I had so many other things I was going to write, but they just don’t seem important right now.

Why did my friend kill herself this morning?

I wish I knew.

As far as I am concerned, she was cute, funny, vivacious, and generous.

I’m assuming she didn’t feel that way about herself.  That she thought her negative thoughts were real.  That no one could help her.  Or that no one understood.  Or that she was a burden.

I guess I’ll never know.

I do know that for me, whatever I’m thinking is usually way worse when it’s in my head than when I actually say it.  Once it’s out, I can look at it and realize that it’s sort of silly and not true.

But not when it’s in my head.  And, I’m assuming that Fran listened to her negative thoughts.  And thought they were true.

I only wish I, or anyone, had one more chance to tell her not to listen to those thoughts.  To tell her how loved she was and cherished.  How special she is/was.

And it’s too late.  And it breaks my heart that she killed herself not knowing that.

So I will tell her now.  Fran, you were a really good friend when we lived in the city together.  I loved having complaining contests with you.  Who’s life was the worst?  But we laughed about it.  We made the bad stuff into a good story which was entertaining.  I wish I could have done that with you this week so the bad didn’t seem so real.

I loved laughing with you about our Packer’s disease.  It made the struggle of trying to not pack too much funny.  Because no matter what we said, we always overpacked – you never know what the weather will be, what shoes you will need,  or what you will feel like wearing.  So bring it all!!!  We almost laughed.  I loved sharing that joke with you.

Fran, I wish you could have talked to me.  I wish you could have shared your burden and I could have transformed it so you could have seen that tomorrow could be better.  I wish you were still here, laughing and joking with all of us.

I miss you already.  And, I’m sure your family does, too.  If you can, wherever you are now, surround them with your love and ease their pain and guilt.  Assure them that it was nothing they did.   Assure them that you love them and want them to go on.  If you can.  Obviously, I don’t know if that’s possible.  I can only wish.

I love you, my little Fernie.  I’m thinking of you and hoping you are at peace.  Goodbye, my friend.

 

 

I just got a phone call with some very sad news.  One of my old high school friends killed herself today.  She jumped off a building in New York City at 8:00 AM.

Fran was a beautiful, funny, smart person.  She and I joked about having “Packers” disease.  I wrote those two blogs about it, and never got to send them to her.  Now I can’t.  She is gone.

I can’t text her, call her or laugh with her anymore.   What makes a person kill themselves?  What is it that they can’t tell someone?  What is it that they feel such pain about?  I’ve had the thought before that I can’t handle something, but I know that in the morning, things will look different.  What had Fran not think that it was going to look better tomorrow.

I am in shock.  I am sending virtual strength to her family and twin sister.  I can not imagine how they are feeling right now.

My son told me about a guy who jumped from a bridge.  On his way down, he realized that all of his problems were solvable.  Somehow he survived and now he goes around speaking, sharing his story, and making a difference.  I wish Fran had heard him.  I wish that Fran could have talked to us.

She will be sorely missed by all.  I will miss laughing with her and texting her when I overpack.

It puts the rest of my complaints in perspective.  What’s really important?  The people in our lives.   Love.

Goodbye Fran.  I miss your wonderful laugh and sense of humor.  You always made me see the humor in a situation.  You always understood.

I’m sorry that this was what you needed to do.  Rest in peace.

I have created this wonderful evening for Women’s Empowerment on Jan 2nd, 2019.  Last week I was gung ho and creating my team, inviting people, and living in the created life zone.

Today, I’m not.

For me, staying excited for five days is pretty good.  Usually it’s about 2 hours until someone says no or doesn’t call me back.

I can see I need to strengthen my muscle for generating.  That’s why I’m writing this.  So I can get back to “in the zone.”

What am I afraid of?

• that the people that said they would be on my team don’t know what it entails (a half hour phone call each week and making a list of 25 people to invite)
• that they won’t actually do that even if they are on the team
• that I will have to be the ass hole to have them do all that stuff
•  that I’m really a fraud and can’t generate this longer than a few days and everyone will know and I will be completely embarrassed and mortified on Jan 2
• that no one wants to play with me (age 5)
• that there’s something wrong with me (age 2)
• that I should be excited 100% of my life (age ??)
• that I shouldn’t even write this blog because it’s stupid and I look like a crazy bitch
• that I’m right about all of the above

OK, that was fun.  That was really good stuff that I don’t normally say.  It’s freeing to just get it out.  Pretending it’s not there is not very empowering.

An aside:  I’m watching these really huge waves outside.  And, they are rolling up under my little beach cottage.  And I’m wondering if I should be getting the hell out of here.  The thought of my house getting loose and floating out to sea with me in it scares the crap out of me.  I can just see myself yelling “help” over the huge sound of the waves and no one being able to save me.  I wonder if that happened in another life because it seems awfully real and I used to have it in our old rental when the waves would come over the rocks onto the street.  Feeling powerless.  Not fun.

OK, so, back to my fraudulent event on Jan 2.  I can take actions.

OK, the waves are really loud.  I think I can’t concentrate.  I’m outa here.  I’ll finish on dry land.

THE NEXT DAY:

I just came back after staying at my mom’s last night.

I heard from my neighbors that the water came all the way under the house and was just under the deck.  The sand and storm debris is all over the beach, walk way, road, etc.  I’m glad I left when I did.  I already had to drive through water and the high tide was an hour and a quarter away.  Any later and I wouldn’t have made it out and my car would probably have been ruined.  Plus I would have been really nervous having the water all the way under my house.

Back to the Jan 2nd event:

I have already taken actions:

• I communicated with Michael, the guy who is designing this with me, and told him I am stuck which allowed me to get into action (saying what can’t be said)
• I invited two new people to be on the team
• I will send the email with the requirements to the people who already said yes
• I will get clear who is on my team

OK, thanks for listening.  I am staying in communication instead of hiding out and that is a breakthrough for me.  It really seems like this is a bad idea.  I knew it would, AND, I promised to keep going forward anyway.

STUFF:

I rushed from my first meeting this morning to my second.  The girl I’m meeting just texted that she’s running late.  It would have been nice if she had let me know ahead of time so I didn’t leave my last meeting early and have to rush to be on time.

A guy who created this huge wonderful event with me four days ago for Women’s Empowerment was supposed to send me an email with an invitation and what we discussed.  I never got it.  I left him a message two days ago and he still hasn’t responded.

A new associate that is on my team has disappeared.  He finally responded to my text after 4 days saying he’s ago but has family problems.  I don’t know what that means.

My two best and only writing producers will be away next week.

My gas heat in my cottage has a distinctive odor.  I wake up with the taste of it it in my mouth and now I am coughing.  I am either paranoid or something about it doesn’t work.   It scares me that there might be something in it that is making me sick.

I went to a new health smoothie store the other day.  I had a delicious smoothie that was only 4 weight watchers points which is pretty good.  It came with an energy tea.  I got the highest energy level since they recommended it.  It felt like I was on sudafed which I hate.  And, my stomach has been a mess ever since.

A woman I’ve met is coming to stay with me tonight.  I am nervous about it.  I don’t know her that well.  What do I serve?  What if I/she snores (the two bedrooms are basically open at the top)?  What if my stomach is still messed up?

Why am I telling you all this?  Cause I feel like shit.  My head and stomach are whack-o and I am also annoyed that this girl is so late.  I am concerned about my numbers, my disappearing team, and the fact that people aren’t in communication with me.

When I pretend I am fine, I just get worse.  So, I am admitting that I am NOT FINE!!!  This SUCKS!!!  And, now that I’ve said it, I can actually be fine.  Nothing is permanent.  I will outline action steps:

• I can get my heating system checked or find a new way to heat my rental cottage so I don’t have to live in fear/feel sick – I can call my landlord or the gas company.
• I can call the guy who created the event with me and ask WTF?
• I will call my book editor on Monday and continue conversations about my book (didn’t mention this on this blog – did yesterday)
• I will accept the girl’s apology who is running late
• I will plan around my missing associate – he has one new account scheduled in a couple of weeks and if he’s not around, I’ll do it myself
• I will schedule more appointments later today and just drive as much premium as I can for next week and the rest of the quarter
• I will drink more water, take my vitamins, and feel better
• I will communicate with the woman coming over and tell her what’s going on – everything can be worked out in communication

OK, at least I have actions to take.  I still feel like shit physically which makes no sense since I was fine this morning.   I will not resist the negativity.  I will embrace it as part of today.  Nothing is wrong.  I have body sensations and feelings that are fine.

I can create a miracle if this woman ever shows up.  If not, I will take my computer to the next stop.  And I will make phone calls until I am back to being empowered.

OK, that last paragraph shifted my energy to feeling relief.  Nothing is actually wrong.  I just have body sensations and thoughts.  They don’t have to define me.

LATER:

• called guy for women’s empowerment – he apologized and thanked me for communicating
• girl was very nice – she told me why she was late – it ended up fine
• I’m home – turned off the heat and opened the windows – I feel better.  I still have to address this heat thing, but I’m afraid the gas company will think I’m crazy.  (That’s a good reason to breathe in fumes, right?  I can see I’m being a little stupid about this, but I feel like it’s in my imagination since they checked it two years ago and said it was fine.  I’ll just freeze with the heat off instead.  Kidding, sort of)
• and on and on

For me, it helps to get this negative crap out.  I don’t know if it’s the same for others, but it works for me.

Thanks for listening………….

PS  I told my landlord about the gas and he is already sending over someone to check it out.  YAY!

 

Every time I think about the book getting rejected or the rest of my life, my initial reaction (habitual) is defeat and resignation.

Then, I think about my initiative, Creating Life Out Here by sharing and saying what can’t be said.

Yesterday I did call my book editor like I said I would in my last blog.  We decided to pursue other publishing options and even create new ones.  Why not make publishing easy for people?  Who knows what can happen?  It was a very alive and upbeat conversation.

I have realized that the creating process is fun for me.  Especially pioneering new ways to do things.

I shared with my a friend that I can write poems of acknowledgements for people.  They are great gifts because the person receiving them loves them.  Why wouldn’t they?  It’s all about how great they are.   I love writing those poems and giving them away.

We had an amazing day at work.  My quarterly quota went from about 8% to 22%.  I’m still under the 30% of the quarter, but it just shows that one day can make a huge difference and I can still WIN the quarter even though I look so far behind.

I smiled and talked to a man I didn’t know.  It was easy and his smile back made my day.  I have decided to remove my earphones during part of my workout so that I am more present and aware of the people around me.    And, that rather than my old story that all men are either married or gay or have girlfriends, I am creating that there is an abundance of great single guys.

OK, gotta run.  I’m just seeing how being creative and in conversations make me WAY more alive and in the game.  Over the weekend I wrote a song, gathered the community, and performed it to music in front of our course.  I loved it.  I want to have more of those creative, fun, acknowledging moments in my life.

When I’m in those moments, I feel very alive and I love it.  More later.

I was so proud that after six years I finally submitted a book proposal to a publisher.

This is what I received back:

 

Thank you so much for sending in your memoir proposal for What Happened to Hilary. It’s brave and unflinching, but shines bright with sparks of humor and sharp insight. I am always so admiring of those who can put their life on paper, dare to be vulnerable, and trust someone else to catch them.

However, I’m afraid that the memoir market is incredibly tough at the moment. Our buyers are not supporting us in personal stories of “becoming” with so many celebrity and political stories on the market, unless there is a plot hook that is truly unique (and those are so few and far between I regret to say I haven’t come across one in a long while).  This isn’t to say your memoir isn’t worthy – on the contrary, it’s very inspiring; however, we don’t have the support needed right now to pursue.

I am sorry to pass on this, and thank you very much for sharing.

So, first paragraph is very complimentary.  Second is a gentle let down.  It isn’t that it’s not WORTHY – on the contrary, it’s very inspiring.  And, the third, sorry to pass on this.

My first reaction:  to take my book and go home.

Second reaction:  I called my friend at the publishers and she talked to me.  Since I’m not a celebrity and don’t have a very unique plot hook, we have to go a different route.  Maybe it should be in the recovery/self-help section.  Go look at other books, identify their agents and publishers, and try that route.

Third reaction:  I DON’T WANT TO!!!  (Tantrum, stomping feet, etc.)  I didn’t want to have to work hard at this.  I created flow, ease, and fun.   I’m tired of this DAMN BOOK!!  It’s enough already.

Fourth reaction:  OK, back to the drawing board.

Aside: I just spilled my breakfast on my new shirt.  I doused it water which will either remove the stain or create a bigger one.   I knew I shouldn’t have put it on until I finished eating (I’m still at home), but I did it anyway.  I won’t spill anything, I said.  OOPSIE!!!!!

So what can I do?  Phone a friend – I’ll call my book editor.

Ask other people who they used.

Or, yesterday while listening to a podcast about a guy who created a restaurant different from all others.  He questioned why restaurants did what they did and created new ways to do things that made more sense.

I had an idea:  I could go on social media and distribute just the prologue.  Anyone who wanted more could ask me.   Instead of publishing it, I could just distribute it.  No cost to print or publish.  I haven’t worked it all out, I just thought, why not try something new?

Food for thought.  I’m going to keep thinking.  I’m creating life out here.  Not necessarily wanting to do the status quo.  Why not create an easier path for people to publish?  Why should the publishing houses  or the Amazons control what we do?

Uber, AirBNB,

I just finished my Wisdom weekend number 5 in Denver.

I had been so stressed about going, not knowing anybody, the weather, and what to freaking wear.

All that stress for nothing.

I loved the people, the weather was great, the course was excellent, and I all my worry was for naught (is naught even a word?).

We looked at new models.   And, I got to say share and definately say what couldn’t be said.   It was really amazing.

Here’s a few things I got to say/talk about that opened up worlds to me:

• I admitted that I talk to dead people – it opened up conversations with other people who do.  One friend is taking a medium course.  One man asked me to talk to his wife who passed away ten years ago and I did.  I gave him comfort.  It was so fun to be “out of the closet” about this and have real conversations about life beyond.
• My dream of having a great relationship and how I just don’t talk about it – I admitted that I think all men are either gay or married or unavailable – my new model is that there are fabulous available men everywhere
• I rewrote the words to “I Will Survive” sung by Gloria Gaynor – We had the whole room singing the revised version, “I Am Alive” and rocking the room.  I realized how I love to do this.  I love the camaraderie, creativity, fun and excitement.  It makes me feel alive.  I am going to look for more opportunities to do this.
• A woman I’ve met before and love told me I should be a comedian.  That I could just be myself and tell stories.  I’ve never thought of that before.  I’ve always wanted to write for my son performing on Saturday Night Live.  But never for me to perform.  Food for thought – kind of exciting to think about.
• I feel like I’m part of a new community.  By opening my mouth and sharing, I felt known.  And, by listening to the other people, I felt like I knew them.  There were people I knew:  three I met at my Atlanta weekend, some I knew from my other courses, and two who were coaching me via internet and phone calls.  And, I got to meet them all in person.  It was fabulous.
• I got to speak up when I was upset.  Or when I just had something to share.
• One gentleman asked me for my number.  My instincts were to run.  Get the hell out.  I asked my new friends what to do.  Instead of running, I just spoke my truth.  That I just wasn’t feeling comfortable with it.  And instead of being upset, he thanked me.  It was so cool.  We hugged.  I thanked him for letting me say no.  It was a huge breakthrough for me to just be free to say what was there.
• I met a lot of great people.  And for the first time, I’m not afraid that they don’t like me.  Or that if they got to know me they will realize I’m too needy, neurotic, or crazy.  They already saw that part of me and still liked me.  I feel like doing cartwheels (if I was still 13) or singing at the tops of my lungs.  It is a huge opening for me to be free.
• That’s what I created – being free.  Free to be me, to speak, to pursue my dreams.  And, for the first time, I really believe I can.

Thanks for listening.  My flight leaves in an hour and a half.  Whoopee.  The red eye.  You gotta love it!!!!!!

I think I published a snippet of this by accident and couldn’t edit it for some reason.  Here it is after having finished it.  Sorry for the confusion.  I’m not always sure how to work this thing.

 

Here it is, finished:

“Oh, no,”  I said to the woman next to me in line.  We were waiting to board our plane to Denver.  An airline employee had just pushed us out of the way to get to the front of the line.  “That lady is holding baggage tickets.”

I watched her ticket the carry-on luggage of the people in front of us and hand it to the guys outside the plane.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”  I said.  “I can’t freakin believe this.”

If you read my last blog, you will know how stressed out I was all week trying to figure out how to  cram everything into my little suitcase so I could avoid the baggage claim.  I had worried about it all week, checking the weather, trying on clothes, putting my cosmetics into small size containers to get through security, and then finally getting as much as I could in this tiny bag and still be able to zip it closed.

All that work, stress, and anxiety for nothing.  My efforts going down the drain as I got closer to the ticketing lady.  The irony of it all.  Well, at this point there was nothing I could do except make it into a good story.

I started telling the women in the line around me about my wasted effort.

“I just checked my bag,”  one woman said.

“You know what takes up a lot of room?” another one asked.

“My sweater took up one whole side of this little bag,”  I said.  That’s why I’m wearing it instead of it being in the bag.  And my boots took up a lot of space, too, but I left them in.”

“Bras,”  she said.  “Bras.  I couldn’t figure out how to make them smaller.”

We were all silent, obviously pondering her predicament.

“I just put them all inside one another.  The wireless ones can be folded up.”

“Oh no,” the same woman said.  “I can’t go without the wire.”

It reminded me of a joke.

“Did you know that Joan Rivers wore a 36 Long Bra?”  I asked.    My new line friends  looked at me funny.  All of a sudden they started laughing.  It felt good to release the tension of my packing disorder and travel anxiety.

I got on the plane wondering why I worried so much about what and how to pack.  My friend, Fran and I, joke about how we have packers disease.  We bring too much stuff no matter how hard we try not to.  And sometimes I think it might just be  a serious affliction.

If I really think about it,  what would have been so bad about just bringing a bigger suitcase?  I would have paid $25.00, but I might have been more relaxed and calm all week.  Is it really worth the stress?  I was going to have to wait at baggage claim now anyway.

I wouldn’t have had to worry about little bottles, how much room I had, what to wear, etc.

But I wouldn’t have had quite the laughs with the ladies in line.  And I wouldn’t have had this great story to tell.

I might as well just admit that I have a bad case of Packers.  And next time just bring a bigger bag.

 

I’m waiting for a plane and they are already boarding the disabled and elderly.

I don’t think I have time to write this, but I’m going to try it anyway to see how far I can get.

Background:  I’m on my way to Denver to do a make-up weekend for a course.  I missed a session of my New York course due to a conflict.

No one would really know if I skipped it, but I would.  Doing the make-up even though I don’t want to and it scares me will have me grow as a person.  Being out of my comfort zone causes me to break through areas that hold me back and create miracles in my life that I wouldn’t have otherwise.

Boarding infants right now.

I’ve been nervous all week about what to bring:

• do I bring a coat?
• can I fit everything into a carry-on?
• what clothes do I bring?
• do I need boots?
• how many pairs of boots can fit in my little bag?
• with weather that spans from 30 degrees to 70, what the hell do I wear?
• do I bring my computer?
• how do I get my toiletries into those small travel sizes without them spilling all over my bag like last time?
• what should I wear?
• should I bring my new boots or just wear the comfortable worn old ones?

And on and on……..

And now I’m at the airport.  They are loading groups A and B and I am E.

Every day this week I got an email from JetBlue with new rules for travelling.

• You can only bring 2 bags – a carry-on suitcase and a purse
• You need to take your computer out of the bag………

Every day I was getting more and more stressed trying to figure.  Yet as I said, here I am.  On time with 2 bags.

OK, I’ll confess.  My second one is pretty big.  And, I have two other smaller bags inside it.

Going to bed last night I had 3 bags at the door ready to walk out.  I woke up this morning in a panic – what if I have to throw one out?  I got on the floor and repacked the two little ones into a bigger bag.

Are they weighing or counting?  Very big difference.   On my last flight they were weighing since I checked my big bag.  It was 55 pounds – 5 pounds over.  I had to open my bag in full view of everyone, and either throw things away (goodbye one pound jar of peanut butter) or shove them into my already full carry on,  I had shoes (which are heavy) coming out the top of my carry-on.   It was humiliating.

Today’s game is two bags.  So I will play their game.

My real question is:  is it worth this amount of stress to try to pack the right things in the right way?   I’m feeling a little over the top right now.

Let me see………..does it?

And the answer would be definitively yes.  I want to look good, be comfortable, and not be too hot or too cold.  So yes.

And how will I know I got it right?  I guess I can let you know on Sunday when I’m on my way home.

For me if I’m not comfortable, I’m miserable.  If my feet hurt.  If any part of me is sweating.  If my pants are too tight.  If my sweater itches.   All these things could ruin my good time.

And, I want to feel like I look good.  I don’t know these people.  If I’m wearing the “right” clothes, I can pretend I have my shit together.  I don’t know how long that can last, but I can try.

Although, my worrying, neurotic side may come out no matter how hard I try to hide it.  When I’m nervous like I am now, it dials itself up about a hundred fold.  Especially because I’m nervous about going someplace I don’t know with people I’ve never met.

At the end of the day, (I hate that phrase, but I’m using it anyway), it’s all about being myself.  My crazy, sneaker wearing, comfortable low hanging bra self.

I used to have it that I couldn’t attract someone (ok, a man, which I hide that I really do want to do) unless I am dolled up.  Well, sneakers and low boobs are it for this flight.  No underwire digging into me for four hours.

It’s a miracle that the new me can still feel good the way I’m dressed right now.  I CAN feel attractive regardless, especially since I have not YET lost the few pounds I gained.  To accept how I am as my most glorious and wonderful self.  Unbelievable and a direct result of the Beyond Fitness seminar we finished two days ago.  We all got that we are fabulous just the way we are.  No more waiting to be fixed.  Right here right now – amazing people.

OK, they are on D.  I better get going.  More adventures to come.

Thanks for listening.

Last week I was staying at my mom’s house.  Usually I go up to bed early and just read.  My mom stays downstairs and goes to sleep much later.

I saw her at the door when I was lying in bed about to open my book.

She came in and sat down.  I closed my book.  Instead of my usual annoyance, I was curious.

“What’s going on, mom?” I asked.

I don’t remember how she got started, but she just started sharing with me about her life.

I just lied back and listened.  I was afraid to saying anything.  It was very unusual for her to talk about herself and I didn’t want her to stop.  It was like being let into a part of her past I had never really known about.

Her undergraduate college degree was at a local teachers college in music education.  She was a little embarrassed to be going to a local college, but she did because it cost less to go there and she never wanted to be a burden to her parents.

It was ok, because she had a dream – to get a Masters from Columbia.  That would make up for the stigma of the local college in her mind.

Upon graduation from undergrad, she applied and was accepted to Columbia.  She got a job teaching music in a local elementary school and commuted into the city at night and on weekends.

Nowadays, one might be afraid to get off at 125th street and take the bus through Harlem to get to Columbia.  But she wasn’t.  She was driven to accomplish her goal.

She graduated at the same time as her brother, Richard, who was getting his pharmacology degree.  He was older, so I’m not sure why they finished at the same time.  I think he might have been in the “service.”

Anyway, she was recruited away from the smaller town into Westport, a larger town, by the head of the music department.  At that time, there weren’t really instrumental music programs, and she was hired to develop one.  I love that she was discovered and sought after.  It makes me very proud of my mom.

She taught a few years, got married to my dad, and then got pregnant with my sister.

My sister was born in January so the summer before, she knew she was pregnant.

“We have to let you go,”  her mentor said.

“What?” I asked.  “Why couldn’t you teach until December?”

“In those days they didn’t do that.  Once you were pregnant, it was an embarrassment.  You were simply let go immediately.”

Unbelievable, I thought.  How different it is nowadays.

A few days later I was talking to a woman at the gym.  I asked her about her career.  She was in finance.   She was a successful executive, working long hard hours.  As soon as she told her company she was pregnant, she was asked to leave.  Same thing.  OMG!

Not even showing.  Just pregnant.

I’m blown away by how different it was.  Was it only men in charge?  Did we not have a say?  Did women just accept that that’s the way it was?  What about all their education?  What about their hard work?  Poof, that’s it?

OK, I have to stop asking these questions.  I’m getting negative and pissed off at the unfairness of it in my mind.  Who knows what it was really like back then?  I wasn’t there.

“We’ve Come a Long Way Baby!!”  Now we can practically give birth at our desks and nurse at work.  (Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, I’m not sure).  But I do know, being pregnant is not something that’s embarrassing or has to be hidden which it seems like it once was.

I don’t know why this struck me so hard.  I guess it just makes me wonder ………..what was the purpose of going after your career and working so hard if it could disappear so quickly?

I guess it’s just the way it was.