Category Archives: Step 2

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Bumps in the Process

For some reason, my face decided this week (and especially this weekend) was the ideal time to break out. I’ve always had a difficult time with acne and because I’m probably a tad bit too vain, I’ve also always worn makeup.

The act of putting on makeup itself is tiresome. If I was one of those lucky gals who just woke up and went, I would get a whole lot more sleep during the work week. The process is long and often, I feel like I’m a painter –but not one of the talented ones. It’s basically paint-by-the-imperfections until everything is covered up and I feel pretty enough to face the world.

Not only is acne bad for the self-confidence, but it can be extremely painful. Especially when you get the big suckers like I did this weekend. They pop up in the most annoying of places (on your cheeks, so when you smile, they get even bigger), and if you brush up against them or go to wipe your face, it just flat out hurts.

Because I’ve been trying to be more in-tune with myself and watch the language I use to communicate with myself every day, I’ve also been more acutely aware of the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I look, and the way I think I’m perceived by others. You’d think the journey to self-love would make me throw out my self-hating-habits and instantly let go, but if anything, it’s brought them to the surface (literally with these zits) and make me face what makes me the most insecure.

My friend, J (remember him, who got all those flowers?) asked me to go shopping with him on Saturday, and I reluctantly agreed. Not because I didn’t want to see J or because he’s not a great shoe-finding buddy, but because I felt so gross from having a massive break out. I ended up piling on more makeup than I usually do and I tried my best not to wear red so it wouldn’t bring attention to the redness on my face.

After I was sure he had noticed the huge cluster of zits on my cheek, I finally said, “I just love how I’ve broken out this weekend.” He looked up at me puzzled, and said, “What do you mean?” Shocked, I replied, “Don’t you see these awful zits on my face?” Simply, he said, “Nah. Hadn’t noticed. You look pretty.”

Given, J, always will compliment me –but it really opened my eyes to how harsh I can be on myself. Everyone, even those damn Victoria’s Secret models, get some problematic skin issues sometimes. By nature, human beings are far from perfect. We’re meant to make mistakes, have flaws, and work on our confidence. Having insecurities doesn’t make us weak, it just makes us normal.

Of course, because of the recovery, I thought about how hard I’ve been on myself just in the past week.

Anytime a negative thought or worry came into my mind, I instantly yelled internally “Lindsay! You’re doing the 12 Steps, remember? Stop this!” Even though I came up with a kind and soothing mantra, my instant reaction was far from forgiving.

Instead of working on why I was having that thought or fear, I automatically tried to “cover it up” by pushing it out of my mind and not giving myself time to figure out why I was being negative in the first place. If you will, I was applying makeup before I gave the zit time to heal. I was putting on mascara while my eye was still red, lipstick on my lips while they were still chapped, and blush on my cheeks when they were already flushed.

This process, this recovery, isn’t going to be a walk in the park. And I have to remember to be my own best friend –encouraging, patient, and gentle. If a thought comes to my mind, instead of letting myself get all worked up and mad for not “recovering quick enough” –I need to let the thought cycle through, tell myself its okay to have the thought, and then remind myself to “Have faith. All is unfolding as it should.”

Before I can truly believe my bad attitude can be turned around, I have to let the thoughts and emotions come as they naturally do, so I can understand why I’m having such a hard time. I can’t skip forward to peace and clarity, if I don’t have a little bit of bumps and pain.

I think it’s time to tell my Mars in Aries to just calm down a little bit. All in due time, all in due time.

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The City of Love

Manhattan is coined as a pretty dirty place -full of grime and crime, thugs and lugs –and everything in between. The streets are aligned with trash, and the city changes with the wind –one block can be completely high-rise and luxurious, while the next will make you hold your bag a little closer.

I’ve been asked (mainly by my Southern relatives) why “on God’s green Earth would you ever move to New York City?” In fact, why did I decide to move away from North Carolina in the first place –away from the back winding roads, the calm nights with fireflies, and miles away from my alma mater, making it impossible for me to come to homecoming?

Why didn’t I, like all of the other girls in my family, settle down, find a good country boy, and get married? Why did I decide to go to this huge, scary, and dangerous place…alone?

To them, I reply, “I love New York.” They will smile, tell me they are praying for me, and then whisper amongst themselves about my absurdity.

Eh –maybe I’m a little crazy. I think to willingly choose to move to NYC, you’d have to be a tad out of your mind. But, the city draws in the crazies, the out-of-the-boxers, the strange-and-the-beautiful, the very-talented and the overly ambitious.

But if you look closely, slow down, pay attention, and examine everything going on around you –you’ll find the city is full of love. It’s not just that I adore the city –it’s that the city itself provokes kindness.

 

Written on the street outside my office :)

 

When you cross the street –you’re never alone. There’s always someone on one side of you, if not on both. When you sit down on a subway car, leave it, or enter it –there are always people near you. When you go grocery shopping, buy new shoes, pay for deodorant, or even just wipe your nose -you’re always surrounded by someone else. Even riding home in the taxi after a night of drinking –the cab driver sits right in front of you.

And while it’s not typical to speak to strangers (unless you’re from NC, like me) –you will catch yourself leaning up against the person on the subway, or find them lingering on you a while longer after the initial jolt of a stop. Or when you cross the street, sometimes, you’ll notice someone step with you –a little cautious of the cars that may forget to stop. Or when you’re sitting alone reading a book, it’s not uncommon to notice someone looking at you, caught in their own world of thoughts –only using you as a focus point.

You’ll find people helping each other by carrying heavy bags up stairs or opening doors or waiting for you to pass by. You’ll find an old woman bring her husband lunch to his office on the same block they’ve lived and worked for 50 years. You’ll find children kissing their parents and running through the streets like it’s their playground. You’ll find a couple you just know are on their first date –completely awkward, but somewhat enthralled, drinking a few beers, and wondering what’s next.

Sometimes you’ll pass friends comforting  each other on the side of the street, as one cries, and one remains strong –looking around to make sure no one messes with them. You’ll find yourself sharing glances with someone else who is responding the same way you are to a strange occurrence, a sudden sound, or a funny conversation.

The city makes you interact with other people –regardless if you want to or not. It forces you to come out of your shell and see what’s going on around you. It shows you that even in the most ordinary and most random of places –there is friendlessness and love all around.

I’ve been worrying that this process would somehow make me stop believing in love. It would make me cool and confident, but not warm and loving. However –as I wondered the streets today, both with a friend, and then alone –I realized that New York would never let that happen.

Gaining faith in myself and relaxing about being single doesn’t mean that my faith in love goes away. It doesn’t mean I have to stop enjoying seeing examples of love in everyday life or be inspired by seeing real love exist. Being okay single doesn’t mean I have to stop dreaming.

It simply means that the constant quest for love, the constant search, and longing for a relationship needs to fall later in my list of priorities. It means that I just let go of pushing and pulling for happily ever after, and allow something bigger than me take care of things for me. For now, watching love in the city fills my heart up with so much hope and peace –I can’t even put it into words.

I always knew I loved you New York, but I didn’t know you loved me this much, too.

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Lesson from Mr. Unavailable

Since I moved to the city, I haven’t exactly had the best luck in dating. Hence, part of why I’m writing this blog. I had this unrealistic notion that once I moved to my dream location, my dream guy would show up too.

Maybe a little idealistic of me? Yeah –I’ll admit that (it is after all, what recovery is about). My mother went as far to tell me I’d meet Prince Charming at JFK on March 14, when my plane landed in my new home.

Nice in theory –but the reality couldn’t have been further from the truth. However, the men I have met while I’ve been here the last six months have had a common theme.

They’ve all been completely unavailable.

Either literally –because they’ve had girlfriends or wives, or emotionally -because they just got out of a serious relationship or because they’re just not looking for a special someone at this time.

None of these guys have been particularly rude or nasty –they have all, in fact, been very kind and openly honest. They have poured out their hearts and their souls or spoken of their leading ladies in the highest of terms.

It’s been quite unfortunate that they have told me about their girlfriends or about the one-who-got-away when I first meet them, or over drinks or dinner, when at the time, I’m sure they are available. While that’s sucked –I’ve appreciated the fair warning.

Recently, because I made no rules for this 12-step program, I went on a “date.” It was a very simple meeting in Bryant Park with coffee –that ended up lasting close to four hours. He’s an attractive, successful, and ambitious guy. He’s full of simple humor and his sincerity is evident. He would be a catch in anyone’s terms and of course, he’s a New York native.

The course of our “hanging out” or whatever you would call it, consisted mainly of a discussion of his ex-girlfriend. I don’t know too much about her –but he’s completely in love with her. They had a disagreement which led to the end of their relationship, but in his eyes, she could be The One. She’s someone he could see forever with and he beats himself up over letting her go.

We talked a few hours about what grand gesture he should make to win her heart back –to get this beautiful lady who stole away his life at a banquet nearly a year ago to give him another chance. He talked about her favorite flower, silly-habits that belong just to her, and every woman that walked by who resembled her –his head shot around like he was seeing an angel walk on earth. He asked me for advice, apologized profusely for talking about this when we intentionally had met to see what could be between us, and wore his emotion on his sleeve.

Even just a few weeks ago, this date or hanging out or non-definition-meeting –would have rocked my heart. It would have made me feel bad about how I look and question what I’m worth. I would have gone home choking back tears on the subway and Rite Aid would have had one less box of chocolate on their dollar aisle.

This time, though, I went home hopeful.

And yes, it’s only been a week of my personal therapy, but last night, I was inspired. Hearing him talk about this woman, seeing the sincere pain in his eyes, and the longing still resonating in his face –gave me a glimpse of true love.

It was sad, but it was amazing to know that this kind of love is possible. That a man could love someone so sincerely, so profoundly, that he would fight for her. That he would think over the course of a month exactly what would persuade her to give him the opportunity to prove his love. That while he seems to be a self-confident, secure, and capable adult (who I would think is pretty good at this self-love thing) –was willing to let his heart be stolen away for someone who he considered more than worth the trouble.

I don’t know his ex-girlfriend and I doubt I ever will –but I’m happy for her. Instead of being jealous that someone doesn’t feel this way towards me, I think it’s incredible that they were both lucky enough to love in such a strong way. And, of course, I think it’s very sweet that he’s going to chase after her with a grand gesture (which for the record, will be quite romantic with a few of my suggestions).

I realized that his lack of interest in me had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t pretty enough or intriguing enough to “woo” him into falling in love with me or creating the start of a possibility –it’s just that his heart is elsewhere. His heart isn’t up for grabs and it isn’t open to…well, opening.

And mine isn’t either. It’s not open. It’s not ready for a new relationship. It’s not ready for love. It’s not ready for establishing the foundation of a new romance or even a fling. It’s not the time and I don’t want it to be. I’m Ms. Unavailable.

I’ve been asking God for the last couple of days to help me to start believe it was possible for me to let go of these negative thoughts towards love, and to believe that a power bigger than mine could help erase all of my old habits.

That date was a sign.

It was a symbol that I can believe in a power higher than myself. I can believe that in time, my heart will open again, and I will be loved in a way that’s sincere and everlasting. But now, it’s time for me to concentrate on the love I have for myself. My heart can only be open to loving me right now. It’s not capable of letting someone else in on the relationship.

Facebook would probably define the relationship I’m developing with myself as “complicated” –but I think it’s just starting to grow.  I’m trying to start to believe things can change.

I believe I can do this. And I believe I’ll be helped.

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98 Million Thoughts

Yesterday, a friend forwarded me an email she received that claimed the average adult has approximately 60,000 thoughts in a 24-hour period. Not only is that a striking figure, but the second part of the survey claimed that of those 60,000 thoughts –nearly all of them are the same as the ones we had the day previously.

Now, I’m not sure of the credibility of this survey or how they measured an adult’s thinking processes –but it further solidifies that human beings are a creatures of habit; and when we get stuck on a certain worry or thought…we remain stubborn for quite some time.

I only took one math class in college, and wouldn’t have if it wasn’t required for my degree, but I attempted to come up with a rough estimate of how many thoughts I’ve had about single-life, relationships, and love:

  • Probably started seriously dedicating thoughts to being in love/having crushes/etc. around the age of 13 = 9 years of thoughts
  • 365 days in a year X 9 years = 3,285 days
  • Of those days, I’ll say I dedicated about half of my thoughts to relationships (the other half is probably balanced between NYC, writing, my friends, stopping violence against women, what to wear, reading, school work,  family, etc.) = 30,000 thoughts about love every single day
  • 3,285 days X 30,000 thoughts = 98,550,000 love thoughts

About 98 million thoughts about not being in a relationship, actually being in a relationship, hating myself for being single, being annoyed about love, actually being in love, worrying about getting married, being jealous, and so much more.

98 million thoughts?!! I wonder how many thoughts I’ve had just in the time it’s taken me to write this blog. I wonder how many of these thoughts I’ve said out loud or written for the whole cyber world to see. I wonder if this is normal?

Of all of these thoughts, very few have been encouraging over the last 9 years I’ve been obsessed with love. A selective bunch have been full of optimism and hope for all that’s to come, and even less have been geared towards giving myself positive compliments and encouragement –or telling myself it’s okay to be single and to love myself first.

Step Two, which I officially started yesterday with the flower breakdown, is to believe that a higher power can take away all of my negative thinking towards relationships. That this higher power, in its infinite wisdom and peace, can restore sanity to me and a hopeful spirit.

I’m not sure I believe that yet. I’m not sure I believe my 98 million thoughts can just be lifted and taken away –and I certainly don’t think it’s something that can happen overnight or in a week. Of those 98 million thoughts, not very many have been geared towards thankfulness or prayer. If anything, they’ve been pleading players –full of tears, fears, and ‘Do you hear me?!!!” pleas.

So how do I turn around my 98 million awful thoughts into relaxed, positive, and letting go-thoughts?

How do I make myself believe that something out of my power can restore my power?

How do I do this?

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FedEx Sent a Box of Jealousy

Since deciding I wanted to create a 12-step program to letting go of my negativity towards love and finding the self-love I need –I’ve been in a great mood. I have been buzzing with this positive energy, telling everyone I know about how excited I am, and the support I’ve received from my friends and family has been incredible.

I haven’t been sleeping well because I’m so full of creativity and ambition over this journey and how badly I’ve needed to do it, and the fact that finally, I am. These blogs have literally been flowing out of me –almost like an out-of-body-experience. When I re-read them, it’s like I don’t even remember writing them.

And all those happy thoughts, rainbows, butterflies, and fairy dust that have been keeping me on a “Hope-to-Love-Being-Single Cloud 9” disappeared in a matter of seconds yesterday.

It was a particularly busy day at the magazine because it was the day before going to press. Last minute edits were being made, the edit staff was arguing over commas and pull-quote selections, and the art director was attempting not to lose his cool. As the EA, I sat up front, man the desk, man the process, and smile and nod when needed.

Thanks, FedEX

I was editing pages when my FedEx guy (he always remembers me) walked in, cheerful as always, with a big box that read “Pro Flowers” on it. Immediately, in the mere four seconds it took him to walk from the door to my desk, I racked my mind with who could have possibly sent me flowers: My mom? Would she send me flowers? What about my dad –did he say he was going to do that? What about the guy who came to my birthday party –would he do that? Does he even have my address? What about my ex –is he trying to win me back…again?

The nice FedEx man interrupted my ridiculous questioning and happily said they were for my co-worker, J. Without even thinking, I grumpily replied “Of course they are.” I quickly signed my name and he walked off as my co-worker giddily accepted the flowers waiting by my desk.

All it took was for the realization that flowers weren’t for me –even though I wasn’t expecting flowers –to turn my mood downward. I automatically typed a snarky IM to the co-worker who received the flowers, and then told our general manager about it with a frowny face. My co-worker, E (also a single chick) and I looked at each other and silently said: “Really?” She quickly said, “All I get is e-flowers,” to which I replied, “I don’t even get those!” Then, I started getting annoyed at the fill-in editor and with the art director, and in a huff –I decided I need to get some air.

I marched (literally, stomped) my way to a new food venue (I had a 20 percent off coupon, so why not?) where five very friendly, perky employees greeted me kindly and asked if I could be helped. I snapped at the last one, and when I couldn’t order my Diet Coke to go with my avocado burger –you’d think with my attitude, the whole world was falling apart.

And in a way –it had.

I had been reminded that I was single. That flowers weren’t for me. That there wasn’t a secret admirer who cared about me. That I wasn’t the special one in the office who was on display because their boyfriend publically displayed his love. That all of this blogging maybe wasn’t going as smoothly and easily as I had imagined. That maybe, I was still going to have admit my jealousy and my poor attitude…is a more intense, than even I originally thought.

However, having this experience only strengthened my desire to continue on this journey. I don’t want to feel this way when someone gets flowers. Especially J who has grown to be one of my dearest friends, and who doesn’t boast about their relationship to me (and frankly, has listened to my ridiculous rants since the day we met). I want to be able to be happy for those who have found love, not dangerously jealous. I don’t want my longing for love and dissatisfaction with being single to rule my life.

So here is the last part of step one –I fully, whole-heartedly admit that I have a problem with being single. I admit to being envious of others. I admit to being hateful, sad, and overall just moody when something rubs me the wrong way in terms of love. I admit that I hate being single, but I sincerely do want to learn how to achieve contentment and happiness as a solo-lady.

I admit this process is going to take work and it’s not going to be easy.

And to celebrate moving on to Step 2 “believing a higher power can take away my negative attitude towards love” –I’m buying myself a bouquet of tulips and daisies.

After all –if it’s about self-love, I deserve to show me that I care.