Thursday, October 8, 2015

Strangers and Prayers

I sat there looking around the table at all these strangers; a creative director, a graphic designer, a music arranger, a build guy, and a look leader. When I was the creative director, these were all the roles I knew, but my time at that church had come to an end and these new people were strangers.  I’ve been asked to choreograph the Christmas show for a big church in Anaheim and I’m so excited, but sitting there staring at those strangers my heart hurt.

I missed my friends.  I missed the comfort of knowing the people around the table. I was just praying I would remember at least two names.

Then I remembered all the times I sat around a table like this in the past, praying for the right person to arrive.  If only I knew someone who did graffiti.  If only I knew someone who could build towers.  If only I knew someone who could make costumes.  And every time, every single time, that person arrived just in time.  I saw my prayers answered every time I asked.

It’s different this time.  This time, I think maybe, just maybe, I’m the answer to THEIR prayers.  Maybe this time they were thinking, “If I could just find someone who knows how to choreograph/direct on a large scale.”  And there I was.

I've never felt this way before.  I always felt like my prayers were answered, but I never thought of myself as the answer to someone’s prayer. 

Then it occurred to me.  I bet we are all the answer to someone’s prayer.  Maybe you don’t believe in God or say words like prayer, but you know what I mean.  That person who held your hair back while you puked.  That person who sat with you when your dad died.  That person who helped quiz you before that test.

These people are our angels.  They are the people who make our lives easier and, man, I hope I can find more moments to be the answer to someone's prayer.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

I Don't Have Confidence, I Have Courage

I was floating in a two person inter tube with a good friend, the sun warming my skin, the laughter of my friends behind me, and my favorite drink in my hand.  I couldn't get the smile off my face.  My fourth of July weekend was going exactly as I hoped.  I opened my eyes to see my friend sheepishly jumping into the pool before anyone could get a glimpse of her "imperfect" body.

My first thought?  "I know exactly how you feel."

I'm a 39 year old woman who hangs out with people who are anywhere from 25-29.  We really don't seem that different.  Maybe it's my young heart, maybe they are old for their age, maybe age really is just a number, but these are my people and I love them.

Even if age is just a number, it is also relentless.  Everyone will get wrinkles, everyone will learn life lessons, and everyone's metabolism will slow down.  I kinda hate those blogs about moms who should learn to be proud of their mom bodies because their bodies are their proof of having a baby, accomplishing something amazing.  What if we ALL were proud of our bodies because our value isn't determined by whether we have had a baby or not, whether we work out everyday or not, whether our metabolism is 25 or 39?

I decided at the beginning of the weekend to not allow my 39 year old body to hold me back from anything.  I would dance around in my swim suit next to my 25 year old counterpart.  I would sit in my inter tube although the position made my stomach look awful.  I would get up and joust with my friends even though my legs would show my age.

Here's the thing.  I'm not a confident person.  If I was, those thoughts wouldn't even occur to me.  I don't have confidence, I have courage.  And the good news is that you can't force yourself to have confidence, but you can force yourself to have courage.  You CAN just choose to do something that feels scary and intimidating.  You can apply for that job.  You can ask that person to dinner.  You can be vulnerable.  You CAN dance around in that swimsuit.

The best part?  Your courage doesn't even have to come from you.  Have more faith in your friends.  Believe that they will still love you even if you're 10 pounds heavier than you think you should be.  Believe that they will be there to celebrate when you get that job.  Believe that they will carry your burden when that person doesn't like you back.

So here we go.  What are you scared of that you really want to do?  Don't rely on your confidence, rely on your courage and the people who love you.  Go do it.  Now.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Alone and loved.

Last Friday I had a very scary morning.

“Do you have someone in the waiting room?”


“You are here alone?!”



The ER nurse went from a look of confusion to a look of sadness.  What was going on in her head?  Did she think I was so alone that there was no one there to support me?  Did she think I was an idiot  driving myself to the ER?  Did she just feel bad for a girl who is my age with no one around?

Just a few hours earlier, around 2am, in the middle of rehearsal, I had coughed and a pain in my chest (that I knew well from a sickness a couple weeks ago) returned with a vengeance.   I pushed on my chest waiting for it to subside like it had so many times a couple weeks ago, but this time it stuck around.  And a few hours later, around 4am, while watching Grey’s Anatomy at home, it felt like someone stabbed me in the chest with the biggest knife you can imagine.  I felt like someone pulled my breath out of me and my whole body tingled.

I calmly called the after hours nurse and while on hold, it all happened again only worse.  Ok, time to get in the car and get to an ER.  After the second episode I started shaking so awfully that I couldn’t even read my medical number off of my card.

The shaking was going in waves, so when I arrived at the ER I looked and sounded fine.  The nurse was confused why I was even there until another wave over took me and I couldn’t even talk correctly.

Her first thought was that I was a meth addict coming down.  I laughed and it made her smile.  Then she asked me if I was responding to any prescribed medication.  I said “Nope, fit as a fiddle.”  Then she asked me if I was maybe having a panic attack.  Look lady, I don’t care about McDreamy that much.

After multiple EKG attempts (they couldn’t get a good reading because of my shaking), blood work, heart monitoring, and an IV, the doctor came in with the best and worst news.  “You look completely healthy.”

I sat there waiting to be discharged and looked around my empty room; the plain beige walls, the smell of sterile equipment, the tubes of my IV, and the lonely beep of the heart monitor speeding up every time another wave occurred.  During one of my shaking spells, I thought back to that nurse who wanted to know why I was alone and teared up a little.  I guess it’s true, other people probably have a significant other or at least someone with them, but I have trained myself to do things on my own.

But as the weekend went on, my roommate was pissed I didn’t ask her for help, and my parents wanted to bring me things, and my work team asked how they can help. It all reminded me, just because I am alone doesn’t mean I am not loved.

I am loved deeply by people all around me and I don’t need someone sitting in my ER room to know that.  I think that ER nurse is good example of how some people may look at us single people.  We seem alone, we seem unsupported, we seem unloved, but the reality is that no matter what other people think, I am loved, I am supported by so many, and sometimes my “loneliness” is actually a sign of great courage and strength.

There has been no answer to what happened to me and it took me a good three days to even be able to stand for longer than 5 minutes, but everyday I have made huge improvements and I’m almost back to feeling 100%.  (Sometimes God just wants to slow you down and making you stay in bed for three days is a good way to do it.)

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Little Tiny (Gigantic) Doubts

The shoes I wear when I hike are ridiculously old.  And I love them.  They tracked through Germany with me when I was the Ambassador of Disneyland and ran me to the finish line of my first triathlon.  There are little holes above my big toes and the front of the shoes are coming apart which sometimes flings dirt forward as I walk.  But I can't give up on them.  They fit my feet perfectly, they have been so good to me.

However, last night Matt and I were hiking.  I had mentioned to Matt for the last couple weeks that my shoes are more slippery with every hike we took.  But I still attack every hike the same way.  Yesterday, we were on our way down a pretty steep bank and my shoes finally gave up and my leg flew out from under neath me and I slammed onto the ground.  It hurt.  My hip was throbbing, I scraped and bruised the bottom on my leg, and my hands were stinging from catching me on the jagged rocks.

Matt and I decided that the path we were on was probably to steep for my little old shoes, so i knew if we headed back up the mountain, I could dig my toes into the mountain and succeed.  So we started up the steep incline.  I won't lie, I was scared.  It was steep and I doubted that my shoes could do their job, but I went forward anyway.  I went ahead of Matt and only about 10 steps later, my shoes gave up.  I started to slide down the cliff and my shoes would not grab on.  My hands grasping for something to hold onto, but I wasn't stopping.  I screamed to Matt, and he reached out and grabbed me.  Thank God for Matt and his solid shoes.

We gave up and ended up hiking parallel to the cliff until we were on a path that was flat enough that I could hike safely.

I can't stop thinking about how I can't remember the last time I fell while hiking.  And yet, I had just had two pretty bad falls right in a row.  Maybe it was my shoes.  Maybe they really had hit there breaking point, but also maybe it was me.  The first fall had put doubt in my mind, I had started wondering if these shoes could really get me through this hike.  I wonder if subconsciously I had started hiking differently because of that little tiny doubt in my mind?

Tiny little doubts can start making you live differently.  They can get into your mind and you start making decisions out of fear that you don't even know you are making.  The thing is, sometimes you need to change your shoes, but sometimes you  just need to stop making decisions because of fear (or at least start noticing when you are).

Thursday, December 25, 2014

The Truth and Sadness of the FirstRateSingleLife

Let's get real.  The worst night of the FirstRateSingleLife is tonight; Christmas Eve.

It's just horrible.

Ever year, after candles are lit, carols are sung, and presents are wrapped, I dejectedly tuck myself into the child size bunk bed in my parents spare room.  It's a wonderful room perfect of my nieces and nephews, but to me it's just such a glaring slap in the face reminding myself of where I am in life.  In my 30's, no man, no kids.

It was in this very bed 5 years ago that I cried myself to sleep wondering why I couldn't find a man who loved me.  How had I missed the boat?  Where was my fairytale? What was wrong with me?

So, that night, just before sleep took over, I made myself a deal.  I wouldn't watch a single romantic thing for six months.  Although they feel fun while I watched them, they ruined me when it was over.  So, no more romance; no Grey's Anatomy, no New Girl, nothing.

I also decided to take every moment by storm.  More rock shows.  More friends.  More time using my talents.

It is no coincidence that this was the year the FirstRateSingleLife began.  It was a freedom I can't explain.  To not be tied down by the ridiculous expectations society pushed in my face with every ad, tv show and movie.  I got to start seeing relationships in a real way.  And I was able to see that my life is freakin fantastic, just as it is.

So, here I am back in this very room 5 years later.  Still single, still pursuing the best life I can find.  And although this bed makes me want to scream, waking up alone in an empty house Christmas morning by myself is so much worse.

So I will crawl into this bed once again.  And I will forcefully put my foot down reminding myself that I am exactly where I should be.  I can't force a man to love me.  I can't make a publisher sign my book.  I can't stop these small lines forming around my eyes, but I can live each moment to the fullest.  I can laugh with my whole heart.  I can love those around me.  I can dance until I can't stand.  I can eat great food and watch fantastic rock shows.

This life will not pass me by while I wait for a man (because he may never show up).  But I will show up in life and continue to see the world.  I will enjoy sunsets.  I will buy myself flowers and treat myself like I deserve to be treated.

Every FirstRateLife has a hard moment.  This is mine.  Every year.

But in the morning, I will wake up and my brother and sister's family will come over and there will be laughter and shrieks of joy.  There will be stupid presents and perfect presents.  And I won't be able to think of a more perfect moment.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Running to Hope

I recently started a rigorous work out routine and today was a long distance run.  I knew that I had to pace myself, but my pacing was off and I found myself walking sooner than I wanted to.  So I made myself a promise – I would walk to the end of the song I was listening to and then I would run hard for the entire next song.

What Did I Get Myself Into:
The moment of horror came when the next song came on and I remembered it was a 15 minute song.  This was totally unfair.  I had only walked for about 2 minutes and now I had to run hard for 15 minutes.  But, I had made myself a deal and sometimes commitments aren’t exactly what you expect, but you still have to go for it.  So, here we go.

I Can’t Do It... Or Maybe I Can:
About 7 minutes in, my mind was telling me to stop.  Why should I keep going?  This was so unfair.  I took one walking step and I said to myself, “What are you doing?  Why are you walking?   Your true character is shown when no one else is watching and you made a commitment.  GO!”  And before I could take one more walking step, I found myself running again.

The Constant Torture:
The next 8 minutes were torture.  Absolute torture.  My calves were stabbing me with every stride.  My lungs were screaming, begging me to stop.  My heart worked as hard as it could to get blood to my arms, but my fingers would tingle every now and then.

But every time I would want to stop and walk, I would think about the benefit of hardship because suffering leads to perseverance which strengthens my character which leads me to hope; hope that I can do better next time, hope that I can make it through things I don’t think I can do, hope that there is something bigger out there that will move me forward.

This Is Just A Firedrill:
When it got so bad that I couldn’t think about anything except giving up, I would remind myself this is just a fire drill for the true commitments in life.  I was proving to myself when the real emergencies came - like giving up on my dreams, or giving up on a fast, or giving up on a marriage someday - I would know that I could do it because I did this.  And I would repeat again and again, “suffering to perseverance to character to hope...  suffering to perseverance to character to hope...”

The Surprise At The End:
Finally the song faded and on the downbeat of the next song I allowed myself to walk.  My legs pulsing with pain, the blood running through my legs trying to repairs the muscles that I had just tortured.  I pulled out my iPod to see exactly how long the song was and to my surprise, the song was actually 22 minutes long.  No wonder it seemed like the longest 8 minutes ever.  I had actually run hard for 15 more minutes.  Instead of pulling out my iPod over and over checking the time, I had focused on building my character and trusting what I knew to be true.  And thus, I found that I could do more than I could imagine just by putting my focus in the right place.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Same Kind of Lonely

Today I was rollerblading in Newport Beach.  Like usual, my headphones were on, blaring my song of  the day.  I'm pushing myself along at a quick pace when I slowed down because there was a couple rollerskating very slowly in front of me.  The girl was very unsure of herself, holding a tight grip on her boyfriend's arm.  Then, they stopped and were standing in my way - fighting.

The girl obviously wanted to stop and go back.  The guy was obviously trying to convince her to go on.  She shook her head and the guy threw his hands in the air and went on without her.  He left her standing there, alone and unable to move without assistance.

I pulled out my headphones, and started to offer her my arm just in time for her to start to fall and grab on.  We both laughed.  "Thank you" she said with an embarrassed smile.

"No problem, let's get you facing the right way."  We got her steady and facing the direction that her boyfriend went and we started on our way.  Her steps were tiny and slow and we laughed and she told me how she hadn't been on skates in years.  I told her that she was doing a great job and we would have her skating in no time.  Discouraged, she says "That's not what he thinks."

"Well, he's wrong."  She gave me an insecure smile.

As we skated along, keeping her on her feet, I realized that whether you are single or have an awful boyfriend, it's the same kind of lonely.  You have to figure it out yourself (or find a kind stranger to help you).  I don't know their relationship.  I don't know why she stays with him, but I know the kind of relationship I want to be in.  I would rather be alone and lonely, then with someone and lonely.