Cracking & Crumbling Are Two VERY Different Things!

Writing what came next for me is not only cathartic, it is also scary, saddening, heartbreaking & challenging. How does one articulate the things I went through? I have, as a writer, been challenged with portraying through words many feelings. What came next for me, though, I had never experienced before or since. And while it was devastating, it was also transformative. It was vital to who I have become. And to create an understanding of just what this truly was is quite a challenge. It is an experience that is extremely weighted, one that must be shared but that is so complex, I wonder if I'll ever truly do it justice with my words. But. I shall try. Because as hard as it was for me, it was the cracking of the shell that must happen before a bird can ever learn to fly.

....

It was a Sunday in May, and I was partaking in my as-of-late usual Sunday tradition of walking through my neighborhood on the phone with my mom, discussing all of the numerous things I had left to do for the day, explaining the overwhelming feeling of pressure wrapped up in the to-do list, sharing the pit in my stomach which was growing every second into something that threatened to take me over completely. I shake my hands hoping that some of the tingling sensation will leave. It doesn't. My lips and tongue-the don't feel so good either, a bit numb. My stomach, yes, that is where the anxiety lives. Then, I look around at the metaphorical piles of things & people & expectations I had surrounded myself with. And even as I looked at the list of things to do, I simultaneously created excuses not to get them done. I had too many papers to grade, too many people ready to tell me I did things wrong, too many accomplishments waited to be achieved, too many expectations put upon me. I was quite frankly at a standstill. Unable to do anything, yet also unable to shake the feeling that if I did nothing everything would just fall apart. I was panicking. It was Sunday. That's what I was supposed to do.

By the time he came home, at approximately 11:00 pm, the monster that had been simmering in my stomach that morning when he left had grown into a fully developed, all encompassing, hard to ignore presence in my apartment. Because it had simply woven itself into the very fabric of my life, it was, of course, the topic of conversation. Of course, by this time, I was well into a particularly vicious game of 'Pretend Everything's OK', a game I played at least once a week (Sundays usually) & had become quite the master at. I began my discussion of stress and anxiety in the usual way I did with others, as though I had it completely under control & was merely analyzing it from afar. It was always the way to begin this game. I was an old pro~always great with words, convincing & analytical, persuasive beyond belief. And those things, those traits I clung to so tightly kept the game going. Apparently, at some point in handing out my dissertation about the things stressing me out & how I NOW knew how to move forward in a better way because I was NOW over the anxiety of it, well, I must have taken a breath or gotten distracted for a split second (continuous talking talking talking also helps in this game), because there was for a moment a space. And in that space, he said, 'Don't you think it's getting to be too much?' I of course played dumb....because you know, everything's ok, so what could he be referring to anyway???....He then looked at me, seriously, and said, 'We talk about your stress or your anxiety everyday...or at least most days.' I knew he added the last part to make it kinder, to hurt me less, because I am sure he could see what had just happened in my eyes.

That one statement had ended the game. It was the one thing that someone could say that would challenge me enough to admit, no, everything's not ok. And I did...to an extent. I just went silent & started to really worry about what was wrong with me, about how far I'd let it get, about what all of my trying had brought me, about the truth of where and who I was.

I went to work the next day and where normally the everyday, swing-of-things took over & made life feel good and ok again, I found myself unable to shake it. Life didn't just kick back into it's Monday swing where I realized all the Sunday stress and anxiety were for nothing. Nope. That day I knew they were not nothing. So what do you do when you realize the jig is up? That you are now going to have to face some real truths about yourself & your life? Well, you freak out is what you do. You panic. You blame other things. You send emails to the love of your life (who's been there for only 3 months at this point...which means it'll surely freak him out) saying, 'maybe the problem is with us', which is ridiculous because deep down you know damn well the problem is YOU. You act like a kid being dragged out of the toy store. Yes, metaphorically, I spent my day at work kicking and screaming about where I was being dragged to.

Then, after pretending to work for the day, I went home and decided that yes, there was a problem and it was all mine. Again, once you accept that fact, what do you do? There is no manual given out when you leave college entitled 'One Day You'll Realize This All Was A Sham & You'll Have To Start All Over & It Will Hurt Like Hell, But Here's The Steps To Get You Through It'. So, you do whatever comes to you. You call your mom and ask for help. You admit that this is bigger than you. You accept that this might even be bigger than all those things you blamed. You take a look at all the cracks in yourself and realize you've been holding everything together with sheer will. You accept that will may not get you through this. You get in a car & go home. Home home. With your mom & dad. Where you continue to try & hold it together. Where you catch yourself starting to play the game again because there are new players in the room.

But then it's Tuesday. And seriously, it's just too hard. And then it happens. You let up on the pressure & the cracks start to show & soon enough, you just crumble.

You cry. You sob. You look at your parents with pleading eyes, asking them to tell you it'll get better even though every bit of yourself believes it can only get worse. You seriously and utterly believe you'll never feel ok again. You cocoon yourself into a blanket on your parents couch, emerging only when told you must to eat a few bites or go for a walk, even if you can only make it just two houses away before feeling like you'll fall to the ground. You hurt. That's all you just hurt right down to your core. You have no idea why. You just feel all that awful stuff you never let yourself feel. And you start to wonder if this, this world you're in now, is what you're life will be. Saying over and over out loud, "I just don't want to feel like this anymore.'

It's awful. I can say that much. And you do this for 5 days. 5 agonizing and painful days of despair and torture. Of pure worry and helplessness and....surrender.

And through the hurt, you ask anyone you can for help. And you get it. You get help. Small bits of things to hold onto. But none of it can really help just yet. Because the only way out is through. You have to go through it. So no matter what anyone says or advice they give or comfort they provide, they cannot take it away. I must pass through this. Then, those bits will help. But first, I must pay my dues.

And it hurt. It hurt more than any heartbreak. It hurt more than any broken bones. It hurt more than any words thrown my way. It was the heartache of hurting myself, of putting other things other people before me, of letting the supposed-to's tell me what to do. It was my gift to myself- a torturous, horribly difficult gift, wrapped in layers of fallacy. But it was a gift. I had to first unwrap my past if I ever wanted to move forward. That's not to say I needed to go through each layer & analyze it. No, I simply needed to peel it all away. I needed to see the true gift below all of the sorrow and hurt and pressure. The realization of what a gift this life really is. The understanding that I am allowed to make it what I want, not what I think it's expected to be. Yes all of this and so much more was at the core of this gift, however, it was indeed not revealed until later. Until I did the work & made it through. So, without any other options, stripped of all I was, laying truly in despair, not knowing if I'd ever make it to a place where I didn't feel this way, I started slowly, after 5 days of helplessness, I attempted to try & make it through.

And I repeat: it hurt. A LOT.

Beware of Specific Fortune Cookie Fortunes!

So. Back to the story. After the rebound, I spent a couple months alone eating Chinese food. I've always had a habit of saving interesting fortunes or ones that I particularly want to come true. During January & February I opened a few cookies & found the following fortunes:

Everything will now come your way.

Keep an eye open for an opportunity soon to arrive.

A good time to start something new.

You will attend an unusual party and meet someone important.

While sure, they are just stupid slips of paper that are printed miles & miles away that millions of other people are opening as well, I couldn't help but feel the brewing of something. It seemed something was bound to come my way....if for no other reason than eventually something would. But that last fortune stuck with me. It was fairly specific.

One week later I received an evite from a friend for a house warming party she was having. She would have a chef there, a friend of hers, to cook a 10 course meal for us. This friend, the chef, had been mentioned to me by her previously as someone she wanted me to meet. Odd...a party, one that one might refer to as unusual since I've rarely attended a party of all women with a private chef, a party where a person I was supposed to meet would be. Hmmm, either those Chinese people really knew what they were talking about or life was really setting me up to feel foolish for believing in a fortune cookie fortune.

Sooo, I went to the party. Reluctantly, since the night before, a 'quick' visit to another friend who works at a bar turned into a night of lots of drinks, making friends with some random group of dudes who kept the drinks flowing for free & a very rough hungover morning, afternoon...& well, I was the last to arrive at the party.

But thank God I went. I met the love of my life that night. AND I got to eat 10 courses of food he created before I even really spoke with him. OK, fine, we spoke once while I was trying to get some water (man my head was killing me), but I don't really like to count that since I basically answered the question, "I hear you like to cook too. What types of food do you cook?" with a random sampling of the English language that spewed out as though I had just learned the language & had a mouthful of marbles (note: I TEACH English, so awesome that I sounded like a moron) (also note: my idiocy had nothing to do with him, but merely my brain being foggy from drinks the night before & the fact that I cook anything & everything & how the hell do you say that...well, I guess the way I just did, but that night it just wasn't that simple)

So, after the wonderful meal, I actually got a chance to talk to this guy I was supposed to be set up with. Oh, but not before he & I sat at a table with another girl from the party who decided to compliment my, well, my chest area, very bluntly, out of nowhere. It was humorous to see him attempt to maintain eye contact during THAT conversation. Once she left the table, fun conversation ensued...until I was yelled at to PUT ON MY COAT BECAUSE WE'RE GOING DANCING! by a fellow party-goer.

So, yes, the party was unusual. & yes, I met someone important-the man of my dreams, my best friend in this entire world, a person who gets me better than anyone I've ever known, a person who brings out my best & loves me unconditionally. While this story of mine isn't a love story, it does indeed contain love stories. A love story about meeting the love of my life is a part of it. Also though a love story of finding myself. Two weeks later, my fortune was:

Turn your thoughts within-find yourself.

So yes, the first few months of my relationship with the chef contained our love story, our finding those wonderful moments to fall in love & those quirky little things that make our love story ours. Thank God for that. Because that fortune would prove to be true. I would need to find myself. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be pretty. It would also be a mere 4 months into a new relationship, a time when many would bail on a girl going through a crisis. Because yes, I read the fortune, but I was too busy falling in love to heed its warning. Meaning, I would be forced to find myself, forced to turn within, whether I wanted to or not. And often, being forced into something big like this means that you are not ready. That it rocks you to your core. That it makes you fall apart.

I fell in love. And then, I fell apart.

Ducks....

So a brief detour from the story for an interjection about ducks. Yes, ducks.

Last year, as we started our school year, a teacher show us a picture of some ducks crossing a grate on the street. The mother was looking forward, with feet large enough to cross the grate without a problem. A couple of the little ducklings had found their way along the side. But it was clear that at least one of those tiny ducks would fall right through the openings in the grate.

Aside from angering our science teacher as she wanted to know what happened next, the visual served well for us educators. It was indeed about leading a group of students through a lesson, realizing that some can figure out how to 'cross the grate', but others will require more help.

Much time has passed since that image was given to us to enhance our teaching & our modifications for those students who need more. I have embarked on a journey (which this blog is telling step by step) that has included my quest to find balance. A journey which has included yoga teaching, meditation practice, shifting my paradigm, believing in the promise of practice & living as much in the present as possible.

What I've found is that I return to the image of the ducks. Each duck in this scenario representing a part of myself or my life. I am sure that if all of my focus goes to one place, if I lose my balance, one of those ducks is likely to fall through the cracks. I know this because, as my story thus far has shown, I lived it. I invested myself into certain things, failing to see that vital pieces of myself were getting lost along the way. I was the mother duck, walking forward with blinders on, unaware of what I had lost until I had traveled so far I didn't even know where to start looking for them.

We must care for each part of ourselves. Each of us has a unique make-up that makes us who we are. However, we are all also of the same, all of us not just similar but on a cosmic level, actually the same Self. So, if we even analyze balance on a larger scale, we see that we are a part of something bigger. & if this part, the part you are responsible for, is forgotten about or overlooked or allowed to fall through the cracks, then we affect those we are a part of, we affect everyone. So A. you owe it to others to care for each duck that makes up who you are & what your energy is composed of; & B. you owe it to yourself in the more everyday sense of your life.

Your mental, emotional, physical, spiritual & even energetic selves are very intertwined. However, they all do need your focus and attention. If you act as the mother duck, know that you will miss signs that your subtle body is giving you. Give yourself time to cherish all parts of yourself. To take an inventory of what each part of yourself needs. You will find yourself staying in better balance the more you practice this.

And on an even more superficial, though no less important, level, keeping track and giving attention to the parts of yourself that are uniquely you. Embracing hobbies that make you happy, sensing when you need to say 'yes' & when you need to say 'no' to things that arise in your path, giving of yourself while also giving to yourself, planning for the future or remembering the past while being aware of your present. Again, another place we must find balance. Another place where we have quite a few ducks crossing a grate.

That being said, maintaining balance isn't quite as easy as it would seem. The key is being aware of your ducklings. Seeing where one is having some trouble. You may not be able to provide the bridge for that duck at that moment, but the fact that you're aware of it, means it'll be easier to fix again later. So, if you get so busy with work that you find you haven't done any of your hobbies that help keep you happy, it doesn't mean quit your job & get that darn duck over the grate. No, it just means your hobby, that fun little duck, might have to wait patiently.

See, we live in a culture that is all about having all your ducks in a row. Well what the hell do you when one of those ducks flies off, or gets left behind for a little while? Give up? Sit down, throw a pity party & decide that you failed? No. That's not what you do. However, you also do not do what much of our culture seems to encourage us to do which is to just push through, grin & bare it, leave the duck behind & get one with it. No. This doesn't work either.

So, work to maintain your balance, getting all your ducks in a row. But when one flies away or gets caught up, take a deep breath, look at your remaining ducks & be happy. Write a post-it note so you don't forget to find that little rogue duck. And move forward with what you have, giving your attention equally to those things that you can.

Ducks. Who knew?

Freedom is a Funny Thing...Living with Exes & Sneak Attack Rebounds!

Yes. Freedom is what I felt.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not heartless & I was not rejoicing after ending a 5 & 1/2 year relationship. I cried A LOT. A LOT before I even ended it. I was sad.

But I did feel a sense of freedom. Perhaps it was the month of living together after having broken up that really turned my sadness into annoyance into frustration & finally into (once he'd moved out) freedom. Trust me. Living with an ex can be not just awkward, it seems to speed the healing process along quite a bit. Because what the hell?! When it's done, the last thing you want to do is sit around watching prime-time sitcoms with your ex who you now notice chews WAY too loud & seriously doesn't seem to find the situation awkward AT ALL, making you wonder if he's even looked for a place to live, causing you to almost offer to check craigslist for him before realizing that would be the same crap you did for him when you were together & I'll be damned if I'm mothering someone who's not even my boyfriend & OH GOOD GOD HOW CAN YOU CHEW THAT LOUD WITH YOUR MOUTH CLOSED?!?!?!?!

So yes, after a month I was ready to be left alone in my apartment. & yes, I felt a little bit free. I think I embraced that feeling because I knew if I didn't, all I'd find was that scary image of old cat-lady rearing her ugly head saying 'tsk, tsk, tsk'. Ugh I hate that woman. The cat lady I'm likely to become because I let go of something that really wasn't THAT bad. I mean, how loud could his chewing have really been anyway?? (See what I mean? embrace the freedom or old cat lady makes you rethink wise choices!)

I embraced my freedom by working out again (how the heck had this relationship made me THIS size? Seriously it must be a typo on the tag!), writing poetry again (seriously BLEW THE DUST off my writing journal) & reassuring people that I was actually ok & did not need to GRIEVE the relationship (this was not a hobby meant to help me regain my self, but merely something to deal with because apparently someone sends out in a flier to all your friends, oh & your BOSS, when you get out of a relationship).

(Honestly, later I will realize there was indeed some grieving to do, just not for the relationship, for the me I had let go of....but I did not know this at this time & therefore all those comments were ridiculous & tiresome & seriously, people just did not get how strong I was.)

I believed whole-heartedly that I was embracing my freedom & really getting back to 'me'. In some ways I was. In other ways, though, the cat lady was only shoved so far down, not far enough really. Because while, yes I was embracing 'me' things, I was also VERY concerned about how the hell you meet anyone at *GULP* 29 years old!!!

My mother said I'd meet friends of my friends. I answered by saying I'd met all my friends' friends & that it wasn't going to happen.

Enter the rebound. I met him out with one of my friends. She was friends with him. Technically I was too (I knew him in high school...he was younger than me....his brother was a year older than me....in high school I thought his brother was hot....not sure if that equals friends really). So yes, my mother was right. My friends would know people. I would meet them. I would dazzle them with my conversations about greatest concerts ever attended & have a hilarious dance moment with some hippie dude that makes him laugh & leave the same night with an invitation to see a concert a week later. See? Meeting people was easy. Shove it, Cat Lady!

But really? While the next few months really were rebound months & while there were obvious reasons why not him....I'm not the type to enter something I think is a rebound....I mean, if I'm already counting it out in the beginning, why begin. Ahh, so naive. To think I had somehow been the one to avoid needing a rebound.

Rebound it was. It was fun. It was filled with nights out & lots of laughs. It was filled with freedom & let's just see how things go. (It was also filled with moments of, hmmm never thought the guy I'd end up with would ____________ (various items could fill in this blank), & ok so that's not perfect, but who knows....) How I did not clearly see that this was a rebound, I'm not sure. It had all the signs. It's not that I thought it was IT. I clearly knew it wasn't. However, after what I had been through, fun was good. I hadn't had a lot of fun in a while. (I know, ridiculous I didn't get that it was a rebound, I know!)

However, I did realize it was a rebound when it didn't work out. When the guy who said every girl he dated got engaged to the next guy she dated said he wasn't so sure about dating anymore since at our age we no longer can date recreationally. Ugh. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Because A. the 'at our age' comment only gave the cat lady hope & B. because seriously, recreational dating?!? Was I now someone who dated just for fun & had to be reminded that at my age I should be looking for more than just fun? Was our hanging out comparable to playing soccer or going camping? Something fun when you're younger but as you get older just gets almost embarrassing when attempted?

Oh God. I had recreational dated. I rebounded. Gross. Gross. Gross. It happened & I wasn't even aware of it. Oh Lord, Alexa. You MUST start paying attention to your life, girl!

A 'Forcer' Forced to Decide

After having glimpsed a bit of who I wanted to be, the me I was so eager to truly regain, falling back into a life of routine & waiting, I was, well, I was defeated. I felt powerless. Just completely out of control of my own circumstances, my own feelings, my own life. I stayed. For far too long. But it was hard for me to let go. I have always been a person that stuck with decisions she made. I could be cut-throat when I was not yet attached, but once I'd made the decision that this was what I was signing up for, I seemed to be someone who could never let go.

I knew about what commitment really meant. I was not fickle. I would be more likely to force a decision I made than to ever let it go. To me that meant failure. To me it meant giving up. Having parents that have been happily married & super-ridiculously in love, but also ones that had stuck through difficult times, taught me that love was easy, but relationships are work. At the time, I could not see that both had become work for me. I simply said, hey you don't get to 'that' unless you do the work now. So I pushed. I believed I had to do the work. That once the work was done all would become easy.

Eventually, though, I found myself truly seeing what I was a part of. What I had not only let happen but had been a part of creating. I truly saw that it wasn't just the relationship that was work. Our love was work. Serious Serious WORK. Gone were those beginning feelings....gone were the middle feelings....hell, we may even have been past the end feelings. There was nothing left. I was living with a ghost. One that worked opposite hours. So the little bit I did see him, the few hours he was there, well he wasn't there. His response was to withdraw. My response, which was no better, was to push, to work, to force. No good.

One night, after one of our usual conversations that started with my expressing feeling lonely & ended somehow in my taking the blame for a gazillion things that suddenly surfaced, I sat in bed. Not sleeping. Alone. Thinking. Somewhere deep within I felt a stirring. It was I believe my Future Self. For me, that's my vision of myself once I've figured this whole thing out & finally have the life that makes me happy as a clam....like there is some point where I say here it is, here's the life I dreamed about, done. Though I know that is hilarious because life's never done. The journey always continues. However, having the idea that there's a me out there in the future that has quite a lot figured out & is pretty together helps.

That night. A few things came to me. 1-I could no longer live my life for 2 vacations a year (the times when things were actually fun & finding 'love' together was easy). 2-Changing for HIM was never, ever going to fix things. 3-He was never going to be the one to make the decision to end it. & 4-I DID want to change things-but for ME. & things that would not only NOT fix things, it would probably break things even further. BUT, that's what I wanted & I finally knew that.

It felt good to know that. It also felt SCARY AS HELL!!! I knew I was about to allow my admittance of 'he's not the ONE' surface. I knew I was about to start over. I knew that I had no idea how the hell my life was going to look. I knew that indeed I knew nothing. But I also knew I felt ok with that for the first time in my life.

So, after a couple of weeks of tearful phone calls to my mom, long walks through my neighborhood to get out the anxiety coursing through my body & a lot of internal pep talks to help me believe I wouldn't end up alone with 47 cats, I chose me.

& I wrote the following:

A Letter to You

Writing to you is sometimes
the only thing that gets me through.
Because I know that if you're listening,
this moment has passed
and I've come out on the other side.
And I know that you see me more clearly than I see myself,
so I'm asking for you to listen to my troubles
and maybe even asking for a little help
as I stumble through.
Because I want nothing more than to get to you.
And as I wade through
the murky waters
that my soul has become in this moment,
I hope you're smiling that knowing little smirk,
the one reserved for
the moments you've eased right through
those dismal depths,
just waiting on the bank
for the rest of us to clumsily find our footing.
Because if that look is on your face as you read this,
then it means there's an answer,
a reason for this moment
And that my journey to find it will bring me to you.
So I'll endure my aching heart,
And I'll navigate the tumultuous waves of my worry;
I'll silence the doubts of my screaming mind,
And I'll whisper reassurance to the ears of my soul.
Because you're listening.
Out there,
Somewhere,
I can feel you listening.

Yes, writing to you, Future Self,
is sometimes the only thing that gets me through.

Love,
Me...Presently

(and....if you check the earlier post, the lines 'Because you're listening, out there, somewhere, I can feel you listening', were the words I heard before...I just hadn't yet heard the rest of the poem.)

If I Could Just

So. I was back to my real life. My escape had ended & I remember the moment I realized that the escape Alaska had provided drifted away. The memories & the hope of returning to that feeling existed, but it was simply that. Memories & hope. I fell into my routine. Threw myself into my job. Worked endlessly at a relationship that wasn't working. Believed truly & deeply that 'if I could just...' all would be fine.

'If I could just...' became a motto for me. I did what I could do because I could. Meaning I did everything that I did well-my job, creating a home, coming up with plans to fix things. Again. I was working on the wrong things. I would only later (a year & a half later) realize what I was really doing. Avoiding. Avoiding the late night tears. Avoiding the pit in my stomach telling me something was wrong. Avoiding the whispers in the ears of my soul that something was indeed wrong & that the only true way to fix it was to admit that there was no fixing it. Avoiding starting over.

This scared me most. How could I start over at 27? I had built a life with someone for 5 years. Surely that meant there had to be a way to fix things without demolishing all things a part of it. So I began working on my 'If I Could Just'. Which I will tell you might just be the complete opposite of 'A Wish to Grow'. Your 'If I Could Just' lives in you as well. & yes, if you feed it, it will grow. It is your desire to avoid facing the facts & just make things fit. It is a place in you that does what you think you are 'supposed' to do. It is also a place of severe self-doubt. Your 'If I Could Just' thrives on your self-doubt~it could not exist if you didn't question yourself & believe that there was something YOU were doing wrong. So this pocket of self-doubt returned. Gone was what I had gained from my trip. Gone was any investment in myself. I was focused on him; on him & me together. He was focused solely on himself. Which means, no one was focused on me. & yes, I had many moments of 'if I could just...' then that would change. Which I know now was foolish. It would never change. I was hoping there was something I could do to change the small things in order to avoid changing the large things. This only lasts for so long.

So amidst all of this agonizing through my avoidance phase, I had a moment. A moment that I knew happened even though I pretended for at least 6 more months didn't happen. But it did. In the quiet of my room one night. While I lay in bed. I found myself thinking. & what I thought made me cry. I thought...

Where did you go? You don't even seem to exist anymore except to keep shocking life back into something that has so clearly flat lined. You have to start over. You have to let it go.

As I said, I did not listen to these thoughts until months later. But they happened. I cried. Cried hard. & shoved them into the recesses of myself & scolded them for even showing their face. Because, seriously. Was I really able to start over? No. At that time, I truly could not. I HAD to. But right then I couldn't. I was a shell. I was missing vital pieces & alone I'd never make it. Having someone, even the wrong someone, was necessary. Because, simply, I didn't even know if there was enough to who I was to even stand on my own two feet.

So while I did not start over that night, I think I did quiet my 'If I Could Just'. I still worked at things, but I didn't put it all on my shoulders. I allowed myself to recognize that I was not to blame for everything. I started, slowly...very slowly, to put some substance back into myself. Subconsciously, I must have been preparing to leave. Like pregnant women who 'nest' & ready the house. Like a hostess who cleans even parts guests won't see. It's all about the prep work. I was prepping myself, even though I had no idea I was doing so. I was finding enough weight to who I was in order to stand on my own. And after 5 years, it took some time.

I do to this day still check in with myself to see that I am not feeding my 'If I Could Just'. It unfortunately is natural to have some self-doubt at times, but it can be harmful when you put the weight of the world on your shoulders...even just the weight of someone or something else on your shoulders is enough to be detrimental to who you are & your Wish to Grow. It's as though they are your internal angel & devil. Your dueling wolves. Yes. Your wolves. There is a Cherokee legend that goes as follows:

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.

"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

So, take a moment. No, take more than that & check in with yourself. Look at which wolf you are feeding. Determine who you are listening to-the angel or the devil. Are you embracing your Wish to Grow or are you living in your If I Could Just? Decide. Right now. This moment. To give yourself a gift. Let every decision, every feeling, as much as you can, come from the place that uplifts you. The place that keeps you whole. The place that is so uniquely you. I know what it is to lose this place. To feed the wrong wolf. I'm sure we all do. But I can also say that anyone is able to change this. Each passing moment, each breath you take, is a moment to turn it all around. Start NOW.

Alaska

Ahhh, Alaska. How funny that a state should be responsible for such a state of change within. But it is how it went. I do know that parts of this came directly from the state itself & the fulfillment of a long held desire. However, much of the shift happened because of the people I was with & the person I allowed myself to be.

I arrived in Alaska & met a group of women who would help me find myself in ways they don't even realize. I built houses for wonderfully deserving families. I poured myself into every part of the trip. The travels, the building, the relationships, the laughs....basically, I found my first experience of truly living in the present. I also found me. The me I hadn't been in so long. The me I really love. The me that I think is fun & happy & true.

On this trip, I was allowed to stop being the girlfriend and the mother (note-I have no children so one can conclude that the role of mother was an apparent adjunct to girlfriend that I didn't realize was in the contract when I signed up). I was allowed to let go of worrying about the itinerary. I was allowed to laugh, laugh hard. & I needed it.

While I could never put into words what that trip was or how the memories stay warmly in my heart to this day or what a huge step it was in my own personal journey, I can say that I am thankful every day that I ventured out into the world.

On this trip, sleeping on the floor of a church, I experienced profound growth. Profound growth that happened by simply living simple. Odd that letting go, that stopping all the trying, should actually yield more than when you try so hard to force your life to fit into a picture you have in your mind. While on this trip, I received an answer to a question that was dwelling deep within my heart. Yes, I got the answer in a church during a service--but call it what you will--God? My future self? Crazy voices in my head? Who knows! I know what I think it was, however it doesn't matter. What matters is that I finally let myself surrender for the first time. I let myself ask what the hell I was going to do, how I was going to fix everything, how to stop being the person I did not like. The answer was simple & while I would not have recognized it as surrender then, I know that is what it was now. In the deepest part of myself I felt an answer.

Don't worry. Let it go. Your life will be what it's meant to be & it will be wonderful.

Cliche? For sure! Cheesy? Yep! But it's not about the words; it's about the feeling. I'm not even fully sure that these were the exact words, but I am sure of the feeling this answer within provoked. I can still feel it now. It feels like a lump in your throat & a swelling of your heart. It feels like such pure joy that it brings tears to my eyes. So screw WHAT the words are; it's about what they make me FEEL; it's about what the words GIVE to me. I'm pretty sure that up until that moment in my life, I had rarely lived fully in the present. I also know that there were few days before then that I felt ok with letting go of my worry. I have been a worrier since I was a child. I do it instinctively & man, do I do it well. I worry in good & productive ways but also in destructive ways. It felt amazing to give myself permission to let it go. To not feel the burden that I had carried with me for as long as I had known. It was a release in a way that profoundly affected me. (spoiler-I did not do so well holding on to this in my 'real life'...but later I would feel this again, this time embedded in my everyday...but that's a ways away!)

So aside from this wonderful moment, there was of course my team of women. The women I met on this trip are amazing, wonderfully strong, inspiring women. They will be lifelong loves of my life....no matter how long we might go between talking! At the end of our trip, we each wrote messages for each other that we were not given until we left on the plane. I read mine as we took off from Alaska heading back to my 'real life'. I cried on the plane. I wanted to see myself the way I felt on this trip. I wanted to see myself the way these women got to see me. Reading some of their notes, I knew that they knew an Alexa that some people back home didn't. And what a shame as I liked her so much better. Here is a small snippet of what they saw:

'You are by far one of the most genuinely happy/fun-loving people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.'

'Thanks for making me laugh morning, noon & night. I don't think I've laughed so much in a long long time. You don't know how much I needed that.'

'Thanks for providing so much comic relief during the trip. I have laughed away years of tears and sadness with you!'

There are more. However...

But yes, I really liked that girl. On the plane, I prayed I could hold onto her. That I wouldn't let life take her away. That problems had been solved.

When I got home, it was hard. I missed the women on my trip. I missed Alaska. I missed everything. I cried. A lot. I wanted to hold that trip (the feelings, the experiences, all of it) in my being. I wanted that trip to be my 'real life'. I could see that I was going to have a challenge to hang on to what I had gained. I sensed it slipping away. And yes, it did.

the very very beginning

I sensed a grand ‘something-to say’ dwelling within & I patiently waited for it to rise to the surface. Here is what surfaced.


“Because you're listening.
Out there,
Somewhere,
I can feel you listening.”

While I am a subscriber to the idea that every given moment, every choice & decision come to pass, every habitual development, every whim you believe you’ve had, every bit of your history brings you to exactly where you are today & that you’d never be in this exact spot if even the tiniest of things had gone differently, I can still believe at the same time that there are certain small legs of your journey that have a beginning, that started at one moment. These ideas are not mutually exclusive in my experience. All of my life has led to this moment. But at the same time, I know the exact beginning that led to THIS moment.

It was indeed a moment to remember. Small though it might have been, it was large in a cosmic sense. It was an everyday moment that in the core of my existence meant more than it did when the girl down the street, or across the ocean for that matter, experienced it. See, in this every day, nothing ground breaking, happens all the time moment, I began a journey. I took a first step & had no idea what I had indeed ventured into.

My moment of beginning? I finished a book. Yes, just like you did a day ago or a month ago or whatever, all I did was read the last page in a book I couldn’t put down & close the cover. Done. Life changed in an instant. This book, one that many loved down to their core & one that others claimed was self-indulgent, was the catalyst. And I find it humorous the varying opinions of this book. No, correction. I find it humorous that people decided to call it self-indulgent. The reason for this is three-fold.

One, anyone who writes a book, no matter the topic, is indulging some part of themselves. I mean hello? Writing & publishing is different than just writing. Publishing a book means that you have decided you have something to share that others might want to read. I have no problem with this. I think it’s true, we love to read others stories & their musings. However, to claim that a book is particularly self-indulgent because it focuses on the author’s journey, when all book are inherently somewhat self-indulgent, is redundant. It’d be like saying, “Geez, that autobiography is really self-indulgent.” What’d you expect? You bought an AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

Two, it is humorous that the person who is writing a review, who apparently thinks their opinion of books is so much more thoughtful or intelligent or experienced than anyone else’s, should be so hypocritical. You see, simply by putting your opinion out there, as though it matters, you’ve indulged a reflection you have about yourself.

Three, and most important, thank God for self-indulgence! Seriously. If no one else is going to indulge who you are, or decide your story is worthy of being told, you better do so for yourself. If you are waiting around for the world to notice you & decide that your story is worth investing in, you’ll be waiting a long time. You must find value in your own story. You are after all, all you’ve got. You are in charge of deciding this life of yours & if you think you have nothing to share with the world, then that’s your problem. I mean it. Invest & indulge who you are. You’ll be grateful you did!

So. I put down this ‘self-indulgent’ book & looked across the room at the-one-who-I-was-trying-to-make-the-One-but-was-so-clearly-NOT-THE-one & said, “We have a problem.” He sat and looked at me, waiting for what usually came next: my fix-it plan, Alexa to the rescue, here’s how we solve it. Instead, I sat & thought. Then corrected, “No, not we. There is a problem. That’s all I know. It may not even be about us. But there is a problem & I cannot point a finger at you because I’m actually not sure that the problem isn’t with me.” Long pause. No reaction. “All I know is, this can’t be my life.”

However, I knew the truth. It was indeed my life & I had made conscious choices to build it. Only now I was beginning to see that I hadn’t really taken enough time with the foundation. You cannot build anything with a shoddy foundation. Cracks don’t take long to develop. Cute furniture & a coat of paint only go so far. Yes, what I had built was crumbling. I could feel it about to collapse & I could either just wait around for it or I could take a look at what I had created & try to rebuild. I knew that the problem might lay deeper than the bricks & mortar I had used in building this life. I was drawn again to the foundation- me. What had I done for me? (I kept thinking that the person who wrote that song asking what have you done for me lately, either had a great foundation & did plenty for themselves first, or like so many of us, was ready to point the finger at someone else for their problems.)

So I put the book down & made a choice. I would work on my foundation. I can tell you now that I did some VERY valuable work on the foundation. However, I can also say that I attempted to fix problems at the bottom while keeping the top there, hoping once I repaired the fundamental issues, the rest of what I had built would be fine, would finally look like the dream house I wanted. What I was forgetting was that if the foundation was the problem, then that means I was the problem. Meaning the builder was the problem. Meaning that, at some point, I’d have to face the fact that I was building a life that fit the messed-up builder, not me. Ah, but that would only become clear later. At this point, I took a wonderful first step in rebuilding myself by thinking of all those things I’d always wanted to do but never had a reason. I thought a great way to really solidify who I was, was to indulge those things that my heart sang out for.

I put my book down & headed to the computer. I had always seen pictures of people building houses for those less fortunate & thought that I wanted to be in one of those pictures. I can honestly say I am a person who loves helping others, but I can honestly also say the draw of wanting to do this was not that deep. I really just wanted to be able to say I had done it. Sure, I wanted to help. But really I just for some reason wanted to be one of those people in the hard hat pounding a nail into a foundation. I would later learn that this desire did come from that place of wanting to help others, but at that moment when I went to the computer, it was about helping myself. And what better way to work on my foundation than to put hammer to nail & build a darn house. If that couldn’t teach me how to build my life, well, then, hmm, well I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

When I went to the website & looked at the list of places to go, the first that popped up was Alaska. Done. I knew there was no way out. It was a sign. It was my destiny. I don’t care how you view those life signs, but it was something saying, ‘YOU HAVE TO DO THIS. DON’T BACK OUT.’ because most likely I would’ve found a reason not to do it. Maybe it was my future self making sure I didn’t let go of what I was slowly catching onto. Whatever it was I could not ignore it. Seeing Alaska made it the decision perfectly clear. Before clicking on ‘Apply’, I thought of the back folder in the file cabinet in my overstuffed closet that I hadn’t used since college. In that folder was an Alaskan Vacation Guide. I had been sitting in my basement room of a house full of practical strangers I lived with in my last year of college when I saw an ad for Alaska. I was entranced. I dreamed of when I would get there. I imagined feeling whole (this was also a time when I was feeling there was ‘a problem’). At the end of the commercial flashed a number to call to receive free Alaska materials & guides & info. I immediately dialed. I received the packet about a week or so later, looked through it all with a wishful heart & then stuffed it in the last file folder in my file cabinet, sure that I’d come back to it soon enough. Then life happened. I never did get back to it. So nearly 6 years later, I clicked ‘Apply’ on the trip that was a Women’s-Only trip (ensuring it would be about ME, as I couldn’t even be tempted to ask if he’d like to come with me), closed the computer, went to the closet & got out my Alaska planning materials (that the boyfriend-at-the-time had never even known about) & decided to work on me.

The Story of A Wish to Grow

'A Wish to Grow' was introduced to me in this past year of my life. A year that both challenged me & uplifted me. A year that pushed me down into the dirt & nurtured me into growth. It was indeed a year I did not see coming & it hit me like a mack truck. It was the beginning of a transformation I didn't realize I had signed up for. It was the beginning of a growth I'd never known. Yes, it started in the worst way I could imagine. But I could not have come this far without first learning to surrender.

While this blog will tell of the journey that has brought me here (& the journey to come), 'A Wish To Grow' came to me in the middle of the journey. So, to explain the title of my blog, I must jump ahead. Past the spiral down, past the surrender, past the work...but I will come back to it.

In the middle of a small yoga studio in Chicago, I learned of 'A Wish to Grow' while in meditation class. It's quite simple really & something I am shocked isn't given to every child as they grow up. It should be something we embrace, encourage & enliven in our youth. The wish to grow is something that exists in all of us. It is a small little pocket of energy. One that when woken up becomes large. Inside each of us we have not only potential to grow but a desire to do so.

In our culture, it seems we only encourage certain types of growth. Growth in ways society has deemed acceptable. We do not ask ourselves what our deepest wishes are, the many ways we can grow as people.

So take a moment. Close your eyes. & feel your wish to grow. If you feel so moved, repeat 'I wish to grow' as you breathe. Find where your wish to grow lives. Mine lives in two places-my heart & my feet. Much of my own personal wish to grow revolves around passions I have & adventures I want to partake in~thus, heart & feet make sense. However, I did not decide this. I FOUND this. I let myself be led to my wish to grow. I simply let go, surrendered & my wish to grow appeared. And as I gave my energy to this wish, it grew. It grew beyond what I thought was possible.

Now, when I did this, I had already had quite a bit of experience with surrendering (as you'll see in my story to come). So I was able to let go of myself, my controls, my hang-ups, my blahs & really find that place inside myself. Had I looked for it before this, I may not have found it. I surely couldn't find that place as I spiraled down, as I let myself fall apart to begin again. It just wouldn't have been possible.

So, perhaps you're ready to find your wish to grow. Maybe not. It's part of the journey. & it's definitely not the first step. However, I felt this blog must start with an overview of sorts. Because while I may not have been able to sense my wish to grow in the very beginning of this journey, I am now certain that it was indeed my WISH TO GROW that was nagging at me for so long, what was pushing me to my breaking point. Yes, my wish to grow needed to till the soil first in order to plant itself right in the heart (& feet) of my being.

So here it comes. My story. One that millions have been through. One that seems easy compared to some people's journey. Nonetheless, it is worth telling. I know this because of how I've changed. I know this because it's possible. I know it's worth telling because it's life. And in that, we're all the same. You may find moments of your own journey embedded in mine. & maybe you'll have branches of your wish to grow that are so uniquely yours, I won't tell anything even close. I can say this however. Let yourself surrender. Open your heart. Empty your cup. And consciously begin your journey today.