Tag Archives: blogging

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To Love Myself

A week from today, I’ll post my final post on this blog.

I’ve started to scroll through the archives, reading the first couple of blogs and noting my progress throughout. I’ve noticed where I’ve been sloppy and lazy with not only my writing but the concepts, and some entries are so deep and intense, I don’t even remember writing them. It’s interesting to have a year of my life chronicled on these pages. All of the vulnerability and honesty I’ve felt over the last 365 days, along with some remnants from the past, remind me of all that I’ve been through and how thankful I am to be where I am now.

My birthday is on Friday (guess how old? Anyone?) and I’m finding it difficult to comprehend the 12 months I just experienced. So much has happened and it all went by so fast. I’m not quite where I thought I’d be. I’m actually in such a brighter, happier and more stable position than I could have imagined.

When I started this blog, I didn’t have many friends at all — now I’m so thankful to count many wonderful New Yorkers and transplants as my confidants. When I started this blog, I lived in a miniature room posing as an apartment, where I shared a communal bath with two people — now I live in a lovely four-bedroom with three fabulous roommates and one adorable kitten. When I started this blog, I worked at a business magazine that wasn’t my style — and now I work for NBC, though I won’t reveal which of its properties. When I started this blog, I was happy to be in this city but I hadn’t found my way yet and I didn’t feel like I belonged — now, I know it’s home because it feels like it. When I started this blog, I had just met Mr. Unavailable — now he’s somewhere between Mr. Possibility and returning back to Mr. Unavailable.

When I started this blog, I despised the single life — now I find myself longing for it. When I started this blog, I could count more insecurities than qualities I loved about myself — now I’m confident in who I am, just the way I am.

I don’t know if the 12-steps work, necessarily. I based them off of AA’s program and since I’m not a real “love addict”, I can’t speak for what it really is like to overcome a sincere addiction to relationships. I also have to admit that I didn’t follow too closely to the steps, I just went about them haphazardly, moving onto the next step when it felt right, not by any certain number of days or by checking off growth on a mental checklist. I didn’t do everything I set out to do but I did follow my heart, and I though I waited a while to reveal certain things, I tried to be honest about everything with readers, with my friends, and with myself.

It certainly wasn’t easy.

Writing everyday not only cramped my plans and my style, but it forced me to dig deep into parts of my past and my present that I wasn’t ready to face. I made a commitment to post daily and I had to keep it, no matter what life sprung on me or how much haters wanted to hate. I didn’t allow their opinions to get to me and I stomached my own opinions of myself, no matter how difficult it was to face my own music. I told my story how I saw it, complete with run-on sentences and constant contradictions. I’m not perfect, neither is my writing or my skin, but I’m confident in what I have to offer. And finally, after putting up with lack-luster love, Ialso  know what kind of romance I deserve.

And now, I won’t settle for less. A year ago, I may have stayed in a relationship just for the comfort. I may have continued dating and texting someone just to be entertained, just to have a body to lay next to me. But the space doesn’t need to be filled anymore, by Mr. Possibility or any man, because I actually feel just as secure without it. And if I have to swallow my heart and silence my thoughts to be someone’s girlfriend, I’d rather speak my mind to all who will listen and save that love for someone who can handle it. There are plenty of women who have always felt that way — but it took many prayers and paragraphs for me to reach that peace.

I still find lonely nights, though. I’m still in the middle of preparing myself for a heartache I think we all know will inevitably come. I still have ugly days and fat days, I still don’t always notice all the beauty I have to offer this world. I miss North Carolina sometimes, or at least it’s low prices and simple quietness. I still wonder if it’s in my cards to have a great love and if I’ll be one of the lucky ones who drinks lemonade while swaying in a rocking chair on a wraparound porch with my husband of 50 years. I still tuck away love quotes and photos, and when I’m feeling really down, I browse wedding blogs, torturing myself with visions of wedded bliss.

But now, it doesn’t upset me. It doesn’t break my heart. It doesn’t make me gravel at the base of heaven, begging for a partner so I can feel complete. It isn’t a desperate longing, it’s just a longing. A little voice that reminds me of what I hope for, a padded warmth in my heart that keeps me believing that if I never give up, I’ll find some schmuck who will love me to the ends of the Earth.

I’ll miss writing this blog every day, but part of me will be relieved too. I won’t think in terms of blogging anymore. My thoughts will just be my own, my experiences just adventures, not meant to be written into tangled sentences for the world to read. I’ll revel in the privacy that comes with invisibility, though I’m sure I’ll miss the feedback that always enlightens me. Maybe I’ll take a vacation from blogging but I won’t be gone forever — I’ll come up with something new, something that’ll keep me spirited and fulfilled. I’ll share some other piece of myself, of my viewpoints with the web again.

There really is no end to journeys, not even this one. The 12 steps will pass and the blog will end, but I’ll work every single day, married or single, happily in love or bitterly resentful, with or without children, in Manhattan or out of it, to be the person I want to be. I’ve accepted I’ll never be satisfied, I know happiness is always something you work for, not something that remains forever.

But I’m okay with that. I’d rather work toward the sweetness of happiness than to remain still and stagnant. I’d rather believe in love with all I have then to give up on it. It’s just now I know you don’t have to have love to be happy, and that just because you have love, it doesn’t mean you are happy. They both come and go, but if I work at it, I can always be happy and always have love all at the same time.

Because to love myself…is to be happy.

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If in Doubt, You’re Amazing

Since my focus is certainly elsewhere today, I thought it would be a good time to share some of the kindness that’s come my way because of this blog. Feeling the year-mark quickly approaching, I know I’m not the only one who has spent the last 12 months working hard to love themselves. How can I be sure?

Because you’ve all told me.

I’m so glad and thankful that my long-lost friends and readers feel comfortable sharing their stories with me, along with their struggles and their successes. While this blog started out to be for me, it quickly turned into an outlet for so many women (and men!) around the world who battle feelings of self-worth and the constant yearn for life-altering love. Nah, we’re not technically love addicts, but we are all rather normal. It’s natural to want the things we do, but hopefully through this space and through working out your own troubles in your own way, you’ve been able to find that inner peace that I have.

I won’t list them all but here a few of the messages I’ve received that brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for the encouragement and I’m so proud of each of you. I hope long after this blog is over, you’ll remember how wonderful, special, and beautiful you are. And please, don’t ever let the relationship you have with yourself take low priority. Without loving yourself, you’ll never be loved or love in a way that’s healthy. It’s a life-long journey, a relationship you should always work to nurture and mature. But if you’re ever in doubt about how great you are, just remember there is someone out there who already thinks you are amazing. Thanks for making me feel that way this whole year!

” I’ve been keeping up with your blog, and I have to say that it really has been helping me out. I went through a very, very, hard breakup at the end of the summer and although I’m still struggling with some aspects of the relationship, I can see it was for the best. I finally feel FREE to do what I want to do. I have no ties, and for the first time, I can truly concentrate on what I am supposed to do with my life and figure out who I am and what my purpose is in this big old world. So really, I want to thank you – your blog came around at just the right time.”

“Today is my anniversary with myself. The past year has been one more rollercoaster ride. The day I moved to Anonymous Town my car broke down, I didn’t know anyone here, so I had to rely on myself and the kindness of strangers. I’ve had to find a job, twice. Successfully made it through a year of grad school. I’ve laughed, cried, and been through every emotion possible…BUT I did it!!! You started writing your blog about the same time I moved to Anonymous Town, and you truly were an inspiration to me. I was really struggling at first, and you helped motivate me to discover my city and find peace with myself. It’s been a year later and I couldn’t be happier. So in honor of my anniversary, I bought myself a massage (thank you Groupon) and a bottle of wine. I plan on celebrating my independence, hardships, successes, and the person I’ve become.”

” I know it’s been a while, but I really just wanted to let you know how much I LOVE your writing! I find myself constantly reading your blog & just wanted to drop a line to let you know how much of a blessing it is in my life!”

“I was going to check my own blog today when I stumbled across yours and was blown away. I couldn’t help but start to go back and read past blog posts because your insights and honesty is astounding. And I think there’s a reason I came across your blog today because I’ve been struggling to love myself recently and have discovered that my life is suffering in every way because of it. So, thank you. Thank you for putting it out there that it not only is OK to be single, but it can be great too. And that loving myself is where I can truly find happiness.”

“I really identified with your blog today. It came to me at a time which I think is rather appropriate: fresh college grad, newly single (that’s false, it’s been nine months), traveling the world and doing some quick n’ dirty soul searching. My dating story closely mirrors yours in the sense that I become someone else when I date…always unsure of myself…never wanting to offend…sickeningly sweet…that constant desire to be his (whoever HE is at that moment in time) something perfect. And the scary thing is this: I’m a really good pretender. I never know if I’m happy or not until the epic fail of a relationship, then I can look back at all the broken pieces and say, “Oh yeah, hey, I’ve been pretty miserable lately…huh…”One thing I’m certain of is my decision to be single right now! I think so anyway…”

“Thanks for sharing your story. It’s funny, I read the entry where you mention the “Language of Letting Go” and happened upon the site for its daily thought. It was EXACTLY what I needed to hear on the day I needed to hear it. I’m buying the book today and hope it will inspire me to love myself and stop stressing over men who weren’t THE ONE. So thank you…and I’m not quite sure where I land on the fate question, but sometimes you find what you need when you aren’t expecting it.”

“Lindsay! I just found your blog the day it was on the wordpress homepage, started reading and was immediately hooked! I subscribed so now I eagerly look forward to the candy-like email each day you post! You’re slowly saving my life, I think, for I too, am a single, self conscious, sometimes confused, frustrated, etc etc girl, wrestling with many of the same issues you seem to be conquering and giving me hope to face. So, from your newest biggest fan, I thank you for being courageous, and for choosing to share it with people like me who need it!”

“I recently went through like the 5th breakup of a very tumultuous relationship and your blog has inspired me to start writing out my feelings better and try to see the siilver lining of everything. ”

“I came across the site on the WordPress dashboard a few weeks ago and have been following along for awhile.  Just wanted to drop you a note to let you know I enjoy the site and admire what you’re doing, especially in terms of synchronizing a bunch of different media. Also, I do enjoy reading the blog from a guy’s perspective.  It’s always easy to get caught up in worrying about the way our side of the equation works without considering how the fairer gender sees them. ”

“I love your blog, I read it everyday. It is exactly what I needed at this point in my life! I am on the same boat as you… glad someone can write about it!”

“I wanted to let you know what I think. I came across your blog on, the holiest of holy, facebook and decided to venture through it. I think what you are doing for women is amazing because there are many out there who have the same addiction as you but refuse to realize what it is doing to their lives. I am not here to preach that every man is a good one because I am the biggest skeptic of men than any girl I have ever met. Reading through your blog it came to me that many men out there also suffer from this addiction. They can not come out and say it because that would make them feel like less of a man, in societies outlook. I believe you will help thousands with what you are doing but I also believe that you can help men as well.”

” Somehow you manage to portray the feelings of every single girl I know at the same time regardless of how different our outlooks on life and relationships are. I heard about your blog from a friend who thought it would help me get over a recent break-up and have since shared it’s wonder with several friends in different stages of life and love.  We all find comfort in your words and, like you, feel we aren’t alone in our journey to self-love when reading your posts. So, even though you don’t know me and probably never will; I wanted to say thanks for somehow finding a way to put my thoughts and emotions in print when I don’t even know what I’m feeling!”

“A few of my friends recently introduced me to your blog. It is so wonderful and I love the new posts each day.  Although I’m from the Midwest I hope of making it to the city one day soon as I have always dreamed of living there. Your posts are inspiring and insightful and pretty much what I think about most of your topics.”

PS: Have a question for me? Want to know anything about my life/advice from my adventures in dating? Before September 19, I’ll publish a post answering all of your questions. Email me, Tweet me, Tumble me, or Facebook me. Or you can comment below!

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With a Month Left to Go

Eleven months ago today, I started this blog in the cafe of a local grocery store with my legs laid across the chairs, glancing down at my tattered heels as I typed. It was one of those evenings where I was particularly filled with ambition and yearning for a big change in my life. More than any drive though, I was ashamed of myself.

The night before (which happened to be the day after my birthday party), I curled up in the fetal  position of an old Victorian tub, crying my eyes out in hysteria, making demands instead of prayers toward God, and attempting to avoid the scary mold on the shower curtain. I was so distraught because I was so incredibly, pathetically, longingly, ridiculously single.

The months before, I had signed up for OkCupid and PlentyofFish – resulting in plenty of “ok” dates that never turned into anything. I had yet to have sex in New York (I know, sad) after living here for quite some time, and though my friend base existed, I didn’t feel like I had developed any strong connections. I had a job that I liked fine, I was meeting rent, I was living in Manhattan and not in a borough, as I had wanted – and yet something felt like it was missing. I was convinced that I needed a boyfriend to fill that space. Someone to come home, someone to call when I wobbled back to the train on a Saturday night, someone to snuggle up to and kiss, someone to make love to, someone to love me, someone to complete that silly little void I couldn’t shake.

But I didn’t have that, I thought, feeling the hot water pound my stomach. I winced at the thought of being alone, of becoming one of those bitter cat ladies who lived with bookshelf-lined walls in rent-controlled apartments in the West Village, reading about romances they will never have. I was terrified that my looks would go before I could snag a husband, that I wouldn’t be attractive in my wedding dress, but wrinkly instead. That the New York love story I had always wanted was a far-fetched fantasy that wouldn’t come true, unlike every other dream I had for this damn city.

I had already moved to chase what I wanted and so many had hoped I would fail, so many condemned me for just being who I am – but I had made it. I had a foundation and I could walk on it, though as much as I thought I wanted to walk  alone, I was now determined not to. Crying it seemed, felt better than trying. I didn’t want to go out there and date anymore. I didn’t want to shoot arrows on OkCupid or go fishing on PlentyofFish. I didn’t want my nights out with the girls to translate into flirting until some poor chump was suckered into buying us drinks for the rest of the evening. I didn’t want to play the texting game or to act like I was going home with someone when I knew from the beginning I had no intention to. I was looking and searching the faces of strangers, wondering if they would become a lover that would ultimately turn right back into a stranger when the love affair failed.

Because they always do, don’t they?

Wallowing in this self-pity mess, though, I looked down at my naked body and felt the naked emotion running down my cheeks. What was I doing? What was wrong with me? What do I have to complain about? I’m not going to walk the runways, I thought, but I’m attractive. I’m not going to cure cancer, but I have gifts and I’m smart, but most of all I’m brave enough to go after what I want. I’m not perfect, but I accept my flaws. I don’t live in the part of town I want to, but I have faith that I will. Working at a business magazine isn’t my dream job, but I’ll get there, won’t I? I may not have a very best friend, but I have support. I may not be in love, but won’t I be, one day?

And just like that, it clicked. It was time for a change. It was time for me to stop worrying about love and to start living my life. Time to start building it into what I wanted it to be instead of waiting for a pseudo-Prince Charming to rescue me from an existence that was frankly already pretty magical.

So I picked myself up out of the tub, threw on makeup and clothes, and headed to click “Publish” for the first time on this blog. I wanted to really love myself, really define myself, really just be myself without worrying about a man or a lack of one. I never dreamed my decision to create and follow at 12-step program by writing daily for a year would give me what it has. I was shocked to find my blog on the homepage of WordPress, for it to produce dozens of Internet/blog friends from all over the world, to meet a close friend because she figured out the identity of one of the Mr’s. I didn’t expect for its pages to be attacked by an ex-lover and her friends of Mr. Possibility or for friends I haven’t talked to in years to come out of the woodwork to say they relate to what I write, regardless of how old they are, where they are, or what they do.

But all of those things happened and so much more, and now that there is only a month left to go, I’m in awe of what’s changed in the past year. I start my dream job on Monday, I have a beautiful, wonderful best friend who gets me so well, I live in an apartment that I adore and I may even move downtown within the next 12 months, I did have sex and I did fall in love in New York….and I never gave up on writing these posts. No matter the circumstance or what stress was going on in my life, I found a way to come up with something. I was honest and open with myself, my friends, my readers. I believed in the 12 steps and in myself, but did they work?

Time will only tell, but I’ve learned to accept my flaws and my shortcomings, to admit my strong points even if they aren’t deemed significant in the eyes of others. I’m learning how to continuously stand up for myself in relationships and how to walk away before too much damage is done or bridges are burned. I’ve decided that I’d rather be a 37-year-old bride who marries the right man instead of a 27-year-old bride who rushes down the aisle because she’s afraid she won’t find better. I know that if given the choice today to meet the man I’d marry or have my career be booming and fulfilling for the next five years, I’d pick the career over and over. And now, I know that’s not such a bad thing – there is plenty of time for everything we want to have, there’s no deadline for love, there’s no trick to this most-confusing thing called life.

You just have to live it.

And if something or someone asks you to sacrifice parts of yourself for their happiness or for something to work, then you have to have the courage to choose yourself. To love yourself and have faith in the life you know is destined for you instead of hanging onto the notion that something or someone could change. The 12-steps don’t fix obsessive thoughts or an addiction to love – I still have crazy ramblings, and of course, I still want to find that once-in-a-lifetime love.

But it’s not the most important part of me anymore. It’s just a piece of what makes me me, not the end-all-be-all or the start of my happily ever after. For the first time, I’m truly happy with where I am and that’s not dependent on any man or any fairytale I wish to have. It’s merely dependent on me.

With a month left to go, on the 11th step, I’ll be sad to see this blog end, but I sure am thankful for that depressing night in that disgusting tub that made me see the light and take a chance on loving myself.

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You Look Perfect

Last week, I had an important meeting that had my nerves on fire. Not to mention, I was literally on fire because of the relentless heat in New York lately – I’ve never been more thankful for unexpected rain before. Even if my hair goes flat and frizzy, God bless the downpour and let it flood.

Escaping the burning pavement into one of my favorite buildings in New York that also happens to be one of the greenest, I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves. This meeting could change my life and here it was, getting ready to begin regardless if I had sweat beads trickling down my back or not. I checked in with security, giving my best shot at a grin that hid my nerves, headed up the escalator to reach the elevators that moved so quickly up 40 floors that it made my stomach leap.

Nodding at the elevator attendant who pushed the numbers for me and led me to the cart that would take me up to my could-be future, I entered the doors without acknowledging the man who was sharing the ride with me. As I always do when I’m face-to-face with a mirror, I straightened my hair and attempted to graciously wipe the sweat from my brow without messing up my interview-ready makeup. Playing the part of a girl at a bar mirror, I did a 360, only to notice my tag was untucked. Mouthing the word “s**t” to silently to myself, I tried to carefully conceal it without appearing to ridiculous to this man standing near me. I had avoided eye contact out of embarrassment and because I wasn’t sure if he thought I was some crazy girl fidgeting on an elevator that houses some of the most influential players in publishing.

I didn’t realize, of course, that he happened to be one of them.

As I awkwardly reached across my back, contorting my body to perfect my outfit, I was caught off guard in mid-tuck when this man said, “You look perfect.” Surprised and instantly curling my lips to form a smile, I realized who it was at the same moment he realized who I was. Out of shock, I said his name and thanked him for the compliment while he wished me luck. I would later email him to describe how great it was to run into him before this meeting and he would respond by saying he hoped to see more of me and that my meeting went smoothly.

It did and you know what, I didn’t look perfect.

I didn’t say the perfect things. I didn’t read off a script. I didn’t have the best experience, the best clips, the best anything. I didn’t go to the best journalism school, I didn’t have the most solid background that a journalist of my age and tiny tenure could have. My dress wasn’t expensive and in fact, I didn’t even own it – it belonged to my friend M who thought it looked great on me and encouraged me to take it out for a spin and for some luck. My shoes were a little too big and my face wasn’t as perfectly clear as the models who grace the magazine I hoped to write for.

But I did a great job and more importantly, I was myself. And that’s the best anyone can ever be. If I spent less time worrying about how I looked or if I was saying the right thing or if I was putting on the best show or writing the most diverse articles or being the most creative, and just relaxed – then maybe I’d feel more at ease. Maybe if I could look at myself and say, “You look perfect” instead of criticizing all the ways I didn’t measure up, I’d find that sense of simple confidence that is so attractive, so employable.

Maybe if I looked at myself through the eyes of a stranger instead of the my own eyes, I’d see how perfect I really am…in my own imperfect way.

Daily Gratitude: Today I’m thankful for my friends who encouraged patience the last few months, it finally paid off!

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The Six-Month Mark

My first date with Mr. Idea lasted nearly 24-hours, only interrupted by my hostessing shift at some wannabe-ritzy restaurant in North Carolina. We met for brunch and then stayed up all night talking, watching movies, and getting to know one another. My first date with Mr. Fire was similar, lunch shifted into cooking dinner, which moved to drinks and a very passionate first kiss. Mr. Fling and Mr. Disappear were all alike – I was smitten and convinced within seconds of chatting away.

After each of these dates, I excitedly called my mom, spilling the details and reading off his resume to convince her of this guy’s potential. She listened while repeating, “that’s great” and “how sweet” when the conversation permitted her to speak. And at the end of each monologue while I was still consumed with the splendor of a date-gone-well, I would ask: “So mom, what do you think?”

Cautious of giving me advice because she knows how strongly I take her opinion to heart, her answer has always been the same: “He sounds great and I’m glad you’re happy, but remember, you won’t see someone’s true colors for six months.”

Oh, mothers. Don’t you hate when they’re always right?

Mr. Fire and I almost made it to six months, Mr. Idea and I broke up right around six months, and the ones that lasted longer than half a year, probably shouldn’t have. Because of this, I’ve always feared the six-month mark in a relationship – it feels like the make-it or break-it point where the relationship will either continue healthily or fall to pieces.

And here Mr. Possibility and I are, flirting with the half-year mark, though we’ve known each other almost as long as I’ve been writing this blog. Our relationship has had its fair share of ups and downs and it’s required both of us to compromise to meet each other’s needs. We’ve traveled distances by car and by plane, lived together for a few weeks in between leases, and weathered the storms of the past while hoping for a future. We’ve had to spend time apart to learn how to miss one another, we’ve had to fight to learn how to accept our flaws, and we’ve had to grow as people so we could grow as a couple. While our story is probably more tangled and complicated than most relationships, I think what makes us connect is stronger than what’s connected me to men I’ve loved before.

Because with Mr. P, it was the first time I took things really slow.

I didn’t call my mom after our first date because I wasn’t sure if I was interested in him. I didn’t swoon over him, even though I fell in front of him on that silly bus. Partly because my focus was on myself because of this blog and partly because I just was exhausted of looking for love, when we crossed paths, I didn’t picture what tomorrow could be. Instead, for the very first time, I enjoyed getting to know him without placing any pressure on anything. Neither of us had any expectations and so when things worked out, when things progressed, when we became an item instead of just dating, we were happily surprised.

So maybe the six-month indication of success or failure doesn’t apply to this relationship. Maybe it does – I’m not sure. But for me, I didn’t need to hang around for half-a-year to figure out what Mr. P’s true colors were because I saw them way before I became his girlfriend, way before we kissed for the first time. I fell for his friendship, not for my own romantic ideas of a future that’s yet to be determined.

For now,he and I, and us, is still a possibility.

Daily Gratitude: Today, I’m thankful for a stellar Sunday morning with French toast, bacon, coffee, and orange juice.