Tag Archives: writing

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The Here-And-Now

I’ve only been a self-proclaimed love addict for just-shy of two months now. But as I said at the beginning, I’ve been battling with these constant thoughts and fears of “being single forever” and “not being good enough” and “men just don’t fall in love with me” for a very long time. Basically, my entire adult (ehh…and teen?) life.

I can think back to times in college (and even post-grad in some deeply-obsessive moments) when I would literally force myself not to look at my phone for allotted amounts of time. Because somehow, if I didn’t actually glance at my cell phone for say, 10 minutes, the Mr of the Week would text me back in a more timely fashion (instead of hours later or if at all). And then once he would text, I would make sure to double the amount of time it took him to respond…so I would seem aloof and unavailable. Because men want that, right?

Even if in reality, I was nervously twitching on my couch, eating chocolate pudding, and distracting myself painting my fingernails, and analyzing any possible hidden meaning between the two lines in his latest text. And if it I so desired, forwarding the text to my dearest (and supportive) friends to see if they deciphered something I didn’t.

Now, since this recovery journey started, I haven’t exactly met someone I could actually see myself with (other than Mr. Unavailable, but we all know how that story goes) – so I haven’t tested my reaction to texting conversations. However, a few changes in my habits and perceptions have noticeably changed:

Literally Busy (Not Faking It)

If I was to meet a new Mr and I did happen to swoon over him – I’m not quite sure where I would fit him into my life. And really, those longing romantic notions that I have always had, have tapered away a bit…maybe because I haven’t had the time to nourish them. In between working 40 plus hours a week at the business magazine, managing big dream-promoter, ChickSpeak, writing this blog, running daily, and attempting to have a social life –I find myself thinking sometimes: Now, why was I so obsessed with a boyfriend?

There’s no way I could fit a serious, committed relationship into this schedule – and really, I’m getting to a point where I’m almost (dare I say it?) happy to be single! I still have days when I want to cuddle or sneak a kiss or be paid a compliment – but I really feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And for once, I’m okay with it.

Being More at Peace

I’ve never been one to think in the here-and-the-now, probably due to what I call “hyper-ambition” – but recently, I’ve noticed a shift in my thought processes. I tend to look at things with more of a practical perspective instead of an emotional one.

For example, last week I was in fact expecting a text message from Mr. Unavailable, and even though he’s not someone I want to date, he was taking longer than usual, and a little voice inside my head pleaded: “But what if you never hear from him again, then what? That would be the most awful thing on the entire planet. What would you do?” In the past, when these pestering worries would come up, I’d play into them and sincerely freak myself out. But this time, I thought, “Well, I’d be fine. I’ll still go to work tomorrow and get to have that fun girl’s night out next week. Oh, and I have that event to look forward to.” I’m learning to throw away the negativity and the obsession and turn it into optimism and reality. And in return, I’m getting out of my head and feeling more at peace with my life and myself.

Freeing from Frustrations

Of all of the things chasing a dream by myself has taught me, the most important one has been to enjoy my own company. While I never feel alone in the city (because it keeps me company just by being so alive and inviting), there are many evenings and days that I spend alone. And honestly, some of those moments are my favorite. Exploring the town is fun with a pal, but you notice more when you’re just with yourself. And instead of wishin’ and hopin’ that my hand was being held by a man, I’ve grown to enjoy it being held by a Macy’s bag or a hot apple cider, instead.

However, not putting pressure on myself to “meet someone” or “flirt with a dude” or “go out for the sake of romantic possibility” has allowed me to just…relax. I’m not afraid to spend an evening just dancing and not have one single dude buy me a drink. I’m learning not to look at a guy in some bar in some area on some (or every) night, lusting at the thought that he could be my Mr. Right. Currently, the best nights I have are spent laughing away, cherishing my youth, and if a man happens to walk in and shake up evening –then be it.

If not, I’m still ridiculously thankful to be right here, right now, just me…and the me I’m becoming. My, oh my, what’s next?

 

 

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Star Light, Star Bright, First Wish I Make For Me Tonight

If you visit New York City, you will find several things: buildings that reach the clouds, people from every country on the planet (and in all stages of life), hidden gems that no tourist guide should ever get a hold of, and the next big thing on every corner.

You will also find love in the simple places and if you’re lucky, you’ll catch yourself wanting to take a picture of the city you’re buzzing around with – just so you can capture that feeling, that energy in something you can take back to your own zip code.

But no matter how many pictures you take, views you see, or places you scout out –one thing you won’t find in the city of dreamers are stars. Much, anyways. And as a gal who was raised in the south and spent many-a-nights laying in her backyard watching the stars compete in quantity with the fireflies – it just may be the one thing I miss about living in North Carolina.

I’ve seen the stars twice since I’ve lived in the city. The first time, in Columbus Circle, Mr. Unavailable was quick to tell me they were probably just planes. I glared at him and matter-of-factly responded with: Maybe you’re just a jaded New Yorker, hmm?

But last night as I was walking from the train to the gym, iPod on shuffle, 3-inch stilettos on foot, I saw a star. I looked around to see if there were any other stars showing their face and waited a second to see if it moved (I guess it could be from LaGuardia). But no, it was not only an actual star and the brightest star, but it was the first star of the night. (If it wasn’t, I’m pretending it was, anyway.)

Without hesitation, I closed my eyes and made a wish, smiled, and kept walking –just like I always have. It didn’t occur to me until I was on mile two at the gym that I had made my very first wish on a star that was a desire that had nothing to do with a man. And even better, I made this wish even though Michael Buble’s “Just Haven’t Met You Yet” happened to come on just as I saw the star.

Sure, I’ve wished to move to New York and to be a writer, but it was always coupled with another plea: find me a man or make me fall in love! I’ve even gone as far as giving stars deadlines when they should have this perfect person to me, and while I adore stars, they wouldn’t make great freelance writers because they’ve never met this time limit.

But last night, surrounded by the buildings I see daily, I made a wish that wasn’t about falling in love. Had nothing to do with romantic notions or happily ever afters or getting hitched or having babies. No part of my wish was about kissing in the rain or walks through Central Park.

Although I can’t give it exactly away (it wouldn’t come true!), the wish was for something that came from true bliss, complete happiness, and incredible personal contentment. For the desire to have something that comes from a place of thankfulness and bloom of sincere peace.

I don’t believe my over 20 years worth of making wishes on the first star I saw were wasted on men, nor would I go back and change my words – but there is something gratifying about making a wish independently.

And really, that’s what this whole journey is about. In so many ways, single women get lost in the instability and the uncertainty that comes with being a minus-one. We stand guard by our phones and put ourselves out there and we read every self-help book imaginable to try and figure out “what we’re doing poorly” or “how to attract the man we want” or “the way to lose ten pounds and get a husband in a year”. But in reality, there isn’t anything wrong with us, nor is there anything bad about desiring a remarkable love and person to share our lives with.

It’s not about how we look or what we say at a bar or how long we wait between the first email and the response – it’s about the feelings we have towards ourselves. If we love who we are, if we believe in what we have to offer, and if we trust that we really can’t screw up what’s meant to be (because, we’ve tried, right?) – the rest of it just falls into place.

Does this mean I’ll stop making wishes? No. It just means that if I’m always wishing for the same dream (or the same man) – maybe it’s time to take a risk and wish for something that’s just about me.

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How To Measure the Return on Love

When I moved to New York, jobless, with my entire life packed into two suitcases – I never doubted my ability to break into publishing. Sure, I knew it wasn’t going to be a walk-in-the-park and my first job wouldn’t be my big break or my dream magazine –but something inside of me said: “Just go, it’ll all work out.”

Fast forward three weeks after my plane touched ground and I find myself jumping-up-and-down frantically while accepting my first Editorial Assistant position at a… business magazine.

My first day on the job, my wonderful editor, D (whom I admire so much!) assigned me a few articles and told me to get started. As I sat down and started to read the results from a survey I would be writing about – I realized: I have no idea what any of this means.

My background is in women’s interest which has included everything from women’s rights and fashion to sex and beauty. I never took one business class in college and truth-be-told, hardly read any business articles until I accepted this job.

When my first article came back, bleeding in red markups, my editor asked questions like: “How much was the investment?” and “Where did they focus their marketing efforts and how did they reel in the ideal customer in their industry?” and finally, “Well, what is their ROI?” ROI is one of the many ways to measure the success of a business.

Although it may make me look like a total idiot, I quickly Googled “ROI” and figured out it meant “Return on Investment” which is usually expressed in a percentage based on total costs balanced with revenues. Basically, it’s asking: I pumped all of this money into this idea or this business or this marketing strategy, and I got what in return?

But what about return in love? We invest so much of our thoughts, our time, our hearts, our minds, and our bodies into a relationship or almost–relationship, risking the possibility of being totally let down or heart broken, and what do we get in exchange?

How do you measure ROL (Return on Love)?

Though relationships should be pretty evenly balanced, unavoidably, there tends to be someone who gives more than they take. The same is true in platonic friendships, in the working environment, and when it’s all in the family. My role, both as the giver and the taker, has changed in every relationship I’ve been in – but if I’m honest with myself about what role I play most of the time –it’s the giver. While Mr. Faithful put way more into the relationship than I ever did, with Mr. Curls, Mr. Fire, Mr. Fling, Mr. Buddy, Mr. Rebound, and Mr. Idea – I was the one left upset or burned by the ending of the relationship.

So really, the older I’ve become, the more I’ve given – which has resulted in more hardship. Does this mean my ROL has been low? Have I placed much more of my heart and my time into relationships, than I’ve received in return?

I can’t say that choosing the role between the lender or the borrower can predict what someone’s return will be when they take the chance at falling in love. But what you can measure is how you handle yourself when it’s time to calculate the risk you took.

Sure we get disappointed and we feel that awful sting of resentment and of heartache when a relationship comes to a close that’s not on our terms. And yes, we reserve the right to mourn the loss of the end of a chapter, a dent in our hearts (and pride), and the sadness that comes with realizing what we thought would be, will not.

We’re meant to fall in love and fall out of it. We’re meant to be bruised and broken down at times – that is part of life, and that is human nature. Those personal sized Ben & Jerry’s cartons, Nicholas Sparks books and movies, and Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” are successful for a reason. We all feel those rushes of ups and downs, highs and lows, and beliefs and denials – it’s how we process and how we cope.

But it’s after those days of exhaustion and of crying, of hating and of chasing “what-ifs” away – that we learn how much we truly learned. And if we can take some piece of clarity about what we want and how we’ve grown from the investment we put into a relationship, then I believe our ROL is quite high. If we can see the conclusion of a relationship as not the end-all-be-all, but instead the first day of the rest of our lives – then anything we’ve invested or planned for or put into love, goes straight back to us. In that way, we take back our control and our power, instead of giving it away to the person who left us broken.

Every person that has filtered through our hearts, lives, and legs has been there to show us something. I’m under the belief that fate has a magic hand in everything and when a relationship ends, it opens the door to something more incredible, more powerful, and more everlasting: the opportunity to redefine yourself. To fall in love with yourself again and remember who you are, outside of the icky relationship residue you’ve been swimming in. To pick up the pieces, collect your debts, count your losses, and figure out how you’re going to boost up the return in the next quarter. Just like you have to pump some sort of funds into a business to make it grow, to become a better-you, and more lovingly-profitable in a relationship, you have to go through several good and bad quarters before you find your traction.

Because single women (and men) are much like the entrepreneurs I write about – when they fail or hit a rough spot or lose their hope, they bounce back with a fierce diligence…that ultimately, that hope and passion – leads to their success.

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Trail Blazing

It’s easy, it’s natural, and it’s captivatingly simple to me. It comes without any trouble, without any worries, and without any fears or complications. It gives as much as it takes and it can make me feel better in an instant. It is part of what defines me and what makes me get up each and every single morning.

Writing.

Regardless if it’s an article, this blog, freelancing, or Tumbling – I know I was put on this planet to be a writer. Yes, of course, everyone in New York is a writer of sorts, but I truly believe I was given the gift of being a word craftswoman and that it’ll take me wherever I want to go. And I also know I have the ability to write as I do so I can help others with their struggles, their thoughts, and their daily lives.

Recently, I met with an editor at a magazine who is in charge of a networking group I’m part of. We met to discuss my career, taking a leadership role in the group, and advice about moving forward. Not only did she compliment me and tell me she knew I’d go far and that my ambition was admirable – but hearing about her accomplishments and witnessing her career…gave me a surge of energy.

While I’ve always had confidence in my career and in the steps I’m taking to be successful, having someone else validate you gives you that extra kick ya need. And that feeling – that kick, the ecstatic feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes your heart swell…is incomparable.

As I left her office and got on the elevator, it took every ounce of maturity in me to not jump up and down the hallway. And when I was on the streets, I practically was skipping and my smile was as wide as the Grand Central Terminal I was entering.

That feeling when you know you’re doing exactly what you’re meant to do, in the place you want to do it, at the time you’re supposed to do it…wow. When I see my byline in print or online, when I get a check for freelancing, when I get fan mail from this blog, the joy that intensifies in my soul is more powerful than any feeling a man has ever given me.

That happiness, that beautiful, irreplaceable confidence in myself, my career, and my ability to achieve makes me realize how important writing really is to me. No matter who I meet or who I marry or who I fall in love with – they will never be able to give me this energy or this joy.

Because that joy, that perfectly-aligned with your soul feeling – comes from a place they’ll never reach. And I wouldn’t want them to. This happiness, this immense pleasure is just for me and for the hard work I put into being who I know I’m meant to be, and helping those I know I need to serve.

I feel like I’m at the brink of something incredible. I’m learning to love myself, be confidently single, and I’m advancing myself to the next level I want to be at in my career. Something is brewing in the atmosphere and something even more amazing is brewing inside of me.

I sincerely feel like I’m on fire and wherever I go next will light up all around me, illuminating a path for others to follow. This passionate flame that burns so intensely inside of me cannot and will not be extinguished because it’s been there forever – without faltering when anyone comes in and out of my line of fire.

Watch out, world – I’m blazing a new trail, and I’m taking this spark with me to the next adventure. And…I’m doing it all by myself.

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The Start of Happily Ever After

Saturday was the most perfect New York morning.

I woke up after a night of intriguing dreams, pulled back my curtains, and watched the trees outside my window dance in the wind. I think it’s ironic that the apartment I found in the city gives me a tiny reminder of where I came from with my window facing the “backyards” of the buildings around me.

I crawled out of bed, put on my mini-robe, and checked the slew of social media sites that keep my occupied: Facebook, Twitter, Gmail, and of course this blog. I woke up to find two encouraging Facebook messages, one from an old friend and then another a new one. Of course, that’s a wonderful way to start any day – to know you’re helping other people, and something that’s dear to you is special to someone else. It is one of my favorite things about being a writer.

As an avid gym rat, I got dressed and stretched while listening to my iTunes  – casually dancing along if I so felt inclined. On the way to the gym, I caught up with one of my best friends, N (who tells me if there are errors in this blog, so thank her!) and then ran three miles.

Walking back to my apartment, iced coffee in hand, the chilly Fall air blowing against me – I realized something so sincere and so true and so pure that I could feel it to my core:

I’m happy.

Maybe that sounds ridiculous or like something that every person has, but not me. I’ve been going, going, going my entire life towards something. In high school, I just wanted to turn 16 so I could drive. Once I was 16, I just wanted to graduate from high school and turn 18. Once I got to college, I just wanted to be involved. Once I was involved, I wanted to be in charge. Once I was in charge, I wanted to apply to be in the real-world and get to New York. And then once I got a taste of New York, I just wanted to go back.

But now, I’m here. I have a full life: a career (not a job), a group of new friends (and lots of old), an apartment that’s in the city, and I’m healthy and feel so young. I feel like I’m just beginning, I’m starting to bloom, I’m starting to radiate, I’m starting to realize this beauty inside of myself…and it just feels so good. So, so, so good.

I didn’t think I could reach that easy, peaceful feeling inside of me. I didn’t think I could get to the point where I’m content and satisfied, even without a man. Without even a prospect. And it is not that I’m “happy” about being single, but rather, I’m not defined by that term anymore. Yes, I’m single (minus my wonderful gay hubby) – but that’s not who I am. And I’m not defined by my career either, but by myself.

This happiness doesn’t stem from a great article that was published or from a man who kissed me in the middle of a sushi bar or from losing five pounds. I can’t even put into words where it comes from or how I got here, but it feels so right.

It feels like love.

I think I’m starting to sincerely love myself. I really think I’m in the start of the “honeymoon” stage of falling in love. I find myself blushing as I’m writing this and tears are starting to build up in my eyes because I’m so thankful. I’m so proud. Like any love relationship, it takes time and it takes patience and practice and an understanding, but I finally got to a starting point.

To celebrate, I think I’ll take myself out to brunch tomorrow. Hey, I may even buy some tulips and take a cab instead of the train.

And so the journey…continues. My happily ever after has officially begun.