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. 

Day 348 of The 365 Day Experiment. S*it Is Getting Real.

I have spent most of this weekend packing up my home, readying my little family to move down the street in less than a month.  By day’s end, the downstairs will be be complete, except for the basic cooking and eating things we will need.  

My former husband has been around several times this week, poking through his old life here, filling his former garage bay with mementos of our former life.  Each day, I come home to find more camping gear, skis, or even toys from his childhood that his mother pawned off to our basement piling up, waiting for his moving truck to come take them.  A year ago, driving into the garage and seeing this each day would have brought me to tears.  Today, it just makes me smile when I think of the memories that are associated with each thing I recognize.  They are distant remembrances at this point, but fond memories just the same.  That is how I will choose to think of them.  

Except when I notice he’s taking the tools.  He can’t take ALL the tools.  Leave me with a f’ing hammer and a couple of screwdrivers please. But I digress.

My younger daughter has the ability to look always forward, like me.  When she appeared after packing up most of her bedroom yesterday and saw the progress I had made in the family room, she exclaimed, “Wow!  It looks so empty!  Can I watch tv now?”  When my older daughter saw the room, her face dropped.  Her eyes immediately filled with tears, acknowledging the removal of all the missing pieces that made this house our home.   It doesn’t help that she’s in full blown moody, hormonal, teen mode.  This big change is just the icing on the cake.  Even the prospect of getting to redesign her room isn’t helping Chiara out of this funk.  I have to work on being extra empathetic, because while I always look forward, she tends to mourn for the past.  We are so different this way.

Gianna, on the other hand, is creating Powerpoint presentations decorating every room in the house.  She’s added new furniture and styled the place beautifully.  She’s been pouring over Pintrest and Pottery Barn Teen for ideas, and actually done a pretty good job.  Of course, I don’t really want a hot pink bedroom, but I love her creativity and her excitement.  And I’m really glad she doesn’t have access to my credit card.  If I actually bought everything I think she’s proposing, I think I’d be half a million bucks in.  No eleven year old needs a pop out closet that spins your clothes out and selects for you.  I might, but she doesn’t. 

So today, as the girls head off to spend the day with their dad to celebrate Father’s Day, I will attempt to make another big dent in this packing.  I have someone coming to take some of the furniture from my “old life” as I continue to shed my past and build my future.  

And as I sit with my coffee, feet up on my antique coffee table this morning (one of the few things that is coming with me) I am relaxed in knowing that the transition is almost over.  I hate putting my daughter through this change, knowing how much angst it is causing her, but I know she will come out stronger in the end. 

We all do.  I worked on a project with someone once and we wanted to use the phrase “change or die.” We decided it was too aggressive, but it’s true.  We all need to evolve or we stagnate and wither.  I am glad I am able to do this so easily.  Maybe too easily sometimes.  

Plus, packing is just a really lousy way to spend a beautiful weekend. 

Day 347 of The 365 Day Experiment. I Love You.

I watched a short, completely engaging documentary this afternoon. It was about a man in his sixties who was both a very successful defense attorney, and a talented photographer.  He also was suffering from cancer, and given three to six months to live.  

Rather than focus on fearing his approaching death, he keyed in on the quality of his remaining days, and making each one count.  As part of that, he passed on traditional chemo and radiation treatments so known to us now in the western world and approached his situation differently, to maintain his final months as blissfully as possible.  

At one point in his journey, we find him in Peru, trying a holistic treatment that has hallucinogenic side effects.  And as he is splashing in a river, discussing a variety of different topics in his altered state, he starts talking about opening his heart at this point in his final days.  He’s ready to take the armor off, so to speak, and start telling the people he’s close to in his life that he loves them. 

That struck a chord with me.  Here I am, watching this older guy, and oddly feeling a connection to him.  I can relate to his passion for his day job, and his draw to his more artistic side gig.  I appreciate that he is given very limited time left on his life clock, and rather than pump himself full of drugs, he wants to live out his final days with as much quality as he possibly can.  The only thing that I could connect with was not being able to express how you feel about the people you care about in your life.

I may be private - or formally private -  but I’ve never been shy about how I feel about those I care about.  My parents raised us in a home filled with love.  Every single day before we went to bed, my parents kissed us goodnight and said, “I love you.”  And while they don’t tuck me in anymore, when they see me today, they still do the same thing.

I have always been comfortable with “I love yous”.  My best friends get them with a warm embrace when we share another wonderful experience together.  Odd as it may sound, a colleague and I actually shared an I love you after an incredibly hard conversation and a battle fought together, to communicate the pride and respect we have for one another.  And I’ve even told my former husband I love him at some point over the past several months.  The context has completely changed; he is no longer my love.  He will always be, for all we’ve been through together over two decades and these children that we raise together,  someone who I love as a friend.

And then there are my daughters.  The most unconditional I love you I will ever say.  They love to ask “who do you love more?” as if it was ever possible to choose.  There is no answer.  The only response I have for them is that there is ample room in my heart for both of them; there is no victor of my love.   

Just as people know that they can count on me to be direct, they know where they stand with me on my feelings for them.  If you are in my 
inner circle, you likely know I love you.  And I will likely tell you.  Don’t be freaked out by it; you don’t need to say it back.  I just don’t want to ever die, ever having the people who are important to me wondering how much they meant to me.  

And I am guessing there are some I love yous, tucked safely away inside me, just in case I need them someday.  Those ones are the hardest to say at first, and the most cherished to hear.  They are also the most worth waiting for.

Day 346 of The 365 Day Experiment. Picking The Lock On My Life.

Last night I went to an outdoor event for work in downtown Boston.  A number of high tech companies set up tables to strut their stuff.  Lots of free swag was being given out, along with games of corn hole and other things to attract people to their tents.  Being a software security company, we wanted to do something creative to drive people to ours.  We chose playing on the theme of security and hired a famed lock picker well known in our security community.  He was the standout of the event.

As we set up together the hour before things kicked off, my colleagues and I peppered him with questions about his technique and background.  I love spending time with people like him.  He’s so incredibly passionate about what he does, his energy drew people to want to see what was going on.  We couldn’t fit people around the table he was so popular.  People didn’t just walk away with a new skill.  They walked away with an education and new intrigue.

I listened to him repeat his basic instructions over and over again throughout the evening…”Insert the tension wrench in your hand.  Apply some gentle pressure, never letting off.  Slip in the pick above, and feel for the individual pins”…and then it struck me.  Learning to pick a lock is not unlike learning how to pick the lock I’ve had around my life for the last few years.

I started this Experiment with the self knowledge of how private I was.  I was a forced extravert, and had fallen into a pattern of being “on” at work, and then retreating back to my more inwardly facing personality as soon as I got in my car to head home.  In doing that for so long, I had made a practice of sharing bits of knowledge about myself to allow enough for people to build connections, but not nearly enough to truly let people in.  Call it self preservation.  Call it privacy.  Call it unintentional selfishness. 

Those days are clearly over; at least for the most part.  While I have yet to go back and read my words over the past year, I can remember my state of mind over the course of that time period.  With each entry, it’s like I pushed the tension wrench just a tiny bit more, and felt for the pins with my pick, pushing them up until they set.  Even the stubborn ones, which might take a little more work.  It’s taken a lot of time to get to this place, but I finally feel like the pins are all up, and the tension wrench can finally be turned and the lock can be opened.

I’ve always been fearless.  I’ve always been true to myself.  It’s amazing to me that I entered into this project never thinking I would actually learn anything.  Turns out one of the biggest lessons learned was that by locking so much of how I feel and who I am away from even those closest to me, those who thought they knew me didn’t really know me at all.  And that’s my fault.  While everything they saw was authentically me, that which they didn’t see didn’t complete the picture.  

Those days are behind me. 

I put the tension on my own lock, and I started pushing those pins.  And as the months went by, I’ve exposed more and more of myself.  I have found a new way to communicate with people.  Not just by writing.  I interact with people differently in general these days.  I attempt to give back as much as I take.  I try to not just play the game so people think they know me.  I actually allow them to get to know me if they so choose.

I am delusionally excited for what awaits me around the corner.  This is now the case because while before I just thought my fearlessness would guide me through the unknown, now I feel like my willingness to be open has shifted the energy in my world in a positive way.  

Of course, I’ll hit bumps along the road; that’s inevitable.  That’s why I’ll always have my lock pick kit with me.  I need all the tools I can get to help me keep learning and growing.

Day 345 of The 365 Day Experiment. Energy Vampires.

I tend to be a fairly high energy person.  While I know sleep does a body good, I don’t require much of it.  These past few weeks, I have given up a few hours because I’ve found some new things that are feeding my fuel tank.  I find when I am excited about something, these things or people are far better than guzzling Red Bull.  No matter how tired I am, I find energy stores I didn’t realize I had, and they power me on. I actively search these things out. 

And then there are the energy vampires.  

They are the people or things that suck the energy right from my very core.  They are often not intentional.  It could be the friend who constantly plays the victim role, and needs constant shoulder to cry on or ear to vent to.  It could be the class clown or “smartest-guy-in-the-room” who has to be the center of attention.  It can be the drama queen or the person who has complete lack of confidence and needs constant reassurance.  

These are the people that deplete me of energy.  And I am surrounded by them all the time.  That is my job.  

No, I am not singling out individuals, or am I suggesting there are always a handful of people who make me want to crawl into the fetal position by day’s end.  I’m just saying this is reality.  When you are in my job with a number of hyper-growth companies under your belt, you balance the good with the not so good.  This piece I consider my not so good.  I’ll explain. 

I am a creator and builder.  For the past 20+ years, I have had the pleasure of doing what I love.  I have never known a bad work experience; likely because I played a role in developing what the culture of the company felt like to its people.  Yes, working hard is hard work, and we all get tired.  However, I feel like if you are truly doing what you love, it’s not work.  It’s just “your thing” that you happen to get paid for.  This entire process has kept me energized for decades now.

But there’s a tax in operating in these environments that I have chosen.  My role is to work with people in a rapidly changing, dynamic set of organizations.  I focus on change and careers, development and passion. With that comes lots of personalities and emotions. On the positive side, I have worked with some of the most intelligent, amazing people ever.  On the downside, I have worked with some challenging “energy vampires” throughout my career as well.  We all have.  It’s just exacerbated by the nature of my role.  I’m not complaining about it for a second.  These are the people who make my role interesting on a daily basis.  But sometimes, I wish they would fly back into their cave and allow my bite marks to heal, even if for just for one afternoon.  

So I mindfully balance.  I ensure every day has just as many opportunities to spend time working on projects and working with people that are going to allow me to drink from the fountain of their energy.  I need those reserves for the vampires who will attempt to suck me dry by days end.  

I think I’ve figured out how to make it all work for me.  If anyone was to ever peek at my calendar, they would note that I will always attempt to start and then end my work day on a high.  Because I am going to need do that line of human energy to light me up to face the night ahead.  Where I have handle the exact same balance challenges again.  

Just a totally different environment.