"When I was a kid
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Big props to Honey Maid for their beautiful response to the negative backlash of their "This is Wholesome" campaign. One of these days, this big ol' human family of ours? We're all going to learn once and for all that love is (and always will be) louder. And look what I found downstairs at work! How fitting (and funny, since the guys were all Trish, what the crap are you doing kissing a graham cracker box...and then I was like LOVE IS LOUDER and then they backed away slowly and now I have to message them a link to this post so they aren't scared of me or graham crackers moving forward....)
"I knew buying the place would demolish my savings, and I was risking pretty much everything. But I’ve never been afraid of money. It’s not because I was born with a trust fund-I wasn’t. In my four decades of life, I’ve had no money, some money, no money again and lots of money. But I have always, always bet on myself. I had to believe I could afford to live in a vintage apartment in a gorgeous old building-and that even if it meant eating nothing but ramen noodles for the rest of my life, I would own it." - Nate Berkus "Work / life balance doesn’t just happen, it takes discipline, the ability to prioritize, and the ability to say No to the non-essential and Yes to life-honoring practices (like eating healthy food). Starting out in the working world, I never would have guessed how difficult this would be, and that I could only rely on one person to set these boundaries: myself." - A Couple Cooks About two and half years ago I sat on the floor of the bedroom belonging to a young man I was sorta-maybe-what's actually going on-casually "dating", attempting to nonchalantly convince him he should stop seeing other people and try to focus on just me. He was a bit of a stereotypical modern day 20-something bachelor: lived with 2 single friends, was extremely financially successful, always called the shots, and was searching for something but probably didn't quite know what. I sat on the floor of his bedroom and pretended it didn't hurt when he hesitated to respond, and (probably unconvincingly) shrugged it off when he told me he didn't think he could do that because...and I cringe quote..."I can't imagine turning down an opportunity to get to know someone better who has sparked my interest." So I batted my eyes. And I played it "cool" (read: so uncool). And then, even after hearing his complete disinterest in anything beyond getting precisely what he wanted (my feelings be damned), I still encouraged him to attend a company trip to Tahoe with me, free of charge, as my date. We'll have fun!, I proclaimed, internally squashing down all my better judgements against such a proposition. I gave away all my power to this person, and it naturally ended up...ending. Unpleasantly. Suffice to say, there is quite a bit of smh within this memory. Regrets o'clock, if you will. Looking back now I am acutely aware that this was, at the time, a direct reflection of what I perceived my worth to be. You could look at this scene and mutter pathetic under your breath, and I wouldn't fault you. But I also have a lot compassion for this memory, as it helps me to see how my efforts to turn the page from being so needy for love to a story about cultivating self succulence were not exercised in vain. Here's why: Today is my wonderful boyfriend's 29th birthday. And I tell the above story because he came into my life at a very key turning point. After a few fumbled attempts at dating post divorce I took the advice of my beautiful friend Kelly by swearing off all prospects (from a quick drink, to a set up, to a casual group "thing", I was unavailable) and signing up for 4 months of glorious me, myself and I time. My self worth grew and grew; my trust in the process strengthened. And wouldn't you know, at the very end of those 4 months, B happened to message me on Facebook to catch up and well....the rest is history. B is made of the good stuff. He's not the type to need to call the shots all of the time, and while he was hesitant to be exclusive at the start of our budding relationship due to the 3k distance between us, he always made sure to partner his indecision with kindness, patience, and respect. (And has since made up for that hesitance by diving head first into moving to my corner of the world). He never made me feel pathetic, and always made me laugh. He was (and is!) responsive, communicative, caring and loving. I knew in my heart that I could trust him, always; that through our ups and downs he would never go "radio silent" or shy away from vulnerable moments. He calls me on my crap, but also quickly forgives said crap. The crap is then joked about later, much to his delight. He is my friend, my partner, my roommate and my love. I am thankful for my past relationship kerfuffles because I know they not only prepared me for B, but they pushed me to face and forgive some rather uncomfortable realities about myself. And that is something I have no regrets about. So here is what I wish to tell my old single self, and perhaps the only piece of advice to other single folk I feel confident in giving: You are worthy. You are worthy of someone who does not abuse the unfortunate emotional powers behind technology and social media; someone who respects you as a human being, first, and acts in kind. You are worthy of a partner who takes you as you are, and works toward shared growth. You are worthy of a person who is ready to be with you. Do you understand that part? It was the hardest for me to accept. Because until you meet that person, you should embrace the chance to wholly, lovingly, joyfully be with yourself. Happy Birthday, B! Thank you for being such a catch (and helping me feel like one, too). Let the celebrations begin :) love and light, Trish **HUGE thank you to Miss Pamela for the photos and video!!** My title here at Weebly, officially printed on my lovely business cards (thanks, Justin!), is Joyologist. To be blunt--I LOVE it. Borderline obsessed with it. Proud to hand it to folks and watch the smiles and chuckles as they read it out loud. I get such a kick out of it still, even after a year and a half! At first, this title started out as a bit of a joke--playful creativity in a company that supports all things creative and playful (mega points: Weebly!). But now I can honestly say I try to embody its meaning with my whole heart and soul. Hello, I'm Trish, and I'm in the business of Joy. I have this theory about life: either you laugh along with it as the leading, starring, shining role, or it's gonna laugh you right off the stage. Feeling pain is for sure a part of the gift that is being alive. Yep, the gift. So by no means do I believe we should avoid or squash or cover up those moments of less-than-happy. They are real and have much value if we let ourselves process them fully. But I also believe that Joy is our natural state of being; I believe that being joyful is our divine right. If something or someone is not helping to boost your joyful experience, it may be time to reevaluate their role in your life. My trip to Costa Rica was an amazing reminder of how deeply I wish to embody my Joyologist title. It was a reminder of how to allow myself to connect with others in true and authentic ways. These two ladies below will, hopefully, be my forever friends thanks to the vulnerability we permitted between us. When you get real, the Joy will always intensify. It was a reminder to dance simply because it feels good. For example, me shaking my booty on Julie's lap (I can't stop giggling at my Popeye face!).... It was a reminder to play. Costa Rican tour guides want to challenge me to standing up on the bumpy truck ride up the mountain? Bring. It. On. It was a reminder to be silly. I try to never take things too seriously, though I am always serious about living. And it was a reminder to let go, let myself fly and be free.... How much Joy are you allowing in your life?
In Gratitude, Trish, your neighborhood Joyologist Guest Post By: Anonymous Yesterday you said tomorrow. A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with Cancer. The bad kind. The “10% of patients live to see another year kind”. The “I wish Google wasn’t around” kind. Suddenly my tomorrows became yesterday. The years of planning, hoping and dreaming all came to a screeching halt. I was suddenly faced with the possibility that 25 years of aspiration and preparation would culminate with a few months of frantic activity - a summer of scratching off bucket list items and crossing off life’s to-do list. Over 9,000 times I had banked on the dependability of tomorrow. Now, I only had today. Nothing can prepare you for the moment you find out you have a 1/10 chance of making it to Christmas. There’s finality to it. There’s weight. The need to spend as much time with your loved ones as possible fights a constant battle with the want to distance yourself and minimize the pain of good-bye. Days are spent alternating between silent sadness and frantic preparation. Nights are spent accepting fate and bargaining for more time. Clinging to the slim sliver of hope, I went about my daily business cherishing everything I could. Taking one today at a time. Reflection became a huge part of my existence. I replayed my successes and failures, the proud choices and shameful mistakes, the sins I had committed and the mitzvahs I had performed. I tallied the accomplishments and missed opportunities. I wanted to leave in peace with myself - with who I was as a person. I couldn’t help but keep score. Would I be remembered? What was my legacy? Did I make an impact? The unmistakable truth was that, while I was able to accept my overall contribution to the world, I kept thinking of the lost time. If I would have known I only had 25 years, how much more could I have accomplished? How many times would I have parked myself in front of the TV? How many fewer times would I have hit the snooze button? How many times had I used tomorrow to justify a lackluster today? Carpe Diem went from cliché to mantra. It had never made more sense. I would give anything for the opportunity to seize the shit out of more days. But, the truth remained; I was about to pick a number from 1 to 10. Pick the wrong number and there is no second chance. No tomorrows. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I received my second chance. I’ll make it to tomorrow and hopefully the next day. Maybe I still have something to offer the world, maybe I have a few stories to share. The one thing I know is that I’ll take my second chance. I’ll spend each today trying to justify a tomorrow, not the other way around. What will you do tomorrow? Hopefully you've already taken a peek at the "About" section to this little site and have an idea of what I'm trying to accomplish in my postings. Instead of repeating any sentiments here, whaddya say we just dive in head first? Ready? Let's do this... While I was toying with the idea of starting a new blog I took a trip down to Southern California to visit a very dear friend in her new home. And as I pondered the direction my blog should take (how I would structure it, what I could possibly contribute to the great www that would be of any value to anyone, etc) I decided to stop stressing over the details and just enjoy my time with my friend. The ideas would come naturally if I let them, I thought. So I did a whole lot of ocean gazing instead, snuggled up in a brightly colored blanket, sitting next to someone who fills me with love regardless of our distance. Shortly after taking a breath and a break from my brainstorming, like it always somehow manages to do, the Universe sent me my first little clue... While shopping in Brentwood, a suburb of LA, (our attempts at a celebrity sighting failed, but our spirits were not crushed) I randomly picked up a small metal paperweight inside a cute gift shop with the following message inscribed; Five Simple Rules For Happiness: 1. Free your heart from hatred. 2. Free your mind from worries. 3. Live Simply. 4. Give More. 5. Expect Less. Clue #1 received, Universe. Clue #2 came from the beautiful home I was staying in. I really loved a simple something my friend and her sister had started doing together called "Food For Thought". Essentially they take turns writing quotes, questions, thoughts, lyrics, poems, etc on a chalkboard located in the kitchen as a way to spark both internal and external conversations. It serves as a simple reminder to mull over some of life's great mysteries, and to appreciate the beauty in words. I was told at the beginning of my visit that I would be able to leave behind a FFT upon my departure. After a few days of considering my options, I chose a quote I recently stumbled upon from a blog I enjoy in which the author quotes, as she says, "the universe" . Here's what I wrote; And for those of you without superman vision (I snapped this fuzzy shot of my messy handwriting with my BlackBerry), my Food For Thought read:
"What if, my darling, loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved so that life's serendipities could bring you together...Would you still feel alone?" - the universe. I can't tell you how much this question speaks to me. Loneliness as merely a message from future friends and loved ones encouraging you to be open? Beautiful. I loved the idea of FFT so much, I've decided to incorporate into my own life and home. I can't wait to have guest additions, too! Thanks, Billings sisters :) Clue #3 came during a trip to Barnes and Noble. My friend is an ace with good read recommendations and must have pointed out about a dozen books to me that afternoon. I eagerly jotted down each suggestion in my BlackBerry memos, making excited mental notes to check the library when I got home for their availability. Then she picked up a small book and said "You would really like this. I read it right after I read one of Pema Chodron's books and I just think this could suit you right now." Without a second thought or so much as glancing at the title, I purchased it. I'm not exactly sure why I had the urge to impulse purchase this particular book as opposed to any of her other great recommendations, but I will go ahead and believe it's for a good reason. The book is titled The Four Agreements and my hope is that after further reading (and digesting) of it's teachings I'll be able to write a full blog post on it. For now, I hope you'll trust that its simple message is more applicable to my life (and probably yours) than one paragraph will allow me at this time. OK, OK...As a teaser, these are the "four agreements"; 1. Be impeccable with your word. 2. Don't take anything personally 3. Don't make assumptions. 4. Always do your best...so far so good, yea? Sitting in the airport Wednesday night waiting for my quick flight (quick, *free* flight actually, as I'd used a free e-certificate to purchase this travel...winner!) to SF my thoughts wandered back to the creation of this blog. I'd just spent 5 days with a best friend (practically a sister) in beautiful San Clemente. We'd laughed and shared. We ate delicious food. We listened to music, read books and watched the ocean. I was heading back home to start a great new job. I felt I was gaining new perspective all the time and continued to be pleasantly surprised at how the Universe kept finding unique ways to send me encouragement. I was learning to be open to all things. What was this funny little feeling welling up inside me, causing me to smile so awkwardly for no reason in front of my fellow travelers? I checked my heart, sure to be present in this moment, and whaddya know...I was thankful. I wanted to pass it along to everyone on my flight! Give out hugs! High fives for everyone! Share my headphones with the lady next to me while we tapped our toes together, wordlessly enjoying a good song to feed our souls! How could I spread these good vibes without being arrested (or tasered, I hear you pee yourself when that happens)? How could I somehow preserve this gratitude; store it away for a rainy day when trouble may find its way into my life and try to trip me up? Where could I build a savings account of gratitude to help support myself on the less chipper days? And thus, a blog was born. In Gratitude, Trish |
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