Season Two bloggers back in the house. Heather Rae is catching us up on what has happened in her world over the last year. Hey, are you a Stratejoy Alum from Season 1-3? Wanna give the Tribe an update? We’d love to hear how you’re doing! E-mail katie (at) stratejoy (dot) com and we’ll hook you up with a guest post spot over the next week!

It seems ten years have passed since I last wrote for Stratejoy.  Yet, it was just last year.  Why?  Because ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING has changed.

Seriously.

Had I known then the journey ahead, I probably would have crouched in a corner, head in hands, screaming and rocking.  Sometimes it’s good we don’t know what’s in store.

When last we spoke, I had just moved to Seattle.  I was settling into life with my fiance in a new city, making new friends.  And then.  Well, I’ll be honest.  Then everything fell apart.

My seemingly perfect relationship ended a few months after moving.  I found myself without a job, my ego bruised, my bank account near empty.  I decided it was best to pack my car and drive home to Las Vegas.  I lived with my brother (and if you know anything about my brother and I, that was a feat in itself) and searched for a job — any job.  I was terrified.  I had visions of crying outside in the rain on my friends’ doorsteps, begging for food.

Of course, that never transpired.  My job search became a full-time endeavor.  I literally sat myself in the office eight hours a day, revising and submitting my resume.  It paid off.  I got a few offers.  Ultimately, I accepted a part-time teaching gig at a private high school and a part-time job with a local hospital.

Once my basic needs were under control, I started thinking again about what I really wanted.  I still wanted to write (remember that novel I was working on?).  But I also knew I needed to make a living.  Seeing as how I no longer had another person to consider, I decided to dream big.  If nothing could stop me, what would I do?  I would return to school.  I would join the Peace Corps.  I would travel.  I would write.  I would dance.  I would hike.  I would make art.

Okay.  So not that much changed.  I sort of already knew these things.  I figured, what the hell, why not try for everything?  I applied to the Peace Corps.  I applied to graduate school.  And I kept up with the other things I love so much — hiking, writing, dancing, etc.  Here’s one scenario I didn’t imagine: getting accepted to both places.

But that’s what happened.  I got my acceptance letter from the School Psychology program at UNLV, and then the acceptance from the Peace Corps arrived.  First, I jumped and giggled.  Second, I stressed.  Which should I choose?  I didn’t know.  So I’ll tell you what I did.  I accepted both.  Yes, I know that wasn’t very nice.  Because one would be expecting me, and I wouldn’t follow through.  But I just couldn’t choose.  Not then anyhow.

And before I knew it, an entirely different possibility opened up.  I was offered a full-time position at that school I worked at.  It was a good offer.  Plus, let’s be honest, a friend in Thailand had called me up and said I should visit over the summer.  If I accepted the job, I would be free to run off for a summer-vacay without feeling guilty.

I quit the job at the hospital, accepted the offer with the school and ran to Southeast Asia about as fast as I possibly could.  I had no plan and no idea what to expect.  I barely had time to throw the guidebook in my backpack.  I just went without thinking.  And let me tell you — it was the best thing I have ever done for myself.

My adventures took me through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia.  I got lost in jungles, marooned on deserted beaches, biked through ancient ruins and attacked by monkeys.  It was amazing.  Every.  Single.  Second.  Even the bad stuff was phenomenal.  Of course, I also fell head over heals for a close friend and got my heart broken.  But what’s a good Thailand story without a little heartbreak?

On top of everything, I gained a little clarity.  I signed up for grad school and said no to the Peace Corps.

Two months later, my return to the states was bittersweet.  Honestly, I wasn’t quite ready.  I could have carried on with my travels for months and months.  But I had a job to return to, and most importantly, I had classes to start.

And that brings me to today.  Today was my first day back at work.  I spent the day cleaning my biology lab (can you believe I’m a biology teacher?  I can’t.) and gushing over my trip.  Next Monday, I start classes to become a school psychologist — a career that will allow me a fair amount of enjoyment, decent pay and phenomenal hours.  That’s the kicker, really.  Because I want every summer off to chase my dreams and travel.  I want winter breaks to work on writing and spring breaks to attend yoga retreats.  And when it comes to paying the bills, I can think of nothing better than to help students succeed.  Yep, I think it’s going to be a win-win.

The path ahead is not going to be easy.  I’ve likely over-booked myself.  I’ve got full-time work and full-time school.  And it’s quite possible I’ll lose my mind.  But for right now, I’m exactly where I should be.  I’m wallowing in heartache, scared to teach science and getting butterflies (the good kind) about returning to school.  And I’m thankful for every moment.  You see, that’s the thing about life – it’s perfectly imperfect.

Six months ago, I started a new journey.  I walked away from my job and made a pact with myself – I would write my novel, start traveling and develop as an artist.  And then I decided to share that journey with you.

That’s been the best part in some ways, sharing this experience with other people who totally get it.  Which is also probably the reason I put off writing this post for so long.  What can I say?  I’m having a little separation anxiety.

Actually, I’ve been having a lot of separation anxiety lately.  Two weeks ago, I uprooted myself from Pasadena to start a new life in the Seattle area.  I arrived in the Pacific Northwest after a freaking long yet somehow amazing road trip, and the reality of leaving my friends behind hit me.  Then I realized I’d also moved incredibly far from my family in Las Vegas.  Everyone is so far away.

These days, I remind myself of this: when one chapter ends, another begins.

So, long story short, this is my last official Stratejoy post.  Personally, the fact that six months have passed since this all began, well, I can’t believe it.  Can you? I seriously had to look at the calendar and count the months to be sure.  (Not even kidding about that.)  I left my job six months ago.  I started writing for Stratejoy six months ago.  I set out to work on myself and my dreams, yep, six months ago.

Looking back at where I started, I think I’ve done pretty well.  It has, by no means, been a perfect journey.  But I made an absolutely amazing start.  And for me, for where I am right now in this moment, it actually is perfect.  Because what I’ve realized is this — where I am at any moment in time, that’s exactly where I should be.

I finished the first draft of my novel.  I haven’t started traveling yet (unless you count a three-day, six state road trip through the western U.S. and moving out of state), but I am making plans to take an international trip before the year is out.  Writing a novel sort of took over my life, leaving my art on the back burner.  I did, however, join a group for mixed-media collage artists, and I can’t wait to meet the group in August.  I went rock climbing and hiking and spent more time outdoors.  And I found a great language institute where I’ll sign up for French classes in the fall.

All in all, not a bad ride.  And it’s only just begun.  That’s the beauty in all of this.  The years may be short, but the days are long.  And I plan to pack as much life into each day as I possibly can.

I invite you to continue following my journey — the likely maddening experience of revising a novel, the joy of meeting new friends, the sadness of missing old ones, the love, the wins, the fails and my attempt to break all the rules.  Send me an email.  Leave me a comment.  Tweet me.  (And I may just resort to begging Molly to let me guest post on occasion.)  Also, if you’re ever in the Seattle area (maybe you already are), I’d love to meet you!

Here’s how to find me:

My Blog — In Search of Squid

Twitter — @insearchofsquid

There’s a song lyric that I love.  “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

And so, I’m signing off.  I’m thinking of it as a new beginning. A new beginning for the next group of sure-to-be-amazing Stratejoy bloggers.  And a new beginning for me, as I embark on this next chapter.

[Note from the Editor:  Okay, Heather Rae, I'm totally crying over here.  When I think back to your journey, the immense of amount of bravery, ups and downs, and grace in the face of some BIG changes- I get all choked up.  You're the epitome of a gutsy girl and I'm incredibly grateful that you shared it all with us.  Thank you from all of us.  Seriously, sunshine-  You are INSPIRING.  I can't wait to say I knew you when...

And I'm ridiculously excited for our long, long lunch next Monday.  To thank you in person, to give you a great big hug, to welcome you to this next part of your journey here in Seattle.  I wish you all the best in the world- adventures, love, learning, and success served up exactly as you'd like it.  I'm thrilled that we're going to be fast friends here in the Northwest.  Can't you just feel it?     Love x 30,  Molly]

Molly, Nicole, Katie and I decided to mix things up this week and interview each other.  We each threw in a few questions and then tackled them on our own.  It’s amazing what you can learn about people this way.  So here’s my take on what they wanted to know.  Enjoy.

What can’t you live without?   What do you wish there was less of in the world?

Well, there’s the obvious, like love and friendship.  I certainly can’t live without those things.  But if we’re talking about life’s indulgences, I definitely can’t live without internet access.  I’ve been without for the past week, and I’ve got to say, it’s killing me.  How did we ever live without the internet?

As for what I wish there were less of in the world?  I wish there were less violence, less hate and less judgment.  I wish everyone had the opportunity to live their own life, as they saw fit, without the rest of us judging their actions.  So long as no one’s hurting anyone else, that’s what matters.  Less judgment, more love.

Inspiration List.   Person?  Song?  Book?  Website?  Place?

Person:  Although there are many more, here are two that you’ll recognize.  Hillary Clinton and Madeleine Albright top my list at the moment.  I’ve read their books, followed their careers and been inspired by each of them at one time or another.  Their endeavors help me to remember that anything is possible – I just have to put myself out there and try.

Song:  I love music.  It has this way of getting into my soul and moving me, right down to my core.  Currently, Bon Jovi’s Love’s the Only Rule is seriously inspiring.

Book:  I read about a book a week, so this one is really hard to narrow down.  I’m huge into women’s issues, so I would definitely say Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide.  You can’t read it without being touched.  Seriously, you’ll want to get out there and make a difference as soon as you finish it.  Also, The China Study by T. Colin Campbell greatly influenced my eating habits.

Website:  There’s a website on writing that I love.  It has so many practical tips and writing exercises and always gets me in the mood to put pen to paper.  It’s called How to Plan, Write, and Develop a Book and is written by Mary Carroll Moore.  If you’re at all interested in writing a book of your own, I highly recommend her site.

Place:  The cliffs overlooking the ocean in Palos Verdes, CA.  I would drive down there on occasion and just watch the waves.  It’s peaceful and beautiful and awe inspiring.

What’s your favorite food memory?

On my first trip to Maui, I went with one of my very best friends.  Our first day, we ate at a restaurant called the Hula Grill.  Sitting in the sand, we listened to a guy sing and play guitar while splitting a specialty pizza and a French dip.  It was divine.  We went back a few times before we left.  Now, every time we return, the Hula Grill is our very first stop.

If you had to spend $10,000 in one day, what would you do with it?

I would definitely book a trip.  I’d spend a week in Peru trekking to Machu Picchu and then head over to Ecuador for a cruise to the Galapagos Islands before spending a week camping and kayaking with a guide in the Amazon Rainforest.  Heaven.

Describe your priorities in four words or less.

Love.  Travel.  Friendship.  Joy.

What is the one thing you most want to be known for?

I want to be known for having tried.  I may not be a runaway hit in everything I do, but I want people to know that I tried everything that inspired me, everything I was interested in, everything I thought might make a difference in someone’s life.  I want a person to see my efforts and say, “Hey, if she can try doing what she loves, maybe I can, too.”

You’re in a bar for karaoke night, you have three songs to sing – and each has to be one that you relate to on each of these things: Love – Life – Friends. Which three songs do you choose, and why?

Love:  You and I, sung by Michael Buble.  It gives me goose bumps every time I hear it.  It’s one of those songs that capture the essence of love so wholly, so completely.  It takes your breath away.

Life:  You’ll have Time, sung by William Shatner.  I heard this song while sitting on the train on my way home from work several years ago.  It’s kind of funny and a little morbid, and when I heard it, something clicked.  I soon left my job and set out to discover what I was really passionate about in life.

Friends:  Lean on Me, sung by Bill Withers.  I think we can all relate to the lyrics in this song, and every time I hear it, it puts a smile on my face.  It’s always good to know you have someone to lean on.

What’s the weirdest thing that you’ve cried because of? (Maybe a movie, an unexpected song, something someone said that wouldn’t normally inflict emotion)

Everything makes me cry.  I once cried because of a Wal-Mart commercial.  I’m pretty sentimental in that way.  (And I swear, that commercial was really touching.)  But here’s one that may not sound surprising to you, though it certainly was to me: I cried when I left my apartment in Pasadena for the last time.  I spent the last six years talking about how much I wanted to move out of that apartment.  When it came time to leave, though, it was hard.  I’d created a life there, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to let it go.

I’m coming to visit your city for just 2 hours during a layover flight for a business trip. Where would you be certain to take me and why?

I only got to Seattle (well, technically, Kirkland) a week ago.  I don’t really know anything yet.  So I’d probably take you to the downtown area by the water.  It’s cute and seems to have good restaurants.  Now, if I were taking you somewhere in Pasadena, I’d take you on a hike to the Eaton Canyon waterfall.  It’s awesome.  And I love finding hidden natural treasures in the midst of a city.

If you could have any super power, what would it be and why?

I’d have the power to turn into a fly.  That way, I could literally be a fly on the wall.  People’s lives fascinate me, and it would be amazing to see how they really live, what they do, what they say.  Imagine all the stories I could come up with for my books?  Let’s just hope no one would swat me!

If you could live anywhere in the world for six months (money being no object), where would you live and why?

This is actually on my life list, to live in another country for at least six months.  Honestly, I’d go just about anywhere.  I love learning about cultures different from my own.  I’ve been dying to learn French, so I’d probably choose a French speaking country.  Maybe somewhere in Africa?  Or even France itself?  I might even choose Tahiti and spend my days hiking and exploring little known beaches and my nights sleeping in an over water bungalow or camping under the stars.

What do you consider the most important event in your life so far?

Certainly, meeting Steven immensely changed the direction of my life.  Completing college was a huge milestone that shaped the way I look at the world.  Quitting my job to focus on writing a book; taking a chance, being brave and following my passions instead of a paycheck.

In the end, I hope when I look back there isn’t one event that stands out above the rest.  I hope there are a thousand events, all different and remarkable to me, that touch my heart and shape my world in their own unique way.

It’s 4:30 A.M.  I arrived in Seattle yesterday afternoon, and I can’t sleep.  Perhaps this is because I’m sleeping on the floor of our new apartment.  And let’s be honest, the floor’s pretty hard.  Or maybe it’s because I’m in a new city, I’ve got a million things on my mind and a million things to do, and aside from getting over the initial exhaustion, it’s hard to sleep with all that running through my head.  Either way, I’ll be happy when the moving truck arrives, and I get my bed back.

Getting here, I took quite the road trip.  I spent a little over a week in Las Vegas visiting friends and family.  Then I was off.

I drove alone to Seattle.  Now that was one experience I’ll never forget. At first, I was a bit scared heading here by myself.  No.  Let me rephrase.  I wasn’t scared at first.  I didn’t get scared until I started telling people that I was driving up on my own.  That’s when everyone started looking at me with wide eyes, asking if I would be okay, telling me how scared they would be if they had to make the trip alone, making me promise I would call when I arrived to assure them I didn’t encounter any accidents or ax murderers on the way.

This brings up an interesting point.  My friends are most often my biggest cheerleaders, always on my side, rooting me on when things get hard or I need a nudge in the right direction. But there are also occasions when they can be the source of my anxiety.  Like when I plan to take a 1,200 mile road trip alone.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering what would happen if I got a flat tire, afraid I wouldn’t find an adequate place to stay along the way, scared of running out of gas, anxious that I’d get in a wreck with a semi truck, hoping I wouldn’t hit a deer and worried I didn’t choose the best route.

Yeah, a lot of bad things can happen.  For the record, none of them did.  The trip went off without a hitch.  And I even kind of enjoyed it.

So why is it those same people we love most are often the ones that make us think twice before making a big change, doing something out of the ordinary or taking a chance? Probably because we care about what they think.  After all, no one wants to be a disappointment.  And taking chances and making change?  Well, those things leave us open for the possibility.  We might do something wrong or something simply might not work out as we hoped.

And then we’d have to face our loved ones and admit things didn’t go well.  We might even feel like we failed.

Of course, the fact that our friends care enough to warn us of potential dangers is also what’s amazing about them.  It’s part of what lets us know they care.  And true friends, the ones that love you no matter what?  Well, they do just that.  They love you no matter what.  Yes, they might remind you of the challenges ahead, they might worry about you, they might even question your sanity.  But in the end, they’re by your side.

The fact that I had a gazillion phone calls to make when I arrived, calls to assure my loved ones I’d made it safe and sound, tells me that I’m cared about, that I’m loved.  And as long as I’m strong enough to listen to the advice of others but continue making decisions based on what I want, well, that’s what matters. I’m happy to have a strong support system.  I’m happy that I’m pretty damn independent and am content to make the choices that are right for me.

And I’m happy to have so much love in my life.

Last Wednesday, I loaded all of my belongings onto a moving truck and sent them off to Kirkland, Washington (a city just outside of Seattle).

And to be honest, I’m having mixed feelings about this move out of Los Angeles.

What’s weird is that I’ve wanted to move for several years. Los Angeles didn’t grow on me the way it did on so many I know. It always seemed too crowded, too polluted and too expensive for my taste.

But after several years, I got used to it. I became comfortable in my little apartment in Pasadena, and I developed close friends. I became accustomed to everything being an hour away – be it the beach, large shopping centers, the mountains or some random, inner-city hiking trail.

Here’s the think about L.A. If you’re looking for things to complain about, there is no shortage. But if you’re looking for things to love, there’s no shortage of that either. I love the people. I love that it’s multicultural, that I can find neighborhoods where people speak pretty much any language I can imagine, that I can live any way I please without people judging, that I can find authentic ethnic food just about anywhere, that there’s a college around every corner, that the weather rarely strays far from 75 degrees in either direction at any time of year. In that way, it’s pretty awesome.

And so Seattle has a lot to live up to.

I’ve heard great things about Seattle. And we ended up finding a great apartment about twenty minutes from the city. I’m excited for that. I’m excited to see where we’ll live, to explore a new area, to sign up for dance classes and art classes and French classes. I’m excited that I have a few friends up there already. And I’m excited for the friends I’m yet to meet.

But I’m still scared. This is such a big change. The weather is vastly different and the location is relatively far (from anything I know, anyway).

Last week, I was really nervous about moving day. I worried that my friends, those helping to load the truck, might not get there on time. I was worried that the company might not arrive as scheduled. I was worried things would break in an attempt to get them out of my apartment door and down the narrow stairway.

In the end, it all turned out okay. More people than I expected showed up to help load the truck, and we finished the load in a record 59 minutes. (I’m really hoping my clock was right, seeing as how I was charged by the hour for the truck driver to wait around while we loaded.) My friends were awesome. Everyone that said they’d show came through for me. All in all, the day went really, really well.

I did a walk through with the apartment manager. He looked around, said everything looked good, and I handed him the keys. Then something strange happened. I walked down the stairs for the last time and got in my car – and I nearly started to cry.

I did not expect to have this reaction. I didn’t think leaving would be so difficult. I didn’t imagine on the day of my departure, I would linger around, having breakfast, getting tea and taking walks with friends. I thought I would run to my car, delighted, start it up and go. I thought I would be ecstatic to leave.

In the end I wasn’t ecstatic. I was a bit sad.

For the next two weeks, I’m visiting family in Vegas, waiting for my new apartment in Seattle to be ready. In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve felt a seed of excitement slowly take root. Things are finally changing. This is exactly what I’ve been asking for. I don’t know where I’ll be or how I’ll be feeling about all of this next year. I don’t know what wisdom hindsight will bring me.

I read something today that said, “there is nothing you can do that can’t be undone, refined or done over. So don’t wait. Begin where you are.”

On an emotional level, I’m not exactly sure where I am these days. But I’m beginning. I’m taking this next step into the unknown.

This marks a new chapter. And I think I’m ready for the ride.

photo credit: whole wheat toast

Money and I have an interesting relationship.  I mean, I like money.  It’s great to have around when I need to do something like, say, pay the rent.  But, other than that, I kind of wish it had no part in my life.  Seriously.

Like most people, I struggle with a lifelong love-hate relationship with cash. I want it.  I want lots and lots of it.  But not so that it can be front and center in my life.  Rather, because I want the chance to completely forget about it — for once.

If my friends were to choose one word to describe how I handle my finances, they’d probably choose one of these:  frugal, cheap, careful, thrifty…or, perhaps, tight-ass.  And if we’re being honest here, I’d have to admit they’re right.  The reason I hate money is not because I don’t have enough.  For all intents and purposes, I do.  It’s because I don’t feel like I have enough.

Between having parents that fought about money pretty much every day and having a mother that told me, “It’s just as easy to marry for a rich man as it is a poor man”, I imagine it was somewhat inevitable for me to end up having anxiety when it comes to handling my finances.

There was a plus side to this.  I became fiercely financially independent.  I learned to save.  (And I mean seriously save.)  With the exception of a few student loans, I carry no debt.  I don’t use credit cards unless I can pay them in full at the end of the month.  And I’ve never depended on a beau to support me.  Never.

But then, that’s also the problem.  This fierce need to be independent, to never ask for help, to do it all on my own — well, it’s tiring.  And not only for me.  It’s tiring for my fiancé, too.

Let me give you an example.  As you know, I left my job in February.  Before making that decision, I saved for two years.  I had enough money to support my lifestyle for a year before having to return to work.

I’d say it was about two weeks after leaving my job that I broke down in tears, sobbing to the fiancé that I was afraid we’d run out of money before the year was up.  He said, “Heather, how much money do you have?”  (After a freak out like that, he was worried that perhaps I was right.)  So I told him.  He looked at me, confused.  “So what are you worried about again?”

I knew I had enough money to last the year.  But that didn’t stop me from breaking down and freaking out.

And just to make my point really clear, I’ll give you another example.  My fiancé and I are very careful to live below our means.  We figure it’s better to have extra money than risk not having enough.  Because of this, we could easily get by on one income.

You might think this would make me happy.  When the year is up and my savings run dry, I could potentially count on his income to carry us through as I continue pursuing my writing goals.  We’ve discussed this possibility.  He fully supports me and encourages me to keep doing what makes me happy and not worry about going back to work.

But instead of being happy about this, I stress.  And I nag, and I worry.

I don’t know how to let go of control when it comes to money.  I don’t know how to trust someone else to pay the bills, to take care of me, to be there for me.  And if I do.  If I let go of that control and let him take care of me, does that somehow make me weak?  Am I setting myself up for financial disaster in the future?  Am I letting another person have too much control over my life?

Yeah.  You could say I have money issues.  (And trust issues.  And control issues.  And all sorts of other issues.)

All I can tell you is I’m working on it.  I’m not there yet, but I really am making progress.  In some ways, walking away from my job was the best decision I could ever have made.  And I’m not saying that because I’m taking an opportunity to chase my dreams.  (Though that’s wonderful, too.)  Rather, It’s forced me to face my control issues head on.

I’ve had to let go of the security that comes with a stable job and learn to deal with questions. (Will this book ever sell?  Can I make it as a writer?  What if I run out of money?  Can I allow myself to trust that I don’t have to do this alone?)  So many questions.  More questions than answers.

Facing these uncertainties has helped me to make progress in so many ways.  Little by little, day by day, I feel myself letting go.  I feel myself getting more comfortable with uncertainty. And, honestly, if things do go terribly wrong, I’m pretty sure I would handle it better than I would have prior to this experience.

It’s funny how that works sometimes.  I left my job for no other reason than to chase a few dreams.  And I’ve ended up getting so much more from that decision.  Now that’s a good thing.

photo credit: Toban Black

Have you ever wondered how different life would be if you said I love you more, gave more hugs, told people what they meant to you without a second thought?  I have.

Perhaps it’s just me.  I’m an introvert.  And I tend to be shy.  So I often keep my thoughts to myself.  I let them run around a few times in my mind before I ever let them out.  And by then, they’ve been edited.  Sometimes, I really wish I wouldn’t do that.  I wish I would say the things I’m thinking without censoring myself. I wish I would be open, completely open, with the people I love.

For that matter, I really wish I would tell the people I love that they’re part of that circle in the first place.

There are a few in my life that I’m totally and completely comfortable being all sappy with.  I tell them I love them every chance I get, I hug them at every opportunity, I let them know how much they mean to me.  And I’ll let any random thought that comes to mind slip out without a second thought.  But those people are few and far between.

Actually, I’d limit it to one.  Make that two.

But then there are others, those that I assume must know how I feel.  I don’t need to say it.  They get it.  Whatever. I wave it off as a whatever, like it doesn’t matter.  But it does.  Think about it.  When someone takes the time to tell you that you mean a lot to them, to say that you matter, how does it make you feel? I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel pretty damn good.  I smile.  I’m happy.

I don’t assume that everyone has this issue, this inability to speak their mind, to release their feelings.  But I’m pretty sure I’m not completely alone in this either.  There is no lack of song lyrics that tell you to say what you need to say or ask how come we don’t say I love you enough.  And it often takes a large scale tragedy to wake us up and cause the phone lines to fill with calls home, people asking — are you okay?  And by the way, I love you, I really do.

Perhaps I’ve been thinking about this a lot because I’m in the process of moving, to a new city and a new state. And it’s far.  The last time I made a long distance move, I moved close enough that I could get back home by car.  It wasn’t that big a deal.  I knew if I got home sick I could hop in the Civic and be in the midst of visiting loved ones in four hours.

Because of this ability to drive home on a moment’s notice, I’ve developed two basic groups of friends.  I have my community of friends in the Los Angeles area, a place that I now call home (even if it did take six years for me to utter that phrase).  And I have my community of family and friends in Las Vegas.  Although not everyone is super close, most people aren’t that far either.

But this time I’m moving 1,200 miles away.  I won’t be able to drive back when I’m home sick. I’ll have to buy a plane ticket and make real plans.  That sounds easy enough.  But I’d bet we can all remember times we let friendships fall and relationships wither because someone moved.  It takes more effort, it becomes complicated, and eventually, it drops to the wayside.

I really don’t want that to happen.  And I certainly don’t want to leave with words unsaid.  I don’t want to leave friends not knowing how much they mean to me, not realizing that in the grand scheme of my life, they really matter.

And so, in my last couple of weeks in L.A., I’m giving myself an assignment:  tell everyone that matters that they do, in fact, matter to me.  And be genuine.  And real.  And honest.

Of course, this plan of action is easier said than done.  Genuine?  Real?  Honest?  We so often spend time hiding our feelings; it can be hard to dig out the truth.  But I’m going to do this — cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.  I figure the returns will be well worth the investment.

What about you?  Is there anyone you need to say I love you to?

photo credit: @ly$ in wonderland

A few months ago, I completed The Joy Equation course.  One of my favorite exercises for discovering my big dreams was to write down a perfect day in my life at some point in the future.  Every so often, I like to go back and read through that perfect day.  It’s an inviting reminder of what my journey is all about, of where I want my life to take me. Not that I expect it all to go the way I plan, but it’s nice to have something to aim for.

Today, I think I’ll share that perfect day with you.

I decided to write my perfect day for when I’m forty, in the year 2018.  Here goes:

Writing, teaching, dancing, reading, husband, baby, house, art, decorating, classes, travel, friends.  That one run-on sentence pretty much sums up my perfect life at forty.

(Keep in mind, this is about to be one jam-packed day.  Fitting everything neatly into one day is somewhat impossible in reality.  I’m sure most days wouldn’t look like what’s about to follow, but for the sake of my fantasy — well, I’m simply putting it all out there.)

The morning starts early, around 6 a.m.  Steven headed out a few minutes ago to check on a patient at the hospital.  I check on our daughter.  She’s four years old.  I can’t believe I have a four year old.

She’s still sleeping, so I quietly walk into the kitchen and make breakfast.  I sit down with my book of the moment and start reading while I eat.

A half hour passes without me even stopping to look at the clock.  Little feet tap the floor, moving down the hallway.  My daughter is awake and looking for something to entertain her.  I give her a hug and ask if she’s hungry.  She is, as usual, so I make her a quick breakfast and then work on getting us both ready for the day.

After my daughter is dressed and she’s occupied with her toys, I work on myself.  Our neighbor is driving the kids to pre-school this week.  I look out the window and see the car out front.  We grab her things and walk outside together.  I chat with the neighbor for a few minutes, then buckle my daughter in the car seat.

Back inside, I walk to my office.  It’s not your usual office.  For one thing, it doesn’t have a desk.  As a writer, some people might find this odd, but I prefer to work at the chase with my laptop.  I’m working on two projects at the moment.  One is a travel memoir.  I’m writing about the last summer I spent with Steven and our daughter traveling through Central America.  A New York publishing company already bought the book, and I’m working against a deadline.  Today, I’m putting the finishing touches on my final revision before sending it to my agent for review.

The other writing project I’m working on is a novel.  It’s the third book in a young adult series.  Books one and two sold incredibly well, and we just signed a deal with a production company for the movie rights of the first book.  I’m still in shock that my book will be made into a movie.

After writing for a few hours, I can’t take sitting much longer.  I look at the clock and it’s almost time to head to the studio.  I take dance classes at a small studio a few days a week.  Dancing has been the perfect way to blow off steam while I’m in the middle of writing.  It keeps my mind fresh, and I’m always ready to return to the page after a good class.

I change for class and head out.  Class is filled with student’s I’ve danced with for about a year now.  I love this particular class because the women all get along so well.  We often go to lunch after class just to hang out.  Today, we’re getting ready for a performance, so the energy in the room is even more than usual.

I have a lunch date with an old friend and won’t be able to stick around for lunch with the girl’s from class today.  We meet at a favorite restaurant and talk for what seems like hours.  I look at my watch and see that it’s time to get my daughter from school, so we head out.

I pick up my daughter from pre-school and say hello to the teacher.  My daughter made me a necklace out of macaroni and asks me to put it on.  I tell her it’s beautiful and dutifully wrap it around my neck.

Once we get home, my daughter asks if she can paint.  Sounds good to me, so I get out some supplies and we both work on our ‘art’ projects.  I’ve been painting for several years now.  I’m excited that I’ve continued to get better and take classes and workshops whenever the opportunity arises.  I’ve actually started selling my paintings — more because I don’t have any place to put them than anything else.  I wouldn’t call myself a professional or anything.  But every once in a while I paint something that even surprises me.

Steven calls while we’re painting and says he’ll be home at about seven o’clock.  He asks if he should bring anything for dinner.  I’ve cooked every other day that week, so I say yes.  I call for take-out at the new vegetarian place near our house, and Steven agrees to pick it up on his way home.

Our daughter starts work on a new finger painting, so I go to my office and get some papers to review while she paints.  I’m an adjunct professor at the city college near our house.  Twice a week, I teach a class on culture and health.  The semester is almost over.  My students turned in their term papers a few days ago, and I still need to read through most of them and assign grades.

After reading through a few papers and making some notes for class tomorrow, I set aside that project and start leafing through the latest college catalog.  It’s almost time to register for Fall classes.  I want to be sure to take another French class next semester.  At this point, I’m pretty fluent.  But I like to continuously improve my skills.  Also, I happen to love reading college catalogues.  It’s sort of a hobby in itself.  Once, I took a class on Middle Eastern History just for fun.  I do that sometimes.  If my schedule doesn’t look particularly full, I’ll take random classes for no reason at all.

My daughter and I are reading together when I hear the garage door open.  Steven is home with dinner.  She jumps off my lap to greet her daddy.  We eat dinner together in the dining room, using all the good china, as usual.  I hate to save that stuff for special occasions.  Every day is a special occasion.

After dinner, Steven spends time playing with our daughter.  Then he reads to her.  They have a ritual of reading together every night before she goes to bed.  If he’s at the hospital, she’ll try to wait all night for him to come home before she’ll give in and go to sleep.  Luckily, it’s rare that he’s not home at night.  Some nights he comes home just for dinner and bedtime, then heads back to the hospital.  It’s really important to both of them to have their time together.

After the tucking in and kissing goodnight, Steven and I relax together for a couple of hours — we talk for a while, watch a movie and make love.

We have a good life.  That’s what I’m thinking as I drift to sleep.

photo credit: yogendra174

I’m going through something these days.  There’s something inside of me that wants to burst out and be free.  I keep getting these urges to do something crazy and step outside of my comfort zone – as if some part of my being has been stifled all these years and is finally ready to show itself.

I’m not sure what’s going on. Or why I feel the need to do things that are so out of character.  I find myself craving adventure and the unknown – I want to jump out of airplanes despite my fear of both flying and heights, go skinny dipping, have wild sex, go hang gliding and quit my job (oh wait, I already did that).

All of my life, I’ve been a control freak.  I’ve done everything just so and have fully expected said things to turn out exactly as I planned. Why?  Because I needed them to.

The truth is, I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect – a perfect student, a perfect employee, a perfect friend, a perfect fiancé, a perfect daughter.  Only now have I stopped to ask myself where this pressure came from.  Who was it that first told me I couldn’t make mistakes?  And, for that matter, is there such a thing as perfection?  What I described sounds more like a Stepford Wife than a real person.

As you might expect, life hasn’t met my expectation of perfection.  Sometimes things have worked out the way I envisioned.  But the opposite has generally been truer – things have worked out in completely different ways than I anticipated.  And in these situations, I often ended up feeling lost or out of control.  I know it may seem odd, but I’ve just now realized that being in control of everything isn’t even close to possible.

And this ridiculous need to control every outcome has had a way of making life rather difficult.  So, for some reason, I’ve found myself moving in the exact opposite direction.  I’m taking chances and calculating risks and putting myself in situations that I don’t know how to navigate. I actually want to make mistakes and just see what happens.  Loss of control is a weird feeling.  At times, I’ve even found myself trying to control my loss of control.  Now that sounds ridiculous.

I guess right now I’m just working to let go of expectations.  And one way of doing that has been to let go of my need to be in control.

When a person wants to control every aspect of life, they often end up feeling the need to do everything themselves, as counting on other people for that level of perfection is almost impossible.  I’ve decided I don’t want to be so independent anymore.  I want to learn to lean on people, to ask for help and count on friends for support.  I want to cry on someone’s shoulder and feel okay about it.  I want to be completely open for other people to see.  I hope one day I’ll figure out how to do that — without hiding behind a smile and vague niceties.

Wow.  I feel like what I’ve just described sounds more like a midlife crisis than a quarter life crisis. It’s the type of thing you see all the time when a middle aged man hooks up with a twenty year old, buys a Porsche and goes bungee jumping.  In an odd way, it’s kind of comforting — to know I’m not alone in this confusion.  Does that sound absolutely crazy?

I don’t know.  What I do know is that in reality I have so few answers and so many questions.  And maybe life isn’t about seeking answers.  Maybe it’s just about experiences.  And growing.  And learning.  And finding ways to accept yourself for exactly who you are.

photo credit: her wings

The last couple of weeks I’ve been taking it easy with the writing.  Instead, I’ve been soaking up every last minute with the fiancé.

You see, once Steven starts his residency, he’ll be working like crazy.  According to regulations, residents aren’t allowed to work more than an average of eighty hours per week over a four week period.  They could work one hundred hours one week and sixty hours the next.  Needless to say, once he starts at the hospital, he’ll be busy.

When he was in medical school, we were used to the crazy hours he put in.  Those days, I knew that I wouldn’t see him every day.  Sometimes he came home, and other times he spent the night at the hospital.  It was the usual.  But now, things are different.  Over the past few years, Steven’s been in the Army.  With the exception of when he was deployed, his work hours at home were pretty regular.  He worked forty hours a week, a normal schedule.

The reality of us not being able to spend much time together is starting to hit me. On June 13, Steven will be driving up to Seattle to start his orientation at the hospital.  I’ll be staying back in Pasadena for a few weeks, getting things packed and ready to go, and I’ll be heading up at the beginning of July.  To be honest, I’m nervous about the move (more on that another day), but for the most part, I’m nervous about what this means for our relationship.

I’m not concerned about the residency being too much or pulling us apart.  Over the seven years we’ve been together, we’ve been through a lot more difficult times.  I think I’m just going to miss being able to spend so much time with him. I’m going to miss knowing that he’ll be able to be there for me whenever I need him, at the drop of a hat.

Not that he won’t be there for me.  He absolutely will.  It’s just that I also know that when someone’s sick child is in the hospital, that child will sometimes come first.  And that’s the way it should be.  You certainly don’t want a doctor treating your kid who can’t stop thinking about the issues he’s dealing with at home.  No.  You want that doctor to be focused on your child — and only your child.

Anyhow, I’m not writing this to complain.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that it’s easy, sometimes too easy, to get wrapped up in the every day, to forget to appreciate what you have right in front of you. It’s easy to stress about how much money is in your bank account or the problems at your job or if you’ll be able to achieve the goals you set for yourself this year.  But relationships are so much more important than any of that.

Appreciating the love you have in your life, not taking others for granted – that’s what counts.

So Steven and I are spending our days holding hands, taking long walks, laughing like kids, kissing like newlyweds and reveling in the adventure of it all.  And for the next couple of weeks, that’s exactly what I will be continuing to do.  I’m loving it!

I don’t know where life might lead me.  But I know one thing for sure – with my best friend by my side, it’s bound to be a fabulous journey.

photo credit: Shanissinha