I’ve written before about how much I love and adore Danielle LaPorte. Last week, she posted a video that she’d done as part of a TV program she’s a guest on that was all about the Stop Doing list. Instead of thinking about all the things you are going to START doing, Danielle suggests listing all the things you’re going to STOP doing.
I decided to make a list of both—a combination, if you will.
- I am going to stop thinking about the past and all of the shoulda, coulda, woulda things that tend to torture me, holding on to negative choices I’ve made and comparing myself to others; I’m going to start focusing on all of the things I can change, and being confident that I can and WILL change them.
- I am going to stop being lazy, scared and avoidant when it comes to fitness and eating well; I’m going to start taking care of myself by eating a reasonable amount of calories each day (not under or over eating), joining a beginners running club to hopefully become a good runner, and returning to hot yoga. I’m going to stop using food as a comfort and reward; I’m going to start working on the emotions that come behind food.
- I am going to stop watching TV and messing around online without a specific purpose; I’m going to start using my free time to be more creative, read more books, be a better teacher and get out of the house more often.
- I am going to stop spending extra and start saving funds to go on trips and have a nest egg.
Yes, it’s a short list. I’m also in the middle of creating my life list, and will be posting that soon. But for now, these are the “must-do’s” and the concretes.
I can’t wait for a new year.
Also, I promise that this will be over soon…but have you voted in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards yet? How about January’s Featured Blogger? I’d love your votes in both!
Maybe it takes a truly horrible year to really pause and reflect on what it is you want your life to be about. Maybe it takes the dizzying highs of things being perfect, and the quiet restlessness of waiting for the other shoe to drop, or the awful, terrifying fear that everything you know, love and hold dear will change dramatically in a matter of days.
Maybe it takes a decade of dramatic growth, of crossing that threshold from child to adult and becoming someone who is completely different from her 16-year-old self to look back and think of all the things you always, sometimes, never want to do again. Maybe it takes stacks of thick journals, begun in childish scrawl, filled with thoughts, plans and ideas about all the things you’d do when you were finally an adult, and ending with quiet reflection and confusion of actually being grown-up, the realization that you don’t know anything at all, to make you want to Create Your Life.
As we get ready to embark on a new decade, I feel optimistic. I look back on the things I’ve experienced and thing that even the most horrid moments weren’t useless. I can see a purpose in what was accomplished and what wasn’t. I can laugh. I can look back on the things I once held up as ultimate truth and appreciate how far I’ve come, not only in my world view, but in my view of myself.
We’ve all probably heard or seen that tale of the dropping the quarter in your hand to grab the dollar in front of your face—or something like it (actually, that’s probably not it at all, but whatever. There’s a story about that somewhere that involves dropping and grasping). This week, I’ve spent time thinking about the things—literally and figuratively—I need to drop in order to make room, to grasp new things.
For me, this New Year is about saying goodbye, just as much as it is to saying hello. I want to let go of certain beliefs about myself, my story, my life and welcome in new ones. I want to let go. I want to stop looking back and admiring what was, and to start looking to what is, what can be, and what will be.
So, today I am saying goodbye. Goodbye to the people and things that no longer serve me. I am saying goodbye to longing for those days of being a size 0 and saying hello to embracing my body and making it as healthy as possible. I am saying goodbye to the friends I’ve written about missing, and choosing to believe it’s a gift we’re not friends any longer. I am saying goodbye to beating myself up for being divorced and stop pondering the life I could have. I am saying goodbye to any hope that I will have a friendship with someone I loved deeply and being really and truly okay with that—because it’s the past. I am saying goodbye to feeling insecure. I am saying goodbye to pouring my energies in to people who don’t appreciate them, or me. I am saying goodbye to those stories I’ve told myself for so long about what I am and what I’m not. I am shedding the last tears I will cry over the things above, and putting them away to rest, forever.
I want to wake up on January 1, and say, “HELLO!”
Also, I promise that this will be over soon…but have you voted in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards yet? How about January’s Featured Blogger? I’d love your votes in both!
Just wanted to remind you Chicago-area bloggers that since I’m here in Illinois we’ll be having a meet-up tomorrow! Can’t wait!
The details:
Wednesday, December 30th
7 pm at Piece.
Andrew and I will be there for at least a few hours. Come by for drinks, pizza, and time with other bloggers. Should be a great time—I know I’m excited!
Also, I promise that this will be over soon…but have you voted in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards yet? How about January’s Featured Blogger? I’d love your votes in both!
Being a blogger means that people always think you’re good at stuff involving communication. I confessed to a friend once that I was nervous to go to a gathering with people I’d never met, and she was all, “But you’ve got a blog and you’re great with people!”
I AM HIDING BEHIND A COMPUTER SCREEN. And while sure, I hope to meet many of you in Vegas or at varied blogging meet-ups, I always worry that I’m going to be terrible. Yes, I KNOW, it’s always fine, but man, I suffer from crippling anxiety.
When I was 13, I was addicted to my phone. I had my own phone line in my room because my friends and I spent hours on the phone. Ridiculous amounts of time were spent re-hashing all the drama of middle school and who was going out with who and the biggest punishment ever? PHONE RESTRICTION. Yes, my parents would totally ground me from my precious cordless. And at the time? That was pure torture of the highest degree.
Now? If someone told me I didn’t have to talk on the phone for a week, I’d be all, THANK GOD. Because I hate it. Seriously. I feel awkward and dumb and think my voice sounds weird and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST TEXT ME ALREADY.
Thankfully, blogging doesn’t involve a lot of phone calls.
But, friends, I do have a confession: I think I’m an awkward G-Chat person. I have anxiety about it. I seriously love having it, but sometimes, sweet, adorable friends are all, “G-Chat date!” and my palms start sweating immediately. And that makes typing difficult. I worry that I’m all boring or weird or talk about myself too much or say stupid things. And? G-CHAT SAVES YOUR HISTORY. Unless you mark it off the record, which makes it seem like we’re going to have sexy time or something, and that’s not really my bag. Maybe with some of you, but not usually. But then I envision you sharing our conversation all, “That Amy seems all cute and nice on her blog, but MAN, SHE SUCKS AT G-CHAT!” And then you just laugh, and have non-awkward G-Chat with people who have mastered the art of the instant messenger conversation.
I love the idea of talking with y’all online, I really do, but I’m scared! I mean, I talk to real life friends all the time, but they are already acutely aware of the insipid details of my life, so they don’t think I’m weird if I discuss my cat or my classroom or other boring stuff. But new friends? It’s like an internet first date.
So, two things: 1) Teach me your ways, Great G-Chat Friends 2) If you G-Chat with me or want to, DON’T JUDGE ME.
I am totally going to be ANNOYING AS HECK for the next two weeks, but seriously…have you voted in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards yet? Besides honoring some amazing bloggers, you can vote for me in either (or preferably BOTH!) the Most Sincere and Best New Blogger categories. Thanks for your support!
Late last night, I was sitting on the couch with Andrew and his sister when I saw the tweet that 20SB Bootleg Finalists had been announced. I love the 20SB Community, and went to check out the nominees.
Lo and behold, I found MY OWN NAME next to two categories:
Most Sincere Blogger (among such blogging ROCKSTARS as Doni, Erin, Wishcake and Kyla—all of whom I consider my friends, making it a huge honor!)
AND
Best New Blogger (yep, it’s true! I started blogging in March 2009 at this spot!).
The 20SB Community really, really is the best place for 20-Something Bloggers to meet others, get to know people and find like-minded souls. I’ve met some of my blogging BFF’s through the site.
To be nominated first for January Featured Blogger, and now for two Bootlegger Awards is recognition enough, but I would be so beyond honored if you’d vote for me. If you’re a 20SB member, and you’re here regularly, I’d be so grateful for your support. And if you’re not…well? What are you waiting for?!
To all of you who nominated me, who read me regularly, who comment, email and tweet—THANK YOU. I feel so blessed, lucky and happy to have found this little niche online. You guys are amazing. Thanks for your nominations and your votes!
In the year 2000, I was 16 and in love for the first time, with a boy named Bryan, who I’d been in love with the year before. We lived three hours away from one another, but he’d visit often and we talked on the phone for hours. In April, I turned 17. I finished my junior year of high school and spent my summer tooling around in my 1987 Toyota Celica. Man, I loved that car. In July, I went to Tennessee with my high school church youth group for a conference and overdrew my checking account for the first time. Bryan broke up with me during that trip, and I was destroyed. I reconnected with the guy who’d taken me on my first date ever at age 15, and we started dating immediately. It was serious.
In 2001, I turned 18 years old. I saw my first Dave Matthews Band concert in San Francisco, a gift from my boyfriend. I graduated from high school. Two weeks later, I started both community college and working for Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic as a Customer Service Representative for their call center. I loved my new amazing discount, but hated my job. I started attending a college youth group at a new church that I really enjoyed. In October, I started losing weight and dropped 20 pounds almost immediately. In December, one of the girls I went to high school and to church with was killed in a car accident. It was the first time death was really close to me, and I was devastated.
By 2002, I had gotten used to the pattern of my friends being gone, coming home for weekends and summers. I continued carrying a full load of classes in school and working nearly full-time. I got thinner and thinner, and losing weight and working out became an addiction. In October, my long-time boyfriend proposed and I said yes.
2003 was one of the happiest years of my life. I was thin enough to wear a size 0 or clothes from the kids department. My mom and I planned an awesome wedding. I edited the Literary Journal at my college and acted as a professor’s assistant on a poetry retreat in Bodega Bay, California, with my favorite college professor. I was actively involved in church, though I was beginning to have doubts and questions. I started attending the four-year university nearby, where my favorite class was Philosophy in Literature.
In 2004, my then-fiance and several friends encouraged me to stop being so obsessed with working out and eating well, so I stopped and the weight crept back on. I had my first panic attack while driving to school one morning. I wrote more papers than I even thought possible, and fell in love with Fitzgerald, Hemingway and the 1920′s in general. I got married, and cried nearly my entire honeymoon. I missed my parents and brother terribly, even though I lived a mere five minutes from my childhood home. I started getting deeply sad. I started therapy after I couldn’t stop wanting to die. I stopped going to church. I took on a seasonal leadership position at work, and became close friends with Leslie. I adopted Harry cat. My marriage started crumbling before my eyes. In December, I officially finished all the classes to complete my degree in English, but stayed on to take a Master’s-level class and hopefully begin my MA in Creative Writing.
In 2005, I floundered. I hated my Creative Writing class. I hated my job. I quit my job after working for Gap’s call center for four years, and started working as a tutor full-time. I hated it. I taught a Children’s Creative Writing class and hated it. Finally, at the end of May, I was hired to teach at an art center for developmentally disabled adults. I loved my job, but hated my life. I moved to Midtown Sacramento, and fell completely in love with the area. I got even more sad. My marriage consisted of screaming fights, ignoring one another and pretending that the other person didn’t exist. I started painting for the first time. I started my first blog. I discovered Rumi. I made new friends, who liked going out and having fun. I simultaneously loved and loathed my life.
2006 was the worst year ever. I hurt my friends with my absence and sadness and anger. We announced our impending divorce. My family was hurt and shocked and horrified by my decision, and it took months of working hard for us to finally understand one another. I moved out on my own, to a tiny studio apartment that I absolutely adored. I started dating again. I fell in love immediately, with a sweet, gentle guy I worked with. We drank our spring and summer away, ate too much McDonald’s and fell hopelessly, deeply in love. I lost my job. I started massage school and began working as a massage therapist in July. I started a brief stint as a Starbucks barista as well, which I absolutely hated. Massage picked up and I quit Starbucks. My boyfriend broke up with me unexpectedly, leaving me shattered and frazzled both financially and emotionally. I was poorer than I’d ever been in my life. I started working at Borders for the holiday season. I started dating a fellow artist, which ended terribly in an awful New Years Eve fight.
In 2007, I decided to get my life together. I got hired on as a Teaching Assistant at a group home, a job I did while also balancing Borders and massage therapy. I went on a series of awful dates, one of which was with B, someone who would complicate the next two years. My relationship with my family improved dramatically. I was accepted into a teaching credential program, which I started in July. I moved out of my studio apartment and in with a girl who was very sweet, but had a serious marijuana problem, something that didn’t jive well with my new lifestyle. B and I started dating and then stopped. I was heartbroken. I started my first year of teaching at the school I still teach at as a 7th grade English teacher, and fell head over heels in love with being an educator. I moved out of my first apartment and in with another roommate into an apartment I loved. I started feeling hopeful and confident again. B and I started hanging out again, off and on, in November. In December, I met Andrew and everything changed.
2008 was one of the most confusing, but fun years of my life. Andrew and I started dating. We struggled at first and I continued having B as a big part of my life. I visited Seattle and Vegas in March and went to Coachella in April. I saw a lot of concerts, went out nearly every weekend and had a blast living in downtown Sacramento. In May, Andrew and I decided to stop seeing each other. For a week. We started flirting via Facebook Scrabble, and slowly began rebuilding our relationship. In June, we decided to be serious and exclusive and haven’t looked back since. I started my second year of teaching, this time as an 8th grade English teacher. In October, Andrew told me he loved me for the first time.
I started 2009 in Illinois, hanging out with Andrew’s family for the first time. In February, I was told I might lose my job thanks to the state budget crisis. Andrew and I moved in together. In March, I launched this site. In April, I turned 26, found out I’d have a job this school year AND finished my credential program. I spent my summer in my new apartment and in Illinois, visiting Andrew’s family. I started my third year of teaching. In August, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and my grandma was hospitalized with E. Coli poisoning that caused her kidneys to fail. The next few months were a whirlwind of stress and sadness. In November, my grandma was released from the hospital and has continued to recover. In December, my dad’s radiation treatments were cut short early because they believe the cancer is gone. I ended the year in Illinois once again.
It’s amazing how much the past 10 years have held—both good and bad. It’s been quite a decade. Can’t wait to see where I am 10 years from now.
What did your 2000′s hold?
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
—”Separation”, W.S. Merwin
Andrew and I have been apart for the past five days. I haven’t mentioned this because a) I know that many of you endure separations that are significantly longer and for more serious reasons and b) because I was petrified that someone was going to come and KNIFE ME in the middle of the night. Seriously. I realize it’s an irrational fear, but still, I didn’t think that telling the Internet that I was HOME ALONE was the best plan in the world. At least not for my nerves.
I don’t think I’m alone when I say that sometimes, I fantasize about living alone again. I lived by myself for a year and a half, and while my studio apartment was no luxurious place to live and was in a terrible area, I absolutely loved it. Sometimes, I long for those days of having my pink-and-red girl pad, with just my stuff, my art supplies and books and life everywhere. I miss being completely free to do whatever I choose with my days and nights. I had roommates after living alone, which I really hated (not them persay, just having roomies!) and now have settled in with Andrew.
Still, the past five days have been really strange for me. I always get sad when Andrew leaves (though this is the first time we’ve been separated since moving in together), but I’m usually fine, happy even, to have some alone time. I’ve missed the typical things—cuddles and good night kisses, having dinner together, talking about our days. But it’s been the little things that I miss which have caught me off guard: the way Andrew closes the cupboards when I leave them open, putting my feet in his lap while we watch TV, the sound of his snoring as I try and sleep, his laugh. I’m in our house, my home; however, it doesn’t feel like home at all. Not without him around.
So today, at 2:45 am, the blue airport shuttle will come and get me and I’ll be flying to Illinois to join him and his family for the rest of my break. I’m so excited to hang out with his parents and sister, head to Chicago for the 20SB meet-up (WHICH YOU SHOULD COME TO!) and relax. Harry cat will be in good hands, as my friend Katy will be caring for him and the apartment, and I’ll be spending time playing board games, sleeping in, consuming way too much food and hanging out with Andrew, who makes anywhere feel like home.
I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Posting will happen while I’m gone, but may be a bit sporadic while I enjoy the heck out of the Midwest!
Here’s hoping you and your family have a lovely Christmas. For me, the next day or so will be spent with my family, enjoying delicious dinner, going to church by candlelight, watching movies, opening stockings from Santa, giving and receiving gifts from one another, snacking, laughing and enjoying each others company.
Wishing you and those you hold dear a lovely Christmas, full of magic and love.
Earlier this week, I shared that Leslie and I had a photo shoot. I am definitely not the world’s most photogenic person, so there were a lot of outtakes. Leslie and I found them to be absolutely HYSTERICAL, so we decided to compile a little video highlighting some of the best. So this? Is my Christmas present to all of you:
A solicitation to all advertisers from leslie callan on Vimeo.
If you don’t like this, it’s unlikely you’ll enjoy me in real life. Just FYI.
On Friday, I shared the joys of my Christmas with Andrew. I was so touched by his sweetness, particularly when it came to the ring. The fact that he managed to surprise me, to go to the trouble of ordering it special, to be so sweet and considerate meant the world to me.
The questions started. Are we engaged? Why is it on “that” finger? And truth be told, I didn’t mind. I know that most of the questions were meant out of pure love. Out of genuine happiness. Out of the fact that y’all are used to be sharing everything in the world, and you wanted to know. Let me be real, y’all: after I call my parents, I WILL TWEET AND BLOG MY FACE OFF UNTIL YOU ARE SO TIRED OF HEARING ANYTHING WEDDING-RELATED. I know that most questions were meant with a good heart, but let me be honest: I was just happy. My boyfriend spoiled me, and I was thrilled. I felt good about it. End of story. Truth be told, the questions made me a bit sad: wasn’t it enough that my boyfriend got me a ring I loved, and a camera, and that we shared an amazing night? Couldn’t that be good enough?
I received an “anonymous” email (by the way, HELLO, ANONYMOUS, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!). In light of all of the questions, via tweet and on the post itself, this person took it upon herself to write and tell me exactly what she thought about me wearing my ring on the “special” finger. I was informed that I don’t understand marriage, or value commitment, because of the fact that I’m divorced AND now, I’m cheapening my relationship and the institution of marriage by wearing the ring on my ring finger.
There are so many things that I wish that people understood about me. And commitment, and my views on it are one of them. I could never, ever fit them into a blog. I understand that there is a stigma attached to being divorced. I’ve written about my story, sure, but let me assure you: you don’t know the whole story. To try and share the private story of two people (one of whom isn’t “present” and therefore, represented), in a short series of writing, is impossible. Suffice it to say that unless we’ve talked, unless you know me, and my heart, you don’t understand. It was not a starter marriage. It was not a joke. It is something that changed me deeply, forever and always. The fact that it’s something that I’ve endured does not mean that I don’t take commitment seriously. If anything, I’d say it’s the opposite. It’s made me more wary of it, but also more serious about it. It’s made me stop and wonder; to examine my own life, my own role. I absolutely refuse to get married again until I know, without a doubt, that it’s forever.
As far as me and Andrew go, again: you don’t know the whole story. You don’t know the things we’ve shared. You don’t know our hearts towards one another. I can’t convey certain things about how hard we’ve worked to get to this point today. Commitment scares me. I was happy alone, and free; yet, I am committed to showing up, to being with Andrew, everyday. I wish there were certain glimpses I could give you of how happy he makes me. I wish I could record clips of us laughing hysterically, or show you how it feels when we support one another, or entertain you in our home so you could see “us”. I wish you could hear the words and sentiments of those I hold dear, who say things like, “I’ve never seen you so happy!” or “You guys are perfect together!”
There is nothing cheap about our relationship. There is nothing wrong with me wearing a ring that he gave me on the “special” finger. We are committed. We are in love. We are together—we live together, we are together, we choose each other. And where we are right now is perfect for us.
I feel as if I have worked hard—and we have worked hard—to carve a path that works for us. It may not be your path. It may not be the path that you feel to be right. But it’s not your path. I like to think that the world is big enough for us to maintain divergent paths, ideas and views, sans judgment.
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