Once again, I saw that I was making someone wrong. I will call this person Molly.

Everything started out fine. We were supposed to lead a call together, and I thought we did. So when she called me the next day and told me how upset she was, I was surprised. She said I was being a bossy bitch, had taken over the call, and she didn’t like it. That’s why she didn’t say anything on the call.

I pretended I was ok with it. We talked, laughed and hung up the phone.

I really liked Molly before this incident. She is real, generous, kind and a great person.

Not any more, I thought. I don’t need anybody that’s going to insult me like that.

This lack of affinity went on for a couple of weeks. Molly got another chance to lead the call (without me) and I noticed I was making her wrong and not participating in the discussion she was leading.

Enough, I thought. I need to get into communication. I did it by email.

“I pretended I was ok with our discussion, but I just have to tell you I was hurt when you called me a bossy bitch. Telling someone I am hurt is not easy for me,” I typed, “but I am telling you anyway.”

Her response was surprising.

“Well, I can assure you that’s not what I said. I do not use the word bitch. I might have said I didn’t like that I felt you were being bossy, but I would never say bossy bitch.”

“Seriously? OMG!”

I realized what happened. She said she didn’t like being bossed around like when she was a child, I was surprised and immediately felt stupid. To cover up my hurt and surprise at her upset, I made a joke and blamed myself. I SAID “I guess I was being a bossy bitch. I guess I get that way sometimes. Gee, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the impact on you. I’m really sorry.”

I pretended I was fine with the conversation. Obviously, I wasn’t. The funny thing is that I held “bossy bitch” against her like SHE said it. And I really thought she had. That was the truth in my mind.

That is really scary. Where else do I ADD WORDS MYSELF and then get mad at the other person when they never SAID IT?

I know of many instances where I’ve added MEANING to what they’ve said, but I never realized that I added WORDS too. That was amazing to learn.

I can see how wars and divorces get started. By misunderstandings about stuff that never was said or never happened.

That’s why I have been taking on the practice of “checking it out.” Just today I checked out something:

“When you said ‘you’re not acting crazy today,” did you mean that I normally do?”

“No, I meant that you weren’t acting crazy just now.”

“But sometimes I do? Do you think I’m crazy?” I asked, needing to find out.

“No. You are fine. I’m sorry I said it that way. You are perfectly normal. Not crazy at all.”

Ok, phew. I had been triggered by the crazy comment. I kept asking what the person meant until I could see that I was adding “I’m crazy, there’s something wrong with me, and no one can love me” to what they said.

As needy and pathetic as that used to make me feel, I now do it FOR ME. So I can be calm and get clear what the person REALLY MEANT instead of my disempowering context and story I add to everything.

I do it FOR ME. So I can feel ok. Maybe one day I won’t have to, for now, it works. And I’m ok with that. It’s a practice I’ve taken on to create freedom for me.

Thanks for listening.

I am truly blessed to let you know that I am in a totally different place this week than last.

My COVID test was negative. I cried when they called me out of relief. I got to see how tense I had been even though I was pretending to be fine. Phew! I could breathe again and the pain in my back disappeared.

I was still concerned about my son. He tested positive a second time, 8 days after his first. But the amazing part was, his worst symptom was boredom. He felt fine and just wanted to get out of his house. I was so happy to hear that. After the first couple of days of headache and fatigue, he really didn’t have anything bad. A mild cough and that was it. Hallelujah. Praise the Lord. And anything else there is to say. Again, the stress has left the building.

In my seminar about the brain, called the Invented Life, I shared about the episode I had right after Jesse told me he was positive:

“Jesse was going to die, I was going to die, and his father was going to die. We were all going to die,” I shared in a loud, boisterous voice. “All of us. And there was nothing I could do about it.” I was waving my hands like a lunatic.

“Thank you for demonstrating a perfect amygdala hijack,” my instructor said. “That was perfect.”

“You mean because I was completely gone?” I asked.

“Yes. Your brain patterns had taken you over. You weren’t there. Your brain had been hijacked.”

We all had a good laugh. I could see that my future had been predicted by my brain patterns. And that future was even worse than bleak. The sad part is that it had seemed to be really happening until I could distinguish that it was just thoughts. The only actual fact was that Jesse had tested positive. The rest was just brain patterns weaving a panic inducing freak out.

The wonderful thing is that none of that prediction happened. I even forgot about the whole thing. Today my 14 day quarantine is over and my son is itching to also get back to the world.

It is really great.

I hope I can remember the next time my amygdala gets hijacked that next week will look completely different. It is not a fixed way that the world will occur. Things are always changing. If I don’t like things one hour, the next it will be different.

The only constant we have is change. And I don’t always have to like it. But today I do.

Thanks for listening

(Sung to the tune of Clementine, My Clementine if that’s actually a song – oops, I just looked it up and it’s not!! It’s really, Oh My Darling, Oh My Darling, Oh My Darling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever, Oh My Darling Clementine…………….which doesn’t fit at all, but, ……….since I like MY TITLE, I’m keeping it………).

Here’s my story:

I made the choice last Saturday to allow my son, Jesse, to visit me in my little beach cottage. I didn’t ask him to wear a mask because I didn’t want to feel like a jerk. I knew I was taking a risk, but I didn’t want him to think I thought he was an ass hole. I made the choice and tried to be ok with it.

I tried to stay on the other side of the room. He was on the beige couch so I sat on the white one. He followed me to the white. I moved to the beige. He followed me there. I gave up trying to stay away from him. He was upset and I let him talk. I tried not to give him advice and just listen.

I didn’t think I was helping, but at the end of the night he said, “Wow, Mom. I feel like a new person. Thanks.”

And then he called me when he got home.

“I love you, Mom,” he said. “Thanks.” Wow. Wasn’t it worth it to let him in? He needed me. What was the big deal, I thought? No one has had COVID yet. I’m sure everyone is just over-reacting.

The next day I went to my mom’s house to pick up a package. I knew I hadn’t seen anyone without a mask, but Jesse was a wild card. I knew he had been out with friends, and at hockey rinks. I had made the choice last night and had to stick with it, Jesse instead of my 90 year old mom.

“Come on in,” my mom said. I was standing outside with a mask. “No one will know,” she added.

I just looked at her. My brother had told me that if she went into the hospital she would be all alone. We wouldn’t be able to visit her. I told her the thought of that was worse than not seeing her. She thanked me and I left. I breathed easier as I drove away.

I still thought this whole thing was not real. One of my friends makes me stay 6 feet away and wears a mask. He won’t let me near him. I really thought he was over-reacting.

Until Monday. Jesse didn’t feel well. He tried to get a COVID test but the lines were too long. He’s fine, I told myself. Just a cold, but let’s be sure. Tuesday I kept texting him places to try to make an appointment. He finally got a virtual appointment and then they told him where to go for the quick test.

He called me after the test. “They will let me know in 15 minutes. Can you give me Haley’s water heater and some blankets? I don’t have any at my place.”

I met him down the road from me at the Dunkin Donuts to give him the stuff. I also gave him a “remedy” from one of our friends. It couldn’t hurt.

“Did you hear anything?” I asked, sure it would be negative.

“Yes,” he said. “I am positive.” He burst into tears. “I feel like such an ass hole. My arrogant attitude about how I wasn’t getting it……..what a jerk I’ve been…….” And he erupted into body shaking sobs.

“OK,” I said when he calmed down and could hear me. “Making yourself wrong is not going to help. It’s going to make you sicker. Can you forgive yourself? It’s important.”

He thought about it. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said in a way that I believed him.

I couldn’t hug him. I couldn’t go near him. I had my mask on. I wanted to cry too but I waited until we both drove away to start my own sobbing.

My brain went crazy. He has asthma, he might die. I might have it. I can die. His father is 73 and has lung issues. He might die. My heart was racing. I kept crying. My chest was tight.

“I can’t handle this,” I thought. “What if he goes into the hospital? Those people die from the intubation. I won’t be able to visit him. What am I going to do?”

I kept driving. “And there goes Thanksgiving. I’ll be alone on Thanksgiving. We will all be alone on Thanksgiving. That’s fucked up. I can’t handle this. THIS IS NOT RIGHT!!!!!!”

I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, allowing myself a big huge Thanksgiving pity party. My body started hurting like I, too, had COVID. I drove towards my house, trying to see through my tears.

I turned onto my street and headed towards the water. ENOUGH, I told myself. Nothing is happening right now except that Jesse had a positive test. He is tired. That’s all. GET PRESENT.

I stopped making myself wrong for letting him in that night, and my symptoms disappeared. The same thing had happened the last time I was exposed. Once I forgave myself, I was ready and able to take positive actions.

I called the homeopathic doctor I knew and ordered up her natural COVID remedy that I took the last time. I ordered enough for me, my son and his housemates, and his dad.

I was unbelievably grateful that I hadn’t gone into my mom’s house. I thanked God that I hadn’t relented since that was the day after Jesse had visited me. That was a miracle.

I upped my vitamins: C, D, zinc, women’s wellness, probiotics and more.

I finally got to schedule and have my own COVID test yesterday. Even if I’m negative, it’s still recommended that I quarantine for two weeks. OMG.

So here I am, alone in my cottage. I’m sad when I’m sad. The rest of the time I am fine. Sometimes I have a mild headache. I am still working out and eating well. It’s OK, I tell myself. I still have a great life.

And another miracle: My son feels better than he did before his test result. He’s taking herbal remedies from the Chinese acupuncturist, vitamins from the chiropractor, the homeopathic remedy I got him, and sleeping really well. (It turns out the Tylenol I gave him was Tylenol PM – well maybe that’s a good thing.)

I am grateful for many things right now. And trying to stay present. Right here right now.

And waiting for my own sentence, I mean, test results. By the time I get them, my quarantine will be almost over. I’m assuming it will be negative, but if it’s positive, I will stay present and deal with it.

Am I scared when I’m scared? You betcha. And then I breathe, look around me, and tell myself I will deal with it and I can handle whatever it is.

And when I forget and freak out? Please remind me.

Thanks for listening.

Pretending doesn’t work for me anymore.

Pretending I’m fine, happy, or excited, and I’m sure there’s more but I’m blanking right now.

Lately I’ve just been saying what’s so. Here’s an example:

There’s a woman I’ve been making wrong for months. I really thought she WAS wrong by how she was leading our calls. Everything she did annoyed me. I couldn’t stand it and it was just the way it was.

This week a monthly reminder came up on my phone: “Remind Sarah about song.” A lightbulb went off.

That was it. Two years ago Sarah told me she wrote songs. I told her I write poems. She said that if I wrote a poem she would would put it to music. I was really excited. I wrote the poem that weekend and sent it to her. At first she responded and was working on it, but since then, when I’d ask her about it she would kind of avoid the topic. It was a real letdown for me. The notice on my phone reignited my disappointment, resentment and annoyance.

Last night I called her.

“Something’s been wrong between us and it wasn’t until I saw my monthly song reminder that I figured out why. I’ve been making you wrong for not writing my song and not being in communication about it.”

“I’m so glad you brought this up. I just can’t get with that poem and I didn’t know how to tell you. It wasn’t working for me,” she said.

“Well, that’s fine,” I said. “I don’t really like the poem anymore anyway. That was SO two years ago. I’ve moved on since then. I wish you had just told me though.”

“I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry. I was awkward about it. But maybe we could create something new instead and have fun doing it, ” she said.

“That would be great.”

And with that, the affinity returned. The love returned. I had been avoiding her and today I sent her an email thanking her and telling her I love her. Amazing.

I said what was so and didn’t pretend that I was happy, fine or excited. It was so freeing.

Before I wouldn’t have thought it was a nice thing to do. Or appropriate. Or sensitive. Or thought maybe she wouldn’t like me……….

Now I say “saying what’s so” is BEING REAL. And being real is freeing. Instead of feeling resentful, separate, and miserable, by saying what’s there, I can return to belonging, community, fun and even laughter.

It’s such a small thing, but it creates a huge wonderful world.

Thanks for listening.

I had a great weekend. All of a sudden, yesterday I was in a funk. My body ached, my back hurt and something was wrong.

It took me until today when I was writing in my journal to figure it out. I was in a lose-lose scenario.

My sister was all over my case about seeing my mother at Thanksgiving.

“Did you go to the gym?” she asked me. Yes I went once since this summer, fully masked, kept my distance and washed my hands ferociously afterwards.

“What about Jesse? Where has he been?” He wears a mask and keeps his distance.

“I can’t sleep at night worrying about mom. I don’t think you should go there for Thanksgiving,” she ended with. This is the one that got me messed up.

I just spent the weekend with my mom. Everyone was fine. I’ve been seeing her since I had a negative COVID test last spring. I stay by myself for the most part. I am very careful. Am I seriously not supposed to go there for the holiday? Should I stay home and let her be by herself? Isn’t that cruel?

I felt like I was damned if I went and damned if I didn’t.

All day Monday I felt like an ass hole. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. I really felt sick. My back and legs were aching.

Freedom came this morning. I was writing in my journal and realized I was in a lose-lose situation. I was making myself wrong for being in it. For not knowing what to do.

What if I can create a win/win for everyone? Just thinking about that had me start seeing solutions.

I can tell my son not to come since he goes out and isn’t that careful. I can have us all take a COVID test. We can go there with masks. We can stay socially distanced.

There are things I can do to make this work. I don’t have to be a victim to other people’s opinions and my own disempowering thoughts.

It’s amazing when I can part the fog, see clearly and get myself free.

I love it.

Thanks for listening.

“I don’t read directions,” I have proudly said all my life. “I just don’t. I don’t understand them.”

When I got a new coffee maker, I had my son set it up.

When I got a new air conditioner, I had my ex-husband read the directions and put it in my window. This year I got my son to do it.

The other night I sat looking at my dead home phone. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I could go to the store and ask for help, but last time I ended up spending $145 on a whole new phone set.

What if it was just the battery? I pried the phone open and took out the batteries. I went on Amazon and tried to find the same ones. No luck. I checked my phone model and picked the closest thing I could find. If I was wrong, I only wasted $15.

The batteries arrived yesterday. I put them in the phone. I was shocked to see the dead phone spring to life. I fixed it. All by myself. Without a man. For the first time since my divorce 5 years ago, I felt different. It’s hard to explain. I guess part of me had silently suffered over this. I could only fix or install or set up something if someone helped me. I was helpless. Like a little child.

Even though it may seem small to someone else, this felt like a big deal to me. And that it was so damn easy.

I should end this here, but, ……I have another example.

My coffee pot stopped working Sunday morning. It wouldn’t brew. It said clean. I didn’t know what that meant. I had an 11:00 course starting that would last all day and it was 10:40 AM. I couldn’t last without coffee.

I drove like a maniac to the dunkin donuts, putting my order in as I drove so it would be ready when I got there. I ended up ordering 3 coffees instead of one, AND, had to wait 10 minutes when I got there. I ended up being late for my course very stressed out.

At 2:30 AM the next morning, I couldn’t sleep. I tried to get the coffee maker to work again, unplugging it, shaking it, and running water through it. It still didn’t work. I had had enough. I went on Amazon and ordered a new Mr. Coffee for $24.95. I couldn’t stand the stress of having to run to Dunkin Donuts for my coffee again.

Monday, however, after my phone success, I decided to try again. I looked at the directions. It said to use vinegar. That just seemed too disgusting to do. I filled the thing with only water and pressed clean. Nothing happened. OK, fine. I poured vinegar in the bucket part. I had nothing to lose.

It started cleaning. OMG. I did it. It was working. I finally did what they said to and it worked. Wow! Where else in my life was I arguing with the directions and making life really hard? This was incredible.

Except for my first pot of coffee tasting like vinegar, I felt great. OK, so I’ll have 2 working coffee makers once my new one arrives. It will be good to have a spare. (I paid WAY more than $24.95 during COVID when my last one broke. I wonder if vinegar would have fixed that one – oh well – too late now).

I am thrilled that I can change the way I think and act. I CAN read directions and I CAN fix things. All by my little girl self. It seems like a HUGE triumph to me. The world has opened up.

Thanks for listening.

“I just want to get it right.”

“Is that right?”

“I’m afraid I won’t get it right.”

These are all things I’ve either been saying to myself or hearing people say lately.

My question is: Where is the Book of Right? Is there actually a book? Is there actually a right? AND, why is it such a big fucking deal if I get it wrong? Will I die? Will the earth open up and swallow me whole? It certainly has seemed that way most of my life.

If I really look, I don’t think there really IS a RIGHT. In my 61 years on earth, I haven’t found ONE right way. Different people have different ways and different opinions.

So why do I torture myself? It doesn’t make sense.

This week, after 13 years in sales, I had to do a skills assessment with my boss and HIS BOSS. I was nervous. I was tempted to tell them I was sick so I wouldn’t have to do it.

I asked myself why I was in such a panic. Guess why?

I was thinking I had to GET IT RIGHT. I printed out all of our scripts, handling objections, guidelines, and other documents and had them next to me during our zoom call. I felt like I was cramming for an exam.

“Let’s talk about recruiting,” my boss said first.

SHIT. I didn’t have a paper for recruiting. “HELP” my brain screamed. There was no right way readily accessible for me to read.

Here’s the thing. I’m not new. I’ve been selling AFLAC for 13 years. I know how to do this. I took a breath.

I play acted recruiting my boss’s boss’s (Michael), just being myself.

They loved most of it. There was one place where I got tripped up. But it was fine. I can learn. I can grow. It’s ok. I didn’t die.

The prospecting part went fine.

Then came the employer presentation. I literally read the script (getting it right) while I went through the power point slides. After about 5 slides, Michael started waving his hands.

“Stop, Stop, I can’t take it – this is torture. This doesn’t work. Please stop.”

“I was just trying to do it the way we are supposed to do it for new people,” I said.

“Well, it doesn’t work. Please just be yourself.”

I smiled to myself. I did the part they selected being myself and they loved it.

On the last part I was fine until the end when I didn’t know how to close. But it was ok. It’s another place where I can learn and grow into a better salesperson.

I learned a couple of really great lessons from this experience:

• being myself is WAY better than trying to get it right
• it’s ok to get coaching and improve
• once I let go of trying to get it right, I can relax, use my experience, and listen to people
• I can take care of people in the moment instead of having a fixed rigid agenda which sucks for both of us
• I can be in THEIR world, instead of locked in my head
• It’s way more fun
• AND, I don’t suck. I was shocked. All my adult life I’ve been saying I am bad at sales. Like it’s been the truth. I’m not going to say that anymore.

In fact, I’m pretty good at listening, taking care of people, and making sure they get exactly what’s “right” for them. How cool is that?

Life is way more fun when I trust the process, stay out of my head, and just listen to people.

I’m glad I learned this lesson. Now I just have to remember it.

Thanks for listening.

Today I was SO MAD I couldn’t see straight. I was mad at my daughter, mad at the way I was treated on a phone call, and mad at myself for being mad.

I was so mad I couldn’t even LOOK at my daughter. I was convinced she took me for granted, was using me for money, didn’t respect me, treated me like an ass hole, and was a terrible person.

I was also convinced that a woman from work treated me like an ass hole, was throwing me under the bus, and was disrespecting me in front of my boss.

As a matter of fact, I was convinced that the whole world was doing that. EVERYONE treated me like an ass hole and I was TIRED OF IT.

I was so mad I couldn’t talk. I was just stewing inside my head. I couldn’t smile and all I could do was growl. I was in a course and I let everyone else go because I was in a state. They could tell and they just let me be.

As I listened to them, I wondered what was wrong with me. I shouldn’t BE This way. I shouldn’t be mad and upset and angry. I should be rainbows and lollipops, perky and peppy, Pollyanna, Pippi Longstocking, and every other happy character. But I wasn’t. I didn’t know what to do to get the octopus arms from strangling me.

Then I had a thought. What if I granted myself being? Just let my mad be. Allow it. Not resist it. I was upset by my STORY of what happened. I granted myself being. I just let myself have all of the upset and angst. I stopped resisting it.

All of a sudden I could breathe again. My body started relaxing. The octopus arms were loosening from around my neck and chest. The corners of my mouth moved into an almost smile.

I texted my daughter that I was sorry. I was in an amygdala hijack. My story that she was using me for money, had no other use for me and was mean, had seemed true.

After that, I could see that I made it all up. I didn’t like her expression as she walked out the door this morning. She was on her way to a dermatology appointment where they were doing a facial for $211 and I got triggered by her “cavalier attitude.”

That trigger hijacked me into a young story that I am irrelevant, don’t matter, am misunderstood, treated like an ass hole, AND, since everyone else is going to leave me, I will get rid of them first. ADIOS!!! Even my very own daughter.

I could see that if somebody doesn’t act the way I think they should, I make them wrong and alienate them. I am in a course on trust and this is what I’ve seen. When things don’t happen as I want, I give up on them and quit, allowing my resignation to take over.

If I could just be with the world as it is, it wouldn’t be personal, and I could be free. I could ALLOW life to unfold and give up my rigid, narrow agenda of how things SHOULD go so I could be ok.

Live and let live.

Trust the hands of God and the journey. Ask people what they want and empower them to have it.

I could relax, enjoy life, and exude love and joy.

That would be a very different life than being mad and wrestling the octopus.

Neither is wrong. One is just a lot less stressful.

Thanks for listening.

I use this blog to create freedom.

I feel like I’m on trial. It seems a little dumb, but I really do.

Here’s why.

I have been going to weight watchers since 2011. I hit my goal, AND, still wanted to lose more weight.

I didn’t. I crept up a few pounds instead. After a few years, with the help of Zach, my fearless Weight Watchers Leader, I made peace with it. At 61 years old, I am healthy, fit and look pretty good for my age, despite the number on the scale. (At least I’ve been told that).

Even so, for years, on Sunday and Monday nights, I would get stressed out. My weekly weigh in was Tuesday morning. I would worry about salt, bouillon, heavy foods, and even being constipated. Every Tuesday, despite my self pep talks, I felt like something important was being determined when I got on the scale. I’m not quite sure what and that’s why I am writing this blog.

During COVID, for the first time since I started weight watchers, I felt free. I could eat soy sauce and pizza on Sunday or Monday without being stressed. There was no weigh in to worry about. I was tracking, enjoying my food and relaxed. My clothes were loose and I felt great.

I had a couple of doctors appointments during the summer and was thrilled to see I was down 5 pounds. That hadn’t happened in years. Life was great and I was looking good!!!

So what’s the problem?

That was 2 months ago. Last week they told us we have to start getting weighed once a month to keep our lifetime status. I am getting weighed in 2 days on the official scale. I have no idea what my weight is NOW.

Even though a number on the scale has no inherent meaning, my body sensations are telling me otherwise. Here goes, ladies and gentleman while I try to get to the bottom of my stress:

• If I am up on the scale, I have to do something different, be stressed, call myself a loser, and hang my head in shame. It means I don’t know what I am doing. I will continue gaining weight until I weigh over 400 pounds. Everyone I know will leave me, I’ll lose my job, end up homeless, and live on a cardboard box over a gutter so in the winter I will be warmed from the fumes of the subway. My hair will be stringy and dirty, my face will be bloated and red, and I will die a lonely and painful death.
• If I am down on the scale, I can celebrate and enjoy my life.

Wow. I never looked at this before. I can see why I’m stressed. And why I feel like I’m on trial. My weight will determine my fate – celebration and joy or a lonely and painful death. If that was really the case, there is truly a lot at stake.

That is awesome. I am so glad I wrote this. Undistinguished, this was a big freaking deal. Distinguished, I can have a really good laugh.

Truly amazing what a little sharing and saying what you don’t think you should say does. It creates freedom.

Thanks for listening. I have a new life.

Sunday night I was IN A FUNK. I was mad at the person I am dating. I was going to say I was done. Adios.

Here’s what happened: Saturday we were together and I told him I enjoyed spending time with him, found him attractive, and was happy just being with him. Everything was fine.

Sunday, however, I started feeling very uncomfortable. I didn’t like it. I tried to explain to him that I felt exposed and vulnerable.

“Why didn’t you say anything back?” I asked.

“I was just relaxing,” he said. “No reason.”

I tried explaining my discomfort so I could get some relief.

He understood, but instead of decreasing, my anxiety and insecurity grew. I ended the call feeling pathetic, needy, stupid and unlovable.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, deciding that I couldn’t stand this anymore. The only way I knew to get rid of my discomfort was to end the relationship. I was sad, but knew what I had to do.

In the morning, things got clearer. A lightbulb went off. I was merely resisting my experience. I didn’t think I should have these feelings. I didn’t like them and was trying to make them GO AWAY. And it wasn’t working.

What if I could stop resisting and just accept them? Experience feeling insecure and needy without it being wrong? Allow the feelings.

I took some breaths and started writing. What was really going on?

Inside my head I was whining about how I can’t have what I want. Relationships start off great and then end suddenly. I might as well end this now.

I couldn’t believe what happened. It was amazing. Once I stopped resisting, I could see what was going on. I wanted to be right about how this guy COULDN’T really love me. I was making up the fact that he wasn’t giving me what I needed.

Making him wrong SO I COULD BE RIGHT.

Did I really want to be right about how I couldn’t have what I want? That I couldn’t have a great relationship?

Why?

No reason. I actually didn’t. And in that instant, the horrible feeling went away.

And with that, I felt free.

The love, joy and fun returned.

The need to think or talk about this disappeared. I was happy.

Isn’t that amazing?

What can you give up being right about so YOU could return to love and joy?