t irking me slightly still) Identifying too much with maya, this illusion called reality, makes one believe that their happiness is in maya, meaning outside of their true self. When looking at maya for satisfaction instead of my Atman, resistance is built, building a thicker wall between me and my higher self, where true happiness and satisfaction is culminated.
All we are and ever will be is Atman. All the rest is temporary and illusive. My mind, thoughts, and body, are simply the vehicle my Atman uses to navigate through life. Getting caught up in maya is like forgetting to put enough gas in your vehicle, or oil in the engine, and leaving empty water bottles and gum wrappers in the back seat. Some people get so caught up in maya, that they slam on the gas peddle, frustrated they’re not going where they want to, all the while they’ve forgotten to start the car. If we don’t learn to tap in to and listen to our Atman, and do what we love, we’ll never be able to be guided to our desired destination.
When I write and my words begin to flow like an Eminem freestyle, when I get on stage and sing like a little white Whitney Houston, or when my friend and I laugh out loud at inappropriate times because of the hilarious memes we send to each other at work, or even simply appreciating the beauty of the Riviera from my window, nothing but that moment and the joy I feel is on my mind. That is my Atman experiencing life through this body and mind that I have identified as mine. That is lila.
No, lila is not related to the yellow Telly Tubby. Lila means “the divine play” which is to say maya is where we lila. I may not be phrasing that correctly because I know sanskrit as well as I know how to cook Indian Tikka Masala (For the record, I had to look up indian dishes on google because I’m the antithesis of Betty Crocker) Anyways, I am essentially the actor, director, and producer, of the show called my reality. If I connect to my higher self in a way my Atman shines through me, I can create a five star romantic comedy. If I do things or stay in situations that hinder my joy and ability to connect with my higher self because I identify so much with my ego mind and maya, I will produce a box office bomb, and I can’t blame the audience for a bad show.
Though I may have steered this ship a little off course, one can’t deny that it lead us to some treasures, or at the very least, this was an avenue for my Atman to lila through maya. Hopefully I kind of sort of answered the “omwork” appropriately. Though if anyone were to judge me, it probably wouldn’t be very yogi like anyways, right?