Day 365 of The 365 Day Experiment. Write Your Own Happy Ending.

Over the past week, I have finally taken the time to review the past 364 entries for the first time ever. I must admit, I waited until I had a chunk of time alone to do so…this wasn’t something I was looking forward to doing with my daughters lurking nearby.

There were no major surprises in store for me.  I appeared to have written from my heart, and stayed true to my core.  As I revisited the goal of Day 1, I am pleased that I never veered off the path of making this my own personal mission to see if I could both set a goal and stick to it (despite a brief hiatus last summer) and see if I could really, truly open myself up.  I believe I accomplished both.  

Though this Experiment was shared with whoever chose to read it, the goal was never to write about what I thought would generate the most interest, support or fans.  It was about introspection and being bold enough to share that outward.  And then to live with the consequences.  For a formally very private person, I cannot begin to explain how incredibly challenging that has been over the past year. As much as I could pretend I was writing just for myself, I could not escape the knowledge that people were reading my words. Some nights I would click “post” and want to hide under my covers. Those are the nights I know I was being the most truthful.

Here is what I learned about myself from what I wrote as I allowed myself to reflect back…which is an indulgence I rarely do.

I am a fiercely devoted mother.  I love my daughters, and am doing my best to raise them to be happy, healthy, independent young women.  I’m far from perfect, but I think I’m actually pretty good at this.  It’s probably because I work hard at it, and my love for them is genuine.  It is privilege to be their mom.

I love my career.  I don’t have a job; I have a calling.  I have had the good fortune to have had some success, and built a nice little reputation in my field.  What really matters to me, however, is when I feel like I have made an impact.  When I think back to all the thousands of people I have helped to create jobs for.  Or the people I have mentored who are now mentoring others.  Or the companies who I have committed countless hours to, where the people have gathered and said, “I love working here.”  Those are the things that have allowed me to live my insane lifestyle for over two decades.

I am really passionate.  I had no idea how much I use this word.  I suppose it is what defines me.  If I elect to do something meaningful, I go “all in.”  It becomes  passion.  If I cannot fully embrace it - if I try to half-ass it - I am extremely unbalanced and disoriented.  I suppose that makes me a bit of an extremist, for better or worse.

I needed an outlet.  Clearly, I have been bottling a lot of stuff up for an awfully long time.  And while I have shared some exceptionally private things, I still didn’t scratch the surface.  I have however, shared them in my private life over the course of the last year…mostly the last month.  I needed to.  While I never would have thought writing would be my vehicle to healing - let alone public writing - I am exceptionally grateful that I did.  I am at peace with my past.

I need people more than I realized.  I have spent so long trying to be independent; I forgot how important it is to need other people.  While I love to help others, the other day my good friend said to me, “It’s really hard to help you.”  She is right.  I tell myself I don’t need it, but I do.  While I trend introvert, I still love the good company of my friends.  I adore the time with my daughters.  I relish the time collaborating with my co-workers.  I know the missing piece is “my person.”  It’s hard to admit that’s what you want and need, when you had it, and then lost it.  It’s scarier to actually attempt to go after it when you might find it, and it might reject you.  Again.

I am fearless. I think I knew this about myself, but this is the one thing that often pointed out to me throughout the year by people who cared to read my words.  ”I can’t believe you wrote that…”  ”I can’t believe you did that…” If you can’t believe it, then you probably don’t know me very well. I truly believe I have one life, and it’s my obligation to myself to max it out.  

I am grateful. I have a great life. Of course it has been a challenging year. I got divorced, I sold my home, and I got really sick back in the fall. You know what? Who cares? I choose to focus on the glass half full.

In the scheme of life, I had an amazing year. I took my daughters to Italy to explore my favorite places. I shared time with some extraordinary people. I tried new things and pushed myself in ways that helped me continue learning. I accomplished a few big goals, including the completion of this Experiment. I am truly blessed.

To answer a few questions I’ve been getting over the last week…

No, there is no book deal coming out of this. I have no interest in attempting to turn this into something it was never intended to be. If this year has proven anything to me, it’s that I am authentic. What you see is what you get with me. I might not be for everyone, and I am okay with that. At my core, I know I’m a good person who doesn’t need to be adored by the masses.  I just need to be loved by a few key people. That is all.  If I have that, the rest will take care of itself.

A huge thank you, to everyone who has taken a small piece of your day to read along and follow this with me. Your words of wisdom and support has fueled me. And for those who has been so incredibly kind to suggest I have motivated you in some way, I cannot tell you of a greater compliment you could give me.

So for now, this Experiment comes to an end. I will not disappear though. I didn’t spend a year investing my time writing only to cast that time aside now.

I have some new goals, and they are loftier than this meager 365 days. If I can commit to writing every day, I’m fairly certain I can accomplish just about anything I take on.  I don’t have enough to say to write daily again; I know that is out.  Do I have another blog in me?  Perhaps.  As well as a fiction book, a charity, and hopefully another start up or three. 

This last day ironically falls on the day I leave for my first vacation without my kids since they were born. I made these plans to go away after one dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in thirteen years. It was a really good dinner. 365 days ago, I never would have done this. I was still broken, still unsure about the direction I wanted my life to take. No longer. I did my stint through the dark days and came through beaming. I am in a good place. Scratch that…I’m in great place. 

And one last thing I learned along this journey.  Every time someone approached me and shared with me that they read my work, I asked them why. The audience is broad and diverse. There are just as many men as women.  The age range that I know about spans over a 50+ year gap.  How could that much diversity resonate?  

My theory?  There is little difference between me and you.

You don’t have to be a single mom in your forties to connect with me.  You just have to a human being in search of your place in the world.  How I live or the choices I make are irrelevant to you.  I think people connected because I just kept moving forward, dusting myself off, and was honest about it.  I kept it real, and everyone can see a piece of themselves in that.   It’s either that or a bunch of serious voyeurs love reading about one woman’s struggles. 

I’m just an ordinary girl, living out her version of an extraordinary life.  I have no idea what the future holds for me, and I am okay with that…or mostly okay with that.   I have people that I love in my life, a career that fuels me, and I do a decent job of attempting to max out every day I have.  What else could I possibly want? You have no idea…

Hey, it’s my story.  I’ll write my own happy ending.  Go write your own. 

Day 364 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Old Girl Has Still Got It.

I caused an accident today.

Not in my car, and no one was hurt. The only causality was some spilled coffee. The benefit was an ego boost I’ll feed off of for a long time to come.

I had to stop into Registry of Motor Vehicles this morning, which is fortunately about a half mile from my office. I had headed out early to stand in line, a full hour before the doors opened knowing there would be a wait.

I entered out into the morning sun, embracing the opportunity to take advantage of the walk outside. I never get time like this during the day, and I wanted to maximize it. I am certain there was a spring in my step.

This morning I walked with purpose. Scratch that. I am certain I probably strutted with purpose. I had the gait of a girl who is in the brink of a accomplishing a year long goal. I said goodbye to my home with my daughters last night. I finished packing for my first childless vacation ever, and I leave tomorrow. I strutted with the gait of a woman who is at peace saying goodbye to the old, and hello to new.

I strutted with the gait of a girl whose ass looks great in the dress she chose to wear today.

Most days I don’t pay attention to how I look or feel after my morning prep, until I catch a glance at myself in a bathroom mirror mid-afternoon and think, “Yikes…you need some sleep. Or some concealer. Or a brush…Or all of the above.” Today, I feel different.

I think because I feel so content on the inside, it shows on the outside. It doesn’t matter your size or how many wrinkles you might have. Happiness looks good on anyone.

I am certain that must be what the two guys noticed when they bumped into each other as they crossed Washington Street. One in a suit, the other in construction clothes, the latter was too busy making an old style cat call to realize he was bumping into the former before he knocked into him with his oversize iced coffee. Thankfully, all three of us laughed and I kept walking. I don’t share this story because I am am deluded to think I still have the beauty of my youth. I share because I know I’m beaming today and it’s radiating out of me. A year ago, the only accidents I was likely to cause were fender benders caused by crying too much while driving.  

What a difference a year makes.

Day 363 of The 365 Day Experiment. What Do I, Amuse You?

Last night, sitting down to write was mentally taxing.  I finished posting and found myself exhausted.  There was a pit in my stomach and I wanted to crawl into bed.  Instead, I stayed up into the wee hours of the night chatting with someone who made me feel instantly better.  Sometimes, when I’m not feeling my best, it’s as simple as making me laugh to get me back on track. 

I love to laugh.  I love to make people laugh, and I love when people make me laugh.  Fortunately, I live with, work with and hang with a gaggle full of funny.

Tonight is the last night my girls are sleeping in our house.  My oldest is in tears.  My youngest is unfazed.  I have to try and relate to each.  To address the needs of each tonight, I started with something sentimental, and ended with funny.  I always defer to funny.

Life is so serious.  I often avoid turning on the news at night not because I don’t want to an informed world citizen.  It’s because the majority of it is really sad.  I don’t need any more negative in my life.  I need positive.  And I need funny.  

When it’s not readily available, I look for ways to create it.  Last night, we ran our monthly lottery in our Boston office to win access to a parking pass for a month.  Rather than just pull a name out of a hat and email out the winner, I taped Gianna as she selected the name.  And she was funny in those fourteen seconds.  It was a quick, simple way to make the mundane just a little more memorable.  

We do this with the made up holiday we celebrate in May honoring a piece of cloth.  With the drawing game we created that we play after dinner, and with the singing chicken birthday card my daughter and my father sent back and forth to each other for years.  We find ways to do it on a daily basis.  

Life can get so heavy if you choose to focus on that lens.   I have had plenty of heavy in my life.  I like to swing the balance in the other direction with ridiculousness.  It is what helps me cope.  It is what helps me manage through the difficult times.  Mostly, however, it is what makes life more enjoyable to me.  Why choose to cry when you can choose laughter instead?

Today we had a little incident in our office that required that I step up and play “HR Lady.”  Those who know me well know I recoil when asked to do this.  So rather than play hardass and approach it from a policy standpoint, I did it the only way I am comfortable with.  I crafted the message to be shared as direct and to the point veiled in a whole lot of humor.  Somehow this style works in the environments I choose to work.  I would likely be fired for it if I worked in a publicly traded Fortune 500 company.  I’m ok with that.  I play to my strengths.

I am exceptionally grateful that I have surrounded myself with people who make me laugh.  From the guy on my team who makes it his mission every morning to crack me up, to my daughter who I am convinced is Chris Rock trapped in an 11 year old girl’s body,  to my ability to laugh at myself on a daily basis…I need this.  

Clowns may scare the s*it out of me, but I love the real life ones in my life. ESPECIALLY during the tough days.  It’s the best healing there is. 

Day 362 of The 365 Day Experiment. When Politics Gets Personal.

The Supreme Court just ruled that certain for-profit companies are not required to pay for specific types of contraceptives for their employees.  This pisses me off.

When I went to university in DC, I lived just steps from the White House.  I paid active attention to the politics of the day, because it was impossible to avoid it.  The more I tuned in, the more I felt compelled to tune out by the time graduation rolled around.  I love this country and the freedoms it offers.  However,  the more insight I got into “how the sausage is made,” the more I wanted to pull away from it.  For example, I remember being particularly concerned when William Rehnquist was confirmed as Chief Justice the year I arrived at school, as both he as justice Scalia both held radical positions against legal abortion, affirmative action and other basic women’s rights.  This made me take notice.

I became disillusioned to our entire political system, and disengaged altogether by the time graduation rolled around.  It wasn’t until Bill Clinton came into his presidency that I felt like I wanted to pay attention again.  While no one is perfect, I was impressed with his combination of intellect and ability to connect with people.  As a president he was a fantastic combination of stellar leadership skills mixed with a dose of a real person.  He was flawed, and he made mistakes.  He was human. 

I blissfully lived in the ignorance of youth, picking and choosing to spend more time thinking about Apartheid in South Africa than I did worrying about homelessness in my own backyard.  There is so much that needs to be changed in world, I reasoned, that I can hardly wrap my head around all of it.  My approach was to understand a few things I was truly interested and passionate about, rather than just take on an overall political mindset. I am socially liberal.  I am fiscally conservative.  I vote for the person, not the party.  I seek to educate myself, and then make the best possible decision when I vote.  And then I get out of the way.  

There was a time though, when the I did pay careful attention.  When the government decides what I can do with my body, you’re damn right I’m paying attention.  And one day in 2004, it became personal. 

I needed help getting pregnant.  I needed help staying pregnant.  I needed help delivering two premature babies.  After my second, I was advised due to my health issues related to this that I would put my own health in jeopardy should I ever elect to carry another baby.  No worries, I thought.  We’re blessed with two amazing children.  We’re done.

And then the unthinkable happened.  

I’ll never understand how it happened, but the decision to end that pregnancy might be the single hardest choice I’ve ever made in my life.  I don’t care what your politics are.  I could either put my life at risk, thus potentially allowing my children to grow up motherless, or I could make the gut-wreching decision to say goodbye to another potential pea in my pod.  I cannot put into words how traumatic this was.  Ten years later, it is just as painful to revisit. 

The point is, I had a choice to make.  A choice.  It might not be the choice someone else would make - that YOU would make - but it’s a choice.  It was hard enough to walk into the building assaulted by protesters damning me for that choice. If the government had overturned Roe vs. Wade and I had no choice to make,  I might be dead.  Some people might think that is the price you pay.  

This is the single most personal thing I have ever written, but it is part of my story.  Only a handful of people know this, because these are the choices we make in life that you don’t share.  I am putting myself at risk of having political or religious friends shun me for my choice.  I hope they do not, but that will be their choice.  

I don’t ever want to live in a world where a government takes away my right to make choices that are best for my family and I.  Perhaps last week’s interaction with my new Saudi friend hit me harder than I realized. I cannot be quieted when others don’t have the same opportunities I do.  And perhaps I invest in my relationship with my daughters so much because I appreciate what I gave up to be able to live this live with them.  

Forget politics.  We make choices in life, and we must live with the consequences.  As painful as my decision was, I am grateful every single day for how my life with my girls has turned out.  

Day 361 of The 365 Day Experiment. Breaking Bad Habits.

I sat at lunch today with my daughters, each of us sketching on the back of our paper menus.  It is a habit we all have at this restaurant, a neighborhood favorite where the kids are still given crayons though they are too old.  We chat and draw while we wait for our food, taking time to show each other our creations before the food arrives.

When bowls of pasta showed up, we began to chat about other habits we have.  We each listed ones we are conscious of, and ones we recognize in each other.  The girls had no problem sharing their own bad or quirky habits; but when your sister points them out, defensiveness rises quickly to the surface.  I attempted to diffuse that immediately.  We all have habits; good and bad, I pointed out to them.  Whether we are conscious of them is what I want you to pay attention to in this conversation.

Fortunately, there were not a lot of surprises.  These are pretty tuned in kids, and we don’t let each other get away with much.  We all have bizarre  number games we play as habit, which each of us has done for years.  Mine has to do with making wishes on a digital clock anytime I see repetitive numbers (2:22, 3:33, 10:10, etc.)  One of them has a habit around eating only an even number of M&Ms.  It’s the odd stuff you create for yourself that makes you uniquely you.

The big difference between my daughters and myself is that when I am cognizant that I have developed a habit, I typically try to break it.  Stupid routines, that have no impact on anyone, but they trouble me when I realize I have fallen into a pattern.  I recently determined I had been heading to Dunkin’ Donuts every morning before settling into work…so I stopped going.  Now I make coffee at the office, but I am intentionally varying the floors I am making it on just to keep things fresh.  It’s a ridiculous example, but it became important to me.  

As I tried to explain this to them, I tried to figure out why I do this.  I dumbed it down to not being reliant on anything.  I think I try to live like an anti-addict.  If I don’t become attached to any one thing, than its not a big deal if it goes away.  I travel light in that sense, with limited baggage.

Or do I?  Do I do this because I make such big bets in other places in my life?  Maybe it’s because I commit whole heartedly in places I feel like it really matters.  Relationships.  Children.  Career.  Friendship.  Family.  Perhaps I feel like I put so much energy in here, these are the “habits” not worth breaking.  And I have suffered loss in each of these…and it sucks.  So perhaps I’ve tried to minimize the feelings of loss by not growing dependent on anything else - even if it’s small.  

Wow.  How’s that for some self-analysis?  And now I’m growing clearer on why I have built up such a wall of Teflon around myself.  In writing this, it just became clearer to me that I shun help not because I believe I have something to prove or I want to be completely independent.  It’s because I have leaned on others before…and they disappeared.  So to go it alone may be hard, but it’s emotionally easier than being let down again. 

This is one habit I have to break.  What the hell am I trying to prove to myself by switching up where I get my coffee?  Where it matters most is where I connect with people and the depth of those relationships.  I know I am fully capable of giving.  I just now have to be courageous enough to receive. 

Perhaps now that I get it, I will be able to break it.  I haven’t met one habit yet I can’t crush.

Day 360 of The 365 Day Experiment. Drama Sucks.

Recently I pointed out to a friend that he appeared to play the role of “The Rock” very easily.  I don’t mean as in the gigantic former wrestler-turned-actor.  I mean it in terms of being the voice of reason when things swirl around him.  It’s interesting to witness that in someone else.  In fact, it’s notable. 

And I appreciate it.  Perhaps it’s my gender, perhaps it’s the role I play at work…perhaps there are many reasons it stands out to me.  I tend to always be near the fringes of drama.  I don’t do well with this.  I repel it enough that when my daughters were old enough to start emoting, we began to discuss the rules of engagement around drama in our household.  It’s just not tolerated.  We talk things out, or we take time away to work things through before we then talk them out.  Temper tantrums, bitchiness, and talking about each other or others in a negative way is not accepted.  Surviving the teenage years with girls is going to be challenging enough…I am trying to create an environment to aid us in navigating this as sanely as I can.

I think I have taken note of others who share this desire to cut through the drama and get to the right answer because it appears to be rare.  Or maybe it is not rare, and I’m just not surrounded by the right people.  Do people enjoy drama because it gives them something to talk about?  Do they think it makes them more interesting?  Is it more comfortable to live in the drama cause you know what to expect rather than working through it  and not knowing what exists once you get to the other side?

Life is filled with conflict, and conflict is dramatic. It’s part of the human condition.  In some ways, perhaps it is what makes us interesting. Bravo has made an entire must-watch channel based on people’s desire to watch other people’s “reality” drama; much of it amped-up I am certain.  I believe it’s the way we handle that conflict, however, that ultimately makes us people worth knowing.  We spend so much time looking in the past, dwelling on things that are over, or beyond our control.  Why bother?  I prefer to channel my energy on trying to move things forward.  I try to be a person I would want to admire.  Not a person I’d make fun of if I were watching her on tv.

It’s hard to do this, no doubt.  Often, it’s hard not to get sucked into the drama when it is swirling around you.  And yet, if you choose to be the “rock,” or be the centering force in the midst of that chaos, it is amazing how it can diffuse almost immediately.  That is, however, a choice we each make. Do you choose to keep things moving forward, or keep the drama swirling in your life?

I’m grateful I have a few people in my life who share this same “no drama” philosophy.  It makes conversations simpler.  There is no guessing.  There is no bullshit.  There is, thankfully, no drama. 

I’ll keep supporting my daughter’s creative efforts on the stage though…this is one place I love to see drama really play out.  

Day 359 of The 365 Day Experiment. Dream Big.

I said goodbye today to a cherished friend and colleague.  He’s left my team to venture out on his own.  It’s a bold move when one has a family, a mortgage, and a safety net.  And yet, I understand his pull.  When something calls you, to avoid filling that need leaves you with a sinking “What if?” that can really eat away at you.  

Ignoring the draw to following your dreams can lead to resentment.  Or It can lead to immense feelings of regret.  I find those who aren’t bold enough to take the risk to follow their dream will convince themselves it wasn’t worth dreaming about in the first place.  I’m too busy.  It’s too unrealistic.  It’s too risky. It’s too {insert your own favorite.}

We humans are masters of excuses. So many of us will brush our dreams aside, inventing a multitude of reasons why our dreams can’t be realized.  There is truly only one real reason why we don’t.  It’s because we don’t value them.

If we don’t prioritize our dream, no matter what it is, it becomes ultimately irrelevant.  You can say, “I want to start my own business,” or “I want to find true love” or “I want to learn a new programming language”…it doesn’t matter what your dream is.  What matters is that if it is important to you, you need to value it, and make it a priority in your life.

Make it known to others.  Ask for support.  Prioritize it into your life.  The more attention, focus and development you give to it, the better your chances of achievement.  

We all have dreams.  It makes me sad when I speak to people who have thrown up walls around theirs, and have given up hope before they ever begin.  Enough of that.  Turn that frustration into positive energy to take that one step forward.  That source of resentment or sadness could quickly turn to excitement and passion if you begin to see small steps of progress.

What’s the worst that can happen if you fail?  Answer that, plan for it, and then get busy plotting your success.  You’ve got one life…dream big.  Then live it out even bigger. 

Day 358 of The 365 Day Experiment. Let Freedom Ring.

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As a week of sitting in my version of jail comes to an end today, I am walking away from this workshop with a handful of new insights on communication and leadership. More importantly, I expanded my world a little more. 

This morning I sat on a stone staircase in the sunshine with my CEO. We were joined by a young woman who had travelled to this workshop from Saudi Arabia. Our assignment for this twenty minute activity was to discuss what activities “filled our bucket” or gave us energy. She went first. 

She had been categorized as a “rebel” personality type. This was defined as people who liked to have fun, and follow no rules. I liked her immediately. She had shown up on day one wearing a head scarf in acknowledgment of her Muslim religion, but was otherwise non-descript. 

As the week went on, I watched her morph. Her scarves became more colorful, her lipstick a little brighter. We were watching her play rebel in a place where it was safe to do so, though I had no appreciation for this while it was happening. As we sat to speak with her, she spoke of her bucket, and how it was in conflict with her real life. 

She loves to dance…but she dances behind closed doors with her girlfriends because she cannot dance out in public in her culture. She wants to love and be loved…and yet she is in an arranged marriage with a very judgmental husband. So she responds, I love my children very much. After listening to her, I got the courage to ask her, “Are you happy?” She does not look happy. I am glad she has her children and a job that she loves, where she makes an impact. It’s clear she feels that even though she is fairly progressive, she’s still trapped. And then it was my turn. 

We had much in common about what drives us. The biggest difference? I am free. I have the luxury of doing what I want, when I want, how I want. How fortunate I am. 

We went back to the classroom, and she was on my mind for the rest of the morning. I couldn't shake the feeling of sadness I felt for her inability to live the life she truly wanted because it’s not respected or supported in her culture. I do not judge it..if she was happy, it wouldn’t have troubled me.

 So I did the only thing I could think of to do. I wrote her a letter at the break sharing the impact our discussion had had on me, found an envelope, and tucked one of my most prized possessions in it. I gave her my “life is not a dress rehearsal” bracelet. I’ve worn it for over ten years. I already live this, I can live without it. I thought it might be more meaningful for her at this point. I gave it to her…and we shared a giant hug. 

And then she returned the moment unexpectedly. She presented me with one of her beautiful scarves; the one I had commented on the day before for its color. With that exchange, we were acknowledging the respect for our similarities - and huge differences -  with a gesture of sisterhood. 

I haven’t taken that scarf off all day. 

Day 357 of The 365 Day Experiment. Leveled In 15 Minutes Flat.

There I am, doing my best to participate in workshop.  Frustrated because I’m in my third day day of being held captive in a room, making excuses for getting additional water or tea, or unnecessary trips to the bathroom, just so I can find reasons to get up and move around.

And then we broke this afternoon.  We each got fifteen minutes with a facilitator of the workshop to review our own profile that we received yesterday.  I had been staring at mine over the last twenty four hours, trying desperately to apply the lessons I’ve learned during the past few days to the tables and analysis on the report.  Nothing prepared me, however, for the debrief with Stephanie.

I chose to work with her because we have a relationship already.  She has done a bit of work with our company, and we had already formed an easy, collaborative relationship.  She’s a no-bulls*it woman, but she’s also warm and compassionate.  As I sat down at a table with her, I handed her my profile, with four of the six bars spread to the outer edges of the page and said, “What the hell do I make of this?”

She immediately turned from professional facilitator into a gypsy.  By looking at one page, she was able to tell the story of my life.  Not the intimate details, but enough to know that I had been through a number of life changes.  She pointed out when I had not taken like so seriously, and when I began to buckle down and focus.  When I had once been warm and embracing of all, and when I had put the shield of armor up.  And the final death blow.  ”Christina…you put yourself last.”

I tried so hard not to tear up.  It’s one thing to have figured that out about myself over the past few months through this Experiment.  It’s quite another to have someone look at a piece of paper and just level me with that after a few minutes of discussion.  It stung.

I had a hard time speaking, because I didn’t know what to say.  She pushed me.  We had been talking about buckets all morning, and how people need to fill your bucket.  The only way I could respond was to say my bucket has a hole in it.  As in, the way I survive at this point is to keep my expectations of people and things really low…so if anything good happens, it’s all gravy.  By doing that, I am able to protect myself…but it’s apparently also left me feeling pretty depleted over the last few years.

So I’ve supplemented.  I rely on myself to fill my own bucket.  I think I do a pretty good job of that. But as I learned today, it’s not enough.  I need to open up, and allow others to do that.  And be willing to accept it when they do, not brush it off and pretend like I don’t need it.  This is really hard for me. 

So, to put what I learned into practice immediately, thank you to the someone who spent all weekend filling my bucket.  The efforts you made to make me feel welcome, comfortable and happy was the most special I’ve felt in I can’t remember how long.  I am exceptionally grateful. 

Day 356 of The 365 Day Experiment. Partners In Crime.

This week, I am at a work conference on leadership in San Diego.  It’s the kind of four day program I detest sitting through, because I walk away feeling that even if insightful knowledge is gained, I could have learned it in two hours, not in multiple days.  Yes, yet again supporting evidence I am incredibly impatient.  

The benefit to workshops like these for me, however, is the time spent with the people I attend with.  Tonight’s dinner provided me with quality time with two people I adore from my company.  And while we spent the first part of dinner discussing work topics, we spent the last half cracking up over ridiculous topics.  This was a clear indication that the second Morada Mojito had kicked in.  And what does one discuss when you’ve got three hyper-driven people who’ve been talking about leadership and personality styles all day?  What crimes you might consider committing and who’d you’d commit them with, of course.

The premise was a simple one.  I started asking my typical stupid questions, as I normally do when I am sitting around with people hanging out.  It had turned out that the guy in our group and I had chosen each other as an example of someone you communicate well with for an exercise we did today during the workshop.  And as we brought that up at dinner, I built on that…”I would totally commit a crime with you!” I laughed.

How I leapt to shared good communication to committing a crime with him  was quite simple.  Having worked together for years now, we have great connection and understanding.  We have a shared set of values.  We have trust.  We have each other’s backs.  We have a great partnership.  We also search to find the fun in things.  So while I think we are both ethical people with no need to commit a crime, I think if we ever decided to go this path in life, he’s who I’d pick to go all Bonnie and Clyde with.  Or from the none criminal lens, he’s totally the guy I’d bet on starting another company with.  

It was a pretty interesting conversation about crime we all got into.  It took several different turns, with each of us focused on very different goals for our walk on the dark side.  One was after a substantial amount of money.  One wanted to pull a Robin Hood move and right some wrongs.  I went more for the sport, just to see if I could get away with it.  In my mind, being part of something like the heist in Ocean’s Eleven would be an amazing crime to be a part of (if one was a criminal and that was a real crime)…but I think it’s too glamorized.  I know myself well enough to never trust eleven people to pull something that complex off.  So I’d would stick to the basics and keep it simple.  

I’m a pretty upstanding citizen.  While I have done plenty of stupid things, it’s been a while since I committed a crime - at least one I could be arrested for.  While I might be a rule breaker, I’m no criminal.  I’ll just get my kicks being creative and pretending with funny dinner conversations. 

It was a fun game to play at dinner, but I’m glad that’s not me.  Forget the morality of right and wrong; the thought of ever getting caught and being locked up in jail with no freedom is a big enough deterrent for me to keep me on the right side of the law.   

Day 355 of The 365 Day Experiment. Stepping Off The Rock.

In less than two weeks, I will be in Costa Rica.  I hope to be doing a fair amount of relaxing and hanging out on a hammock, because I don’t often get the time to do that.  I also hope to be spending time doing a whole bunch of things I’ve never done before. 

One of the activities we’ve signed up for is “canyoning.”  According to the little blurb sent, we’ll be repelling down waterfalls and canyons…sweet.  I love that stuff.  The ability to get my adrenaline pumping and potentially hurt myself?  I actually love that feeling.  I love the fear factor.  But with a caveat.

I'm very comfortable with the fear factor when it comes to my body.  Separate my shoulder?  It heals.  Trash my knee?  That’s what arthroscopic surgeries are for.  Before I jumped out of a plane, we had to be taped reading off a card claiming we were doing this of our own free will, and our loved ones would not hold the company liable should tragedy strike.  I ended my prescribed sentences glaring into the camera and saying, “Today is a good day to die.”  Cavalier, for certain.  I meant it however.  It was a beautiful day out, and if fatality should become me, I was going down doing something I had always wanted to do.

Where I become more uncomfortable is the fear factor when it comes to my insides.  I’m in a place where I am now standing on the edge of a canyon, hanging on to the rope.  It’s a strong rope and I trust the guide.  Now I just need to trust myself.  

I don’t know what’s in the canyon.  No one does.  My gut tells me to just take the first step off the ledge. My fear is that I may do so, and the rocks will crumble beneath my feet. I’ll dangle, leaving me a place worse than before.   I’ll have to be strong and be ok with that.  Or maybe, just maybe,  I may begin to repel and find it’s the best journey I have taken to date.  

But I’ll never know unless I take a step.

Reminder to self: I don’t do safe.  Sometimes I wish I did; it’s a hell of a lot less scary.  I also have a really accurate gut. To live boldly and remain true to myself, I need to focus on the journey, not on the destination.  I have no clue what will be down that canyon, if anything at all.  I know, however, I’m going to take a deep breath, step off that rock, and find out. 

Day 354 of The 365 Day Experiment. Old Hollywood.

Last night, I lay back in a cemetery in Hollywood and watched a movie from long ago.  It was Gentleman Prefer Blonds, the movie that put Marilyn Monroe on the map.  As the guy who ran this popular outdoor movie series introduced the film, he gushingly described Marilyn as “the brightest star in the sky.”  Judging by last night’s sky, our movie stars have faded.  I spied but just a singular one.

The glamour seems to be few and far between these days.  As I watched Jane Russell and Marilyn on screen, I was reminded of when movie stars used to look like “stars.” Today paparazzi have made celebrities so accessible to us, we are bombarded with images of them in their UGGS, or their gyms clothes, or coming out of Starbucks. They look like…us. 

I don’t want them to be like us. I want them to be “stars.” I want them to be a little inaccessible. I want them to look perfect when they step out of the house. I don’t care if that’s a high bar. It should be…because they are a “star.” If you are making $20 million a movie, you should be held to a different standard. Is this unfair? Perhaps.  But it goes with the with the former glamour of the industry. 

Of course, celebrities should have privacy, and the right to their own lives. When they step out in public, however, their bar is different. In the days of old, even Audrey’s Hepburn’s casual days still had her looking beautiful.  Today’s stars with the “Hey, look! I’m just like you,” may make them appear more accessible to us. But is that what we really want?

We love Hollywood for the sense of escapism it brings.  By the time the award shows roll around, I’ve seen half the movies nominated if I’m lucky.  I’m really watching because I love to see the fashion. What woman wouldn’t want to be styled by the worlds best designers for the night? Hair, makeup, jewels? Love it. Of course, I could do without Joan Rivers and Kelly Osbourne ripping apart everyone for sport of it.  I prefer to stay on the positive of who looked great, not who looked horrible.

I don’t think I’m alone.  As I pulled out of the city today, driving past Mann’s Chinese Theater, I witnessed countless people looking for that little glimmer of “Hollywood.”  Everyone wants a taste.  But if it’s wrapped up in a Starbucks cup and wearing shorts and no makeup, how special is it really?  Star gazing can be incredible when you are in the presence of a true star.  When you just see a more well-known version of yourself, the shine is somehow dimmed, no?

Some things  advance with the passage of time or technology.  Old school Hollywood glamour isn’t one of them; we just don’t have movie stars like we used to. 

Day 353 of The 365 Day Experiment. Patience Is Not My Natural Virtue.

I might be one of the most impatient people on the planet.   I was always like this, so living in a world that is geared towards instant gratification is perfect for me.  Much of the time. 

When I was a kid, i used to have to share a phone line with my family.  OMG, the horror.  Four people, one phone line.  And the phones were attached to a wall, and had cords that only allowed you to move away from that wall a max of about 10 feet.  And rotary dials.  I didn’t see anything wrong with this until technology advances in the 80’s presented us with the much upgraded push button phone and “princess” models which could be free standing.  When my parents bought me my own line by the time I got to high school, I thought I had just won the lottery.  They really did it because they were sick of the phone being busy every time one of their friends called them; call waiting didn’t exist yet. 

That was decades ago.  Think about how much has changed.  Many people don’t even bother with landlines and elementary students have cell phones.  We crave access at all times, and yet, ironically, many people don’t even use their phones to speak.  Texting is far quicker; as if people don’t have the patience for a conversation. 

I lose patience when I have to stand in a grocery store line, so I skip the human interaction and check myself out with the self scanner because there is never a line.  Primarily, however, I just have my groceries delivered so I don’t waste time.

I lose patience listening to my mother on the telephone.  It’s lovely to catch up with her, but I do not enjoy the phone.  To use it as a vehicle just to just stay on the phone longer to chit chat once we have already caught up, I lose my patience.  I’m not proud of this, but I once asked her to please speak in bullet points.  That didn’t go over very well.

I lose patience when I see inefficiency around me, and know I could fix it.  And then lose more patience when I realize its not my place to do the fixing. 

Sometimes, however, I am patient.  I force myself to be, because the reward is so worthwhile. 

Like having the patience to sit down with my daughters at dinner and listen to their stories about school and life.  I have to engage and suffer through the conversations about the mundane (yes, I now do have a point of view on every boy in One Direction) to get to the richer conversations that have connected us so deeply.  

I have the patience to take a phone call, Skype or personally meet with any employee who wants time with me.  We are almost 500 people now, so I spend a lot of time doing this, sometimes late into the night.   Because even though it is hours of my days and weeks I could get back to be productive elsewhere, it is what I consider walking the walk.  Yes, I have a team who can help, and they do.  But connecting with our people is soul of what I do for a living.  And it takes a lot of patience to listen to some of the stuff they talk about; some days I feel like a therapist, other days a motivational coach.  But I will never give this up until the day I leave, because if I make an anyone after one of those conversations, I feel like I’ve made a difference. 

I have the patience to sit down and write every night, because I set an insane goal for myself.  It is drawing near the end now, and for that I am grateful.  It’s exhausting sometimes, to sit down and pull a concept out of thin air and then write.  But it is has become my form of meditation in a way; my time to calm my mind and body and be still.  I am patient with myself, and give myself the time to think and create. 

Or finally, having the patience to plan something far out in the distance that you are really looking forward to…and then having to wait for it.  I’ve turned this into a game, so it doesn’t even seem real at the beginning.  Perhaps a coping mechanism.  And then as it draws closer, I can feel the anticipation build, as the plan becomes truer to reality.  The anticipation builds over time, almost making me nervous to see the plan come to fruition.  What then?  Is it as good as you hoped it would be in your mind with all that time to think?  To anticipate?

Yes, it is.  Better.  Because some things are worth waiting for.  Not everything.  I still wish my mom’s stories were briefer, and I didn’t have to talk about boy bands to get to know what was going on in my daughters’ heads.  But in the words of the formally great Axl Rose, “All we need is just a little patience.”

Day 352 of The 365 Day Experiment. Today I Feel...

I sat in my youngest daughter’s fifth grade graduation today, marking her completion of elementary school.  It wasn’t just her milestone; I felt like I was moving on as well.  I will now have two daughters in middle school.  We’ve passed the baby phase, made it through the toddler years, and now  have completed childhood.  My girls are officially young women.  

And as I sat in the auditorium today, seated beside two of my good friends and our families, I was filled with happiness.  I didn’t have to work at that emotion.  We have been through this school journey together.  We all met when our kids were in kindergarten, and our friendship has blossomed as our children have evolved through the grades.  It was just as much a day of celebration for us as it was for them.

My day was filled with random, spontaneous emotional reactions.  

I believe I was more in tune with how I was feeling today because I was home from work to spend the day with my daughters.  This is such rare and special time, I tried to be present when I have it.  So I was pretty clued in to how I was feeling…

Like the feeling of excitement for a friend and her family for their adventure moving across country to support her husband’s career.  It’s a huge move for them, but a wonderful opportunity nonetheless. 

Like the feeling of annoyance when waiter at the restaurant we ate lunch at asked way too many questions about our order and wouldn’t leave us alone.

Like the feeling of sheer happiness to see two of my friends who have been working so hard on their fitness look amazing when I saw them today; and better every single time I see them.

Like the feeling of pride I felt when I watched Gianna walk across the stage today to take her diploma, knowing how hard she has worked in school to get there.

Like the feeling of support I felt tonight when I watched Chiara head into a CIT training meeting for camp this summer, angst ridden because she didn’t know what to expect.

Like the feeling of sadness when I woke up to an email from someone who I thought knew me but clearly doesn’t.

Like the feeling of relief that even though I am out of the office for seven days, I am virtually connected to my team and have the confidence to know things will go smoothly without me present.

And like the feeling of sheer excitement every time my phone vibrates, alerting me to a text message from someone I am very much looking forward to seeing tomorrow night after waiting way too long. 

As I pulled into the garage tonight after my final trip out today, I made a special trip out to my mailbox, just so I could walk outside for a few minutes and enjoy the beautiful weather and gaze up at the sky briefly before packing it in for the night.

And I felt great.

Day 351 of The 365 Day Experiment. Forget Cinderella. Do The Hands Fit?

I was messaging back and forth with someone who I connected with through this Experiment, and he was sharing some of his new dating experiences of being “back in the game.”  I have served as a trusted ally  to a number of male friends in this situation over the past year or so.  I obviously have insight into how women think, and can somehow break it down into guy speak. I have one concern when I dispense these bits of wisdom, however.  As it has been pointed out to me numerous times over the past year,  I apparently don’t think or act like many women… so perhaps I’m not the best person to be coming to for advice.

This time, he offered me a nugget that really made me pause. It was about knowing you’ve found the right person when you hold hands and they fit together perfectly. Hold that thought.

Over the past year, I have had nearly two dozen first dates. So few resulted in second dates. One was special. He was smart and funny. He was kind and thoughtful.  He was really good to my kids.  My friends liked him.  My parents liked him.  He was perfect.  Except…he wasn’t perfect for me. 

He’s the kind of guy that when I met him I thought, “thank god…I finally met a great one.”  He was so easy to talk to.  We had an immediate easy connection.  He got and respected my quirks.  All the stars looked to be lining up…and yet, something wasn’t right.

And it was me. 

I cannot say a single negative thing about him.  Which makes it horrific to try to explain to someone you don’t think you can continue a relationship that is seemingly good because you just aren’t feeling it like you should be.  How do you answer the question “why?” when there is nothing to point to?

So I tried to defer to my standard answer in which make nearly every decision.  It just didn’t feel right in my gut. 

I would hate to be on the receiving end of that my point of view.  You can’t fight gut with logic. You can’t fight emotion with data points.

Some time has passed.  Fortunately, I have a great memory, and great memories. I don’t look at our time together as a failed attempt at a relationship.  I look at is as great time spent with a wonderful person. I’m grateful for it.  He made me hopeful, at a time where I needed hope.  It just wasn’t meant to be a forever thing.  

And now I reflect back on my friend’s comment about holding hands.  I am not Cinderella.  I have never been the girl looking for a prince to come rescue me, placing a perfect glass slipper upon my foot to provide me with my happily ever after. I’m just a girl hoping to stumble into her soul mate somewhere along my journey.  I am at the point in my life where I want all-in, with someone who fundamentally embraces life with me.  Who will jump off a literal cliff and be adventurous one minute, and then jump off an emotional cliff with me the next.  

At this age, who knows if that will happen for me.  I’d like to think that it could.  And maybe I’ll know him when our hands connect. 

Day 350 of The 365 Day Experiment. Rose, Bud, Thorn.

Today was one of those days.  The one where you literally can’t wait to strip off your work clothes the minute you walk in the door, because you just need to put the day behind you…even if you have another several hours left in front of you.  And as I cooked dinner and my daughters set the table, they started in with a game one of them had learned during her school trip this year.  ”Let’s play Rose, Bud, Thorn,” they said. 

It’s simple, Rose = The best part of your day.  Bud = Something you are looking forward to.  Thorn = Something that sucked.   It’s our simple way of catching up with each other. 

It started a little “thorny”. I went to bed very late, and I woke twice during the night with graphic dreams; an indication I clearly I had a lot of my mind.  And though I woke tired, I was in great spirits.  It was my morning to wake my girls, share breakfast and put them on the bus.  Many might see this as mundane morning activity.  For a mom who leaves the house most mornings before dawn, I look forward to starting my day with my favorite people. 

And I was rewarded for my efforts.  

As I stood at the counter and tucked final items into lunch bags, my eldest was digging through her backpack, eager to show me something she had read to her Language Arts teacher during their “final meeting” yesterday.  She said, “I had to read him three pieces…but this one made him tear up.”  What? I looked up from what I was doing and walked over to her notebook.  As I glanced down at the first paragraph, it became clear her story was about me.  And there I stood, tears filled my eyes as I read.  My daughter happens to be a gifted writer, but it didn’t matter how beautifully she crafted her words.  It’s that she took the time to write about something I did each night, and how meaningful it had become to her.  What a beautiful rose she had given me. 

And the day was off and running…

I had an insightful conversation with an team full of people from our newest office.  Rose.

I exchanged texts about some long awaited plans this weekend that made me smile.  Bud.

I sat in a ridiculous traffic jam.  Thorn. 

I made progress with some members of my team about defining roles.  I cranked out a presentation, and then got help making it look much prettier, for a company wide meeting tomorrow.  My home passed fire inspection; apparently a pain in the a** checklist item necessary to close on my current house.   And not only did I get to stay home a little later today, I got to leave early for said “fire inspection” to take place.   I baked lemon cupcakes with Gianna when I got home.  I found a missing document which is also necessary to close on this house in a pile of paperwork I debated whether or not to pack or shred; it was from 2002.  I throw EVERYTHING out.  These things all provided me with a bouquet of roses for the day.

I took my hour of unscheduled time and I cleaned out my email inbox to a manageable number, and clarified my most important projects. I made progress on packing another two boxes.  And I started organizing for my upcoming weekend away and workshop next week with two people I’m excited to spend good collaborating time with.  My already full bouquet was also filled with enough buds that I had something to look forward to when those wonderful blossoms begin to droop.

Of course, every rose has its thorn. (I can’t believe I wrote that.  I am not a fan of Bret Michaels.)  My day was no different.  

Because of my stupid “I won’t eat fruit in the car” mind game taking place this week, I forgot to eat after I focused on Chiara’s writing and skipped breakfast all together.  And then I forgot lunch.  I got around to a yogurt by 1:30.  I was slightly grumpy…or so the guy who sits outside my office told me.   He was being kind.  He overheard me yell at someone I care about today.  That’s only the second time I’ve done that at this company.  I’ve got a really long fuse…I’m not a yeller. Today I hit a breaking point, and I felt massively taken advantage of.  It really hurt.  AND it really pissed me off.  That’s not a good combination.  All of this drove my day to have it’s share of thorns as well.  

As I readied the meal for the table, I started in with my abbreviated list for the girls. They are sort of interested, but they don’t care about the real details.  They cared about the stuff that was making me happy…or sad.

And then Gianna said, “I’ll go!”

"I have a rose!"  She had pulled from her binder some sort of paper award.  "Oh, s*it," I thought.  What has she won?  Class clown?  Most flexible?  Surely her hysterical teacher has done something to recognize her unique contribution to the classroom as this school year draws to a close.  "I got called down to the office today," she continued.  Ok, that doesn’t sound good, as my mind filled with what she could have possibly done. 

And she handed me her document.  She had been selected among a select group of her peers in 5th grade for her scholastic achievements this year.  Cue the tears again.  

This was my daughter who we knew was bright, but lived in the shadow of her straight A older sister.  This is the student who I was told in every single conference throughout elementary school, “she’s such a force of nature, but if she could only focus…”  And then this year - her last in elementary school -  things all changed.  It took the magical combination of a teacher who cared enough to help, a doctor who partnered with us, and a mom who always believed in her kid and never gave up.  And out of that blossomed the most beautiful rose in the bouquet…a child beaming with pride at her accomplishment. 

I disregard the thorns.  They are but a minor nuisance, when your days are filled with roses and buds.  Sometimes, you just need to remember to stop and smell them. 

Day 349 of The 365 Day Experiment. Mind Games WIth a Banana.

I do not have an addictive personality.  In fact, if I ever find myself becoming to reliant on something, I will typically intentionally stop my interaction with said thing for a period of time, just because I never wish to become routine or too comfortable with anything.  

So I will play mind games with myself just to test the theory.  This week, I’m really putting this practice to the test, and just two days in, I’m feeling the pain.  This tells me it was worth doing. 

I hate routines, and yet some I need to follow to make my life work.  On the days I head into the office early, I rise at 5:10 am, and have my pre-work preparation carefully choreographed.  I can shower, dress, put on makeup, set up breakfast for the kids and then grab something to nibble on in the car in 30 minutes flat.  To eat on route, however, I need something I can access easily and safely.  So I defer to fruit.  

It sounds stupid, I suppose, to want to break a routine of fruit in my car.  For just one week though, I wanted to see if I could break this habit.  And it’s proving to be more challenging than I thought. 

While I’m only a few days in, I’ve become increasingly aware of what I have given up.  While seemingly such a silly little routine, I now glare at those bananas hanging from their hook in my kitchen before I head out the door, taunting me with their perfectly yellow skins.  I have to push aside the beautifully ripe peaches in my produce drawer as I grab for the items for my daughters’ school lunches, knowing I’m forgoing how juicy and perfect they taste. 

I didn’t give up fruit completely for the week though.  I still get to eat a piece a day, because it’s such a huge part of my diet I think my system would go into shock if I quit cold turkey.  But to see if I could give up my routine of eating my “car fruit” for one week has proven truly interesting.

It’s made me realize I grab for it at the same point in my journey each day; somewhere around the Zakim Bridge, when the traffic begins to get congested in Boston. It’s made me focus on the fact that with little distraction and that peaceful time by myself, I am focus on the taste. I actually enjoy what I am eating, rather than just eating to fill my stomach because I am hungry and it’s meal time.

During those few peaceful minutes, it’s just a brief time to my office, but allows me just enough time to enjoy whatever I’ve chosen that day before I park my car in the garage. I say good morning to Uzzi, the man who parks my car each morning and then toss my pit/core/skin wrapped in a napkin into the garbage can before heading upstairs to my office. It has become routine.  I hate routine.

This one week fruit-in-the-car challenge has also made me realize how utterly goal oriented I am.  Seriously…who the hell plays mind games with a banana?  Someone who likes to see what she can accomplish when she puts her mind to it.  Someone who sees routine and fears impending boredom, monotony, complacency.  Even if that represented as something as mundane as eating a piece of fruit in a car.

So, yep, I own it.  I’ve got some issues.  Or, if I want to see it as glass half full, I practice what I preach.  I am a creature of change, and I crave the ability to be under constant construction.  And every once in awhile, I’ll play a mind game like this with myself just to disrupt my life.  I hate the thought of doing things repetitively just because they have become habit.  

While it is deeply personal to share these ridiculous games I play with myself, it is part of makes me uniquely me.  Do I have an odd take on how I approach the world? Perhaps.  Do I care if that makes me odd?  Nope.