Finding Balance

I haven’t been writing here as much as I first thought I might during this Whole30 program, and I’m okay with that. (If you scroll back you’ll see that I’ve never been great at blogging here regularly, so it’s par for the course.) But I want to jot down the main thought that’s been running through my head over the past few days:

When I finish the program, I hope to fall somewhere in between the way I used to eat and the way I’m currently eating. Balance – what a concept. Seriously – there’s not a lot of joy in eating according to the Whole30 guidelines, and I WANT to enjoy food. Sure, a healthy diet means that food serves as fuel to get your body through the day. But food does a lot more than that – it brings people together, it carries traditions through families, it serves as a gift in times of trouble, and hell, it brings a smile to my face.

I think when people move too far down the comfort food road – which I’ve definitely done during times in my life– then you need to step back and take a look at what’s driving you to sooth yourself with food, and what you can do about it. And so I do appreciate having this 30 days to reevaluate how I personally view food, what I personally put in my body, and how I personally feel when I eat whole unprocessed foods vs the standard Susan Diet. So its been a fun experiment, I’m learning new recipes, I’m learning my triggers and cravings, and I’m figuring out what kind of diet I’d like to have when I’m done.

So hey, its teaching me a lot.

And in the end, there will be ice cream. There will be more veggies and fewer snacks, but god almighty, there WILL be ice cream.

Thoughts from Days 2, 3, and 4 of Whole30

So here's a random sampling of things I've said, thought, or texted over the past few days as I embrace the program that is Whole30:

Seriously, it's like my stomach is trying to box its way out of my body.

I'd kill for a cookie right about now.

I definitely think there's a balance to be had. Somewhere between "donuts are my BFF" and "here's a perfectly balanced plate of fuel."

I'd kill for a donut right about now.

Kale can go to hell.

I'd kill for a brownie right about now.

Wait, coconut milk goes bad after TWO DAYS? What sort of racket are these coconuts running?

One thing I know about myself is that I've always sought comfort in food.It's insane how happy food makes me.

I HOOVERED it because it was so gross. I just wanted to be done with it.

But. But. But. Why does everyone else get to eat the mini pizzas?

Whose brilliant idea was this anyway?

I do NOT want to quit. Don't leave before the miracle happens and all that.

Day 1 of Whole 30: Pretty Sort Of OK I guess

I wish I had something interesting to report about today, my first day of eating according to the Whole30 Program. But so far I've had no big revelations -- not that I expected any -- and the main side effect I've noticed is a small dull headache and some pretty significant cravings for a Coke with a Hostess Cupcake.

Yeah, no big shocker there.

Coffee made with coconut milk instead of cream and sugar is still pretty good. 

I'm doing a ton of cooking and a ton of dishes. Like, seriously, the dishwasher is running ALL THE TIME.

I keep hearing about mysterious things people tell me I need to find, like "coconut aminos" and "compliant bacon." (Side note: Compliant Bacon is my new band name.) There's a metric TON of information out there about how to rock a Whole30 -- too much information, I"m finding. I just read a Facebook post from a women who's about 17 days in and mistakenly ate one kernel of corn. She wants to know if she needs to start over.

I will never be that person.

Here's a few photos of what I've eaten so far today:

* Breakfast (photo on left): Trader Joe's sausage sauteed with onions and roasted peppers, two scrambled eggs with tomatoes and avocado, two cups of coffee.

* Lunch (photo on right): Grassfed ground beef sauteed in homemade taco seasoning, served over spinach with onions, tomatoes, salsa, and a handful of olives.

* Dinner (currently cooking): steak that I picked up yesterday from the farmer's market, smashed potatoes with garlic, roasted carrots.

I think the carrots moved from roasted to burned. We'll see. I generally never eat carrots so I need to find some good recipes.

Day one is almost in the books. It'll get tougher, but hey, I'm a bit tougher too.

Whole30: Day Zero

Here's the thing you may or may not know about me: I've gone back and forth a lot in life trying to do things that I think are healthy for me. In between those spurts, however, I've spent WAY more time doing things that are extremely UNhealthy for me. And when I back up and look at the big picture, I realize that I really don't know what it means to feel good in my own skin.

Let's start with the basics. I eat a lot of crap. Sugar has been my best friend and constant companion for pretty much my whole life. Last weekend, I hoovered a box of mini donuts in less than a day. Oh yeah, and that's not unusual. Like, at all.

Pizza? Yes please. Garlic bread? Yes please. Dessert? Never turned it down. Veggies? Not my favorite.

And I'm tired a lot of the time. I feel bloated way more than one person should. I've only got one body to carry me through this world, and I haven't been giving it the care of the love it deserves. I want to change that, and I'm going to try an experiment for the next 30 days to see if I can figure out what it means to actually feel good in This Body.

You might have heard of it. The Whole30. It's an eating program based on the book It Starts With Food. The idea is pretty simple -- for 30 days, you stop eating foods that are known to cause chronic inflammation, hormonal imbalance, digestive problems, and psychological attachment (hey there, sugar cravings, how you doin'?). And instead, you focus on whole, unprocessed foods like meat, seafood, eggs, vegetables, fruit, and healthy fats. When you get to the end of 30 days, you slowly reintroduce the foods you've cut out and see how your body responds.

Oh yeah, and you don't weigh yourself the entire time. The focus isn't on weight loss, its on fundamentally changing your relationship with food.

So, in no particular order, that means I won't be eating sugar (sniff), grains, dairy, legumes/soy, or alcohol. And aside from feeling pretty okay about the no alcohol part, the rest is going to be hard.

Here's the thing: I know how to do hard. Hard doesn't scare me anymore. Life has thrown me hard, harder, and hardest this past year, and I've made my way through it every. single. time. You can't go around it, you can't go over it, you just go through it.

If anything, what I've found is that the things that are hard-won are the things that are worth it. 
I've spent the past few days cleaning out my cupboards to get rid of things I can't eat, and restocking the shelves and fridge with a crapton of meat, veggies, and fruit. Jasmine and Josie have been epically curious about all the food that will be leaving the house for the next month. (And I'm pretty sure I found some of the recalled Kraft Mac N Cheese in there.) 

I'm not throwing any of this stuff away; it's just going into hiding. Because I honestly don't anticipate turning into Susan Who Never Eats Brownies. That's just never gonna happen. But I really do want to change my relationship with food. To view it as a source of driving This Body through life rather than a source of comfort. I've comforted myself my whole life with food, and I'd like to see if I can change that.

(** By the way, here's my obligatory statement that I really don't care what you personally think about Whole30. Actually, let me rephrase that: any empowering sentiments you'd like to share are most welcome and encouraged. Any "you know you could really accomplish the same thing just by moderating what you eat" or "my brother/cousin/uncle/best friend tried to eat that way and almost DIED" or other self-righteous sentiments can be documented in your own blog.)

My sister is doing it with me. She did the Whole30 a year or two ago and is anxious to do it again, so I've got my partner in crime and my shoulder to lean on. I'm kind of excited to see what the next month holds for me. 

Let's do this.

Chewing Gum Is Really Gross, Chewing Gum I Hate The Most.

Okay folks, I'm just gonna put this out there. I'm probably going to piss a few of you off, and I've decided I'm okay with that, because the truth is that you've probably been irritating ME for years and I've just never said anything. 

Maybe in time you'll forgive me, and if you don't, then we probably weren't meant to be true friends.

Here's the deal: if you chew gum, I hate you. And I want you to stay far, far away from me.

Gum chewers are a special breed of awful. They drive me up a wall. They chomp, they snap, they pop, they chew chew chew, and then they start back over again. Some of them don't realize how much annoying noise they are making. Others realize it and just don't care. A select few -- ones I like to call 'liars' -- will swear that they chew in absolute silence.

I'm here to tell you you're not silent. You are making disgusting noises with your mouth, and I really wish you'd knock it the hell off.

Okay, here's the part where I confess to my own stake in the matter. I read a book a few months ago called The Highly Sensitive Person, and it's like I was reading a novel about myself. In a nutshell, HSPs (as we are called) have biological differences in their nervous system that causes us to hit a saturation point with external stimuli much faster than everyone else. So things such as lights, noises, and crowds can overwhelm a HSP whereas someone else might not even notice them. As I read through this book, I kept saying to myself "oh my god, that's me! That's me!" Weird quirks about me that I never strung together before now seemed to make more sense. Things like:

• I get extremely anxious when I have to go to a crowded mall at Christmas time. I've been known to evacuate and leave family members inside because I just can't do it.
• I have to turn the car radio off when I'm driving in an unfamiliar area because my brain can't concentrate on navigation and music at the same time.
• I can't have the light in the kitchen on when I'm physically in another room. I will notice it and it will bother me until I go turn it off.
• I've asked co-workers to stop eating sunflower seeds at their desk or to take their jangly bracelets off because the sound was so disturbing.
• If I'm in a movie theatre or other large audience, I have to get up and move if I have a spit sucker near me (apologies to any old people who take offense, but it's usually an oldster whose dentures don't fit correctly and who constantly sucks spit between their teeth to correct it. Ew.). And I can hear spit suckers rows and rows away from me.

I could go on and on with other examples, but hopefully you get the idea. Apparently 20% of the population is classified as Highly Sensitive, so it ain't just me (and I know more than a few of you out there reading this are in the same boat, because I've sat through movies and concerts with you and we've both rolled our eyes at the person behind us rustling their candy wrapper.)

So I can say with all honestly that the noise from gum chewers is probably way ickier to me than it is to the other 80% of the population.  And yet, I still thing gum chewing is one of the oogiest things out there, and I wish you all would stop it.

I just learned that Singapore has banned chewing gum. I'd like to meet the man who wrote that law and shake his hand.

Here's the two things that bother me the most:

1. The Holstein Effect. You know you look like a cow chewing its cud, right? Right? You don't see it? Sadly, you are probably like a smoker who no longer realizes their car and clothing and house all smell like cigarettes. You're too far gone to have an objective view. So let me share with you: you look like a cow. And it's gross.
2. Remember trash cans? No, I don't think you do. Because otherwise you'd be using them to dispose of your gum. Instead, it's on the bottom of my shoe or on my knee. I can't tell you how many times I've stepped in gum, sat in gum, or stuck my pant leg to a table because a wad of gum was stuck up under there. Are there no trash cans in your world, gum chewers?

 You gum chewers might think this is overgeneralizing, but I'm going to tell you something: you're wrong. Sorry, but it's true. Think you're the quietest gum chewer in the world? You're not. Trust me.

Chewing gum is really gross. Chewing gum I hate the most.

A writer writes -- always

Some of my favorite movies are about writing. Imagine that -- two of the things I love most in this world, film and the written word, coming together so successfully. And one of my favorite movies about writers is Throw Momma From the Train. (As a side note, if you haven't seen this movie, I'm going to de-friend you until you take care of this. I'm looking at you, people born in the 80s.) 

If you've ever sat down to start on a writing project, large or small, and get stuck on the first sentence, then you're not alone. It happens to the best of us and it happens to all of us. Which is one reason why, when I start writing, my main goal is just to get words down on paper and then go back later and tweak them, massage them, turn them from okay into good, and then from good into great.

They say that perfect is the enemy of good, and in writing this can be a stumbling block that a lot of people can't get past. If it's not perfect the first time, or even the tenth time, then why bother? 

Why? Because good writing is rarely perfect. Good writing takes guts. It's messy. It's uncomfortable. Good writing can lay you bare. Who wants to be perfect? Not me. I'd rather be real, flaws and all, and let you see me through my writing without aiming for perfection.

That can be hard sometimes. I have to decide how much to share, what is private, what is public, and what falls in between.

I want to lean toward sharing as much as possible. But that can make some people uncomfortable. Either because other people are more private, or they consider some things none of other people's business.

I don't want to censor myself, though, if I don't have to. And frankly, sometimes I just forget to until someone comments and I realize they might have a different expectation or set of rules than I do.

After all, I truly believe the best writing comes from the gut, and that's where all the real emotion is. Good, bad, public, private, messy, shameful, proud, lovely, all of it. And sometimes it takes slipping around in the guts of everything you want to write in order to find the right words.

The night was sultry. But Larry didn't know the night was sultry until he met Owen and Owen's momma. Until then, he just thought the night was hot and wet. It took real life, complications, anger, love, laughter, and great adventure before Larry knew it.

The night was sultry.

The Importance of Routine

When you're unemployed, it's important to have a routine. It's probably no surprise to most of you who know me, but I'm a person who loves routine. I crave it. When my schedule or my body gets thrown out of its routine, I get kind of crabby. I get a bit discombobulated. (Side note: the only thing I may enjoy more than my routines are opportunities to use words like discombobulated.)

The thing about routines is that we don't always notice them -- or the importance they play in our lives -- until they are taken away. For example, there's something very powerful about the simple routine of waking up, eating breakfast, getting dressed, and driving to the office. It's so powerful, in fact, that most of the people I know who work from home still follow a similar routine - get up, eat, shower, dress, and then physically move from the bedroom or kitchen into their home office. They shut the door, fire up the laptop, and are at work.  It's just not the same when you prop open a laptop on the coffee table in front of the television. It feels like cheating.

When you lose your job, you lose a big piece of your daily routine, and all of the small but important perks of daily life that come with it. You don't have co-workers to chat with over coffee in the morning. You don't have friends dropping by and asking if you have lunch plans. You don't sneak glances at your smart phone and feel devious when you check Facebook in the middle of the day. There's no monthly birthday cake, no emails about team outings, no company-wide meeting to break up the monotony of the day.

When you lose your job, you lose a lot. 

So I force myself to have a daily routine, because otherwise my cat is going to get sick of me and I'll find myself memorizing the daily time schedule for Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, and The Doctors.

Tuesdays and Thursdays start early. I have to be at the gym at 6:00 in the morning, so my day starts several hours before the sun comes up. My routine is coffee and breakfast and a workout, then home to shower and dress before I pick up my laptop and walk out the front door.

I find that I work best when I get out of the house. So everyday, the laptop is packed up and I walk five minutes to the clubhouse of my condo. It's a great little place to work - free wifi, comfy couches, tables and chairs with outlets, even a kitchen if I get hungry. I sit down, I open my laptop, and I write. I'm currently switching back and forth between applying for jobs, and doing some freelance work where I write resumes and cover letters for clients. But I write. Every day.

I feel like I need more routine. Maybe not forever, but at least for the next few months. Job searching in the dead of winter in dreary Sacramento is not fun, and it takes a toll on the psyche. It's very easy to get down on yourself, and when you're down, it's even easier to fall out of good habits and say "fuck it all." I find that having routines makes a big difference in my life, so I might need more of them.

That might sound dull to some people. I don't mind. There's something calming, something soothing, about routine. I always know I'll have a good book to read in bed at night. I know I'll have a pot of coffee ready about ten minutes after I wake up. I know there will always be an episode of Jeopardy in my DVR queue. I know the same smiling faces will greet me at the gym every Tuesday and Thursday, and that Coach Nick will ask how I've been eating and what my potholes are. 

What are your favorite routines?

My ideal job

You know how a lot of people tell you that you have to "put it out there" in order for good things to happen to you? They tell you to say what you want, say it out loud, let other people know you want it, and it will come to you. So I'm going to do just that.

I want a job. But not just any job. I want my ideal job. 

A good friend once told me that your ideal job should consist of the things you can't seem to stop doing, even though nobody is paying you to do them. And so after thinking about it carefully for a few weeks, here's what my ideal job would look like. These are the things I love, and it's about time somebody started paying me to do them.

25% of the time, I will review and revise your resume. I will make you stand out to employers and help you put your best face forward. Not sure how to brag about yourself? I can help. Not sure if you need an objective statement? (Here's a hint: you don't) I can help. Not sure if it should be one page or three? I can help.

50% of the time, I will edit your Facebook posts. I will work with a brainiac programmer (thankfully, I know many of those) to create an app called You, Only Better. I will round up clients to use this app and I will charge them based on how many posts I have to fix so that you don’t get dumped or fired. Any time you write a Facebook post, before it goes live to friends and family, it will run through the app and be filtered by a professional writer (aka me) for things like:

• Typos
• So many typos that you might be drunk
• Photos of you while drunk
• Religious or political statements that you’ll regret tomorrow

I will re-write your post until it shines. So, for example, when you write “Oute havinn good tim at Senterfolds” at 3:00 AM Sunday morning, your professionally filtered post will instead say “What a great morning for a walk with Mom. Stopped to pet a puppy. Now off to brunch at Dennys.”

10% of the time, I will offer proofreading and editing services to large corporations, billboards, and sign generators that have no understanding of basic spelling or grammar. (I'm looking at you, Trader Joe's.) I can't tell you how many times I cringe in shame when I see a misspelled word on a banner or billboard. It happens more often than you realize and I'd like to rid the world of such blight.

10% of the time, I will monitor your customer service and tell you how to improve it. Are your phone operators professional and polite? Do your cashiers know how to count change back to the customer? When a customer has a legitimate complaint, do you treat them with respect or do you give them the runaround? When you open a new checkout line, do you pull from the other lines in order or is it a free-for-all that allows the people in the back to run up and be first in line? I have a lot of opinions about customer service and I want somebody to pay me to share them with the rest of the world.

5% of the time, I will be a professional cat photographer for those of you who need more photos of your feline friends on Facebook.

Bring it on, world!

The conversations we hold in our heads

I hold conversations with other people in my head. I'm pretty certain that other people do this too. Do you? But here's the thing: I do it a lot. And I really only do it when I'm feeling angry or upset or hurt. I don't rehearse impending conversations about good things, but I find myself repeatedly holding full conversations about bad things up in this brain of mine.

 I need to stop and think about why I do this, and I need to come up with a mechanism to catch myself in the act and let it go. 

Oh yeah, and for those of you who are wondering, today's post is inspired by Brene Brown, an amazingly intuitive woman who puts a lot of things into words that I wish I had the eloquence to say myself. 

 Here's what she said this morning:
 
I know I'm putting on my vulnerability armor when I start rehearsing the really mean things I'd like to say to someone. Those pretend conversations are my red flag.

Brene wrote an eye-opening book called "The Gifts of Imperfection" which I'm about halfway through.  I read a ton of books each year but only a handful fall into the self-help genre. When I find an author who blows me away, however, I'll gladly pick up one or two of their books and see what sorts of insights are ready to speak to me.  

"The Gifts of Imperfection" is all about allowing yourself to be authentic, and knowing that that's good enough and indeed, is the only thing that is good enough. I personally don't struggle with the pefectionism aspect of finding your authentic self (I instead practice good-enoughism), but there are other places in my life where I struggle to show my authentic self and understand that it's enough, it's powerful, and it's the only thing that will really help me to connect with other people.

But I digress.

So these conversations I hold in my head, I can rule out a lot of reasons for holding them. 

• I don't think its social anxiety. It's not like I'm scared to talk to people and practicing puts me at ease.
• I don't think its Monday morning quarterbacking. I'm not replaying conversations from the past and trying to make them come out better.
• It's not even my biggest suspect - rehearsing an awkward or difficult conversation that I want to have with a friend or loved one. That would at least make sense -- the need to practice something I intend to say. "Hey friend, we've been drifting apart and I don't like it. What can we do to fix it? I miss you."  

So what is it, then? Have any of you out there thought of WHY we do this?

Here's what I think: I use these conversations as a mechanism to feel my anger, work through it, get it out, and at the same time, not take it out on the other person.  

Note that this really only works when you recognize you're upset about something that's within your power to address and solve yourself. So it's usually something I've blown out of proportion (shocking!) and, in holding the conversation with the other person in my head, I can work through some things I'd like to say and .... after saying them, then saying other things, then running through various scenarios in my head  ... come to realize the real-life conversation probably doesn't need to take place. Instead, my perspective needs to shift. 

And that's a good thing.

So maybe these conversations are just another mechanism for working on my own issues. It still doesn't mean that I like them -- I don't really. Because the conversations in my head make me feel bad, defensive, accusatory, and that's just not the type of person I want to be. I want to be the person who gives the benefit of the doubt, who sees the best in others, who others see as a giving person, who is slow to anger and quick to laugh.

This may sound like a silly or trite analogy, but I want to treat everyone the way I treat the oldest members of my family.  Both my grandparents passed a few years ago, but I have memories I'll take with me to my own dying day. And I gave them the love, the patience, and the acceptance that was in me to give. And giving it was SO easy. There was no judgment, no scoffing, no I'm-right-you're-wrong. It was just pure pleasure, pure love, and no expectations.

I want to be that way with everyone in my life.   



 

 

The (red) pen is mightier than the sword

Last night, I was talking on the phone with my sister, catching up on the news of the day and filling each other in what's been going on in our worlds. We do this pretty regularly, since both of us have a lot going on these days. She's been apartment hunting while I've been job hunting, and we've come to find the two hunts are surprisingly similar in their ups and downs and in how we approach things.

The conversation falls to the side project I've been working on, which is editing a novel. My mom has been retired for a few years now and one of her passions has always been writing. She wrote a lot of children's stories when we were small, but didn't have a lot of time to write longer stories during her career as a teacher. Since retiring, she's taken up writing again and has finished her first full-length novel. She passed it over to me to edit it and get it ready for publication, so I've been working on that on and off for the past few months.

I was explaining the process I've been following while editing, and my sister asked "so how did you come up with that process in the first place?" And it seems like such a simple question, but it really made me stop and think. 

Because in a nutshell, what she was really asking was "how did you learn to do what you are doing?" And I don't have a good answer for that. Not all writers are editors, not all editors are writers, but some of us really like both. Writing is fun because it's creative and it's a great outlet for an introvert like me. Editing is fun because you get to slash and burn the works of others. (Sorry Mom, but it's true.)

If I had to tell you how I learned to edit or if there are finite steps involved, however, I'd be at a loss.

So my general answer is, "it depends."

In a business environment I'm mostly tasked with editing small articles and documents. Because of that, I can edit for content and for grammar at the same time.

Novels throw most of those rules out the window. I've never edited a novel before, so I had to figure out the best way to do it on my own.

So here's what I did: it may seem simple, but the first thing I did was read it cover to cover. No red pen in hand, no desire to wordsmith, no nothing but an avid reader picking up a book and reading it.

The first step is to know what you're dealing with.

The second step is the high-level edit. I'm not going to spend time adding commas or removing apostrophes if there are plot points that need work or entire chapters that need to be moved around. So step two left the red pen at home as well, and involved writing up a few pages of "here's where your book needs work."  I handed these pages back to Mom, who got to work on a new draft.

Step three is to get the novel back and read it again, this time with an eye toward the changes I suggested and how the overall story flows. I'm not surprised to find the story has a wonderful feel to it and is almost there.

Step four, where I'm at now, is nuts-and-bolts editing of this draft into a final draft. Which means, huzzah, red pen time!

Most of the stuff I know how to do is because somebody taught me how to do it. A few things I know how to do are because I just had to get it done and didn't have a model to follow. Business writing and editing don't really equate to works of fiction, but in the end it's a good thing because it's a new skill I'm developing and I'm having fun learning along the way.

And, I love red pens.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried

Those of you who have followed the saga of my crazy upstairs neighbor will appreciate this (what I hope to be final?) encounter with her.

Last night about five o'clock, I'm in the kitchen prepping dinner for Nolan and me. My cell phone rings and I look at the caller ID -- it says "Woodside Gate" which, not surprisingly, means somebody just dialed me on the keypad outside my condo. When this happens, 99% of the time I don't bother to say hello, I just answer and punch in the code that opens the gate.  

Nolan wasn't supposed to arrive until 7:00 but my friend Becca said she'd stop by and give me some flyers for me to post in my complex in hopes of finding her missing cat, so I assumed it was her.

So I entered the code to open the gate, and thought that was it.

Wrong. About a minute later, my phone rings again. Woodside Gate. Weird, but I figure maybe Becca didn't make it through the open gate the first time and still needed to get in.

So I entered the code to open the gate, and again thought that was it.

Wrong. Another minute later, my phone rings a third time. Woodside Gate. At this point, I'm thinking someone doesn't just want me to open the gate, they actually want to talk. So I pick up the phone and answer it.

It's a really crackly connection so I can't hear everything the other party is saying. It goes something like this: "....(unintelligible) ... is this Miss Marsh ... ?"

Me: "Yes, this is Susan Marsh."

Her: " ...(unintelligible) ... do you have a problem with smoke in your fireplace?"

Me:  Pause.

Me: "Wait, who is this again?"

Her: Hangs up.

You heard it here first, folks. Crazy upstairs neighbor crank called me from the gate outside our complex. To quote the ever-quotable Sheldon Cooper, bitches be crazy.

Jealousy: All the Fun You Think They Had

"The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else's highlight reel."

 I've been thinking a lot lately about dark emotions - the negative emotions that grab hold of us, drag us down, and hold us under until we sink or swim. 

Fear. Jealousy. Self-doubt. Grief. Shame.

Envy and jealousy are hard to talk about. Really hard. Who out there is eager to admit that you're secretly longing for what other people have? That some part of you, big or small, wishes you could be someone else? Someone prettier, stronger, thinner, smarter, happier, someone with a bigger house or a smaller nose with a wonderful marriage and an amazing family? 

We've all been there, done that. But very few of us will open up and talk about what jealousy feels like.  Which is ironic and kind of a shame, since because jealousy is so common, it's one of those emotions that connects us all. 

I've had some major struggles with feelings of envy in my life. It comes, it goes, I hide from it, I fret about it, I address it, I dance around it, and sometimes, when I'm feeling extra courageous, I talk about it.

Several years back, I realized that I was envious of Kim, who is my sister's best friend. Rather than being happy that Brenda had such a strong friendship, I was jealous and intimidated. Bren and Kim would take long walks together and talk about the deep aspects of life, and they shared a bond that I thought should be reserved for sisters, not friends. I felt inadequate - I'm just the younger sister, the wisecracker, the person who takes Brenda shopping for clothes or out to funny movies. I'm not deep. Not special. Not Kim.

Come to find out, Kim had those same feelings of envy toward my own relationship with Brenda. Every time Brenda would tell Kim about something fun that she and I did together, Kim was envious. Turns out there is something about the sister bond that's hard to break and hard to find elsewhere. And the whole time, Kim and I both had a piece of ourselves that wished we were the other person.

Fast forward several years. Kim moves to Sacramento, Brenda moves to San Diego, and I get to spend more time with Kim. The Susan-Kim friendship begins. We share stories. We find out about each other and how we view the other's relationship with Brenda. (Side note: Brenda is a pretty lucky girl to have two girls fighting to be special to her.) And today, I can't imagine ever being envious of such an amazing person as Kim. But I was, for the longest time.

And every once in a while, there are those rare moments where life comes up from behind, smacks you on the head, and snaps you out of envy in a way you never expected. 

I had one of those moments this week. Someone with a seemingly perfect life - i.e. a bunch of things for me to envy - doesn't have it nearly as good as I thought they did. They have struggles I didn't know about, struggles I'd never ask for in a million years.

I'm gonna place a little bit of blame on that crazy social network, Facebook, which allows each of us to show only the side of ourselves that we want others to see. Sitting home alone on a Friday with a basket of laundry? Boring. Don't share that on Facebook. Out with amazing friends at the club, looking hot and having a great time? Post a thousand photos! I'm happy! I have a great life! Look, it's all right here for the world to see on Facebook!

Facebook is a load of crap. It's a load of crap that I've fallen for hook, line and sinker.

Facebook makes it all too easy to assume that what you see is what you get. Don't see bad stuff? Congratulations, you clearly have the perfect life.

How could I fall for that? What you see is hardly ever what you get. Yet I was content to sit back and assume that talking about a great life meant you actually had one.

Which is ironic, because in reality I'm the girl with a pretty great life. It aint perfect and sometimes it's downright messy, but when you get right down to it there's not many people I'd switch places with. I just took four months off work to travel, chill out, and have fun. I have a brand new car that's fully paid for. I don't have any debt. I have a kooky but close family. I've got a few close friends. I've got a pretty amazing fiancee. 

I have the things that most people would kill to have.

There's a million platitudes I could get into (grass isn't always greener, count my blessings, etc. etc.) but they won't get me where I need to be. What gets me where I need to be is this:

I know I'm not perfect. I never will be. I don't want to be. My imperfections are what make me who I am. I'll be real with you if you'll be real with me. I don't want to see your public face, because I'm comfortable with the good and the bad and the messy and everything in between. Seeing your vulnerability is what makes you human and what makes me love you. In return I'll show you my weak side, my fears, along with my compassion and my need to connect with you.  That's the way I want to live my life, and maybe you'll join me in the ride.

FAQ for understanding an introvert

I received a few questions from friends when I wrote my last entry on introversion. So, it looks like there are some important concepts that people want to know about.

So, do you hate going out?

No, not at all! I probably just don't want to do it as often as you. I need to feel a balance between evenings out and evenings in. For example, unless there's something pretty significant happening, I usually don't want to go out both Friday and Saturday evening – I'll pick one and then spend the other just chilling. Also, if given the choice between a loud party with tons of people or a quiet show at Lunas, I'll go with Lunas hands down. It gives me the thing I love – music and time with friends – in a more mellow environment. 

Are there exceptions? Of course there are. My fiance plays really loud music in a really loud band in really loud bars, and I'd go to the ends of the earth to be there and support him. So don't think of these as hard and fast rules, but guidelines.

So, do you hate people? Are you still shy? 

Nope to both questions. I'm pretty sure that I'm over my shyness, but that said, it's still hard for me to walk up to a group of people and just start a conversation. I don't think that's due to shyness, it's just a bit intimidating is all. Especially if that group of people is laughing and having a great time and circled off from me – I probably won't just cut in and intrude.

But you're always posting about all your adventures on Facebook! What's up with that?

Facebook is it's own animal which I won't get into right now. But come on, how many people do you see post about the mundane and ordinary aspects of their life? Not many. “Doing laundry” and “cleaning up cat vomit” do not make for interesting reads, and first and foremost I consider myself a writer, so I like to put things out there that are, well, interesting for other people to read! And, I do have a lot of fun in life, and I like sharing that with others. It's possible to be an introvert and still have great adventures. I know, because I do all the time.

So, should I stop inviting you to do stuff?

No way man! Invitations are excellent and appreciated. Don't feel like you have to change your behavior, just make an effort to understand the person who you are inviting a little better. It will pay off in spades.

 
Do you want me to fix you? Should I try to pull you out of your shell?  

Ooh, hard question. Loaded question. "Fixing" implies that there's something wrong with introverts, which is absolutely not the case. So no, don't try to fix me.

That said, I think everyone needs balance in their lives, and I'm certainly not a hermit. I spend time with my book club and at the gym with my trainer and at shows checking out good bands and riding my bike with friends and seeing movies with friends and family. I also spend time alone out in the world – I have no problem going to a restaurant by myself and enjoying a good meal while I read a book or just watch the world go by. And, of course, I need down time and time to just chill on the couch with my cat. 

I also think that it's good to be challenged spending time doing things I might not be comfortable with so you can push me a little. Just know that I already challenge myself in many different ways, so I don't necessarily need you to do it a great deal. And getting past internal challenges always feel better than pressure from other people.

I want to know more about you!

 

Here's a great primer for understanding an introvert a little better.