This time last year I thought I was going to be a book coach. I wrote a tiny calling card book, “WRITE LIKE A MOTHER.” The vision? People would devour it and in a fit of unbridled inspiration and hire me to help them craft their business or non-fiction book.
It’s a great business plan except for one problem –: I’m not a coach – I’m a writer. And finally, I know it.
Not sure why it took me 52 years to get this – to stop hiding behind distraction that masquerades as authenticity, but late is great. I picture God laughing at me, clucking at my tantrumming fear and ego and… when I ultimately surrender… breathing a sigh of relief. God: “Ah, sweet defeat and demoralization. Now we can begin.”
In my animated movie script, my lead, Rose, is a vapid camel who wants to shirk her true gifts and cower behind her vapid belief structure of instant gratification and humor. But for this camel to truly be free, she has to do the one thing she is afraid to do: She must embark on a grueling quest to find an oasis in the desert with water that satisfies not just herself but her entire community.
She must stop blaming and shaming others.
She must stop waiting for some other day to find serenity. Some Day is not a day of the week.
The real takeaway: She must stop talking about it – she must take the steps and DO it. My mentorship at Story Summit is teaching me the same skills: less talking, more action. I’m so grateful to Tab Murphy (writer Hunchback of Notre Dame, Gorillas in the Midst, Tarzan, Atlantis, Batman Animated….) and my sweet, triple humped Rose. Both are my daily reminder that when you become who you are truly meant to be, not who you think you are supposed to be, your brave act of transformation radiates to everyone around you – encouraging them to be their most authentic selves, too.
(You might have to spit and swan dive into some muddy watering holes along the way, but ultimately, it will all work out.)
I have been an avid coffee drinker since I’ve been 16. I’m now 50. Even my special ed math kids can come to the approximate conclusion that I’ve been drinking coffee for 34 years. A more traditional learner such as yourself could equally surmise I’ve been drinking it for more than 50% of my life.
Just scroll through the internet and you’ll find a ton of writers citing case studies on why coffee is great for you. Benefits include everything from anti-oxidants to pre-work out boosts and extra go juice for late night work and study sessions. Plus there’s the whole “focus” and “way to jumpstart your morning” deal. Bottom line: this wonder drug has no limits!
But here’s the problem with this no limit stimulant: humans have limits, and I’m one of them.
Why Give Up Coffee After 30 years?
They say that as you get older you get wiser. I am far from being a saint, but it’s a fact that I’ve gotten much closer to my true self these past few years. Wisdom and faith were hard earned. I searched and found. And along those lines of finding, it became all too apparent that although I love the taste of coffee, I found that my authentic soul didn’t really need all those extra stimulants via my delicious expresso.
Maybe other people can handle it better than I can, but I had to wave the white flag. After drinking up to four cups/day (very strong cups, I might add) I still lacked the energy I needed to get through the day. It was as if I needed a cup of coffee to boost me awake after the inevitable let down of the last cup of coffee.
Then there was the fact that I caught myself thinking about it all the time. “When was my next coffee break?”… “Happy about that new client? Drink coffee!” … “Sad about not getting that new client after all? Drink coffee!” … “Need something to get you through the online zoom day teaching? Drink coffee!”
As a sober alcoholic, I know that java isn’t such a big deal compared to drinking a bottle of two buck chuck per day, but it still caused its fair share of problems:
Problems from Drinking Coffee
Last minute bathroom runs: Yes, coffee made me do my business in the morning, but it would also sneak up on me when I was in traffic. Or taking a jog around the block. Or on a train downtown during the Women’s March when I had to exit my group of gals to beg a Kaiser facility to let me use the girls’ room.
Crankiness: I am high strung to begin with. Adding caffeine into my day in large quantities was like revving the motor on my inner bitch button. I don’t want to be on edge, but coffee took away the space between “I’m going to give that person a piece of my mind” and “Hmmm… maybe telling your family member the best way to live their life when it’s none of my business is not such a hot idea.”
Bad breath: My dog has breath that could start a car, but on coffee I could start a semi truck. Herbal tea is much kinder to my husband when he wants to sneak a last minute kiss on his way out to work, and while I now drink 8 cups of that instead of a decaf/regular coffee combo, at least I’m not filling up my stomach with more acid than a Costco battery pack.
Dependency: After giving up wine almost 5 years ago, I just don’t covet the idea of having to have something to get going in the morning. Like Merlot, coffee worked until it didn’t. When it became more of a “have to” instead of a “want to” I had to kick it to the curb.
So I’m not gonna lie — giving up coffee has been one of the difficult things I have ever done. I love the smell. I love the taste. I love the feeling of a kiln fired mug in my hands and a thick dark coffee waiting inside. So many of my happiest childhood memories are traced back to my parents drinking coffee and laughing with good friends in the kitchen… studying at Nordstroms with girlfriends at UC San Diego where, as broke college kids, we could get unlimited refills of Joe for 25cents.
Coffee to me is what smoking is for others. It’s sexy. It’s late nights at dim lit diners after seeing an amazing piece of theater. It’s writing scripts at the counters of old delis and vintage pie shops. It’s long distance road trips. It’s sitting around the campfire and swapping ghost stories. It’s waking up on Christmas morning and that lovely anticipation of opening gifts while eating a slice of last night’s pumpkin pie. It’s a handsome man taking me to a bistro and sharing a brownie with me over an Americano just so we don’t have to say goodbye.
Just typing that out is making me yearn for it. But… like with wine… it started becoming an idol. Like the Kenney Chesney song, “One was one too many… one more was never enough.” A better way to put it is like this:
When I controlled coffee, I couldn’t enjoy it. And when I enjoyed it, I couldn’t control it.
Some of you might say, “Oh, for God sake, lighten up, Andrea. You already don’t drink. Give yourself a vice and enjoy your life!”
And friends, that’s what I told myself for years. And while I found my relationship with it starting to fade, I still found I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than anything else out there. And that kind of sucks. For me, that looked like building my life around coffee and not the other way around. Ex: I didn’t get a kick out of parties that didn’t have coffee the way I like it. (Yes, dumb, but true.) I wouldn’t go to certain restaurants that didn’t serve it the way I liked it. (Super dark with rich cream.) Even my own coffee, unless it was thick enough to start a car, it wasn’t worth drinking, and then I’d be cranky.
I once switched to decaf for a year, but that only left me drinking 6 cups of thick decaf each day which was the same as one cup of regular coffee anyway + dry skin to boot. #addict
This kind of mental back flips toward the end over something I used to enjoy so much had end. I felt in my gut — where the God of my understanding lives — that it was time to release this ridiculous obsession to make room for new pleasures in my life.
Pleasures that didn’t cause me stinky breath, emergency pit stops and gobs of money at every Starbucks in town.
Immediately after that last cup I felt amazing.
Kidding.
I was depressed. For about two weeks. I still am, mildly.
Giving up the coffee was akin to giving up a toxic boyfriend who once was so delightful. Sure, I’d miss its company, but it no longer served me. It had to go.
The Spiritual Side of Less Caffeine
There are some perks (no pun intended) to giving up the mud. In slowing down, thanks to lack of caffeine, I started having insights that I never would have had thanks to the dopamine high I was so used to experiencing. The main one was that, despite many years of work on myself, there is a piece of me that is consistently restless, irritable and discontent. Oh, sure, it doesn’t drive the bus like it used to, but it’s ready to take the wheel at any time. Giving up coffee, and allowing God into these moments of discomfort, has forced me to look at things I haven’t wanted to for a long time.
I am not into self-deprivation (though it might appear to that living without alcohol and coffee now) but there is a place for stopping distractions… to letting our souls fill with the God of our understanding instead of always turning for the next fix.
Do I think I will give up coffee forever? I don’t know. But I do know this: I’m going through a very holy period of my life right now. I have never seen so much change. It’s like living in Upside Down Land at times. There is simply not enough coffee to make me feel like it’s all going to right itself back again. But… and here’s the big BUT… I’ve had an epiphany since giving up the brown juice:
Life before coffee was never ideal. It was just life, like cream in my java, a mixture of good and bad mixed together. I saw it through a lense of steam…a projection of what I wanted it to be rather than what it really was.
Letting go of my favorite escape is helping me to get my daily fixes with God as I know Him. It’s causing me to sit in my discomfort and realize I’m not going to die.
Tonight I sat at my kitchen table with my Covid bubble. This includes my friend, her two littles, her sister and her family and, of course, my family. While my teens played Among Us with a few friends socially distanced outside, the adults planned our Thanksgiving dinner.
My chosen family is El Salvadorian, and I was delighted to hear that this comes with new recipes I have yet to try, plus I won’t be making the turkey! (Let’s get real… my husband won’t be making it. I rarely cook.) Instead, mis amigos will bring the bird, complete with soft bread and tomato sauce.
As for the after dinner extravaganza, I might not get coffee with the Cheesecake my friend is bringing for dessert, but I’ll have a delicious cup of decaf Stash Chai Spice. And, remembering that experiences trump idols every time, I’ll be sure to say an extra prayer of gratitude that I followed my gut to unplug my coffee pot… and my over caffeinated brain… to settle down and appreciate the new pleasures this season has to bring.
Until next time —
About Me
I’m a published TV, blog, magazine and book writer who also coaches moms and grandmoms to write books rooted in wisdom, spirituality and humor.
I’m not gonna pretend I have this big, sexy, Everything I Could EVER WANT IN A DREAM JOB.
Yet.
But I’m getting closer every day. Or, better put, every morning.
In good times and bad, in sickness and health, Monday through Friday, I’m getting closer and closer to it every day in just 45 minute bursts.
Now that might not sound too amazing — to build a business in just 45 minutes per day. But given all the interruptions that come with modern life, from social media and teenagers to extended family responsibilities… to my spiritual and 12 step practice and… oh yeah, an actual decent paying job with benefits because my kids actually need to eat every single day, this tiny block of undistracted attention has proven to be crucial to the development of my coaching business. Besides, how can I tell the women I work with to defend their 45 minutes/day of passion project time if I can’t defend mine?
Be not afraid of growing slowly. Be only afraid of standing still. — Chinese Proverb
There’s so many reasons why I will defend this 45 minute block to the death, but here are just 10.
10 Reasons to Work 45 Minutes a Day Toward Your Dream
Focus Focus Focus: So I said it already, but I can’t stress it enough, it’s so easy to get stuck taking care of other things or, equally as challenging, just being distracted. Knowing that from 8:15–9, come hell or high water I’m building my business, has kept my hummingbird brain laser focused on what my end goal is: to quit my day job and coach women full time.
Start with the End: A coach of mine told me a long time ago that if I wanted to succeed at my goals, I needed to think about what the end-goal was. I know mine for sure: In addition to coaching women to write their memoirs and e-books, I want to have financial and time freedom. I KNOW this possible with doing only a small portion each day, so I lay down my comfort of catching up on Schitt’s Creek and just do the work. (Plus I love those characters so much, I’m almost terrified to watch the last season. I already went into a mild depression thinking Season 5 was “It” and then, praise Jesus, Netflix dropped season 6 in like a ray of light in a Covid nightmare. But I’m digressing… something I do not do from 8:15–9am each day! I swear!)
Set a Timer: “Alexa, set timer for 45 minutes!” Yup, that’s me, every single morning after rushing in from my walk. I don’t check Instagram. I don’t look at my phone. I don’t check personal email. All I do for 45 minutes is whatever is on the task list that day. If I can’t get it done, no worries. I refer to #4.
Stop Worrying: One of the hardest things for me with the 45 minute deal is to know that while I’m getting things done, they aren’t necessarily being completed in that exact time frame. The control freak in me has to work super hard at chilling out, letting go and trusting that, in time, it will get done and I will move onto the next task at hand. It’s progress, not perfection. When I remember that, it’s nothing but rainbows and sparkles.
The Power of “Yet”: One of the best things I’ve learned from teaching special ed math is that in teaching my kids the power of a growth mindset, I’m re-wiring my brain as well. I often tell them when they are frustrated, “I know it’s annoying that you haven’t figured out that problem…But you will. You just haven’t figured it out YET.” The same goes with any new skill I’m learning. For 45 minutes/day, I work on saturating myself with a positive mindset so fresh concepts and skills can stick, and besides…
“I Can Do Anything 45 Minutes/Day”: I got that little nugget from one of my teacher friends. When I was just an assistant and chasing an autistic girl across campus every day who would run as far as she could away from me, scream and punch me (yeah, that was amazing) Cathi would often remind me, “Andrea, you can do anything for an hour/day” (referring to the periods of class I would be in charge of my little escape artist). I have adjusted that to my business building, and it sure takes the pressure off. But that can only happen with #7.
Your Spiritual Life: Did you think you’d see a post from me without a nod to my Higher Power? No such luck! I could never do my 45 minutes of focused attention to my business — with all my negative thoughts pounding at me to “give up!” if it weren’t for belief in a power greater than me that wants me to succeed. So I’m reminding you, too, that with the help of your higher power you can tap into an energy that believes in you! You can ask the God of your understanding in to help you learn, grow and create your dream. (And here’s the best news: your higher power already sees you as successful! He/She has no timeline on where you are at in the process. If your Higher Power doesn’t subscribe to this unconditional belief in your bad ass self, by all means, borrow mine!)
Defend Your Quiet: I admit I’m lucky to have my own office. Granted, it came only after years of renting our house out to make ends meet while my husband started his own business and I went back to school as a special ed aid/then substitute teacher. (My hubby and I used to to live in the dining room to give space to the renter — no joke!) But even if you don’t have your own office, you might have your own bedroom. Or a corner of the kitchen. Or your car. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you must do your work, do it. Make headphones your friend. Trade with your sister to help with the kids. Do it when the kids go to bed or during naps. And, special shout out to the moms, our kids don’t need more stuff. What they need is the example of a woman who lives out her own dreams so they can grow up and live out there. Show them your positive mindset!
The one thing I can promise you is that as hard as it is sometimes to find 45 minutes a day, it’s worse spending the rest of the day thinking you COULD have worked toward your dream… but you didn’t.
9. Remember You are Worth It: Sometimes we say we don’t have 45 minutes/day to work on our dream, but that’s a lie. The real reason so many of us don’t spend that time is because somewhere deep in our soul we don’t think we’re worth it. When we face that lie for what it is and wrestle it to the ground, dreams can come true.
Note: If you are an A student at dream deprivation, don’t be surprised if the first month you spend the entire time just staring at your screen. I’m here to tell you, “So what!” As long as your intention is to build your dream, eventually your brain will catch on with your body and your new habit will pay off in major productivity — 45 minutes at a time.
10. Take Opposite Action: This one is always the hardest for my clients. They often think that because it feels wrong, it is wrong. I could say the same thing about giving up drinking. Every ounce of my body was screaming, “Gulp the wine! It’s just a glass. Or six!” But my soul, where the God of my understanding lives, reminded me, “Andrea, it’s hard now. But think of how much closer you’ll get to living as your authentic self if you aren’t buzzed every night.” The same can be said when it comes to taking action on our dreams.
When we stop listening to the lies that tell us our dreams aren’t worth it, and instead bring the God of our understanding in and work 45 minutes on our projects, something miraculous happens. We land on the flip side fear.
Today was a great day. After 3 months of dealing with a book formatter out of Australia and knowing in my gut that he was wrong for the job, I hired a woman from the U.S. who is going to get my book formatted within a week. And it looks soooo good. There is no way I would have been able to pull the trigger and hire her if I hadn’t put in the 45/minutes a day of hard work to know what was working for my business and what was not.
This is my book cover!
Along with my new graphic designer’s typesetting, I will have my new book out within a month. Am I nervous? Heck yeah! But I’ll just keep taking my own advice and inch it forward a bit each day. I will use all these new skills to help my future clients with their amazing books.
And, each day, I will thank God that when I wanted to quit I just put on my big girl panties, fired up my computer and kept going… 45 minutes at a time.
I’d love to hear where you are with your dreams. You are worth it! Push forward!
About Me
I’m a published TV, blog, magazine and book writer who also coaches moms and grandmoms to write books rooted in wisdom, spirituality and humor.
Every day I fire up the computer and teach Special Ed math for one of the largest school districts in the country. And while my end game is to coach women to write books full time, this waiting period in my life is a wonderful reminder to remember my daily mantra:
Instead of asking “Why is this happening to me?” I always ask “What is this trying to teach me?” Then God gives me a download I never would have come up with on my own.
Today was no exception. My first class of the day consisted of 10 sixth graders. These kids are in my room because they struggle with things as basic as two digit multiplication and single division. When I first began teaching in August, I had very high hopes for this online class. I’d spend my days encouraging them to memorize their times tables.
When that wasn’t happening, I encouraged them to use their online multiplication charts to get an answer.
When that wasn’t happening, I started reminding them to “Give me a thumbs up!” to at least know they were paying attention.
When that wasn’t happening I began calling their names, one by one, asking them to unmute and shout out the answers.
Yay! That worked!
Kidding.
Crickets.
Desperate, I asked them to use the Chat feature to type out their answers.
Chat was a big success! Well, for them, not me. Instead of using it to go over math, they used it as a social forum. “Hiyo!” “Hi!” “Hola!” “Wasss up, homie?” and the occasional, “Who likes to play Among Us?” flooded the screen. I quickly learned how to work the Zoom security feature. “Chat Disable?” Check!
It’s not a shock that discontent settled in by Month 2. Thoughts of “Why bother?” were the norm, and while I’d attempt to combat it with my positive self-talk “You’re getting paid well, Lady” I often ended my day with one very conflicted jumbo thought: “You’re getting tax payers dollars to re-enact the teacher from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Is this what you’ve become?”
Taken from this site. That was me, but with longer hair.
But, thanks to a few solid years of a strong Morning Practice, my mind very quickly shifted to a more productive question. To quote a woman from my 12-step program, that question was no other than, “What would God have me do?”
That’s a pretty powerful question, because sometimes we enter hard seasons. But it’s really the only one to ask if we want to stay grounded and serene, despite some rough wind in our sails.
If we look for life to reward us like a slot machine, we’re going to be sorely disappointed at our empty pockets. But if God is the ultimate wealth, then we can shift our attention to the real riches that await us if we are willing to do His will.
I’m lucky enough, after years of wandering around aimlessly with a talent for writing and people skills, but not a plan, to know what my ultimate purpose is: It’s to be of maximum service to God and others.
This doesn’t mean I want to be part of some rigid religious system or personal self-denial routine where I self-will my way into being a saint. (I get grouchy and eat far too many quiches for the austere deprivation lifestyle.) But it does mean that I can have all the creativity in the world, but if I’m not aligning my purpose and daily plans with my Higher Power’s, I’m like a bull in china shop, causing damage wherever I roam. And no one gets more damaged from being untethered than me. I need guidelines to feel centered. My boisterous aunt used to refer to her engineer husband as “The string on her high flying balloon” and so it is with my spiritual practice.
The real secret for me in becoming grounded, then, is quite counter-intuitive: To find serenity, I often must do the opposite of what I, as Andrea, wants to do to be happy. (Example: No sleeping in ’til 10 each day, spending my entire savings on a house remodel and drinking enough caffeine to jumpstart a Porsche.) Instead, it’s about doing more of what I believe God would have me do to make others happy.
When I keep my mind on service, instead of self, it’s shocking how peaceful my life goes. And, in doing so, I end up happy! Who knew?
Everyone Has Absolute Value… and Other Life Lessons Stuffed into Math
Today, after my Morning Practice, I was still feeling rather tired from the past two months of madness. I threw in an extra prayer, “God, please, help me get out of the way so I can do your bidding.”
When I surrender my self-will run riot, I find God’s purpose for me in a most unexpected, but typical of my cheeky Higher Power, way. Today was no exception.
I was showing the kids the difference between negative six and positive six on a number line.
“It’s all about the steps back to zero!” I said. “No matter what direction you head, the absolute value is the same. And, here’s a fun fact, absolute value can never be negative!”
That went over like a Trump speech at a Democrat rally. Without even thinking — which I instinctively knew was my Higher Power talking through me — I continued, “It’s like you as people. You are all so important. Think of ‘Zero’ like your Higher Power, or your mom, or some amazing person who loves you unconditionally. It’s natural to want to take steps closer to it. And, like the numbers on the number line, it doesn’t matter if you have ‘negative’ qualities. You are loved so much. You are precious. You have absolute value.”
Seconds later a beautiful brown eyed tween turned on her camera and just looked at me, eyes sunk in… tired. I looked right at her and smiled big.
“You know, Devi, you have absolute value. Are you aware of that?”
Her voice cracked a bit. “Yes,” she muttered. I could tell she meant, “WTF, who are you kidding, Ms. Frizzle?”
But her eyes stayed locked on mine. And I told her how glad I was she was in my class, even if was over the internet. I told her how I couldn’t wait to see her in person when school opened. I told her I’d hug her if I could, but I can’t (and don’t want to be fired for being a perv) so I’d just high five her from 10 feet away. Behind plexi-glass.
I think she got it. Who knows? She exited class early and I didn’t see her the next day.
So here’s the deal, readers: I’m not trying to get a pat on the back here. In moving on with her daily routine, it’s possible she forgot all about being loved unconditionally. But I like to think that she held on to it for the day, the way a smell of a birthday candle and people’s laughter lingers in the room long after the candles are blown out.
And even if she doesn’t remember her value, by telling her she had it, I will remember mine. And for a rough couple months, that’s a pretty good place to start again.
Until next time,
About Me
I’m a published TV, blog, magazine and book writer who also coaches moms and grandmoms to write books rooted in wisdom, spirituality and humor.
For years before I got sober, I was on a variety of anti-depressants for all of my outside issues. My marriage was in the toilet. My son had a condition I couldn’t cure. I was struggling with balancing my writing with my domestic responsibilities and frankly, I was just having a hard time transitioning from my childhood to the intense demands of adulting.
Zoloft calmed me down. After all, my issues were in my tissues, and I hit the genetic lottery in many ways. My family on both sides were kind, loving, funny and smart people. Many of them also struggled with mental health.
If my relatives came with a Tarot card reading, you’d say I came from a line of Bi-polar with Neurosis and Addiction Rising.
I don’t blame my parents for my emotional disposition. They loved me well and gave me an amazing childhood complete with private education, art lessons and lots of time in a beautiful home to work on my writing. In fact, one of my main regrets for a long time was that I was not able to give my own kids the life I had growing up. I felt I had somehow failed because we weren’t celebrating at Jerry’s Deli once/week with Corn Beef sandwiches and black and white cookies. Life wasn’t a constant loop of performing arts and vacations back east or cruises. I wasn’t able to take my daughter to the mall every time she needed a new pair of shorts. Thrift stores became our go-to and “making due” was our motto.
Yet despite my longings to give them more (and some occasional bouts of anger) my kids had a great life.
Looking back over my mothering now, I see that it wasn’t the inability to financially provide for my kids that I regret most. It was not having the tools to navigate the pressures that come with parenting. Enter Zoloft.
Zoloft took the edge off of a very confusing time of my life and allowed my very spinning and creative brain to CALM. DOWN.
It allowed me to focus just a bit more and, like a grace note in a sheet of music, provided just enough pause for me to think rationally about how I wanted to handle my failing marriage and special needs parenting.
But here’s the problem:
Zoloft itself didn’t fix my situation. Only a spiritual solution did. It’s been five years now since I’ve been off the psyche meds and, while life hasn’t been perfect, I have never looked back.
NOTE: Before anyone reaches through the internet and wants to throttle for me for saying that pills aren’t a reasonable way to cure depression and anxiety, you can hold off. I am not a doctor. I am simply telling you what worked for me. Take what you like and leave the rest.
10 Items from my My Spiritual Tool Kit
Here are ten nuggets of wisdom that have transformed my life. I use them still every single day and, while life isn’t always easy (especially the last two months) I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the God of my understanding is with me. I don’t need to dull the pain anymore with alcohol or Zoloft. I simply need to practice some very simple principals, face what isn’t working, and give it God. These simple steps have transformed my life, and they can transform yours (whether or not you choose to be on medication or not!)
Gratitude: Every day I write a list of five things I’m grateful for. Staying grateful even in troubling times does not take the difficulties away, but it makes them bearable. I have done them so consistently, in fact, that now my mind automatically goes to grateful even when I’m less than enthusiastic about my Monday morning routine. Ex: Grateful for a working computer! A cup of hot tea on a desk my husband made me! My beautiful brick wall pictures of my kids smiling down at me! Netflix playing a cozy cafe’ scene in the background! My ridiculous camel lamp lighting up my office, reminding me to ‘Get over the humps with God’! Yup, gratitude lists have re-set my negative thinking to positive thinking and it’s made all the difference.
12-Step Programs: I go to 4 12-step programs a week. I have a sponsee. I take calls daily. I reach out to others who are struggling. I would say I spend, on average, 10 hours/week dedicated to this practice. And while, yes, that’s a lot of time, I also used to spend a lot of time being depressed, anxious and out of control with my emotions. Being an active member of 12 step groups allows me to be connected to a community. To not feel alone. And most importantly, to be reminded that God, not me, is in charge. This reliance on a power greater than myself has kept me out of my head and into action where the solution lives. This leads me to my next point:
Service: In helping others every day, I get out of self. Unlike in my past where I’d help to subconsciously be liked, or to feel worthy, I now do it because it’s what I feel God would have me do to help others heal as I was able to do. I get to pay back what another so kindly paid forward to me. (Thank you, Violet!) Seeing someone else transform their mindset or simply get temporary comfort is a mental boost I never got from Zoloft.
Music: I’m not going to lie. I play Christmas jazz all year long. The sounds of the bells and the happy voices put me in a cozy mood that transcends any negativity in the world. It also sets a joyful tone in my home. Sure, my teenagers roll their eyes when I lip sync “All I Want for Christmas Is You” with my wooden spoon microphone, complete with 50-year-old bootie shakes #okBoomer, but I know they are grateful for my present day levity instead of the past heaviness. I also know for a fact that God has wired me to be happy, joyous and free, but it’s so easy for me to forget with the myriad of tasks on my to-do list. Music is my soul’s gentle reminder that it’s okay to feel happy even when I’d rather get back under the covers and sleep.
No Coffee: I know! I know! This one is crazy. But in giving up caffeine I’ve found I have more patience for my family, friends and co-workers. Every time I think “Man, I could use a cup of Joe” I automatically picture myself pouring out this bad breath juice, saying, “God, I’m emptying my self-will. Fill me with your spirit today.” And I swear, it works. (Though I won’t lie. I miss the taste like crazy. And no, I won’t do decaf. Too many chemicals. Like alcohol, coffee’s treat had become my prison with last minute bathroom trips and an overly stimulated nervous system. Like Marie Kondo, I thanked it for it’s service and ushered a host of delicious teas into my kitchen instead.)
My Will Vs. God’s Will: My default mode is “Control Freak.” In remembering each day, and sometimes on a minute by minute basis, that God is in charge, I have so much more peace. It also helps me make better decisions. When I’m in God’s will, there is serenity. When I’m in my will, I often find myself hurting the people around me in a mad attempt to be right or get my way. I find myself clinging to ridiculous beliefs like, “If only my kid would fold the towels exactly this way I’d feel better about the linen closet and I wouldn’t be angry.” Um, how about instead I look at what is going right instead of what is going wrong? I have a kid who is home, during Covid, folding 1970’s towels. I’m pretty sure the only thing “wrong” in choosing my will instead of God’s is that I make towels and rigidity more important than the loving, easy going spirit of God’s will.
Inside vs. Outside Based: As an A+ Catholic student, who was far too tall to attract the popular boys and not good enough athletically to make any sports team, I found that my grades were a super big validation for me. Unfortunately, it was very outcome based. It didn’t matter if I was feeling overwhelmed or exhausted, as long as I got that “A” all was right in my world. Ummm… “my” world as opposed to “the whole big world”… a world I was ill prepared for with this thinking. My tenacity with grades might have landed me in top universities, as well as landed me as a TV writer when the competition was super fierce, but it wasn’t sustainable. I could not “study” my way into getting people to like my scripts once I was hired. I couldn’t “A+B+C” my way into getting my kids to remember to take the trash out. I couldn’t “1+ 2 = 3” my way into getting my husband to want to spend $5k on getting our house painted. Enter frustration. And yes, Zoloft took the edge off this anger. But in getting to the bottom of the anger, and surrendering to the fact that God loves me… and I don’t have to control everything to be happy… the anger faded. Takeway: When I remember that my insides are more important than the outcomes, I feel peace.
Prayer: Keeping constant contact with something greater than me reminds me that I am never alone. Instead of getting into a “My Will” vs. “God’s Will” battle, I can just choose God’s way first. I can pray something as simple as “Thy will be done.” In doing so, I can surrender to whatever is happening in my life as happening on purpose for a reason. I don’t have to agree with something, but I can get into acceptance. And ah… the Land of Acceptance. It’s a destination that I can keep in my heart and soul twenty four hours a day and doesn’t cost a thing. (Note: Not being in acceptance costs plenty in terms of lack of sleep, fractured relationships and anger.)
Meditation: You’ll be sick of hearing this, but meditation has quieted my brain in a profound way. If prayer is talking to God, meditation is listening. Every morning I take just 10 minutes and get still. In doing so, like in #7, I’m offering up my insides to God to take care of my outsides. It helps me be less outcome based and more present. It reminds me that rest and beauty and nurturing is just as important as my pay check. And when I slow down, I am more aware of beautiful synchronicities and signs that remind me I am on the right path.
Keeping it Light: When I think I’m in charge of the universe, anger and frustration enter. When I remember that life is one giant game to grow my soul, I can laugh at misfortunes. Ex: Yesterday my car broke down. Twice. Once on the way home from my overnight stay at the beach (which was supposed to be my spiritual retreat for myself) and once at the Whole Foods parking lot with a car full of groceries and beer that this alcoholic was delivering to my 90 year old mama. I could have gotten furious, but I remembered to say, “Thy will be done” and just called a tow truck. If I had not been in fit spiritual condition I’d have been calling my husband in a spitfire rage of pissiness, inwardly cursing him for not showing up quickly enough. I’d have stayed in my victim story. Instead, I simply walked back in Whole Foods, asked for a cup of hot water, and drank some herbal Chai while waiting for the driver who, miraculously, appeared within 20 minutes. This brings me right back to #1: Gratitude.
When I Surrendered My Outsides to a God of my understanding, I didn’t need Zoloft for My Insides anymore.
I know many of you out there are suffering. Perhaps my reasons for suffering are different than your reasons. And I can’t pretend that doing one thing on my list, or all of them, will “cure” you right away. But I can promise you this: There is a greater being out there that loves you. And if you can take the time to tap into that being, in whatever form works for you, your burden will lighten.
You will find freedom.
And most importantly, you will find peace.
Today I wish you joy, hope and love. Whether you are on meds or not, I hope you will find time to get outside and see the beauty of a flower. Take a strong sniff of the sea. If your house is a mess, stop focusing on the dishes in the sink and find one small corner of your home where you can sip some tea and get into gratitude for what is working instead of what isn’t.
There is always something to be grateful for.
There is always something to hope for.
I pray that in a world that can often feel dark and despairing, that, as my 12-Step Program promises, you ask God to “Grant you the serenity to accept what you cannot cannot change, the courage to change what you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In doing so, with the God of your understanding residing within you, your outsides might not change over night, but inside you will transform to the radiant person you were meant to be all along. And your life will never be the same.
Why not start today?
Until tomorrow,
Andrea
About Me
I’m a published TV, blog, magazine and book writer who also coaches moms and grandmoms to write books rooted in wisdom, spirituality and humor. Find out more at Andrea Frazer Writes or at Facebook. Come back Monday — Friday where I’ll post about spirituality, writing and sobriety. And sometimes tacos. Because Tacos make everything better. Always.
DON’T MISS A NEWSLETTER!
You can sign up for my email list here where I’ll send you a newsletter all about book writing every Wednesday. Happy Hump Day indeed!
So yes, tonight is Election Day. It’s also the day I decided to move ahead with my blogging again. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. So I’m back.
I woke up yesterday morning like I’ve woken up the past 60 days: tired, exhausted, and hell bent on starting my day again.
I did my Morning Pages. (Thanks, Julia Cameron! You’ve yet to let me down.)
I meditated for ten minutes with my husband.
I cleaned out my wreck of an office the best I could and took my sorry ass for a walk.
I wanted to feel joy and be in the moment, but all I could think about was the horrible feeling of dread I had in my stomach for everything that conspired against me like an epic shot of “Screw You” juice.
The Past 2 Months of Hell
In addition to the “normal” life of Covid, elections were looming.
I’ve had a LOT of personal challenges in my immediate family and my extended family.
I had unexpected stitches followed by surgery on my hand. (Um, don’t ever push your hand down as hard as you can on a trash can that is full of broken glass.)
My husband had mouth surgery last week. Add in a full time job teaching special ed as well as my consulting job coaching women to write books, and I was exhausted.
Normally a person of deep gratitude, I felt the weight of unwanted burdens piling up to the point where I was having a hard time concentrating. I was cranky with my family. I was angry at the dog. Despite my best efforts to “let go” and do the next indicated step — as my 12 step program so magnificently reminds me on a daily basis — I felt stuck.
In an attempt to avoid self-pity, I took the opposite action of sitting in my house ruminating like an old record player stuck on a bad song and went for a walk. But when the beauty of the Fall leaves, a Labrador puppy, a waving/smiley baby and the smell of baking bread didn’t unhinge my negative mind, I did the only thing I could think of. In true Anne Lamott fashion, I muttered under my breath the most holy of holy prayers that one does when they are sinking in a quagmire of despair and unshakeable grief: “Help.”
And that’s when a tiny, but strong voice, came bubbling up. “Call your sponsor,” it told me.
So I did.
And what she said absolutely changed my life. I told her everything. How I couldn’t see the sun no matter how hard I tried. How I was in so much grief over my childhood home being sold. How I was terribly worried about one of my children’s life path and how if I heard my husband click his fork against his molar ONE. MORE. TIME. I would slide across the table Bruce Lee style and strangle him with the Italian cloth napkin. I mean, that would really put a bust on our lovely Italian meal out and then I’d be stuck with the bill.
“Why is all this stuff happening to me?” I lamented. “I pray. I meditate. I go to meetings. I am of service to people. I admit when I’m wrong. Why can’t I feel better?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” she told me.
“What do you mean?” I shot back, dumbfounded. I realized, with some irony, that that was yet another question, but I shut my mouth and let her continue.
“When you do things to feel better, you are in self-will. When you do things to be better, you are in God’s will.”
I had to admit she got me on that one, but I wasn’t ready to give in yet. I was paralyzed in a trance of Self-Righteous indignation with Self Pity rising. This state of mind didn’t feel amazing, but it was like a toxic ex-boyfriend from 1998… I knew he was gay, but I wasn’t quite ready to let go. (“Couldn’t I just have one more night of musical theater with him before we went our separate ways?” I used to ask myself. Of course, in the context of my sponsor’s statement, perhaps if I had asked a better question I would have saved myself endless mornings of remorse. But that was before I was sober. And I didn’t give up booze to repeat stupid patterns over and over, so I continued listening.)
“Instead of asking ‘Why are these things happening?’” she gently stated, “You need to be asking ‘What is this here to teach me?’ ”
Okay, she had me there. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, all my circumstances, ALL of them, came down to the one character defect that gets me every time: control.
Yes, on the surface, my life felt like a Shit Show Circus. But in not trusting God, I was the only one to blame for constantly buying the tickets.
She continued, “When you insist that your way is the right way, Andrea, you are not leaving room for God to act. And worse than that, you are playing the victim so that you don’t have to change.”
“Ouch!” my ego shrieked.
“#TRUTH” my spirit leapt, not unlike a tight rope walker at the Greatest Show On Earth — my very own life.
Her final question went straight into the center of my being, “What if, from this point on, you never tried to control anybody ever again? What would that do to your relationships?”
I didn’t say anything. How could I? She was right. But I can tell you how I felt — like I was going to throw up.
“Are you willing to never again blame anyone else for what is happening to you? Are you willing instead to look at your life like a giant game and see what it can teach your soul?” she asked.
“I guess,” I said, half-heartedly. I felt destroyed — like my gut had taken a giant hit. Which, of course, it did. I mean, if I couldn’t blame anyone, then it was all up to me. And if was all up to me, then I was really doomed to fail. Because me, just little old Andrea? She was only human. And how could little old human Andrea manage everything going on?
“What if I am not capable of not blaming people?” I asked her.
“You’re asking the wrong questions again,” she told me. “A better one might be, ‘Are you capable of doing this with God’s help?’”
And that’s when, for just tiny moment, I felt the giant weight of the entire world that had been my life for the past 60 days ease. And, just as quickly, all these questions started flooding in — questions that my very own soul had the answers for.
The Beauty of the Right Question
“What if I’m not in charge of my almost adult child’s life decisions at this time?”
“What if I focused on what was going right with my kids instead of what was going wrong?”
“What if it didn’t matter if my husband and I agreed on everything financially?’
“What if my childhood home being sold was not a travesty but the best thing in the world to bring on new beginnings for my mom, my brother and my entire family — to gather in a beautiful new place and create new memories?”
“What if in not ever playing the victim I can expose some of those final tapes from my past that are holding me back so I can release them to God and transform into the person I have meant to be all along?
I couldn’t believe all the questions my soul had for me.
But I can promise you this. I already knew the answers. And one of them, friends, was to fire up this old blog again and write.
I’ve missed it. And I’ve missed you. And most of all, I’ve missed the me that is always happiest when I’m writing. And so, I leave you with this:
“How are you feeling about life these days?”
“Are you asking the right questions?”
And, most important:
“Are you willing to not be a victim in your own life and see what life has to teach you so you can be better, instead of do better?”
If so, you’re in the right place. Follow me as I write Monday — Friday. I can’t wait to grow with you again!
About Me
I’m a published TV, blog, magazine and book writer who also coaches moms and grandmoms to write books rooted in wisdom, spirituality and humor. Come back Monday — Friday where I’ll post about spirituality, writing and sobriety. And sometimes tacos. Because Tacos make everything better. Always.
DON’T MISS A NEWSLETTER!
You can sign up for my email list here where ’ll send you a newsletter all about book writing every Wednesday. Happy Hump Day indeed!
So today, like Saturday, started out so good! I meditated! I prayed! Today was Day 2 for me in Oprah and Deepak’s free meditation and it’s soooo worth the time. Today’s theme? Hope. Um, yeah, we can use this a bit these days!
I journaled. I prayed for friends. I was so refreshed! I was ready for the day – one foot on the earth and one in the heavens where the God of my understanding resides.
And then I came downstairs and the teens had different ideas about being ready for the day than I did. I didn’t show frustration or dish out shame like Saturday. (Hooray for progress!) But the co-dependent in me was irritated that they were irritated. If people would just behave I wouldn’t have issues, right?!
Mark Nepo, in his book, The Endless Practice, talks so beautifully about how problems – so often of our own making – occur when our soul that wants to soar like a hawk is bound to the earth. It’s not the challenge of being on the earth but in our resistance to being rooted that causes conflict.
Like I am reminded of in my 12 step program, “Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today.” When I get into grr over not getting my way, it’s never the situation itself that is the problem but the fact that I fight what I think I deserve. I argue with people not meeting my expectations (as if I know all the answers?) And in the middle of that tug of war I forget to take a breath and ask God for help. It doesn’t have to be a big drawn out prayer. “Help!” works just fine.
Awareness – A Double Edged Sword
Awareness is a beautiful thing in my life, because I’m learning ever so slowly that the only person I can truly control is myself. In times of quarantine, it’s particularly lovely to remember this. But it’s also a painful lesson to learn, because “good parenting” and “toxic control” for this A-personality sometimes get mixed up. I take things too personally and really, that’s not good for anyone.
For you parents of kids out there – especially teens – tell me how you are managing setting expectations but letting go when they do what teenagers do!
Tic Update
For those of you who have been following me for a long time, I want to give you an update on Stink with his permission. That update? He barely tics at all. Some of this is because he is now 17 and a half. Tics naturally slow down as the teen years come to a close. Some of it is because he is not that stressed out anymore due to a more lax school schedule. But a lot of it, and I really believe this last bit, is because I have calmed down.
I’m a big believer in energy, and as woo woo as this is going to sound, I believe that my energy and his are very interlinked. We have always “gotten” each other so well. When he started ticking as a young boy I was so worried about it that I’m convinced my spike in fear created additional spikes in his symptoms. When I calmed down – with a boatload of work on myself and faith in something greater than me – he calmed down.
One of my readers here, Jeff, talks about his Tourettes sometimes. So, Jeff, I want to know: do you agree with any of my thoughts above? That in releasing my fears of tics that his tics have settled down? Would love your opinion.
Isaac, Abe and Eye Rolls
I’m reminded of that Old Testament chapter where God asks Abraham to put Isaac on the altar. Good Old Abe doesn’t want to, but he trusts God, and when he does, Isaac’s life is spared.
To me, this is not a story to be taken literally, but rather it demonstrates what happens when we place our idols down. I was making Tourettes an idol, and when I said, “God, you take Stink, he’s not mine to control” peace was granted both for Stink’s symptoms and my own internal emotions.
Happy Monday! I hope you are finding some peace within the fear of the virus and some love despite less than perfect circumstances.
Whether your kids tic or not, or drive you crazy (or not) I wish you nothing but the best as this week goes on. And be good to yourselves! You – and the kids – are worth your peace of mind.
Andrea
Until next time,
My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. )
Want to Write a Book? Contact Me!
Need an editor, a mentor or a ghost writer? Contact me at HappilyTickedOff@Gmail.com or find me on Facebook @AndreaFrazerWriter
I love this picture. It brings up images of parents that are there for their child but willing to let them run free. It’s a wonderful symbol for what I strive to be for my own kids.
In my last post I spoke about how I was going to take advantage of my forced vacation from school (AKA: My Coronacation) to spend more time with my children. By “children” I mean “very tall teenagers.” And by “spend time” with them I mean “not micro-manage their every move.”
To be clear, I by no means am going to let my 4-bedroom home become a movie set for Lord of the Flies, Coronavirus 2. Nor am I sewing myself a cosplay outfit ala Captain Vontrapp either, complete with a military style schedule and a whistle. (I could never look as hot as Christopher Plummer, so why bother?)
But this wasn’t always the case. There was a time in my parenting career where I lived and breathed everything my children did. I wasn’t a helicopter parent, but I was absolutely an enmeshed one.
According to Psyche Central, you might be an enmeshed parent if this applies to you:
“Your children’s good or difficult behavior, and successful or unsuccessful achievements, define your worth.”
“Your children are the center of your life — your sole purpose in life.”
“Your entire focus is on taking care of your children, rather than also taking care of yourself.”
“Your happiness or pain is determined solely by your children.”
“You are invasive — you need to know everything about what your children think and do.”
If you asked me if I fit that description, I’d give you a hearty, “Hell, no! Just look at my house. Do their disorganized bedrooms, and their less than perfect school grades, match the traits of someone who is overly concerned with her kids?
But the more I researched it, the more I realized how wrong I was.
An enmeshed parent doesn’t apply to a child’s exterior life. It applies to their emotional ones which, to their supreme detriment, is bound up co-dependently with their parent’s feelings of well being.
My Daughter and Her Enmeshed Mother in Transition
As I’ve mentioned before, my daughter is super independent. She’s smart and sassy and doesn’t take to people telling her what to do. That said, she is still only 15. She simply doesn’t know what she doesn’t know. As her mom, it’s my job to set boundaries with love.
It just so happens that yesterday, on our first day of our Coronacation, we decided to take a walk on the beach. There were no people there… lots of open space… no fears of people coughing Covid 19 over our sun screened faces. It was a perfect time to talk about something that had been on my mind for a long time: her grades, her time management skills, and a particular class next year she really wants to get in.
That last item? She doesn’t just want a spot in this prized class. It’s all she’s been talking about all year. There is an audition component to getting in and, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been super anxious about her getting in myself.
Happy vs. Enmeshed in Our Kids Lives
I mean, who wouldn’t want their kid to be happy, right? But if I’m being honest, it’s more than that. I have the tendency to want her to be happy so I can be happy, and that’s never a good combination. That’s enmeshment.
I’m really careful about these days about this toxic parenting. But I wasn’t always. The old Andrea would have been up my daughter’s butt for six months telling her what she needed to do to get ready for the big try out. But this new Andrea — the one who is writing enough herself to not have to live through her daughter’s dreams — was able to be more chill about it.
I’m pretty proud of how the conversation went. It involved more questions than directives. I only brought up the topic when I was calm. (Hence not in the car when I was still pretty irritated about a dental appointment that didn’t go so well.)
Instead of launching into a lecture, I said a little prayer before I began speaking: God, let this conversation be about what is best for Evie’s life, not my enmeshed Mama ego. Let me remember that this is her life, not mine. Let me remember the difference between control and suggestion and have the wisdom to know the difference. (That last bit, God, I suck at. So feel free to smite me when I go overboard.)
Me: So, Evie, I’d like to talk to you about your tryout. Is this a good time?
If she said no, I’d have dropped it. I mean, what’s the point of having a conversation with your teenager, unless it’s truly life threatening, if they are not ready to listen?
Her: Sure. What’s up?
Me: Well, I know how badly you want this particular class. And I told you in September I wouldn’t bring this up anymore — and I didn’t. But… you now have three extra weeks to prepare for the tryouts thanks to our enforced time off from school.
Her: And?
Me: And… I’m not seeing you rehearse that much for it. What’s up with that?
Her: Oh that’s simple. I’m not rehearsing!
Me: And… this is because…
Her: It’s because there’s another piece to the audition that I’m much weaker on. I have been using my time to work on that instead.
Me: (Starting to get frustrated… enter enmeshed mama trying to break in) So the first piece isn’t that important?
Her: Oh, no, it totally is.
Me: (Truly stumped) Can you explain to my why, if it’s so important, you’re not doing it?
Her: Yeah. It’s because forever I felt that you wanted me to have this more than I did. And that didn’t feel particularly amazing.
Me: Hmmm.
Note: “Hmmm” is my go-to when I know my kid just needs me to listen. And also when I know she’s right. Translation: May day! May day! My ego has just taken a big hit and it needs comfort big time! Pass the wine!
Crap, you don’t drink anymore! Pray! Breathe!
So I did. Then I pressed her for more detail and braced myself. (Her frankness is not always pretty.)
Her: I sometimes think you don’t see how hard I’m working at other areas of my life and just focus on the areas that are important to you.
Me: Yeah, I can see that. But on this occasion, I do know how much you want this class. I wouldn’t be a great mom if I didn’t at least point out where you have an opportunity to improve.
Her: I know. It just reminds me of how you used to be.
I wanted to scream, “And I was right then, too! Just as I am now!” Instead I went with:
Me: Okay, you have my word I won’t bring it up again.
Her: You won’t have to. Because, don’t freak out, Mama Llama, I’m going to practice more. I just needed you to back off first.
Enter angels singing on the beach! (Okay, not that last part — but it was a victory!)
Lest the above conversation sounds like a cheesy script for the Family Channel, those sentences really did come out of each of our mouths.
We didn’t yell. We didn’t get snarky. We just shared from the heart. None of it would have been possible had I still been acting from my enmeshed mama’s ego.
I Want My Kids to Succeed!
Of course I want my daughter to get into her class, but more important to me is that she wants it. There is nothing in my kids’ lives, minus their health, that I should want more than they do. If I do, I’m bordering on obsessive again. And that, my friends, isn’t healthy.
As an adult, I’m only now finding my way in this world without needing to be propped up by anyone but my own higher power. Rather than have my kids have to figure this out in 12-step rooms, I’d rather they learn this now.
This comes from being a mom who listens more than she talks.
Who asks more questions rather than assumes.
And who has enough of her own life that my kids can go on to have their’s.
As far as my daughter goes, it means that if (worse case) she doesn’t get into that coveted class, she has a safe person to share her disappointment with.
Until next time, may you be less enmeshed, ask questions and, when in doubt, go for a walk on the beach. It really is the balm for all grrrr. (Even more than wine. I promise.)
Until next time,
My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. )
I was told by my sponsor, “You don’t trust God. In fact, based on how you keep walking in the opposite direction of your gifting I believe the real truth is ‘You Hate God.'”
If I didn’t feel terrible before I called her I did when I hung up.
I didn’t feel much better the next morning as I swirled in shame for canceling a sub assignment I had previously accepted. (Truth bomb: I’m way less driven by my emotions now that I’m sober, but I have not yet reached enlightenment.)
Instead of taking contrary action and help other people to take the focus off myself (as we program people are encouraged to do because it works) I moaned to Tuskany about my horrific road blocks. I complained about how I couldn’t sleep the previous night due to my rapid heart beats of fear and trying to figure it all out. I complained about how I’m terrified of being at odds with Rex about finances, that I think maybe having a birthday party is a terrible idea and that perhaps I’m never going to find my purpose in life after all other than to find a magic genie at one of my thrift stores who agrees the only thing I need to do to be happy is drink coffee, inhale carbs and watch the final season of Glee.
Sorry you all missed the Pity Party. I’ll send you an advanced invitation for next one.
But that fiesta won’t be today because… the rest of my day turned out to be Duckin’ Awesome!
Why the quick emotional turn around? Well, it’s pretty simple. I trusted God. I decided I didn’t need to do everything perfectly. I didn’t need to decide that yesterday was the day to go into a downward-spiraled depression over my floors that need re-varnishing, my walls that need repainting or the lack of funds in my account for Disney passes and a trip with my kids to this super cool Finland hotel that would make Elsa weep with jealousy.
I could ask God to remove my fear of not being a good enough parent, a good enough daughter, a good enough worker and a good enough friend.
I could trust that God has me subbing because I’m growing my soul right now, if not my bank account, but that I don’t have to do it every single day anymore.
I could trust that in turning down a 20-day guaranteed assignment in an emotionally disturbed classroom might cost me $1000 (to cover my kids’ driving lessons) but there is no hourly rate on my own personal mental health.
With all this ridiculous amount of surrender and trust out the way (I’m super greedy with God’s love) I was able to BE loved rather than BE God (as I’m wont to do) and things just lit up like a slot machine for the rest of the day. I mean, God really showed off.
With that psycho-analysis/dark night of the soul/mental loop to loop THANK GOD I LANDED IN PEACE epiphany out of the way I was able to write. I could trust that God did not give me all sorts of words and ideas only to say, “Just kidding. Go and be miserable at a sub job for the rest of your existence.”
For me, after almost 24 hours of hell, that was exciting news! And it still feels amazing.
And… here’s best part of my current pink cloud awakening – and the reason for this post: When I woke up at 530am to the sound of the school system calling me for a job, I was able to listen with confidence in my heart, not pounding fear, thanks to this news.
When I heard they wanted me to teach music in a prison like middle school where the kids ditch my classroom would rather play their phones than a tuba, I did something I’ve never done before.
I said “No.”
God is everything or he is nothing.
I put my head back on the pillow with confidence that something better would come along.
Five minutes later I got a call to teach a super chill high school. “Yes Please!” I drove to work with joy – yes, joy – and even got a great space in the parking lot.
Similar to my experience at this school last week, I have done very little teaching. All classes have either been taught by other math teachers (and let’s get real, I wouldn’t know the quadratic formula if it pinched my white butt on Main Street) or they have been populated with only 7 students. My last period of the day? I’ll have 5.
I trusted God and I got rewarded. I’m starting to get this.
God is everything or he is nothing.
In closing, I chose the picture at the top of this post because I often feel like that house: I like adventure, but I want to stay warm and cozy on the inside. I want to dream my own dreams while people braver than me go out into the cold winter air and fight wolves.
But right before posting this blog a friend from the program wrote me. And, similar to my serendipities of late, her message had a different spin.
The Spiritual Takeaway?
When we can trust ourselves, and set boundaries (though difficult at first) we can experience so much more excitement than just playing it safe. And readers, we can do this with the God of our understanding.
God is everything or he is nothing.
And One More Takeaway for Good Measure
Even the nicest high school students don’t say “thank you” when they leave your classroom. They also think it’s okay to leave free cafeteria food on their desks and check their phones rather than do their math work. As a teacher, this must be frustrating. But for this writer, who is also a sub so IT’S NOT MY PROBLEM I’m learning that acceptance is the answer to all my problems today.
Throw in saying “No” to crap sub jobs and thermos of hot dark decaf and you can have yourself a pretty damn good day.
Happy weekend! I’ve sooooo enjoyed many of your blogs – old friends and new ones – and I’ll catch up with you Monday.
My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. )
I tossed and turned all night long last night – old behavior. I couldn’t face work today based on yesterday’s event. I had to cancel a pre-booked assignment at 2am. I barely slept.
My daughter stayed home sick again so we ended up sleeping side by side with the pitbull in between us. The ladies of leisure. I gulped back guilt that my husband drove carpool and hauled his butt to work while my heart beat a million miles an hour. I was supposed to be more successful than this, people!
I honestly had an emotional hangover.
Part of it is – surprise surprise – I do too much. I said I wouldn’t, but I did.
Rather than fall too far into self-pity, I got on my knees, as they tell us to do in AA (because apparently it works for people far more down the ladder than I landed) and I read in my devotional. The topic happened to be the very thing I had been dealing with.
Then my sponsor sent me something to read – the same page.
Then I called someone from the communication group I am in who happens to write for Sesame Street. This would not be a big deal normally except last night I specifically wrote to Sesame Street, after applying for a few jobs, not having any idea I knew someone who wrote music for them. Odd or God?
And then, at the end of our conversation, he goes on to tell me that yesterday – at the same time I was having financial insecurity and fear – he was, too. And though he has never written tv (and I’ve never written music… see the irony?) he wants to write a pilot. So, like that old Christmas tale of the couple where a woman cuts off her hair to give her husband a watch, and he sells his watch to give her a comb for her hair, we found ourselves laughing at the serendipity of this event. (Let’s just hope I don’t end up with shaved hair and a digital 99cent Store watch in the process.)
Am I still freaked out about subbing? Yes.
Am I going to quit my day job tomorrow? No. I need the insurance.
But I am actively looking for new gigs.
I also have another idea in mind that I might embark on also that is super dooper scary and out of my comfort zone. But, as my sponsor asked me yesterday, “How free do I want to be?”
Free enough to type in my final paragraph of my pilot and hit “send” to those producers just now.
It was indeed a better day than yesterday.
Hope yours went well also.
My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. )
Happily Ticked Off 