Category: The Heart of The Matter

O. F. U.

You might start with Oh, Fuck You.  Or One Fuck Up.  Or even Odd Fuck Up.  Today, I changed the meaning in my head once and for all.

I’m a girl.  I’m a beautiful, sensual, intelligent, successful, wicked smart, confident, hardworking girl.  I’m a mom.  I raised my son essentially by myself.  I won’t dive into details about my life story when it comes to raising my son.  That’s quite literally a book and one that I am not prepared to share with the world.  Yet.

For now, let’s dive into this OFU acronym.

I married a jack ass in 2001.

I did not know he was a jackass.  Well, I kinda knew he was a jackass.

Yet I married him anyways.  Don’t ask.  And please don’t judge me.  I’m good there.

Fast forward to today.  This past week, I attended Tony Robbins’ Unleash the Power Within in Newark, NJ.  And let me tell you something – if you have not attended, do. Make it a bucket list-one-thing-I-MUST-do-in-the-next-twelve-twelve-months-of-my-life-or-die-items.  It is a game changer in every single sense of the word.

During our 15+ hours together on Saturday, Tony conducted a limiting belief session that forced me to dig deep within the depths of my soul to really gain some clarity on what the fuck I have been doing since my divorce in 2003 from Shane.

Let me tell you about Shane.  Shane sat on a bench on Labor Day weekend in 2003 at a rented cabin before the arrival of over 15 guests, including my son, with a steely gaze and told me under no uncertain terms that he did not love me anymore.  He never admitted why but I peeled away layers of events that had occurred over the prior 12 months to discover that he was having an affair with my best friend.  Our maid of honor.  Ange. And I cannot lie, this is what happens when you go see Tony Robbins for a week – you find your inner fuck you.  I digress….OFU…..yes….OFU.

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So, Ange was our Maid of Honor..  In some twisted way, I had secretly wished that he would have chosen a random whore instead of a whore disguised as a best friend whore. As you could imagine a whore disguised as a best friend is nothing to mess with.  In my opinion, this might be worst kind of whore.

The story of the events leading to our final divorce is book worthy in so many ways. I’ve documented the events from start to finish.  From asking me to send $2,000 to his mother because she needed rent money to the final signature on the divorce papers.  And the story is like a murder mystery wrapped in a drama for the ages.  I remember moments of that period of my life as if they occurred last week.  And one moment in particular is the O.F.U. moment.

I never thought that my best friend would even consider a relationship with my husband, let alone marry him and bear a child together when the ink was not even dry on our divorce papers.  I mean, sure, he walked out on September 5th 2003 and within six months was engaged to her and getting married in a shotgun wedding.  I was made out to be a fool and called crazy, psycho, a potential murderer, an unstable human and a general threat to society to anyone that Shane could get to listen to him.  Yes, me…a potential murderer. Because raising my child into a healthy, normal and stable human being is definitely the result of an unstable murderous type.

Yesterday, I reflected on something that resonated so deep within me that it brought me to my knees.  Tony Robbins said that events occur in our lives every day;  it is only the events attached to an emotion that root deep within us and become a moment.  We all have them.  Happy moments, sad moments, angry moments and fearful moments.  To say that there were many moments that coursed my veins in my divorce from Shane and Ange is a complete understatement.  And yes, since you ask, I felt like it was a divorce of a husband and a best friend all rolled into one fucked up emotional roller coaster ride.

When I reflected back, my mind reeled back to a particular moment during this time in my life.  Like Princess Lia calling out to Obi Wan Kenobi. It was like a live event replaying in my mind as if I were right there in my laundry room at my home in Falls Church. There we stood.  After I accidentally listened in on a phone call between Shane and Ange that went something like this:

Not long after the weekend at the lake when Shane abruptly told me that he no longer loved me, Ange called the house.  Shane answered.  I never heard the phone ring.  I picked up the phone to call her, of all people. I listened for a dial tone.  And heard them talking. They were talking about getting me out of my own house.  He told her he feared for his life.  She claimed that she could not spend time with me. When they hung up, I confronted him.  He got angry.  Shane went from 0-60 in a split second.  He was beyond very angry while accusing me of spying on his phone call with MY best friend.  I remember begging him to stop screaming and yelling.  He raised his hand in a clenched fist at least three times that day.  I was begging him to tell me what I was doing wrong. My heart was racing.  I was terrified.  And in his rage of accusing me of lying, I cried and begged him to stop.  And then he did it.  He launched the most inexcusable tirade of insults and hurt that no human could endure.   And I’ll never forget his final words before he left that night:

“Oh whatever, you lying pig, you’re just Old, Fat and Ugly!”

And this deafening silence fell over me.  I remember dropping to my knees that day too. The abuse in that relationship was evident.  Yet, I would never accept or admit that it was an abusive relationship.  It was emotional and verbal abuse beyond anyone’s imagination.  But that day.  That day was different.  It stuck with me.  Until yesterday.

To say that it is freeing to dig deep and get to the story that I have created is another understatement.  But to realize that the story is one of such a terrible, degrading, and humiliating assertion is the saddest commentary that I have had with myself.  I am grateful.  I have finally been able to identify what the fuck has been brewing inside my subconscious for fourteen years.

And now I am free.  Finally.  And Shane?  And Ange?  They get to live with one another knowing at the core what they did.

And now, OFU really does stand for “Oh, Fuck Off”.  Which is precisely what I should have said to them both back in 2003 when I learned of what was really going on.

 

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I Told A Lie

Yes.  Me.  I admit it.  I told a lie.  And I feel terrible about it.  And not proud.

A colleague of mine – we’ll call her colleague A – shared something with me a few weeks ago.  In confidence.  And I assured her of my commitment to keep it under my hat.  She trusts me.  And I trust her.

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I spoke with another colleague the other day  – we’ll call her colleague B – and she confessed to me that she, in fact, went right to someone else with information that A shared with me.

This very information that A shared in confidence.  I shared with B and specifically told her that it was highly confidential.  I trusted B.  Come to find out, B shared it with someone else…that someone else turned right around and called A about it.  As one might expect, colleague A asked her who told her.  And she told colleague A that it started with me, specifically.   Citing my own name.

Continue reading “I Told A Lie”

Turning Pages

I am about 99% sure that this post was integral in a very recent (and by recent, I mean just this morning!) turning point in my life.

My struggles this year have been ENORMOUS. At times I gave up hope. Other times, I gave up altogether. Some days were so difficult that I found it hard to breathe. A friend described it as standing in a room with no doors. To hear that I’ll be a better person for the challenges that life brings did NOT resonate.

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I am still standing. Albeit, battered, bruised and not emotionally fully sure footed yet but I have felt a slight glimmer of hope. Finally.

I got on my knees and prayed, begged and asked for a sign. An answer or some message of love. And it came.

And I now understand.

And I AM better for it. And I have my own mother to thank.

And her message was and is so clear: let go of the non believers, do away with the tyrants, set the abusers free and forget about the passive aggressive behaviors that have become a constant projection from others that detract my otherwise happy, joyful and incredible life. And it freed me.  I felt a sense of peace that I have not felt this year.  Not once.  Until now.

Thank you. You cannot even imagine just how much this short passage impacted me in finally starting to feel whole again. The pieces are still scattered but they are starting to come together again.

I have to pay this forward in hopes that someone else might need to hear and feel this message.

You are never alone.

We are all in this together.

There is hope.

 

Shards of Glass Inside My Soul

So, 2016 so far has disappointed me in ways that exceed my ability to comprehend. 2016 has shaken me, stirred me, rattled me and made me question my religion, my faith and my beliefs.   In everything.  Including my very own incredible strength of character.

The year began so filled with hope.  However, I soon realized that I had I jumped onboard with a company that does not value the skills that I bring to the table. So, I found my backbone and I quit. Without a job.  And three weeks later, my mother was in the hospital.  And two weeks later…she died.  Without warning.  She was supposed to be around a solid 10 more years with me.  And now she’s gone.

So, I had a month of going back and forth to Cape Cod to deal with it all…mostly to put the pieces of my mother’s life back together so that I could lay her body of bottled dust to rest and make her proud of me one last time.

They are not pieces…they are shards.  Little tiny shards of glass spewed about the universe floating around my head, my heart and my life trying to find the other pieces to fit the glass back together.  I stand in the middle of this revolving glass spectacle with glass and bits constantly whirling about my head.  Every time I turn a new corner, a new shard plants itself into my soul and bleeds it dry for another day.

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These shards, these decisions, these steps that I take every day to piece together my mom’s life amd ultimately get my own life back. The chaotic existence that has now developed into my new normal.  My mother would not want it this way – she wanted nothing but happiness, beauty, joy, success and love for my life.  Yet in her very turning from a vibrant, beautiful, energetic and fun loving human form to a mound of dust has, without warning, turned my own existence into a tunnel filled with shards of glass.  Tiny pieces of who I used to be begging to reconnect with millions of intricate glass fragments to become whole.

via Daily Prompt: Chaotic

Why You Should Tell Your Own Story

I have been a Managing Broker since 2010.  I have enjoyed the role, for the most part.  I have also, at times, felt like I was nuts for taking on the emotionally charged environment of a real estate office.

I know.  I know….I am not a victim.  I accepted the challenge.  It’s lonely at the top.

I never understood why anyone would step away from managing an office;  I have always been a leader.  I love to lead and develop people.  And with all of my incredible knowledge and skills as a real estate agent, there was nothing better for someone like me!  Success through others is something near and dear to my heart.  Why would anyone step away from that?  It baffled me for years as an agent.  I am driven, focused, results oriented and successful.  I always wanted more challenge….I thought everyone felt the same way about moving up the ladder.

Continue reading “Why You Should Tell Your Own Story”

My Broken Heart…

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One moment turned into a day.

One day turned into a week.

One week turned into one month.

One month turned into one year.

One year turned into two.

Two years turned to three, four, five….

I wish I could go back and change that moment.

I took it all with me…

So, I am reading “The Happiness Project”.

happiness
Sing in the morning?

I am just finished “Getting Started:  THE TWELVE COMMANDMENTS” and “Chapter 1:  Boost Energy VITALITY”.  And I had this moment.  You know the  moment.  The “A-ha”, the epiphany and the sudden inspiration of seeing a long awaited answer to “What-is-it-that-has- been- eating -away- at- my- soul?” moment.

I took it all with me.

Continue reading “I took it all with me…”

#PrayersforParis Why not Kenya, Beruit?

So…I have been seeing all the posts about Paris.  It has effected me.  Deeply.  I have been trying get some emotional grip as to why the Paris terrorist attack has reeled my heart into a debilitating state of fear.  My son and his fiance live in Chicago – a city that could very well be the target of such an attack.  My family is on Cape Cod – a long drive from where I now live.  My friends are located all over the world from LA to Boston to Florida to NYC to Italy to France and Canada.  I worry about such an atrocity in any one of hundreds of neighborhoods where I have emotional ties and bonds that are family or like family to me.  And I am here, in DC, alone with my puppies and no real network of support if something like this shows up close to home.   I never thought that being alone was a bad thing.  Until now.

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And I watch as the newsfeeds are peppered with atrocities that now include the bombing in Beruit a few days ago and the attack on the college campus in Kenya back in April.  Sadly, I knew nothing about either.  But we all heard about Paris.

I do not have answers to the question why – I don’t ask why anymore.  I do not have an understanding as to the logic here either.  I do know that we are americans and live in a country that is free from most terror and atrocities that occur in places like Beruit and Kenya.

When I did some research, I was horrified to learn that Kenya has been under seige since the 70’s when a nightclub was bombed in Nairobi.  The string of terror attacks has been prevalent in Kenya since that time with the most recent at Garissa University College where almost 150 young students were mercilessly murdered in their dorm by terrorists.

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Beruit, much like Kenya has suffered at the hands of terrorists for hundreds of years; and most recently experienced another tragic bombing at the hands of extremists who are proud to detonate a bomb contained in a vest and belt of a suicide bomber.

So, now we see all the outpouring of support for Paris yet nothing like it for Beruit and Kenya.  I had to wonder – it has become a very emotional and sensitive subject in the newsfeeds of all social media.

Paris, much like the US is a peace loving place to live.  Our lifestyle expectations are very much in line with what we actually experience.  We expect to sit at a streetside cafe to enjoy a latte with our friends and families without incident.  We expect that we can attend a concert among thousands of others who are passionate about heavy metal without incident.  I am pretty sure that our experiences of our day to day lives never amount to much drama beyond silly things like a friend acting stupid, a colleague acting direspectful or a child misbehaving.  That pretty much sums up our expectations of violence occuring in our daily lives.  We live a similar charmed life as the Parisians and the Italians and the Greeks and … and… and the millions of people who reside in countries where a suicide bomber detonating in the middle of a city center is such a foriegn concept. Beyond our wildest imagination.

Therein lies the root of the problem.  I wanted to simply understand. To wrap my head around this question.  Not ask why but to understand the cause and effect.  Because deep within me, I am feeling this remorse for not even KNOWING that Kenya has been suffering through terrorist attacks since I was a young child.  I had NO IDEA that a similar attack occurred in Beruit.

So why is Paris so heartwrenching?

Because Paris more represents the lifestyle that 90% of the free world comes to experience on a day to day basis.  No one lives the conditions or can relate to the tragedies of Kenya and Beruit.  The free world just shrugs its shoulders in a moment of acceptance for what has come to be commonplace in countries like Kenya and Lebanon.  The vast contrast is hearbreaking and embarrasing.  The news from Kenya and Beruit is always about war.  It’s about tragedy.  We are numb to the pain because we have come to expect that those places have found ways to deal with the trauma.  We just don’t know any better.

I don’t watch the news. I do not start my day researching global events.  I focus on things that I can control.  I cannot control bombs detonating around the world.  So, I focus on what I want to expand in my world.  I am wondering if social media and facebook has become a deteriment to our entire societal structure in every way possible.  Based on Paris, I would say that I am more and more convinced that shutting down social media will better our lives exponentially. Through the newsfeeds and sadness, we end up engaging the terrorists in ways that we do not intend.  But it’s happening and terrorists are happy about this effect on the global stage – they have twitter accounts for fuck’s sake!  They are winning the war by connecting to each and every one of us through #prayforparis post’s trending around the world right now.

What more do we need to wake up?

The world is a much more aware place than ever before.  Social media has connected us all in ways that we never thought possible.  I am pretty sure that what happened in Paris is going to be more commonplace for peace loving cities around the world.

And until we take a stand against ALL terrorist attacks then we’ll remain numbed out in the stream of newsfeeds and in our daily lives at the horror of 11/13 in Paris while simultaneously ignorant of the same attacks occuring daily in places like Kenya and Beruit.

And it needs to stop.

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I Let Go This Morning. Finally.

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It’s November 1, 2015.  I used to make a big deal of Halloween – creating costumes, planning an event in New York City with my NYC girls, taking the bus, staying out all night and making it a blow out event.

Last night, I read the last of an amazing book, did some chores, cleaned my closet, talked to a friend in need of a shoulder and went to bed at midnight.

Times have changed.

Continue reading “I Let Go This Morning. Finally.”

The Truth Shall Set You Free…..

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  1. That no matter how honest, kind and generous I am, people will believe what they want. Good or bad.
  2. So many people that I am surrounded by do not know me at all.
  3. Thankfully, so many more people that I am surrounded by know me SO WELL.
  4. I can be the best person I can be and the negative projections of others will mar that reputation in THEIR OWN MINDS. Learning that was big for me today.
  5. I am NOT a victim.
  6. I AM loved by many. I have mastered the skill of focusing on those who love me most. I love them back times a thousand.
  7. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I am learning to understand that concept so much more deeply than ever before.
  8. I know what I am made of. I know who I am. And NO ONE can change my own self image of me.  No one.
  9. No response is far superior to anything I can ever say to persuade negative, self-serving ego driven minds to listen. They won’t.
  10. There are definitely two sides, and sometimes three, to every story. People believe what they want based on their own agendas. That has nothing to do with me. But I get it.
  11. Being happy and focusing on my own happiness can hurt others. For that, I am sorry.
  12. Hurt souls never understand and cannot embrace the needs of those around them. They are sad and hurt to begin with. Seeing beyond their own internal wall of hurt is nearly impossible.
  13. Today I learned who I can trust. And it’s a double edged sword.
  14. I hold myself to a very high standard.  I stopped expecting others to hold themselves to this same standard of excellence.  Not everyone operates at the same level of high accountability.
  15. Nothing can ever stop me from being the best version of myself. NOTHING.

30 Best Days.