smackit17-blog

[smackit17-blog]

Of course in Los Angeles everything is based on driving. Even the killings.

In my last post, I talked about my adventures in couch surfing. More specifically, staying with my dear friend, her two kids and my newest frenemy, her 10 month old white lab, Kota. In addition to imposing upon her home, I arrived carless which in LA renders you completely dependent and helpless. 

Before you judge me to harshly and chalk me up to a mooch through and through, I had no idea how this test drive in LA (pun fully intended) was going to play out and figured I’d need to see what happened before committing to anything, even car rental. Also, I had asked my friend before arriving about immediately renting a car and her strong recommendation was to wait and see.

So as I bounced around between a couple of AirBnBs and a couple days at a friend’s (who subsequently broke up with me after my stay - more on that in another post) I made my way around via Uber. Mostly local west side trips, and I was feeling good about the decision as Uber is the one thing that is significantly cheaper here in LA vs NYC. Where this decision turned was last Wednesday when my friend picked me up to begin my extended stay in Bel Air. And then I started my new job on Thursday (the next day) which was located back in Santa Monica.

My friend lives in a beautiful gated community in lovely Bel Air. So lovely, I now reside mere houses from Kim K and Kayne, Freddy Prince Jr and Sarah Michelle Gellar and most interestingly the beleaguered Kathy Griffin. But with the gate comes some serious security, i.e. you cannot get through the gates unless you are on the list. So me being without a car meant in addition to all the other pain in the ass aspects of my presence my friend now had to alert the front gate every time an Uber came for me. 

Which brings me to lesson 1 in this post - A caged bird doesn’t actually sing. Unlike NYC there is almost no set up in LA where you can walk for simple errands like running for toothpaste at Walgreens or picking up a salad for dinner. You have to drive. And Uber’ing for every little thing not only starts to add up financially, it starts to take a toll emotionally -the feeling of dependence and gluttony to be lining the evil Uber company’s pockets and dropping $5-10 at minimum every couple hours. To add to the festivities, the AT&T cell service is spotty to non existent in wide swaths of LA geographies, so there are times when trying to get an Uber is not possible, unless you happen to be near a store with wifi that will allow you to use it. 

And then there’s the fact that I don’t know many people in LA, and the ones I know are sprinkled throughout the city, and like most Angelenos don’t like to travel outside of their neighborhood, or have been too busy to see me. I’m not trying to lay a guilt trip on anyone here. I realize that just because I am here, doesn’t mean anyone’s life stops to accommodate me and be my security blanket. Part of the next 3 months is to see if I can sort myself out here in a way where I can have a happy life and that means, making some friends and finding my way around and all that that entails. And let’s be honest, I’ve been in NYC for more than 20 years so you just cant compare being thrown into a brand new giant city. But its isolating and lonely as fuck. And for me, that’s never good.

So when I am feeling blue, a healthy self-medicator is exercise and outdoor activities. One of the big draws of SoCal as it so happens. However to go on these hikes and bike rides, you have to drive to the start point. I know ironic. Uber’ing to hike by yourself and risking poor cell reception and potentially being stranded - not appealing. So as my first weekend in Bel Air arrived, I started planting the seeds with my friend about hiking. The same friend who is run ragged as a single mom with two kids and battling an extended flu. Yeah, I know. But, I mean I’m desperate, and apparently also totally an ass. She gamely said she’d be down but as the weekend progressed it became clear it wasn’t happening. I felt pathetic that I had no friends to do anything with, and pathetic for being so helpless and stuck. And I felt annoying and embarrased. And then I started to feel like a prisoner. A prisoner in Bel Air. Pretty nice prison, but a bit of a caged animal feeling nonetheless.

Sunday morning arrived and I asked about food delivery in this city. I was told, sure yes and so I ordered for my friend, her sister (also staying there - more on that in another post) and myself. Only to have the delivery service promptly cancel. Just a sorry we’re too busy email. WTF! You’re too busy?! At this point I knew a meltdown was imminent. I also knew a meltdown wasn’t an option, given my circumstances. 

My friend’s sister seemed to sense the level of my distress and offered to take me to Whole Foods. I’m sure the level of gratitude I displayed was unnerving, but I truly felt it. I immediately went to get a Green & Glowing smoothie for myself and my friend. Surely that would put me back in the game. I got a few other staples for the day in case I would be housebound when I returned. So I put the smoothies in a carrier and walked out to the parking lot with my bag of food in one hand and the smoothie carrier in the other. And wouldn’t you know it, I dropped the smoothies. As I watched the contents ooze across 3 parking spots, I contemplated dropping to the ground and licking them up. I mean how much lower could I go?

Which brings me to lesson 2 - Don’t underestimate small acts of kindness. I went back to the counter and by the grace of god the same smoothie maker was at the register. I explained my woeful tale  and not only did she make me two new smoothies free of charge. she upsized them and walked me out to the parking lot to make sure I would make it. I mean...by the grace of god my friends I had a sign. LA didn’t hate me, I just needed to get a fucking car.

Now before concluding, there is a story within this story to share. The last time I was in a new city requiring a car was when I spent one year to the day in Richmond Virginia. At that time I couldn’t have been more stoked to have a car! A car was freedom from the shackles of the vile NYC subway system and smelly hot cabs. A car was road trips every weekend. And I got myself the dream car of every 60 year old man. A big white Mercedes that I dubbed the “white princess” and my co-worker dubbed “million $ listing” proclaiming I looked like a real estate agent in my big white sedan. Whatever, the car was awesome. So awesome it practically drove itself. Let me give you an example. If I wasn’t staying within my lanes it would urge me to pull over and get a cup of coffee, and beep insistently when I was too close to another car.

And I needed all the help the car had to offer. I had chosen the extra special tires to go with the car, i.e. most expensive $ could buy. And parallel parking by braille cost me about 6 popped tires in the span of the year. Another time the car couldn’t save me from myself was when i was driving on 95 South and went flowing over a ginormous pot hole at 85MPH not only popping the tire but damaging the wheel. Miraculously this occurred next to a construction site and I was able to get two of the site workers to put on my spare and drive the remainder of 95 at 25MPH. enough to get home. 

Which brings me to lesson 3 - Learn from your past. Don’t be imprisoned by your past. And I have a history of being distracted behind the wheel. One such event occurred a few months into my move. I was at a stoplight texting. YES you can do that at a red light in VA! I’m not the devil. Anyway I noticed out of the periphery of my eye that the light turned green. So as I looked up I simultaneously hit the gas petal. This white princess had serious pick up and between the time I had looked down and the light turned green, a motorcyclist had pulled in front of me. My led foot caused my car to bang right into him. Thankfully he jumped off and away from his bike at my first bang, because instead of hitting the break at that point, I panicked and hit the gas. The White Princess crushed his motorcycle like a bug. And then she was in the shop about 8 weeks of my single year in VA.

So this combined with a spotty track record from the get go of driving, nervousness of freeway driving, and poor night vision, was all playing into my insecurities around driving myself around LA. But the pros - the freedom, the chance to not feel like a prisoner and the biggest burden in the world, was putting me over the edge...

Which brings me to the final lesson of this post - Movies can have morals. The capper came at the conclusion of the weekend when my friend and I went to see Wonder Woman. The movie could carry 2-3 posts in an of itself, but the net net as it pertains to driving is that this woman was a fearless warrior and inspiration. And if she could save the world from Ares and leave her flawless island and mother to do it and never look back, then god dammit I would drive myself around LA. So Monday morning I marched into HR and proclaimed that I would accept their generous offer to use the agency car for a few weeks and swiftly ended my carless status.

And just to bing this back to what matters most is the simple fact that I have NO EXCUSES to not go to every ass finding class LA has to offer because I can now drive myself there anytime day or night :)

[smackit17-blog]

Couch surfing is deceiving. It looks easy but it’s really hard

In my inaugural post, I concluded by saying I was heading to Los Angeles for a change of scenery and to explore opportunities. And as it happened, one of the conversations I’d started before arriving, became real on my first full day in LA. We agreed to a 3-month trial and if we both decide it’s a good fit at the end of the 3 months I’ll be relocating from NYC to LA.

The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. Of course, you want to deliver great results, so that you are asked to stay on, but am I really ready to leave NYC? I mean LA is a fun place to visit, and I’ve talked about it moving here, but with the security of knowing I was locked into NYC- until now. Which brings me to lesson #1 in this post: Don’t underestimate the little things. Remember me espousing the belief that I am currently tethered to nothing and no one? Not entirely true. My family is outside of Philadelphia less than a 2-hour drive from my Battery Park apartment. I have an amazing network of friends with many of the friendships running more than a decade. My favorite workouts, restaurants, hell even the “go to” drycleaner, who can literally get out any stain. And so much more. It’s called a life and I was so wrapped up in thinking about a job and a relationship that I forgot about all the other things that make up a life.

And now here I am in LA with no net. Not even a go to Dentist. Clearly, I’m not in a 3rd world country, but you get the point. Familiarity breeds contempt, but man when everything is unfamiliar, the longing is palpable.

And I’m still dealing with the post-traumatic stress of the most recent fallout with my ex. (I know horrendous to bring him into a 3rd post, but whatever it’s part of what I am dealing with). Friends who don’t read my blog (and most don’t) have no idea I have seen him in the last year or more. And the ones I confided in are so sick of hearing about it, the ability to have any sympathy is just non-existent. And I don’t blame them. I have zero sympathy for myself at this point. And do question my sanity.

So, all of this is happening, while I start a new job, where I need and want to impress. I’m in a strange city with only a handful of friends. And I’m couch surfing, i.e. staying with an incredibly generous friend. Which brings me to lesson #2 in the post: True selflessness is a humbling. I feel a combination of guilt, relief, and the kind of gratitude you have for someone who has saved your life. Guilt because she has more on her plate than any single person should have to. And adding another body in your already full house is a lot. And let’s be honest — I’M A LOT! She couldn’t be more welcoming and gracious but I feel/am a tremendous imposition. Relief because I don’t have to pay two rents, and I get to come home to a familiar and beloved face (faces including her two kids and 10 -month old lab puppy — more on him shortly). And gratitude for having someone extend such kindness. This is more than a good friend. This is family.

So while I am not technically couch surfing — I have a lovely room which I have taken over from her 6 year old son (yes you read that correctly), I am living in someone else’s home, and just generally imposing on every aspect of her life. Because despite the awkwardness, it just doesn’t make sense to look into something of my own until I have clarity on whether or not this is a permanent relocation. And as it so happens, she and her children are out of town the bulk of the summer leaving a mostly empty house.

Which brings me to lesson #3 in this post: Be careful what you wish for! All those times I wished I could be more free-spirited and accepting of others generosity? Let me tell you this is harder than it looks. I have listened to stories over the years of mooching friends, wondering how they “pull it off,” and thinking, “man I couldn’t do it, but really wish I could!” I’ve always prided myself on total self-sufficiency, and if anything, being the one to pay the tab or let someone crash with me because I was “so sorted.” Also I am a bit of a control freak. I like having my own space, with my things organized just my way, and my whole routine. So being in someone else’s home, carless for the moment, without knowing the places to run errands, or having any of them be walkable, makes you feel incredibly dependent and unsettled.

And there’s the shame of asking a million stupid questions — is there a Starbucks between here and work (don’t worry I’ll make you coffee); how about a drycleaner (I’ll drop your stuff); is there a drawer I could use (give me a few days to clear out my son’s clothes); Do you want to go hiking this weekend (sure! Even though I know the answer is most certainly — NO) Cringe-worthy.

And so, this control freak became determined to be the best damn couch surfer/house guest. How could I do it? Could I cook dinners? No. As it became immediately apparent everyone ate on different schedules. Could I book my trainer friend to train us? Maybe. But would that even be a workout she liked and a time that worked? Keep thinking Julie! And then the answer seemed handed to me on a silver platter…

When my friend picked me up from my AirBnB and was driving me to begin my stay at her house, she mentioned that he puppy was pretty out of control and might be the most challenging part of my stay. THERE IT WAS! I would train this puppy! So we walk into the house and I meet Kota. Well my student was a handsome devil. Pure white with a big square head and inquisitive expression. He was a large one too — about 70 pounds full of wriggling, constant moving, chewing, and barking puppy power. My immediate diagnosis — this dog just needs exercise. So, shortly after entering the house, Kota and I were off for a walk

Kota didn’t have a prong collar, typically a helpful way to train big strong dogs to heel and walk properly. I was not deterred. I’m big and strong and I can do this. Well this dog dragged me to and fro across the neighborhood streets, sniffing and wiggling with joy and abandon. I could see he was happy to be out, but I was beginning to realize I might be in over my head. I had grown up with big German Shepherds, but they were all trained by my mom. And my own beagle, Beemer, had come to me as a show dog — trained and saintly.

But I figured I’d get into a routine, great for both of us. I’d wake up early and walk the loop of my friend’s hilly 1 mile neighborhood. Hell maybe 2x around! Start the day off right for both Kota and me. And I’m sure the more I walked him the better he’d get. I’d pick up a nice prong collar and we’d take it from there. So Thursday am I woke up tired and slow moving on the heels of The Grateful Dead show. But off I went. Letting Kota drag me about half way through the neighborhood before giving up and turning around. Tomorrow would be a fresh day, not hung over and stressed about a new job. We’d start then.

Following work that same day, I arrive back to Bel Air. My friend and her kids were relaxing after dinner and watching some TV. My new best friend Kota greeted me with interest. I had some new hire paperwork and first day email follow ups, so I set up at the breakfast bar in full view of the family so I could maintain some sense of sociability and do what I needed to do.

Which brings me to less number #4: Don’t underestimate your task! I quickly became engrossed in some personal emails and my friend and her kids made their way up to get ready for bed. I remained perched at my breakfast bar stool, face fully into the computer. Kota was downstairs with me. I assumed we were together in companionable silence. We’d probably been alone for 10, maybe 15 minutes when I looked down and noticed one of the two espadrilles I had put on the ground beside me was missing. And almost instantly I knew the culprit. Kota. Sure enough, it was dangling from his mouth. He had been waiting for me to notice. I stood up and watched over and in my most authoritative voice demanded he drop it. Instantly he stood up and ran to the back yard, and then popped his head back in the house and the chase ensued. That fucker was most certainly having a glorious time taunting me. I alternately tried to cajole and demand. Neither worked. I got desperate and offered bread. It worked. Only the damage was done. The entire strap was chewed off and its contents, including the buckle were in Kota’s stomach.

I went upstairs to complain to my friend who was trying to enjoy some quiet time with her daughter. She asked me gently for a few more minutes. I sheepishly left the room and went back downstairs to face my tormentor. And in the 2 to 3 minutes since I’d gone upstairs Kota had not gotten hold of a pen. At some point, he had ripped up a significant area of my friend’s white living room rug and lay chewing on the pen in the newly bare spot on the rug. So not only was it bare it was blue. As was his feet and his tongue. Arghhhh this fucking dog!

This dog, that I was going to train, as the legacy of the greatest couch surfer of all time, was making me look like really really really bad. Actually, more like the worst house guest ever. Causing more problems than anything. I had to grab my friend abruptly from her daughter’s bedroom as I literally how no idea how to handle her new blue dog, who by the way wouldn’t drop the pen, and wanted to engage in another game of “catch me if you can.” So, after she windexed as much blue from him as she could and I apologized as much as you can in this kind of situation, I made my own quick exit to bed.

And as I lay in her 6-year-old son’s bed, I was feeling blue. A lot like Kota looked actually. What was I going to do? I was now feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the prospect of this dog. Especially with a new job, which after only one day I knew was going to be long and arduous hours. And as I continued to ruminate on how quickly things had unraveled this evening, it dawned on me that Kota and I had a lot in common, We were both antsy and anxious beings who didn’t know what to do with our excess energy and anxiety and instead of having any ability to self soothe or channel our energy productively we got destructive. Hmmmm. This thought might be too deep to tackle in this post, and it certainly was at 10pm that night. So, I did what the experts say you should do during moments like this– I went the fuck to sleep.

And this brings me to the final lesson for this post: There is always a silver lining! When I woke up in the morning I had new resolve. Surely, I was humbled, but I wasn’t yet ready to give up. I would walk this dog every morning and at minimum and goddammit that was something. So off we went as my friend again readied her kids for school. This time, I managed to let Kota drag me through the whole neighborhood loop, and there were a few minutes where a passerby might think this dog was walking quite nicely! And even better this loop is steep hills throughout. Good for Kota and even better for my ass! WIN WIN! And so here we are. The dawn of a new day and new possibilities for me and Kota, and for finding my missing ass ;)

#pursuitofhappiness #midlifereinvention lifelessons friendships gratitiude couchsurfing dogtraining

[smackit17-blog]

When people show you who they are. Believe them.

In my second post, I came clean about re-engaging with my ex, and how as usual, it ended as quickly as it started in a flaming pile of lies and tears. For the umpteenth time, I had been swept up in his promises and sweet words of love, even though my gut told me nothing was as it seemed. Yet, I wanted so badly to believe that it could be different, that I pushed down my doubts and jumped back in head first.

Which bring me to lesson #1 in today’s post: Wherever you go. There you are. Even though my head was telling me to believe him this time, I couldn’t quell my insecurities, no matter what he said, especially being 3000 miles away. And so, when my friend confirmed that he had been having similar conversations with another ex, I had to try and preserve some dignity and walk away. But boy is this man good. He says all the right things and knows just what buttons to push. Especially the one that make you feel you are making an epic mistake to “give up now.” Will he forever be “the one” that got away. And worse, despite knowing it’s not the case, left feeling that this not working out (again) is somehow your fault alone. Just total and complete crazy making.

So even after I wrote the post and pronounced myself done, I continued to obsess about what I could have done differently and wonder if he was right -that I shouldn’t believe the source. Because her source (the other ex) was crazy. Well so I did what every woman in the social media age does — I went forensic on Instagram. And opened up a whole other can of lies. Why I was emotionally cutting myself at this juncture, is beyond me. But, I took my old bad habits to California with me unlike all the clothes and stuff I really need, which are back in NYC!

Which brings me to lesson #2: You DO have all the answers inside. It’s called instinct. I knew that during our “breaks” my ex had been seeing other women, and one in particular for many months. He had told me he had ended that relationship back in February when we’d had a different and similar brief rendezvous. But, I had ended things quickly that time when Instagram told me that he was lying and things weren’t over between he and this other person. And this time was exactly the same. Again, he swore it was only a friendship and that they didn’t have the passion or love we had and blah blah blah. Further he said, he now understood my lack of trust and to demonstrate he was a changed man, he would cut off the friendship and all contact.

Well the same night I was made aware of his parallel conversation with another ex, he was at a concert with said woman — the woman he wasn’t attracted to and didn’t have anything more than a friendship with at this point, and further had supposedly been cut off communication after telling her we were together. I felt like I was hallucinating. Did he not think I would find out? Why was he bothering to make these promises to me if he had no intention of actually following through. And the more I tried to make sense of it, the less sense any of it made.

Even when I had proof in black and white, and we’d already ended things, this man could not come clean with me. And as he was desperately trying to talk me into circles, I was having an out of body experience. It was like I was watching myself crying on the phone with him outside Soulcycle and thinking why is this woman such an idiot? And then I thought — wow, everything he has said to me, he probably says to this other non girlfriend/girlfriend. And here I am thinking she is the enemy or my competitor, but in truth she’s a victim just like me. I sort of wish we could commiserate…

Which brings me to lesson #3 for today: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. The truth is I can’t hate my ex. He showed his true colors to me early in our relationship. There were so many times when things just didn’t add up and when I’d question him, he’d tell me I was crazy and bent on destroying us. We’d fight and scream horrible things at each other. He’d leave. I’d beg him to stay. And then I’d have to beg him back, over a period of time, all the while resentful. Because I suspected I had nothing to apologize for, and he did, and wasn’t. Super healthy, My point is — the dynamic and the guy? Pretty much the same from day one. And all those doubts I had? They were always right on.

Which brings me to lesson #4: Nothing will change in your life until you change, i.e. letting go is really really really hard. And may require burning your current life (or at least all the things that aren’t serving you) down to the ground, so you can be reborn anew. If you are certain you have hit rock bottom, you probably haven’t. I can tell you that from experience. But it’s not about that. It’s about letting go so authentically that you have to grieve and mourn the loss like it’s a death. Because it is. It is the death of a dream, a wish, a hope that you have held tightly and dearly. And then you have to be patient and know it’s going to take as long as it needs to fully release, which is not necessarily on your timeframe. You cannot rush the grieving or decide when it’s over. Only when it’s over is it over. When you have done that, have truly forgiven yourself, you can you be free to change your patterns.

And so here is today’s final lesson: You have to forgive yourself. I have been wanting to be done with this drama for two years. And I have been so frustrated and full of shame that I wasn’t. But the truth is I’ve always been focused on the wrong stuff — how I could make this work, what was wrong with me that I couldn’t. Bottom line was I fell in love with the wrong guy. And I let myself be drawn back in far too many times. It happens and moreover, it doesn’t make me a bad person. And the more I beat myself up the more I held myself in this place of anger and sadness and frankly crazy-town.

It wasn’t until last night that I realized it’s time to be done. To grieve, forgive and move into the new life, of which I am currently sitting at the precipice. Because truthfully all this time looking for answers I’ll never find, and solving unsolvable problems, is time I need to be spending on finding my ass! Which is why I suffered through my second Tracy Anderson class today immediately upon finishing this post!

[smackit17-blog]

You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool the Universe

For those of you who read my inaugural blog post, you’ll know I picked up and headed to sunny LA last week. For those of you who didn’t, now you know ;)

Once you decide to take a leap — physical, spiritual and/or emotional, you think you will feel “different” somehow. Maybe relieved, maybe happy, maybe nervous in a good way, but some immediate feeling or sign to confirm the Universe approves, right? But what I was finding on the day of my departure was making me nervous that the Universe was still testing me.

Which brings me to today’s lesson: If you think it’s a test. It is. So, when I arrive at Newark, my airport of choice, only due to proximity to my apartment, I see I don’t have pre check on my boarding pass. Figuring it was just an oversight, I went to the Virgin America counter to have them print me a new pass. They inform me that having Global Entry doesn’t guarantee pre-check and that on this flight I had been randomly selected NOT to have it. WTF?! I watched as fellow passengers ,who were allowed to use their pre-check flew through security, and I stood at a standstill in the standard security line.

The next hiccup came when this germ-a-phobe sat down on the plane only to hear the woman in the seat next to hear coughing loudly and sneeze several times in succession. All without even a pretense of covering her mouth.

As someone who enjoys getting to a destination, but despises the actual travel to get there, these two inconveniences felt pretty major. I was already stressed and out of my element, about to have a few weeks, possibly even months of couch surfing in front of me. I definitely could not afford to be sick!

As I sat trapped in this tin can in the sky for the next almost 6 hours, I alternately tried to cover my face in a desperate attempt to not breathe in the constant uncovered hacking next to me, and to understand what the Universe was trying to tell me. Should I not be heading to California? Or actually, was NYC giving me a last kick in the butt to reassure me that leaving right now was exactly the right thing?

As the minutes and then hours passed, the answer was no clearer to me. But I eventually stopped thinking and started to just sit, be and feel. And the feeling that washed over me was total and complete anxiety. I was stressed and fearful. If I am going to be honest I had hoped that fate would magically intervene once I finally “pronounced” myself a reformed control freak ready to receive what the Universe was wanting to provide. I wanted that provision to be a reason to stay in NYC.

And so even though I said I was leaving, I had been scrambling to generate some stickiness for myself in my city, including spending a whole lot of time talking to, and even seeing my ex boyfriend. This is not insignificant as I’d spent the bulk of the last two 18 months trying to move forward from that relationship unsuccessfully, and had just finally succeeded in actually started to do so. And, for the longest period to date — more than 3 months.

Since September 2015 we had had bitter feuds in which awful things were said, and worse things done to each other. I’d been the most unflattering version of myself with this man. So much so, I was actually unrecognizable to myself — insecure, needy, spiteful and self-loathing. And every time we’d had another rendezvous, the inevitable end was more painful and hard to recover from.

It had been so bad for so long, I could barely be honest with my therapist, let alone my family and friends. And I know it was the same for him. Worse still, while I had kept myself emotional walled off from anyone new, he’d been in at least 3 relationships since we were a legitimate couple, and I’d come into each and every “restart” demanding he break up with these women, all the while resenting he was even involved with someone. And he came in resenting me for coming in hot making demands and “blowing up” his life. And worse, neither of us truly believing each other’s intentions.

I have no idea why I persisted after something so searingly painful for almost two years. Perhaps I thought that’s all I deserved? Perhaps I felt if I could fix this, I could fix my whole life? I honestly don’t know the answer but certainly re-opening that wound days before I need to be my most open and forward looking was self sabatoging.

Before you judge me too harshly, I do need to explain that after more than a year of wishing to hear two little words from him, he said exactly those words — I’m sorry. And more, for the first time, admitted his contribution to our fucked up dynamic, and said he needed to do some work and even asked if I might ask my therapist for a recommendation. I have to tell you, I thought the Universe was sending me a ver strong message that all this love and longing was not in vain. And even though it came on the heels of him spending a day breaking up with two woman he was involved with, I thought holy shit! I haven’t been wrong to hang in there. We are meant to be!

Still I made it here — to California that is. I arrived and spent my first full day having meetings with an agency I’d long admired, and agreeing to move forward with a role there, that would start with the summer. So here it was — sunny skies and all the promise that I’d hoped for in 24 hours. And what did I do? I called my ex and cried to him, telling him I didn’t want to be apart. I mean how were we going to work on us? i.e. how can I leave you alone 3000 away and believe you wont be sleeping with other women?

You see, even though I grabbed at his words and wanted to believe we were finally ready to be together, my gut told me I couldn’t trust that he was really different, i.e. could be faithful and honest. He said all the right things on that call though, and was soothing and sweet. But after I hung up the phone, it dawned on me that he said he was willing to prove his love to me by being a hermit and discarding friendships. It sounded like torture not love. And those friendships? They were with ex girlfriends who still very much had feelings for him.

Despite this, I was convinced this was all my insecurity, and something I had to fix in me. I wouldn’t acknowledge the possibility that my gut and heart were telling me the truth. And I just happened to be spending the weekend with a friend, who Ihad met through said ex.

So I decided I would share with her the news that we were talking again this weekend about making a real “go” of it. Well no sooner had I told her about his apology when she said his other recent ex had been in town weeks before and told her that he’d reached out to her in a similar fashion. My heart sunk and a lump formed in my throat. My friend was tortured about telling me, but had seen me suffer so much in the last few years, she felt it was her responsibility.

And I was so grateful! Because it was only then that I realized what it was I was searching for on the flight to California. I was searching for recognition from the Universe that I was ready for all the abundance she had to offer. Only you cannot fool the Universe. Whatever you say is irrelevant. It is what you actually do and how you actually feel. And I was doing anything but acting or feeling ready for the next step, as I desperately clung to my past.

I spent a restless night and I awoke knowing what I had to do. I had to say goodbye to my ex. Like for real this time. And so I did. Horribly — with multiple texts and phone calls saying lots of the wrong things and still hoping for some words from him to make “us” ok. But I actually did it. end it that is. And this time it will stick.

I am finally ready to be here now. Not just California but in the NOW. Open to receiving all the interesting, challenging and wondrous things that lie ahead. Oh and the search for my butt is ON! As I have spent the last 3 days in fitness gear biking, walking, soul-cycling and Tracey Anderson’ing.

#life lessons #pursuitofhappiness #midlifereinvention toxicrelationships heartbreak

[smackit17-blog]

#Smackit!

One girl’s quest for happiness, midlife reinvention and a great ass

Some of you may know me, most of you do not. For more than 23 years I have defined myself as a pretty successful Advertising Executive living a fun filled life in NYC. Interestingly while I had all the trappings of a great life, there was a restlessness inside, which made it easy to move from agency to agency tempted by bigger titles and bigger paychecks. I kept thinking when I make it to “here” I’ll be happy. And then when I did that, it was, when I meet the “right guy” I’ll be happy. And whether or not the job was elusive or the right guy was elusive whatever external validation I had was never enough to quell the sense of emptiness inside.

Still I plowed ahead with my version of climbing up the ladder and looking for Mr. Right. Because my view of success came from what had been defined by others before me: work hard in high school so you can get into a good college; then make sure you have the right internships so you can get a good job when you graduate; then work hard some more and look for opportunities to prove yourself and climb the corporate ladder; and, of course, find the “right” guy, get married, have kids and start the cycle over again.

And with every passing year I had one filter for every choice presented to me — was this getting me closer to one of my goals? If the answer was yes, then I would move towards whatever “that” was and discarding whatever was between me and the better thing. And with each move, after the initial high, I would feel disappointment that the satisfaction I’d hoped for once that box had been checked remained elusive. In fact, in some ways the let down was worse than the period before, when I was on the quest. And so inevitably I’d set my sights on the next thing, and the whole vicious cycle would begin again.

And then everything changed. I found myself at the end of 2016 unemployed without any obvious options to choose from. And people whom I would have imagined would be “helping” me, or on my side — not so much. I wasn’t in a relationship and so I didn’t have the support system I’d hoped for either. How could I be in this spot? Hadn’t I done all the right things and checked the right boxes? Wasn’t I smart, hard-working, pretty and whatever else you were supposed to be, to NOT be here?!

I went through every emotion on the grieving rainbow and then some. And the harder I tried to “fix” my situation, the more I felt rejected by everyone and everything that had always before been so readily available to me. So, I decided to get “spiritual,” i.e., read a bunch of books, all telling me the same thing — anything that you feel is an obstacle, is really your own resistance. (these all made me want to smack the authors in the face). And to continue to see my therapist of a decade, who said “listen to your heart. All the answers were inside.” (The answers? I didn’t even know what the questions were anymore!) I even went on a “retreat” where celebrities go to reflect and renew, i.e. recover from a nervous breakdown. But thousands of $’s spent later, I was still miserable and wallowing in a whole lot of self-pity.

In a moment where the old #badass Julie popped to the surface, I started to think how could I find my way out of this emotional quicksand I had put myself in. I only knew what I knew and barking up those same old trees was not helping. So I started by reaching out to my friend Sarah, whom I’d always admired for her mental strength and healthy life choices. And this is really where my journey begins.

Lesson #1: Instant gratification often has costly consequences. Let me explain what I mean. When I opened up to Sarah (i.e. whined about how “stuck” I felt) she not so gently suggested maybe I was perpetuating my own misery by talking about how much everything in my life sucked and not really taking any action to make my life suck less. And that while there were lots of things I couldn’t control there were some very obvious things that I could, specifically my health and well-being. Just because my life seemed in bad shape didn’t mean I had to be in bad shape! And so indulging my sugar cravings to make myself feel better, or drowning my self pity in a bottle of wine, or spending $ I didn’t have on a pedicure….were actually pretty self-destructive behaviors. Sarah told me to start with the obvious actions — clean up my diet, amp up my exercise, and stop spending my money. Duh. So I did all of the above. And guess what? While my circumstances didn’t immediately change, I started to feel different. A little less out of control and a little glimmer of my old self confidence started to re-emerge.

Lesson #2: Being vulnerable doesn’t make you a loser. Being pathetic makes you a loser. When I reached out to Sarah and got really raw about how awful I was feeling, it was the most exposed I think I had ever felt. I am a marketer for god’s sake and letting people know how insecure and sad you are feeling, feels like pretty bad advertising if you want to market yourself for a job or a date or whatever. And if you act like a loser, people will treat you like one, right? Actually, yes they will. Which is why there is a difference between being vulnerable and asking for help vs. being pathetic. A big difference. Being vulnerable shows that you have humility, are open to growing and improving and is actually a sign of strength. Not taking personal responsibility and expecting people to “fix” you or your situation is loser-like. By seeking Sarah’s advice and then actually taking it, I showed I was open to growth and willing to do the work.

Not a loser!

Lesson #3: Instead of focusing solely on who can help you, start thinking about who you can help — starting with yourself. As I started feeling better physically, I started thinking about my entire status a little differently. What if instead of feeling sorry for myself about all the things I don’t have — a job, a husband, house and kids, what if I started thinking about what I do have? Total and complete freedom. So what if I allowed myself to acknowledge that even when I had had all the things I now felt were missing, I wasn’t really happy. Maybe now was a blank slate to actual create a life where I felt happy?

And low and behold, almost instantly, a dear friend and her husband told me that they were renovating their apartment and not looking forward to a month plus in their hotel. So, I thought, what if I gave them mine? And in helping them, gave myself a ticket to explore new possibilities outside of NYC.

Which brings me to Lesson #4: Letting go means actually letting go. I’d read so much about letting go in all the self help books, it made me want to smack myself. I mean seriously, what more was there to let go of? Well there is a big difference between losing something and letting go of your tight emotional grip. And, so here am I. Heading to LA, at least for the next month. And I’m going to leave the place (temporarily) that I have always thought I had to be to prove I was “making it.” And I am leaving behind my apartment, my dog, my friends, my network, and my life of more than 20 years. Because I think letting go of an outcome mentally requires at least some momentary physical release, temporary or not, to jolt yourself into a different head and heart space. And the scary and uncomfortable part probably means you’re on the right path.

So, I decided to start this blog to share my #smackit journey, as a bit of catharsis for myself, entertainment for my friends, and possibly inspiration for others whose circumstances may look different, but share the feeling of being stuck, and that your life isn’t all you hope at the mid stage. Oh and PS also while I am on this quest for happiness, I am also on a quest for a great butt. Along with other things I have lost this year, my butt seems to be one of them! And what better place to find it again then LA?!