This is a rant. Period.

posted 16th May 2012    Written by: Jill    CATEGORY: All Posts, Jill, Season 6

The other day, I was on a lovely date with a lovely gentleman.  He walked me to my car, and invited me over (me-yow!).

I responded, “Um, mumblemumble, I’m on my period; I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry?!  Why did I say that?  Why does a slow burn of shame and embarrassment spread throughout my cheeks before I can get those words out?  I’m sorry?!

If I had a choice in the matter, rest assured I wouldn’t choose for my lady parts to look like the aftermath of a Halo battle (that I lost!).  If I were hanging out next to God while watching evolution take place, we’d have a serious heart-to-heart about where this whole menstruating thing was going.  And then we’d brainstorm a less creepy word than “menstruating.”

First, we’d talk cramps.  I see my insides having a secret meeting, and deciding to mutiny against me…all for the greater good, I’m sure.  But it still hurts!  It’s like my ovaries are going to break through my skull and start a travelling vaudeville act.  Get over yourself, ovaries, and take a nap or something.

Then comes the nice hormone flux.  I’m certifiably schizophrenic for those few days when my estrogen levels are running amok.  The world is great!  I hate everything!  The sun is so sad today!  Everyone, protect yourselves, and never mention baby animals of any sort.  The innocence!   Tears, tears, tears.  Game over.

My sex drive is a rickety wooden roller coaster ride.  It reaches maximum velocity, and if I can’t take a five-minute break to, um, take care of things every once in awhile, I may internally combust.  Yet, ironically, actual sex becomes oh so uncomfortable.  Real funny, biology.  Good joke.  Skip to the next scene where I forgot that things even work down there.  Yeah, it’s a crazy five hour flux.

I convince myself that calories don’t count during those days when I’m hungry non-stop.  Hey, friends, I’d love to hang out, I really would, but I don’t foresee us doing anything that will top binge eating by myself.  So, next time, guys.  Am I going to work out later to make up for it?  Nope; my range of motion is limited to the fetal position for the rest of the evening.  Unless there is a salty milkshake within crawling distance, I’m fine right here, thanks.

Also, can someone explain how I am simultaneously constipated and have to poop every five seconds?  Inquiring minds want to know.

The moments right before the flow starts are the worst.  I know you’re in there; COME OUT!  Get out of me! Freedom is so close!  FYI, I’m inventing the period vacuum if any investors are interested.

Even after all the PMS pain is over, there’s still a week of blood squirting out of my favorite orifice (this was a tough call to make, since all the others are also near and dear to my heart).  Why aren’t tampons covered by health insurance?  Midol, tampons, va-jazzling; think of the costs of my nether regions, Obama (but thanks for pushing for my birth control to be covered; you have my uterus’ vote).

Oh dear, the reasonable side of my brain just piped up.  ”Are we being a wee bit dramatic, Jill?”  Yeah, I am, and I’m blaming it on external factors that I can’t control like any sane human being.

And it feels damn good.  Thanks for listening, guys.  If you ever want to rant, I owe you one.

 

**Jill’s post script:  For the record, the gentleman’s response was, “That’s even better; I can show you YouTube videos!”  So, this isn’t a rant against our Y-chromosome sporting counterparts.  10 points for the response from all judges, including the Russian.

[Photo Credit: SerrNovik]


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What I Wish I Knew: Self-Love

posted 15th May 2012    Written by: Molly Mahar    CATEGORY: Life Lesson, Molly

[This post is the kick off to Ashley's (of Season 5) What I Wish I Knew Series for teen girls.  In her own words, "When I was a teenager, I had so many questions and I made the worst mistakes. I thought I knew what I was doing, but really, I had no idea. Thankfully, I’ve learned a few lessons over the years and I can look back now and laugh. But part of my mission here at Your Super Awesome Life is to help spare you that heart ache, that confusion, and all that uncertainty. So I had this idea to join forces with all the super awesome women who have inspired me, motivated me, and taught me a few lessons over the years. Without these ladies, I wouldn’t know half of what I know now!"

Thanks Ashley for giving me the chance to reflect on lessons I wish my 19-year-old had known!]

Dear 19-year-old Molly,

You’re embarking on your college experience with bright eyes and a fairly innocent view of the world.  It’s admirable, honey, but unfortunately, college is not going to be an easy ride for you.

You’re getting on that airplane for New York full of self-confidence and self-love, radiating with dreams and plans and possibility.  You are confidant in your abilities and secure in your integrity.

These are all qualities I wish you had known how to hold onto, Molly.

For whatever reason, high school has been a place where you learned how to be your free-spirited, positive, creative self — without too much concern for how others’ viewed you and without too much angst. I wish these lessons had stuck around for the next four years. Your life would have been so much easier!  Instead, your self-love is about to take a nosedive — pulling your health, self-esteem and grounded center — down with it.

I wish I could turn back time and give you this advice at the moment it would really make a difference…

You are strong.  Remember when T dumped you right before Junior Prom?  You held your head high while selling his new date her ticket, leaned on your girlfriends, and found a hotty underclassman to be your arm candy.  Remember when you lost those two major student council elections?  You never questioned your ambition to lead or confidence in your abilities, and bigger-better-brighter opportunities came through for you in pretty amazing ways.

You have integrity.  Remember when you walked out of N’s house because a high school career of older boys, beer, and smoking pot wasn’t what you wanted (even if did make you a popular girl)?  Remember when you turned down A because you knew you were in way over your head, even though it seemed strange to others?  You weren’t afraid to follow your heart, Molly, and do what you felt was right.

You are beautiful. Remember how powerful your body felt vaulting 11 feet in the air?  Remember the freedom from self-consciousness you felt skinny dipping in Spring Meadow Lake under the moonlight?  Remember the realization that you had nice legs and a great smile, so there was really no need to weigh yourself?  You withheld judgement of yourself or others on purely external measures of “beauty” and were healthier and happier for it.

You’re going to need this high school evidence of your authentic, sparkly self, sweet thing.

Why? Unfortunately, a period of raging self-doubt is about to hit you as you wade into unknown waters.

I know you’ll feel small and weak and insignificant.  I know you’ll feel lost to yourself, and that pain will manifest in so many harmful ways.  I know you’ll feel that you don’t have enough money, the right clothes, the east coast connections, or support for the loneliness.  I know you’ll feel like you’re not smart, thin, pretty, or athletic enough to “be anyone”.

I wish you knew, Molly, that self-love is the answer to all of your doubts.  Self-love is the answer to your fears.  Self-love is the answer to your self-consciousness.

Things that are not the answer?  Transferring majors to alleviate fears of making money in the future.  Getting drunk with your sorority sisters and making out (or sleeping) with anyone who finds “your overweight self” attractive.  Binging and purging and hurting your body.  Hiding your depression behind a mask of false cheer and fake positivity, as you cry alone in the shower.  Staying incredibly busy to avoid thinking about how insignificant and unhappy you feel.

I wish you knew that it’s okay to not “fit in”, that it’s more spectacular to simply be your quirky, good girl, adventure-seeking self.

You don’t have to drink to the point of blackout to bond with girlfriends or flirt with boys.  You can ask for help when you need it, not push through on ridiculously low amounts of sleep and ridiculously high amounts of caffeine and sugar.   You don’t have to buy the right jeans or go out every weekend to the big parties or bite your tongue when assholes make themselves bigger by tearing others down. It doesn’t matter what others’ think of your choices, Molly, as long as you are honoring your integrity and sense of self.

I wish you knew that you could embrace your body, your purpose, your uncertainty about the future with kindness, instead of cruelty.

You can’t binge, expose, puke, kiss, overextend, drink, buy or excel your way to confidence, sweet pea. It’s not a process of covering up, fixing, hiding or pretending.

Self-love doesn’t come from the outside in.

Self-love?  It comes from the inside out. It comes from gentleness, from the release of pleasing others, from acceptance of yourself as fabulously imperfect.

No one else can validate your worthiness, Molly.  Just you.

Just you.

I wish you could give that gift to yourself.

XOXO

31-year-old Molly

p.s.  Because I’m so much older and wiser now, I can tell you with full confidence that everything gets better.  You refind your way to your authentic self.  You started treating your body with more respect.  You end up doing work you feel passionate about.  You let go of needing to please everyone and be seen as nice.  You get your booty back to the west coast, full of like-minded spirits.  You feel free to be imperfect.  You even become an advocate for self-love and teach other women how to practice Fierce Love in their own lives.  Crazy, eh?

p.p.s.  Don’t borrow your roommate’s  clothes… Your “agreement” will only end badly!

p.p.p.s.  It’s okay to lust after the a capella boys, but honestly?  They make terrible boyfriends.

 


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When Breaking Up Isn’t That Hard to Do

posted 14th May 2012    Written by: Arielle    CATEGORY: Arielle, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 6, What I've Learned

We had been seeing each other for a few months. He was smart and had really nice eyes.

I talked to him about everything: my family, my friends, stressing out over not having a job. I even told him my dreams (the ones I have when I’m asleep, not my lofty life goals because I still don’t know what those are WHAT UP QUARTERLIFE CRISIS). He was always empathetic. Sometimes he made me laugh.

But something didn’t feel quite right. I had a really good time every time I saw him, but then I would reflect on it afterward and realize that a piece was missing. It’s not supposed to be like this.

I always do my best thinking when I’m walking through the city. I knew the end was nigh when, on one of my recent walks, I found myself mentally composing a breakup email.

For nearly an hour I ran test sentences through my head. How much of it should be about me? How much of it should be about him? Should I go into a lengthy explanation? Should it be super brief?

When I got home from my errands, I wrote and sent the email. He tried to get me to reconsider, but I stuck to my instincts. After two back-and-forths, it was finished.

That’s how I ended things with my therapist.

PLOT TWIST!

“Hey, I didn’t know you were in therapy,” said everyone reading this blog post.

“That’s because I never told you,” I reply to this imaginary and weird conversation.

I didn’t hide the fact that I was in therapy because I was embarrassed. I didn’t even hide it because I wanted to – in fact, I hated that no one knew about it, because it was so NOT a big deal that keeping it a secret felt silly. But I never felt comfortable just kind of dropping a “my therapist says…” in passing, and I’m pretty much always bad at making grand life announcements. So up until this moment, the only people who knew I was in therapy were me, my therapist and the woman who did my intake. But it’s over now, so I guess I can let the crazy out of the bag.

The first time I seriously thought about getting therapy was sometime in September. I did the research and then completely chickened out of making the necessary phone calls. After I lost my job and had an epic meltdown in December, I found the courage to start calling. I selected a program, went in for nearly a month of preliminary questions, and finally started seeing my therapist sometime in February.

I really liked therapy, actually. My therapist helped me hash out my feelings on different parts of my life, and validated that those feelings were legitimate. When he said to me, “Wow, some of those things would drive me to drink too,” it made me feel…good. Normal.

After awhile, though, I realized that it wasn’t enough. Having someone to talk to is wonderful but between two blogs and two journals, I’m pretty good at sorting through my thoughts on my own. The initial validation of my feelings was great too, but if the last 2 months at Stratejoy have taught me anything, it’s that I AM ENOUGH. And I extend this to mean that my feelings are enough. I don’t need anyone to tell me that it’s okay to go through what I’m going through. The fact that I have feelings in the first place is all the validation I ever need.

On top of this, I was booze-free for almost 2 weeks when I decided to quit therapy (I ended up starting No Alcohol May in the last week of Aprll), and in just that short time, my emotions really seemed to stabilize. It might be coincidental. Or it might not be.

Therapy was great, but it was great for reasons that never included “helping me with my problems.” And so I called it quits.

I hate quoting song lyrics because there’s something about it that reeks of emo teenagers with misspelled tattoos and poorly-lit Myspace pictures, but there’s a line from the Linkin Park song Somewhere I Belong that has stuck with me ever since I first heard it in 2003.

“I will never know myself until I do this on my own.”

This one simple line has been the mantra of my entire adult life. It might seem sad, but as someone who values her independence over pretty much everything else, I find it empowering. It means that I can always find it within myself to conquer the obstacles that lay in my path. I may lean on others or employ different tools to help at times (hello, Stratejoy and everyone here who has been so insanely wonderful), but in the end, if it’s my life, it’s ultimately my problem.

So I’ll proceed from here. I don’t have a therapist in my corner anymore, but the drastic upswing in the overall mood of my last few Stratejoy posts makes me realize that I’m doing just fine on my own. I may be outnumbered, but in the battle of Arielle vs. QLC, my money is on me.

 

Photo credit: My friend took this picture of me when we went camping last summer and I insisted on spending way too long trying to climb this not-very-high pillar.

Have you heard? The Stratejoy Book Club has officially launched!

We’ll be holding our first LIVE chat discussion.  May 21st, 2012. Grab your girlfriends, some drinks, some snacks, and jam with Molly about this month’s book, MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche.

Find out about the book, the live chat discussion, and how to host an event or attend an event right over here on the page with all of the juicy details.


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Self Compassion and the Journey to Fierce Love

posted 13th May 2012    Written by: Sarah    CATEGORY: Family, Job/Career/Work, Quarterlife Crisis, Sarah

Radical acceptance has a best friend.  And that best friend is self compassion.

While I’m all about my newfound appreciation for radical acceptance, I’m still finding it doesn’t quite get me in the frame of mind I need to be in to accomplish my goals and feel good about myself.

This is how I think:

Ugh, Kate won’t stop fussing.

I’m getting annoyed.

It’s only 8:45 a.m.

Today is not going well.

I don’t like today.

Today makes me want to rip all my hair out and scream so loud the people in the next town hear me.

She’s still fussing.

I’m getting beyond frustrated.

Why isn’t today going right?

Wait, wasn’t yesterday kind of like this, too?

I think it was.

And now today seems worse that yesterday.

So every day is getting worse?

Yes!

Everyday is worse than the day before!

It’s because I’m the world’s most terrible and horrible mother.

That has to be why.

Not only that, but I’m a terrible person, too.

I never accomplish anything worthwhile.

Never.

That book I want to write?  That didn’t happen yesterday.  I should have written an entire book during Kate’s nap time.

But instead I went through Google Reader, cleaned up the chicken nugget debris off Kate’s high chair, and thought about replying to emails.

That proves it.  I never accomplish anything.

I am a worthless person.

And there you have it: The Sarah Dispair Cycle.

If I don’t accomplish a certain number of things I decided are worthwhile, then, therefore, I am worthless.  As one could imagine, my list of approved accomplishments are far and away more than any person could accomplish in one day.  Especially a person who cares for a toddler 12 hours a day.  And accomplishing anything with a toddler is akin to trying to operate a motor vehicle while blindfolded and one arm tied behind your back while Elmo’s World plays at peak volume.

So why am I so hard on myself’?

I think it’s because that’s all I know.

When I was a student, being hard on myself served me real well.  It made me motivated, encouraged me to do better and be better.  Set the curve.  Collect those As.  I told myself you can do better and I could because it was between me and my textbook.  That’s it.

Now, there’s miles and miles of life stuff between me and what I want to do.  There’s the toddler and the husband and the dog and the 1958 rambler.  It’s not just me.  Life’s much more complicated and messy.  My time is not my own.

But even though Logical Sarah knows this, that working within the confines of my current life stage doesn’t allow me to write a poignent memoir in a day, Emotional Sarah comes swooping in with the judgements.

Oh, how Emotional Sarah can beat herself up.  You didn’t use your time effectively today.  What’s that, you needed a mental health break after playing at the park for three hours?  Pshhh!  Please.  You don’t deserve a break.  Every minute you aren’t spending with Kate, you must devote to your writing/making something from Pinterest/all that email.  And if you don’t do it all?  Well, then you’d better be ready to accept a big fat zero for today!

That’s kind of rough, huh?

But that’s how I think!  And it’s so wearing.  It doesn’t make me want to do better.  It makes me want to hide in my bedroom under the covers and hope Emotional Sarah can’t find me.

When I told this to my mom, she asked me if I would say those things to a friend of mine.  Would I tell a good friend of mine that she wasn’t doing enough?  That she wasn’t worthwhile because she didn’t accomplish a major life goal in a day?

Absolutely not.  I’d tell my friend she’s doing the best she can.  That not everyday can be filled with major accomplishments.

And I do tell my friends just that.  Seeing as I am the Type-A type, I’ve got heaps of Type-A friends who are also judging themselves by their To Accomplish lists.  I tell them all the time: be gentle with yourself.

So maybe it’s about time I turn that self compassion inwards.

Maybe it’s time I work on some fierce love.

If being mean to myself hasn’t made me feel like a more accomplished woman, then maybe it’s not the answer.  But being kind and loving towards myself?  I think that could be just the ticket.

 

Have you heard? The Stratejoy Book Club has officially launched!

We’ll be holding our first LIVE chat discussion.  May 21st, 2012. Grab your girlfriends, some drinks, some snacks, and jam with Molly about this month’s book, MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche.

Find out about the book, the live chat discussion, and how to host an event or attend an event right over here on the page with all of the juicy details.


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“Meet My Committee” – How’s this for Reality TV!

posted 12th May 2012    Written by: Cassie    CATEGORY: All Posts, Cassie, Creativity, Quarterlife Crisis

You’re going to love this.  No, really, tell your assistant to cancel the rest of your meetings for today because as soon as you hear my proposal for the next big Reality TV show, you are going to want to run out and make it TODAY.

It all takes place in my head.  Now I know what you’re thinking- “How are we going to shoot that?”  No worries.  Here’s a glimpse of what it looks like.  It’s great at first, then it gets old, but it catches wind again.  Tomorrow, you’ll be doing something totally unrelated then think about it and kind of chuckle.  It’s great!

The idea came to me from undergoing Fierce Love training with Molly. (Side note regarding royalties: we should probably include her in the million ounces of confidence and self acceptance that this idea is going to bring in.)

Ever feel like you are not supposed to be doing what you were meant to do?  Do you get reminded every minute of every day by a voice in your head? Really, it’s okay to admit that you hear voices.  I hear multiple daily!  (Just don’t tell my Doctor that, or they really will throw me in that Hospital they tried to make me think was a Chuck E Cheese!)  These voices are helpful.  No, really, they are!  Well, they can be.  Once you understand them.  They are The Inner Critic and the Committee!  Coming to your network, Fall 2012.  Oh wait… they’re already here.  *Nice and attention grabbing, right? I know!

Regarding casting, please reference my concept drawings beside each character description.

 

The Protector

She has a pulsating vein on her neck.  She never smiles and she makes sure I have a bad ass grimace slightly bordering Zoolander Magnum look on my face when walking alone on public streets and sidewalks. She tells me that I should throw in the towel when we’re in the ring together. “Go back home to your mommy, sweet cheeks!” She wisps her fingers through her boy-ish hair that she probably didn’t wash today.  Her philosophy in going back home is for me to incubate for a year, then come back to Cali and try again later.

“No way!” I side swipe her with a windmill kick kinda like this. “I can do this!

She’ll pretend not to cry for awhile but sit and wait for me to question myself again only to pop up with the memorandum again.

She tells me I shouldn’t walk alone at night in dark streets.  I listen, especially when she manifests into an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.  If there is no other way but for me to go down one of these streets, I hurry and keep very aware.  I rarely get into these positions, thank goodness.  There are some shifty streets in Orange County!

Since identifying her, we have come to an understanding.  She knows she can be unreasonable and needs to live a little- to learn to live with a grand portion of uncertainty.  She wants me to stay in and work on the foundation for a better tomorrow- but she wants me to do that every day.  She wants me to lose sleep over it until the point I burn out and just want to get married, have kids, and live through them so I can sit at home and re-watch Disney movies thinking about the career I might have had if only I had listened to her and kept working my butt off.  Sink or swim.  Those are the options.

She’s quite keen on using psychology against me.

 

The Critic

She’s very adamant about how under-developed I am.  She doesn’t let me forget it.  She does it sweetly in a smug sort of 3rd grade teacher sort of way.  Up until I do something or take on a project, she reminds me of how hard it is going to be and how I’m not ready for such an endeavor.  Once I finish, she praises me for what a trooper I am and how I took that learning curve and surfed its quickly morphing waves.  Then, of course, she’ll remind me not to get a big head and not relax on my achievements that I have to move on as if the wolves are a day behind our wagon and we’re almost to the gold mining West.

She’s very strong but she’s also very loving once I’ve proven that she doesn’t intimidate me.  Of course there’s a lot of self-doubt involved before that happens, but I eventually, and tentatively, win her over.

In terms of body image, she’ll often be on my side.  She’ll remind me how amazing I am, how beautiful and wonderful I am.  Though, she can dish a slap in the face when I’ve dropped the ball or failed to take care of myself, do laundry, wash my hair, etc.  She only wants what’s best for me and my health.

She is definitely more strict on my productiveness and skill developing rather than body image.  She’s kicking my ass making me go to the gym lately though and my body is very thankful, even happy, for it.

 

The Image Consultant

Sometimes, it seems like she never shows up for work.  I don’t wear make-up.  I don’t feel the need to try to look good (because obviously, it comes natural).  There’s no one I want to impress with my body or with my clothing.  I have a closet full of unbranded, colored shirts that I love to throw on over a pair of jeans.  I have unbranded, colored sundresses that I also love to wear.  The colors make me happy to look at, and to have bounce off of objects and reflections I stand around.  My hair also looks really good against almost any color.  White is a wild card as so is certain yellows.

She determines that the way I feel about what I am wearing is more important than what I look like.  She knows that it’s important to not look like a slob and try, but she wants me to be comfortable.  She knows I have a weird habit of punching air when I’m excited, or kicking things just to see if I can raise my leg that high.  She knows that I need to be comfortable to physically manifest excess energy.  She knows that I love impromptu walks around the neighborhood and through Disneyland.  She made me purchase a decent pair of work shoes that wouldn’t kill my feet if one of these strolls came to fruition once I clocked out.  (For reals… my feetsies hurted so bad in my old shoes!)

So she definitely shows up for work, but she is relaxed and takes things in stride.  She wants me to take care of my insides because it reflects on the outside.  She loves the way my skin glows after I work out and how soft my hair looks once it’s washed.  She could care less about what I wear as long as it’s not stained… which we’re currently tag teaming going through my clothes to get rid of those items.

 

The Skeptic

She is in between… but when she’s harsh, she’s harsh and when she’s kind, she’s really kind.  She almost kept me from going to San Francisco, but she said “What’s the worst that could happen?” once I took the spontaneous jump. (I won’t tell you what she said before the decision was made… it quite hurt my feelings…)

She is concerned about people’s intentions because she cares about me.  She doesn’t want me to be so open or so friendly so quickly when meeting new people, though she knows that she can give me a stomach ache super quick if I go overboard.  She’s also very good at making me feel awkward when I’ve stepped over a boundary.  It involves long lectures in the courtroom in my head.  She has a graspy voice like Roz from Monster’s Inc.  I hate her lectures, but I love her cat glasses.

She’s even more thrown for a loop when people show me the same super quick friendliness that I normally show first.  When this happens, she makes me retreat quickly and question everything. Why is this person talking to you?  What does he/she want?  Hide your credit cards and lock your chastity belt because obviously they want to kill you.  Whoa, baby!  Calm down!  She gets serious.  Quickly.  I’m learning how to calm her but still find myself retreating from social situations like above.

 

Final Thoughts

I have realized that my committee is rather close to being one entity.  Each one that I explored started to bleed into the next.  A few would border on being repetitions of each other but in the end it all boils out of the need to protect me out of love.  They love me and want what’s best for me.  It’s like I have my Mom and Dad in my head, only they yell and throw Snooki fits.  My parents have always been supportive of everything I have done.  I have no expectations to fulfill because I’ve already surpassed what they had hoped for me.  They know I’ll get to where I want to be.  My committee knows this, too, but they also know they need to slap a few reality checks on me every once in awhile, too.   Unscripted and unapologetic, I’m glad they’re around.

 

 

 




Have you heard? The Stratejoy Book Club has officially launched!

We’ll be holding our first LIVE chat discussion.  May 21st, 2012. Grab your girlfriends, some drinks, some snacks, and jam with Molly about this month’s book, MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche.

Find out about the book, the live chat discussion, and how to host an event or attend an event right over here on the page with all of the juicy details.


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