We humans are equal parts strong and fragile; resilient and endlessly needy. We write our stories through a comedy of errors mixed with the great mysteries of being alive, and the luckiest of us remain the master storyteller long into life, until they have to pry the pen from our cold, dead hands. We can experience such a vast array of emotions -- such a long, twisted, fleeting, ever evolving spectrum of right now I am... -- that it often feels as though we simply don't have the capacity to hold it in forever...whatever it may be from moment to moment. Hold it in, or hold it together--For sustainable health and well being, it's gotta eventually come up and out, over, or through. For me, up and over has historically happened in one of four ways: Laugh, Cry, Dance, Write. I'd wanted to say that if I'm lucky, laughter is my first go-to -- taking things as they come, never personally, but lightly and with a free heart. But this is a bit too flighty, even for my taste, and it also implies that crying is bad. It's not -- crying is just rinsing, and it is often a necessary spiritual cleansing of both happy and sad. And Lord knows, for better or worse, I am a crier. Dancing and writing have been there for me over the years, too. Both acting as pillars of support to safely let go and flow within them. This is a very hard essay to write, but it has been one I have mulled over in many forms through the past few years of blogging. Hinted at, even. I have been very scared to write this essay. But with the passing of Robin Williams, a man who embodied laughter in motion in a way that Anne Lamott describes as "carbonated holiness", and all of the truths a death of this kind brings to the light, my spirit has told me that it's OK now. That honey, it's time. So here we are, and here it goes.... Sometimes there are babies of this earth who can't find their up and over release. Sometimes these babies have demons who strip their true joy from them, and find false release in something such as one of the many forms of addiction on our planet. Sometimes these babies have mental illness, too, because it was simply the card they were dealt and is one that has shaped them in ways beyond their immediate control. And sometimes these babies with addiction or mental illness or the crushing, common combination of both feel so convincingly that their up and over release will never, ever come for them. Time and time again they feel the failing of release, to the point that they might even decide to do something so horrifyingly sad and final and painful, to finally force the over for good -- to force the burden of life weighing heavily on them to be lifted, and to lift the burden of themselves they often perceive to be weighing on the people they love, as well. In an effort to grasp some semblance of control, with pen in hand, they sometimes choose to end their story. We who are left behind may feel betrayed or confused or just outright heart broken when this happens. It hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts. We who are left can also sometimes find no other way to make sense of our losses than to call those babies selfish, or cowardly. This is hard for me to hear. Amid all of the really thoughtful things said about the tragedy in death of this kind, I struggle a lot with folks reacting in the way of "how selfish". Maybe we take this route as a way to digest and close the window of never ending what ifs/if onlys/and straight up, fucked up, fears flooding in. Maybe we process anger and resentment, first --clinging to it like a shield, fending off the agony of an answerless loss. Or maybe we hold this view as a way to distance ourselves from the reality that we cannot possibly understand how in the hell this could be a choice someone we care for would actively choose, whether sober or not, whether the signs said otherwise, or were missing altogether. Please know that I have never personally attempted to end my own life. Not even close. But, though it terrifies me to admit it, I have felt sadness so hopelessly deep in my bones that there have been nights where I resigned myself, face down on my pillow, to saying a prayer that consisted of asking for it to just be enough already. No more, please. I am exhausted and spent...the release has yet to find me. Through sheer grace, years of continued therapy, and a hell of a lot of support from beautiful, loyal, unwavering friends, I have always managed to come through to morning. For this, I am a lucky one. I am a lucky one who sees her life as a never ending self-study in mental health -- my recognition of the permanently impermanent cycle of my brain has been life changing. I can find the release in this: in knowing I do not have to constantly move the goal post, or strive for a "fixed" version that simply does not exist. I am, and so it is. There's peace in this. I have witnessed this kind of sadness in others, as well. I have sat outside a dormitory bathroom stall as a person I loved (and still love) cried out in such immense pain, after a night of a few too many drinks, talking...pleading with...God to give her the strength to end her own life. You read that correctly -- the strength to end her life. I sat on that floor for hours, also pleading with God for strength -- to take us into morning, to tell me what to do, to help me help her in whatever way my small and powerless teenaged being could. Then I followed her to her bedroom where I half-slept on the floor, blocking her path of exit for fear she would wake up, sneak away, and actually do what she begged for help with. She never did. But many other folks do, and it is my firm belief that there is no room for placing blame on anyone in these scenarios. It is not your fault (I repeat: it is not your fault), and maybe, it is not theirs, either. Here is my truth about we who are left behind: it isn't our beliefs on this subject that make us a more knowing, better person, but our actions and behaviors that do. This is the same for all of life as I know it -- it is not our beliefs, but our behaviors that make us better. So where do we go from here, we who are left behind? And where do we go, we whose demons deny us our up and over release to the point of silencing the inner madness in harmful ways? I think, maybe, We come to each other. We support a cause which aims to de-stigmatize mental illness, like this one. We reach out for help -- raw, humbling, humiliating help-- in any way we know how. I beg you, please, babies, reach out for help. We try and we fail, forgive and let go. We empathetically embrace, and judgement-free love -- both ourselves and our messy worlds, over and over, then over once more, imperfectly leaving the goal post in the dust. We laugh, cry, dance, write and find our sustainable ways of up and over releasing when it's just too much. And maybe we sit outside bathroom stalls for hours, clammy hands wringing with anxious unknowns, and simply wait. Wait for the morning to come, prayers from the heart frantically muttered to any damn God who will listen, until from the darkness, inevitably, comes the light. It hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts. But you are not alone, you are not alone, you are not alone. much love and light, Trish
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After posting this little piece on kindness, particularly during difficult times for others, a few folks reached out to ask about what, exactly, this type of kindness looks like. What does it really mean, include, entail? An excellent question, that I'm so glad you asked! Y'all are just so deliciously introspective and curious -- I'm the luckiest to have you here. So, my darlings, while I am certainly no expert, here's how I have learned to recognize true kindness in hard times: Kindness is taking a deep breath before responding to someone and their "news"; taking a deep breath before reacting to just about anyone, actually. A moment...a pause...to wash away impulses of judgement or fear. One deep breath can be just the ticket. In Buddhism, there is a beautiful practice called Tonglen. When at a loss for words or direction, a very compassionate act is to breathe in deeply, feeling a fiery, scratchy burn deep in your throat as you imagine absorbing all of the hurt for another. Then, as you exhale, imagine you feel a cooling breath; soft, calm and refreshing. Breathe in their pain, breathe out relief. It's a simple gesture that has a powerful influence on energies being exchanged; it's a simple gesture that works wonders on exercising kindness for yourself, as well. Kindness is striving for (as we say in coaching) "level 3 listening"; a listening that self manages, takes out the "me" thinking, and simply listens intuitively, with curiosity, and openness. Remember: there's not always a need for fixing (read: rarely a need for fixing), but always lots of need for holding safe space. Kindness is small gestures. A card, an email, a little treat to lift their spirits. No need to spend a lot of money--we live in a digital world that provides lots of free opportunities to pop up and say hello, I'm thinking of you, loving you, and sending you good thoughts. And because you will think of them, randomly, as our brains thrive on all things random, jump on that moment to connect. Don't wait until later, you know? Don't wait for the "perfect time", because that moment is the exact perfect time. And before you say it -- no, this is not awkward. Ever. You know what else is not awkward, even when it seems like it might be? Human touch. Kindness is human touch. A hug, a hand to hold. I often tell my friends, "FYI: I'm really into physical touch these days" before I rub their back or reach out to stroke their arm as they share with me, to help break the ice a bit. This will usually illicit a giggle, or a "you're so weird", but I just keep right on touching, and eventually it feels as natural as can be. We live in these annoying bubbles, afraid to make actual, physical contact with another person as a gesture of love or support or hey, I see you, hear you, and am here for you. Get out of the damn bubbles, I say. Reach out and touch someone, baby, even when it feels awkward as hell (you'll get over that, I promise). Kindness is reaching down into most humble and vulnerable places of our hearts, and offering up a bit of compassion....something we've all been naturally given, but sometimes forget to dust off every once and awhile. Kindness is showing up, despite having no idea what the "right thing" to say is. It's just showing up, and letting the other person just show up, too. Brene Brown has a beautiful message on this, and really the entire heart of empathetic kindness, here. Kindness can sometimes feel really hard. But it's worth practicing anyway, don't you think? What does kindness look like to you? Gratefully, Trish I have this friend who is just so sweet. I genuinely mean that. Not sweet in that kind of "oh she's so nice" way of describing a girl's personality simply because you can't think of any other outstanding or flattering character compliments. She truly is just the sweetest, right to her core, and everyone says so immediately after meeting her. So this sweet friend of mine, she's going through a challenging time. And the truth is, it's just the beginning of this challenging time. She knows it, I know it. It's the start of a lot of unsure and potentially scary days ahead; ones made up of guilt, sadness, excitement, worry, and hope bits and pieces, all mixed together, swirling to the surface at most inconvenient times. But it's also an incredibly transformational time. A time of humble vulnerability and of embracing the unknown. And it's the first time, in a long time, where she is fully listening to her spirit and making choices to honor her best life possible. She's betting on herself, which is a worthy risk to take, though often frightening beyond words. But this sweet friend of mine is also facing an additional layer of complications to this challenging time. You see, some of her family members aren't being very kind to her when she tells them "the news". Lots of fear projecting, doubtful questioning, and whatnot. We humans are so talented at that kind of reaction to "the news", aren't we? It's really bringing my sweet friend down. My friend, who is always so supportive of others, and who never seeks to judge choices because of her heartfelt understanding that not always understanding does not = grounds for every unsolicited opinion. If you couldn't tell, I'm kinda puffed up for my friend. A few years ago I remember reading/seeing/hearing a random quote from Hilary Duff (sorryI'mnotsorry for enjoying a little celebrity smut in my life from time to time) that basically ended with a line that's lingered with me for years, and has resurfaced again from hearing about my friend's family difficulties: We are just not kind enough to each other. Taking Ms. Duff's lead, I want to impart one small piece of advice to the TGL community (because I know I'm the luckiest to have your attention for a moment). I want to say here what I'd like to say to her family but can't (annoying social norms and all that), so that this desire for a shift on behalf of challenging times can be put into the Universe somehow... When someone you love feels he or she must make a very difficult decision in order to better themselves -- one that has been painfully, awkwardly, or hauntingly nagging at them for months, possibly even years -- think for a moment not so much on what you would personally do in their particular shoes (because darlings, you have no idea unless you magically, actually are) but rather of all the ways you yourself would hope, pray, and yearn to be shown compassion in the midst of a difficult decision. How much it would mean to you, for someone to listen without judgement; to offer no solutions, but an abundance of love. That's really all anyone ever wants from our fellow man, you know? An abundance of love. The truth is: We don't always have to understand. And oh my, will we ever not understand. But we do, I think, have to try our hardest to remember kindness. It's applicable everywhere, this kindness vibe. In all areas of life, a daily dose of this magic elixir has powerful healing benefits. For the parents of the screaming baby on your 6 hour flight, for your son who decides to quit his high paying job to travel the world, for the customer who asks so many annoying questions you should be billing extra, for your sister's recent break up from a guy you all really (finally) liked. Imagine what would happen to each of these folks if we were, simply, a little kinder to one another. In Gratitude, Trish It's been a whole day, so I'm basically an expert at 30. Here's what I know: 1. In your thirties, you get really thirsty. Hydration becomes key to your success in all aspects of life more than ever before. I know this to be true because suddenly my desk on any given day looks something like this: 2. You may have learned a lot in your 20's, but there are still many days ahead when you're going to ask yourself some version of what the eff did I do that for? Truth is, you only have to explain yourself to the people who hold your heart, and whose hearts you in turn deeply cherish. Everyone else can pretty much go to.....yea.
3. In your thirties, you'll sometimes still wake up with a fresh pimple on your forehead. This will make you think for a moment that perhaps your skin is more youthful than your age, so you should be oddly thankful for this pimple. You might even feel a bit smug: Ha! How cute am I? With this fresh forehead pimple helping me appear so much younger. Friends, do not be fooled. Because you will then lean in close to your mirror to apply fancy acne cream to the blemished area (you're 30, so you can spend more on things like blemish cream) and you will notice 2-3 new gray hairs have also appeared on your head overnight. This is, indeed, total bullshit. One or the other, I say -- either I am so youthful that I must struggle with teenaged zits, or I am transitioning to a golden time of upping the hours clocked in my hair colorists chair. One. Or. The. Other. 4. In order to change people's lives, you first gotta be willing to be changed. This one came to me the other day as I was thinking (read: worrying) about building up a coaching business, and it hit me right in the gut. Folks will only be ready for beautiful, positive, and vulnerable transformation and connection when you yourself show up ready for the same. *gulp* Let's do this. 5. It's not the quantity of friendships that will make life more full, but the quality of them. Choose good people who help make you good people. iPhones are good places to store these people... clink clink clink
I'd like to ask that everyone raise their imaginary glasses, so that I may take a moment to say a few words to the beautiful birthday girl.... Because I don't want to wait to say the things we hold in our hearts until some perceived perfect or socially acceptable moment, I'd like to make a toast. Because I don't want to miss the chance...any chance...to let you know how special you are, and to celebrate the joy you bring to so many, I'd like you to know: Sister -- You are captivating. If I close my eyes, I can hear your little voice calling for me down the hall, your clock radio dialed to a country music station, a Berenstain Bear book laying across your lap when I get to your room. I can see the potions created together from mud and leaves in the backyard, and our kiddie pool filled with the cut grass you inevitably dragged in with your tiny toes, even though I begged you to use the pre-pool feet wash-bucket, first. I can smell our freshly bathed Johnson & Johnson skin lounging together on Mom and Dad's bed, one of us holding up the hand mirror at the wicker vanity while Dad gently blow dried our hair, while the other waited her turn, head wrapped in towel, babbling about our day. I can feel the energy of dancing in the living room, asking for "the square song" to be put on one more time, or dressing up so that our poor parents could watch our 18th dance performance to the entire Aladdin soundtrack. I remember so much about growing up with you by my side, and I have loved every minute of it. Even minutes like... Once, when you were in high school and I a college newbie, I remember us being in the car about to leave the mall together. I remember you getting a call from home and I remember the look on your face when you turned to me while blatantly blaming whatever it was you were getting in trouble for (you so rarely got in trouble, you'd think I'd remember) on your big sister. You looked so frantically apologetic, and I could sense the desperate plea of don'tbemadandalsopleasesayyes so clearly that I remember having no choice but to roll my eyes and say "It's fine. I'll get this one". I'd take the fall for you any day, kid. I want you to know that while our sisterhood has always been deeply important to me, I can now say without a shadow of a doubt that it has become the absolute most rewarding relationship of my life. To continue to grow into these chapters of adulthood together--to feel so supported and encouraged by someone who has intimately experienced the same ups and downs of being a family -- is a wonderfully magic thing. And to have you finally, as of just a few years ago, give up resisting my crazy need to always hug and kiss and cuddle you...to win your acceptance and reciprocation of this love language... is a victory I am willing to brag about for days. If there were medals for this, I would wear mine daily. Belle, there are millions of sisters all over the world, and the dynamics of each are unique and so often incredibly beautiful. Some of these sisters are related by blood, while others by pure, vibrant, energy of the heart. And I, birthday girl, hit the jackpot when I got both in you. Love you forever. Cheers, T Like water, indeed.
To be the jellyfish, as B says. Trusting the process and the natural law that all things unfold as they should, so to be here is the most peaceful place we'll find. And then connecting...oh baby, the connecting. How great is that? To be floating freely, experiencing the flow with both a sense of trust and awe...absolute awe. And then connecting with folks who pop up along the way without having to exercise any effort, because it's all serendipity at it's finest -- and to then be brave enough to reach out and actually hold one of these folk's hands, just because. To hold their heart in your heart, to hold space for them in their own flow, even if it doesn't follow exactly with yours. Or recognizing oh my gosh, me too! in one another, and feeling so much better about it all. Maybe they are needing you or you are needing them or maybe it really is just freaking because Jack has had it right all along -- it's always better when we're together. This sea of people. To be in it together, nourishing one another, refreshing the journey and making it a little bit lighter for someone else's swim because, simply, you can. We belong to each other, me and you. And because heartache is the Universal language, we are not so different as we sometimes pretend. What I'm trying to say is: I love this necklace. Thank you, Kim, for taking the time to find something so very "Trish"; for reminding me that the flow is where it all happens. The flow is where the stories we eventually tell our children (when they're old enough, of course) come to fruition and play out in ways where we are left with learning and re-learning, deeply, about what it means to be, have, feel enough. It's what brought me, and kept me, in California. And it has made all the difference. Be like water, my friends. Gratefully, Trish My heart is swelling with pride this week, as my dear friend and pseudo little brother (aka long time bf to cutie sister) sees the results of his team's years of commitment, patience, adventure and passion fully come to life in a new and rewarding way. I am stoked to share a piece of his hard work today and I just know you are all going to get the ooey gooey feelsies from checking out his company, Thread. So, how did Thread come to be? In short summary: "Visiting Haiti after the earthquake in 2010, our founder and CEO, Ian, traveled to Port-au-Prince to assist in the relief effort. He noticed two things in abundance: 1) trash and 2) a desire to work. He jotted down in his journal: If Haiti could turn trash into $ = good. This idea sparked a Google search, which quickly morphed into a journey to develop responsible, sustainable solutions to problems facing people throughout the world." THREAD TRANSFORMS TRASH FROM THE POOREST COUNTRIES INTO DIGNIFIED JOBS AND USEFUL STUFF PEOPLE LOVE. You guys...(chills, chills, chills)... Look at what they've been a part of creating, in partnership with the talented team at Moop. Look. At. These. Bags. (drool) And, look at these happy Haitian faces!! To me, this bag is so full of hope. This bag is so full of hope, in fact, I know I simply can't keep it for myself. And trust me, I really want to keep it for myself. I've been planning on keeping it for myself since Frank first told me about it months ago, and I subsequently asked him dozens of times when, when, when, will this bag be mine. WHEN WILL THIS BAG BE MINE, FRANK, I shouted via gchat. And now it's finally here, and I'm more in love with it than I could have imagined. But I realized suddenly, just as I was completing my purchase, that I am actually compelled to give it away. Yes, I thought. I am so inspired to share this bag's message of what love, hard work, and community can create with someone else that I simply must give it away. (Of course, if anyone wants to be my #1 friend on my 30th birthday... hinthintnudgenudge...) So I'm giving one bag away via my snuggly corner of the internet Universe, on which I have learned so much about love, hard work, and community...and I hope you'll help me spread the news. Mostly, I ask my lovely readers to look inward--to tap into the boldest places of their hearts, acknowledge their worth, and courageously give life a chance to unfold in miraculous ways. Inward, I've found, is always a good place to start. Today, however, I'm also asking you to look out--Look out into the world and into our huge, messy, beautiful human family and picture a place of healing, both for mama earth and her children. Healing is where it's at. Hallelujah, indeed. Friends -- Will you share this post with your communities? Will you help me spread the news about Thread and the great, hopeful, loving work they are doing to sincerely make the world we share a better place? It would mean so much to me to see this message shining all over, thanks to your time and support -- I would be so grateful to know folks are cheering my friend and his team on in this way. And, if you'd like a FREE chance to own a Thread + Moop Paperback bag for yourself, all you have to do is: 1. Share this post on Facebook and/or Twitter, tagging Thread. and... 2. Leave a hopeful comment below. That's it! Easy peasy. My heart is positively swelling this week, as I watch a team of young people make strides in healing our world. Because, they are really freaking doing it, you know? Not just talking or dreaming. But really freaking doing it. Chills, chills, chills. Yummy goosebumps for all. With hope, Trish {This contest has now closed. Thanks everyone for their support!} ************************************************************************
To learn more about Thread, have a look at their Impact Report and listen to this audio piece. And, to purchase a beautiful Thread + Moop bag for yourself and loved ones (hint: Mother's Day, Father's Day, New Grads, Summer birthdays and weddings!!), visit here. Dear J, I remember the first day we met, almost 5 years ago, as though it happened yesterday. I love our friendship story. I was exploring my new-ish SF neighborhood and stumbled upon a tiny "Help Wanted" sign in the window of a cute boutique. I was in the midst of a zillion life transitions, and my fun-employment status nudged me to sporadically apply for the job. "I just liked you," you later told me, after I was hired. "I don't know. I just liked you and your energy". I felt the same way about you. I remember after only a few short weeks of working side by side in the little store you managed at the time, how we trekked out to Target together to pick up a few things for a small shop party. I remember getting back into your car and hearing the small voice of my spirit...the one I was just learning to know...telling me It's OK. You are safe. I remember then melting down, right there in the middle of a Target parking lot, seat-belted in your Subaru -- how I confessed that my marriage was not well, that it never really had been, even before it officially began, and that I was so scared, ashamed, guilty, confused. I remember letting it all come flooding out in a way that basically told you Hi. I have chosen you to be my friend and confidant on the West Coast. Please do not reject me. And although the memory of your stunned and surprised face still makes me giggle--although we still laugh about how you went home to your hubby that night mildly befuddled and told him "Holy crap, I feel so bad for this girl..."...you did not, in fact, reject me. I am still so grateful for that. My sweet J-- I know you are scared, sad, and confused right now. I know your hard work...your hard, wholehearted, creative work...has hit a rough spot and is not unfolding in the way you'd like. So I wanted you to know, in case you need the reminding, that with me? It's OK. You are safe. You are brave, and kind, and good. You are fierce when it comes to your friends and family, and you are a spark plug of passion that confirms your distant Jersey roots. (You know I had to throw that in there). You are insanely talented. Like...insanely. You have a natural ability to bring fashion into a woman's life in a way that makes her spirit feel huge. You care about your customers, and it shows. You make me, and so many others, look and feel good. I have had the pleasure of watching you grow from a manager and buyer to an OWNER, manager, buyer, and every freaking little thing in between. Holy cow, there are so many freaking little things. While I don't own that crystal ball you often pine for, I do have something else to offer you--the same level of non-judgmental support you were so generous to give to me (albeit a position mildly forced on you) 5 years ago. I have seen you figure it out on the fly before, and I have full faith you will figure it out again. Most days I think this whole world is just flying by the seat of our pants. But at least you do it in fabulous heels. You've put it all out there, taken the risks, and continue to strive for the best. There is never any shame in that. You amaze me with your work ethic and your commitment. Please remember these values are part of who you are, deep down, and they will remain there long after any ol' business. Your natural, beautiful, true-to-you talents will stay with you no matter how your story unfolds. And honey, so will I. Love you, Trish *********************************************************************************
TGL Side Note: You guys, shop small whenever you can. Support the folks who are fighting every day to keep their dreams and passions alive. Connect with them. Benefit from their unique talents and personalized care. Think about where your money goes in a way that doesn't neglect the work being done every day by people who have taken a leap and bet on themselves. They are the inspiring bunch behind what makes dreaming so wonderful. Let's help keep the dream alive, yea? A few months ago, my beloved manslice casually mentioned to me that I often sleep "Like a Boss".
Heh?, I giggled, What the heck does that mean? It means you sleep like this, he replied while leaning back, smiling and putting both hands behind his head and modeling an almost arrogant, smug pose. And you do it pretty much every night. Laughing, I told him he was nuts and that I have never slept that way in my life. My arms would fall asleep, I said. I think I would know if I suddenly switched my sleeping position after 29 years. No one else has ever said this about me, so I feel like you've just been dreaming! OK, he chuckled, but you literally do it all the time and it is really amusing. Yea yea. Picture or it didn't happen, said the gal whom would inevitably eat her words. Of course only a night or two later (because the Universe is even more amusing than me) I woke up to find that both of my hands were, in fact, neatly tucked up behind my head. Like a boss?, I muttered out loud, half asleep and wholly confused. Apparently, I am one sassy sleeper. The reason I share this mini story is not so much because I feel the need to publicly admit I was wrong about my unconsciously chosen sleeping position, but because I kindasortareallytruly love that B has tagged it "Like a Boss". Not "little chicken" (another nickname he actually does have for me), baby bird or some other dainty, fowl-like representation of the "wing" formation my arms make...but Like a Boss: Easy, bold, self assuredness. That's what this expression brings to mind. So here's what I'm wondering: What would happen if I tried to live my conscious life more in a state of "Boss"-- meaning full ownership, management and control over my days. What would it look like to face down my personal challenges with a mindset of having the expert, seasoned, educated, and deservedly well compensated view of myself and ultimately made decisions from that space? And while we're mulling this over--What would it also be like if we all spent a little more time embracing our wide range of skills, capabilities and unique offerings to the world in the same way a super confident (maybe even slightly stereotypical) CEO-type does? What if...now stay with me here, cuz it's really getting juicy....we woke up each morning, arms behind our heads, satisfied smirk on our faces, and thought about tackling the day with an air of bold courage--essentially declaring this day to be ours for the taking, and...perhaps more importantly...for the making? It's kinda like taking our power back, don't ya think? Like understanding that we are the creators of our days, and acknowledging our innate strength to remain fully alive no matter what might come our way throughout them. Like knowing we have a choice in who we have on our teams, and not being afraid to ask them for what we really need. Like having a say, bigger than anyone else, over how our stories should unfold. I don't know about you, but I like this idea a lot. Like a Boss. Try it on! (But it's OK if you'd prefer to sleep with your hands at your sides. Nobody wins with a set of numb arms...) In Gratitude, Trish PS-- Like I said...the gal who eats her words....(thanks for the sneaky AM photo, babe): ...This is not a typical end to conversations I have with my girlfriends....(it's also probably not as un-typical as one might think -- I live in SF, remember?)...but it is one I recently stated. Let me back up. A few months ago I had date with myself at Imperial Day Spa. I do this from time to time -- head out for a day of guilty pleasures with good ol' Trish. Sometimes I try a new restaurant, other days it's just a book, a blanket, and the great outdoors. One time, I saw a matinee showing of the Hannah Montana movie by myself... which turned out to be pretty awkward, as the only childless adult in the theater, getting choked up when Billy Ray and pre-twerking Miley sang a father/daughter duet (save her, Billy Ray!). This time, my pleasure day was spent at a traditional Korean spa in SF . Here, I was bathed, scrubbed, rubbed, oiled, stretched, and flopped around on a plastic wrapped massage table by a tiny Asian woman in classic black Hanes Her Way undies. She was cordial but unsmiling; kinda mean, but kinda nice. She was no nonsense in her 100 lbs. of quality cotton covered unmentionables. I loved her immensely. I was also surrounded by other women undergoing the same procedures, politely smiling occasionally when our "eye masks" (read: a wash cloth haphazardly draped over my face) slipped and we were face to face in equally naked, compromising positions. I had heard about this place from my yoga teacher, who sold me on the concept with words like "body", "butter", "smooth", and "I f*cking love it". (I tell her all the time she is the dream teacher - a zen California girl, with a mouth and a 'tude like the best of NJ). If Lindsay likes it, I thought, then so will I. While this brief description probably has some of you cringing, and questioning my taste in recreational activities (let's just forget the Hannah date, k?), it's important for you to know that your judgements behind letting Hanes Her Way use a cloth and some sugar scrub to vigorously sloth off what gloriously feels like an entire layer of skin (and yes, they really get it all...from everywhere), are so very wrong. Because, dear readers, It was awesome. After 90 minutes of hot water filled buckets being dumped on me, fresh cucumber applied to my face, warm oils rubbed into my pinked skin, I felt refreshed, stretched, scrubbed clean. Pampered, accepted, and even a tad glow-y, in fact. I recalled my experience for a handful of girlfriends recently, and 3 I want to try it!'s later, we come back to the title of this post... Girls, I said as my friends nervously fiddled with their pink robes, I just read a quote today that I want to dedicate to this night with you...I'm paraphrasing here, but it goes something like this: It's time we end our memberships to the church of self improvement, and begin to worship at the temples of who we are! (actual, much more eloquent, quote can be found here). And with that, my beautiful friends and I dramatically dis-robed in the silent spa, giggling like children and obviously approving of one another's hot bods. How does an evening at Imperial play out, you ask? First, you strip down in a well maintained locker room and wrap yourself in a pink robe, trying not to make it obvious that you are attempting to read the back tattoo on the lady bending down next to you. Then, you squat on a plastic chair in front of removable shower nozzles, soaps, and a bucket for a bit of pre-bathing. Yep, a bucket. It's all very primal. Yet somehow, slightly regal. Next, you soak in the hot tub for 20 minutes (30, if you are able to take the heat without passing out, which would be pret-ty awkward in a nakey-time Korean spa). When your number is called from upstairs (Fo-ty Sevan! Fo-ty Sevan!), you make your way up the steps to be greeted by a cordial, but unsmiling, middle aged Asian woman wearing nothing but her unsexy skivvies. This is where the pleasure begins, and where you quickly get over the fact that your ass is being scoured by a complete stranger. This is where you relax into the massage, and, instead of being freaked out, marvel at the fact that this woman can simultaneously kneel-balance on your freshly scoured ass while moving her knees in a circular motion and digging her elbows into the knots of your back. Was she a gymnast in another life? I'll never know. 90 minutes later, and you feel brand new. Thankfully, my friends LOVED their time at Imperial. But I already knew they would, because my friends are awesome. Here's the thing -- this sort of female bonding happens all over the world (e.g. Korean spa). This safe space to relax, breathe, cherish and nourish our bodies in their most natural states is not considered weird in other cultures. So why do we often make it such a big deal, here? Shouldn't we boost each other up by celebrating who we are at our most vulnerable? Shouldn't we say to our beloved gal pals what up, ladies, my parts are just like your parts, and they are beautiful and real and sacred...let's go get them polished! Suffice to say, if you're ever in SF and want to try Imperial out...you know my answer. In Gratitude, Trish Recently a TGL reader wrote to me about receiving a bit of news that left her feeling unexpectedly unsettled: her ex, whom she had willingly separated from months ago, had begun dating someone new. This is weird, she said. I'm not sure how to react to this or how I actually feel. The break up was my choice, and I don't want back in, yet I also can't shake feeling...not good.
Oh honey. Been there. After a few days of mulling over her situation, I decided it was time to head back to the blog for my most honest reply... When my last serious relationship ended (quite some time ago), after many months of deep unrest, I truly wanted my ex to be happy. In fact, I felt there was no one else on this planet that deserved to move forward into a fabulous new life more than him. In a sad way I'd wanted him to find new love for several years; a love that honored all that he is and fulfills him in the ways that he completely deserved. I meant that with every pore of my being at the time, and still hope this for him everyday. In some ways, when your ex moves on, it will be a relief. It will feel like you are finally let off the hook a little bit. That you can, perhaps, stop punishing yourself so much. That you can let go of feeling bad for him or worrying that he is sad and lonely or that you damaged them in irreversible ways. You can, simply, let go. And yet... You know what it's like to be loved by this person, and it is a truly special thing. Because really, all great love...no matter how long it lasts...is truly special. Being loved by this person is probably one of the most special things you will ever experience in your life because it changed you. Letting go of him fully, knowing that you are no longer holding that particularly special place in their heart, leaves you a little bit sad. And scared. And coulda/shoulda/woulda consumed. And of course, guilty. Always guilty. Guilt from constantly re-evaluating how you could have done better, been better; that you made it more difficult than it needed to be for the both of you. This person has likely been a source of comfort for you. He will always feel a little bit like "your" person. Knowing they are moving on, even when a break up was your choice, can feel like the last bit of comfort in your old life leaving you. And lord knows as humans we run from discomfort at every turn. Your ego thrives in times like these. It's mildly jealous of the lucky guy or gal who gets this love next. Your ego is fearful that you will never again be wholly loved, respected, adored, appreciated the way you might have been at one time, or hope to be again soon. In situations where you played the role of the heart-breaker more than the break-ee, your ego also tells you have no right to feel anything but positive towards them. How on earth could you possibly be so selfish as to feel any other way? After everything that transpired? After all of your mistakes?! The ego is a real bitch. From time to time one thought in particular will float around in your mind, and eventually it just might hit you like a ton of bricks: You are, officially, alone. And this, dear friend, is more of a blessing than you probably realize right now. As always, trust the process. Give time and space their deserved credit; they can be miracle workers, those two. And whenever possible, celebrate the life you shared with this person instead of re-mourning the relationships demise. Know that you did the best you could with what you knew and understood at the time, and give thanks for how they did the same. Being comfortable with who we are, including our pasts, is key to opening the doors for wonderful new relationships. The truth? There's no right or wrong to how one should feel when an ex moves on. Like the little Shrek ogres that we are, there are layers to our being we often don't quite understand. Be gentle with that. Sit with it a little; get comfortable in the discomfort. Then send love and light to your once upon a time "better" half, and remember to hold a bit back for yourself -- for the person you are, have been, and are gloriously continuing to become. Gratefully, Trish 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 "The days are long, but the years are short." - Gretchen Rubin One of my oldest and dearest friends crafted me the most lovely, thoughtful and perfect gift for Christmas: a beautiful piece of canvas art depicting a heart shaped group of butterflies just beginning to take flight (picture to the left!). I adore this gift, and the way in which the butterflies seem to be in motion made me start thinking about the beginning of 2014; of letting go, of being light and free, and of flying to new adventures near and far. What could I do in my own life to feel more free, happy, and full this year? More specifically, what could I unburden myself from? It was time to take to the ol' blog for a bit of list making! So cheers, friends, to the start of another lap around the sun, and cheers to 5 things I vow to let go of at the start... 1. Gratuitous Guilt. It's the kind of guilt that is small, every day, and ordinary; just annoying enough to tug at your gut for a few hours or days at a time. The kind that pops up just itching to be reminded of...before it's replaced by something else. It's the guilt surrounding not having snail mailed Christmas cards this year (crap, I really meant to), or having picked up pizza for your guests instead of cooking something yourself. It's the guilt that stems from declining an invitation simply because you don't feel up for it, for sleeping in on Sunday instead of starting errands early and the guilt from not doing or liking something that others think you should. This kind of guilt is unnecessary and encumbering. What do you say we forgive ourselves for not meeting every made up expectation and be satisfied with just doing the best we can, exactly as we are? 2. Size twenty(ahem) pants. My body is changing. It's time I honor it, and my new size, with the kind of clothes that feel best on my frame. I vow to continue eating a mindful diet and exploring my interest in yoga, but I will no longer be squeezing into a pair of now-uncomfortable jeans simply because my ego thinks it's better to fit into a particular number size than not. I have a hot man who thinks I am quite the sexy catch (and who calls me Trishdashian, as a play on Kardashian sized booty curves). What the hell am I stressing about? 3. Chronos time. I love discovering new blogs via great friends, and this one has to be one of my favorites from 2013 (Thank you, Noodle!). "I want a chronos answer to a kairos question. But we are not waiting for the bus, here. I am being called to a deeper waiting. Nouwen calls it 'active waiting.': Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in the conviction that something is happening where you are and that you want to be present to it. Our waiting is always shaped by alertness to the world." 4. "Next Year" mentality. No more waiting for the perfect timing to do what my heart truly desires. No more moving the goal post out. Do it now, do it now, do it now. (Hint: hello, CTI) 5. The "Snooze" button. This one was suggested...ever so gently...by B (I imagine it might have something to do with how it disturbs his own sleep patterns, but we'll look at it more generally). I have nothing against sleeping in. In fact, I encourage it! But there is something about the avoidance of waking up to start my day that bothers me a bit. So, the snoozing shall cease and the exploration of making mornings more cherished, enthusiastic and welcoming begins. Happy New Year, darlings! What 5 things can you let go of this year? Love and Light, Trish Three years ago I logged into my brand new Weebly account for the very first time to begin my blogging journey on The Grateful Life. It's been an awesome part of my life thus far and I am beyond thankful for you, my readers, for continuing to check in with me. Folks often comment on how much they admire my grateful, positive outlook on life. Believe me when I say I love hearing those words as much as I love working on my gratitude practice--to these folks I say THANK YOU for helping to keep me inspired, motivated and in the learning process. But there is something I want to admit today, on my 3 year blogiversary, that I have thought about many a time over my years of blogging.... Sometimes, I can be an ungrateful bitch. *gasps from the crowd* Before you close your browser and declare TGL a house of lies, I want to explain what I mean by sharing a little story. I present to you: The True & Awful Story of How Trish Almost Ruined Van Morrison for Her Boyfriend Van Morrison has been B's favorite artist for as long as he can remember. When we heard he would be coming through SF on tour I knew I had to find a way to take him. Thanks to the efforts of our wonderful friend Deva, I managed to buy (ahem, rather expensive) tickets to the sold out show as an early Christmas present. Major girlfriend points earned! We counted down the days to the event; listening to our favorite songs over and over, discussing which tunes we most hoped to hear, and planning out our entire evening--from what outfits to wear to a celebratory drink spot beforehand to how we would share the story after. To summarize: we were giddy with excitement. But then the night of the concert arrived.... ...and it was not exactly what we had expected. And oh my...my oh my...did the ungrateful bitch come out in me. To be blunt--Van performed like the pro that he is, sounding as great as anyone could have assumed--smooth, cool, effortless, and the perfect mix of blues and jazz. But 98% of his show was focused on his new material, and the hits that we could all probably sing in our sleep...the whole reason why I bought the tickets...were almost altogether missing from the show. With each passing new song, my anxiety began to rise. Why hasn't he played a classic yet? Doesn't he know how much money this audience paid to hear their childhood favorites? I swear to God if I don't hear a Brown Eyed Girl or a Moondance chord soon I'm gonna scream.... At one point my frustrations got so intense that, as I squirmed in my seat, I sang out altered lyrics to his request for audience participation. While Van crooned the word "Satisfied..." for us to repeat, I sang back "DIS-satisfied" not-so-under my breath... ...Ugh. I wish I were kidding and sort of wish I did not just admit that, but I was a woman quickly unraveling. All of my manifesting, perspective switching, good thoughts mustering powers had disappeared and left me itching for a hit of "Tupelo Honey" like you would not believe. Meanwhile, B very much enjoyed the concert. He was a little disappointed not to hear more classics, too, (we heard 3 out of probably 20 songs that we knew) but he took an attitude of appreciation none the less. He was grateful to have been 9 rows away from his favorite musician, to experience some high quality music with me, and to at least have heard his favorite song "Into the Mystic" (which, I believe the Universe gave to us so as to keep me from actually having an aneurism...or throwing my shoe). As we began to exit the auditorium after the final encore my sweet and gentle love put his arm around me and smilingly asked, "Did you like it?!"...to which my almost entirely unraveled self bluntly replied "NO." ...Double ugh. I really wish I were kidding. After an almost silent ride home and a quick, unhappy conversation where I frantically outlined all the reasons I was so disappointed (with B gently trying to counter my negativity with positive thoughts) we went to bed in a sad little funk. By this point, I had not only worked myself into a tizzy of anger, but I had dragged B down the rabbit hole, too. Minus all girlfriend points. So here's why I share this story: Gratitude (along with love, acceptance and forgiveness) is a practice. Always has been, always will be. Life will continue to surprise you with unexpected twists that have the possibility to test you and maybe even occasionally disappoint you. So in order to avoid Morrison level melt downs, we've got to keep practicing. No one is perfect at it and that's OK--but we owe it to ourselves, our communities and our experiences to continue the process. Several days (and a plethora of apologies) later, we've talked more about the show and have come to a place where I see it more through his initial, thankful eyes than mine. Though I'm not quite ready to Moondance just yet... (practice. practice. practice.) love and light, Trish Weeknights have become my favorite nights.
Don't get me wrong--I still love weekends, of course. I love the flexibility to sleep in if I want. I love to be social and to soak up all of the fun adventures SF has to offer across every neighborhood nook and cranny. And I love generally turning my brain from "work" mode to "play". But since my habitation status changed from party-of-one to "co", I find myself deeply enjoying my weeknights from the moment my key hits the front door. Honestly? There is just so.much.more.laughter. Plus, B really likes to cook. And he enjoys whipping up healthy meals the most. In fact, he prefers it to dining out. So not only has my post-work tired self been immensely appreciative of this gesture lately, but my waistline and my wallet have benefited as well. We like the same TV shows, too. Well, for the most part--I do suck it up to watch American Horror Story (side-note: that show is f*cked up, ya'll!) and he zips his lips when I get caught up in a Real Housewife-esque reality show saga (besides laughing and saying "such smut..."). Did I mention we laugh a lot? We make plans and talk about our days. Then we laugh some more. And we comfortably settle in to fluffy blankets in order to unwind from city living over a couple of good books. It's been a super easy transition so far and I guess I am just feeling grateful for the pleasant normality of it all. Dating long distance for 1.5 years rendered many a butterflies/newness moment for us, which was wonderful, but I admit I was a tad nervous to find out what happens when there isn't a whirlwind of plans and excitement and cherished, limited time surrounding us; I was a tad nervous to just be. Everyday. In real life. And in normal. Sure, it's only been 2 weeks. As a few well intentioned folks have cynically pointed out--"Home cooked dinners every night? HA! Enjoy it now, because that won't last!".... This may be true. Many changes lie ahead, I'm sure. But that's not a very positive way to look at things, ya know? I prefer to think that it's only been 2 weeks and damn, they've sure been wonderful. So weeknights have (surprisingly) become my favorite nights. And any co-habitation advice to keep the good vibes flowing is very welcomed :) In Gratitude, Trish |
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