A tender heart...and a heartthrob

Oh boy, where to begin. I guess I'll just come right out with it- I did not get the Italy trip.

I am shocked, disappointed, numb, and heartbroken all at once. I do not understand it. I can't get my head around it. If this sounds dramatic to you, you might want to stop reading this post. Actually, you might want to stop reading my blog. I can be a bit dramatic. That's who I am- I feel things in a big way.

It doesn't make sense to me because I so believed in this trip. I cannot recall a time when I believed in something this deeply without concrete proof right in front of me. It just felt so real, so right. I could feel this trip in my bones. I wanted it passionately, and I was absolutely sure it would come my way.

Every single day since the opportunity presented itself to apply for a grant, I have visualized Italy- the sights, the smells, the interactions, the language, the tastes, the inevitable mistakes we'd make and the laughter that would follow. I bought guidebooks, made plans to get my passport, set up contacts. I started shopping for new luggage and a seriously great camera that would capture what were sure to be memorable moments. I got my students involved- we studied Italian authors and hung up a clock showing the time in Italy. I talked about my trip all the time, not in a hypothetical way, but in a very real, "This is the plan" kind of way.

It just did not seem like a possibility that I wouldn't go. I can't really explain it- I'm normally a pretty skeptical person. I need facts. I need proof. I need confirmation. But this time, I felt so "in the flow." There was synchronicity every step of the way. The grant, which proved difficult for some people to write, flowed from me effortlessly in one sitting. Every single thing about this process came easily.

In the days leading up to the announcement, I was completely confident that it would be good news. I already had a (fabulous) plan for breaking the news to everyone. Then, on Wednesday afternoon, after a particularly frustrating staff meeting, I opened the mailbox. There it was- the little envelope holding my very big dream. I didn't even read it- I just skimmed it as fast as I could while my heart raced.

Then, there it was. "We regret to inform you..."

I didn't cry. I became absolutely numb. I was in shock. Again, I realize this sounds dramatic, but it truly, in a very real way, broke my heart into a million pieces. It is devastating to hold a dream in your hand and lovingly nurture it every single day, then have it taken by some invisible will. My heart has been broken before, and for me to dare to dream of something this big, to talk about it, to believe in it with such a bravely innocent heart, was HUGE.

I felt betrayed by a Universe I had sincerely believed was conspiring on my behalf. Losing Italy was more than losing a trip across an ocean. In those moments, I lost my belief in my own power. I stopped believing that I deserved something so grand. I went back to that dark place where I believe that everyone has it figured out but me. I decided to stop dreaming. I felt very, very small.

That was on Wednesday and the next couple of days flew by in a blur. Before I knew it, it was Friday, and I remembered I had plans to attend Bryan White's concert. There was bad weather moving in, and the weatherman was saying it was going to be a disaster. Mom backed out, and no one else wanted to brave the weather. I looked up at the sky, threw up my hands, and silently said, "YOU WIN." First, the School for the Work...cancelled. Then, Italy...a no-go. Now this? My heart dropped. Again.

Then, in a seemingly merciful move, the weather turned out fine. I went to the concert, and let me tell ya, I could not have dreamed it better. My wonderful friends Cindy and Stef made the evening a serious dream come true for the sixteen-year-old girl in me. Front row seats, a homemade poster that made me laugh out loud, so much laughter my sides hurt. I was finally able to tell Bryan the stories that make the twenty-seven-year-old me cringe, and he thought they were hilarious. It really was the night I dreamed of over a decade ago, and when I viewed the pictures this morning, I couldn't stop smiling.

So what I'm saying is this. My heart is in a really tender, dark place right now, and I'm struggling to believe in me again. But last night there was a wink from the Universe, and I just can't bring myself to ignore it. In time, I'll come back here to tell you about another dream, and I'll hold it in my heart with the innocence of a sixteen-year-old girl...one whose dreams do come true.

And now, as promised, the pics...;-)

Front row seats, and I didn't even have to dye my entire body blue!

Sixteen-year-old me would have been tongue-tied at this point.

Daisies or tulips? Sixteen-year-old me would be planning a wedding at this point.

Sixteen-year-old...me...can't...breathe...

Beep...beep...beeeeeeeeeeep. Sixteen-year-old me just died of happiness.

It's about time, Bryan. IT'S ABOUT TIME.

;-)

Dear Jellybean

By Gail Kaseguma, prints available at kidmodern.

Dear Jellybean,

Aunt Lindsay here. I've been waiting to write this first (of many, I'm sure) letter to you, waiting for the perfect words to capture what we are feeling in anticipation of meeting you. But kiddo, the truth is, we're not perfect and you already know that. You get it, and you agreed to come meet us anyway, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

We just found out about you a few short weeks ago. You are quite a surprise! (The best things in life are never planned.) There will be much to tell you about in the coming months, but today I just want to tell you something I'm sure you already know. Your mommy rocks. I mean, seriously kid, when it comes to mommies, you hit the jackpot. I cannot wait to see the two of you gaze into one another's eyes for the first time. I'll cry, I'm sure of it, and just to warn you, I'm not a pretty crier.

Your mommy is feeling a lot of things right now- excitement, nervousness, contentment, fear, awe, doubt, love. I'm sure you can feel the butterflies in her tummy as she embarks on a journey that is so new and exciting and unknown. She has a lot of decisions to make in the coming months, and those of us close to her are going to work hard to help her understand something you have already seen- she's perfectly wonderful, completely ready, just as she is.

Right now you are just a little jellybean in your mommy's belly, but already you are taking up a huge piece of our hearts. We cannot wait to meet you, little one.

P.S. If you hear a really loud, obnoxious laugh, it's me. ;-)

Right here, right now.

It's strangely normal, being here on my couch when I know I had planned on being in California at this moment. I had such high hopes for The School. I was thrilled to be chosen for a full scholarship, and I couldn't wait to get there and meet some like-minded people and dig in and really do The Work.

I have to admit something. Over the past couple of months, when some big something came up in my life, some issue that needed to be dealt with, I pushed it aside. Maybe a better way of saying that is that I stuffed it further within. I figured, I can deal with it at The School. What better place to figure it out?

Except that was exhausting. I know, for sure, that I attracted the flu into my experience because I was completely overwhelmed. I was working too hard and ignoring too much. I was killing myself with projects and completely abandoning my own growth, the growth that was right in front of me and needed to happen "in the now," not in a couple of months.

I felt myself getting sick early on, but I pushed forward, not with persistence but resistance. Deep down I felt as if I worked long days and took on enough projects and attracted a lot of chaos, I might not have to deal with anything really important (and painful)- like my growing perfectionist tendencies or the changes that were happening in my relationships. I started feeling feverish and achy and congested, but I kept going to work early, staying late, even driving to a conference across the state mid-week and coming right back to work.

Two days after that conference, the flu completely knocked me on my ass. (Well, I didn't know it was the flu at the time. I was misdiagnosed and given antibiotics the first time around, and by the time I crawled back into the doctor's office and had a positive flu test, it was too late to begin flu meds.)

When it began looking like a 9-day trip across the country might not be in my best interest, something strange happened. I began to let go. I mean, really, let go. For the first time ever, I let my co-workers (who ROCK) handle my sub plans. I turned off my phone, slept as much as my body wanted (and oh, it WANTED), ate lots of fresh fruit, talked to the Universe. I sought the counsel of two people I trust most (yes, Sis, you're one of 'em!). Both women clarified what I already knew- now is not the time for me to attend The School.

I expected to feel sadness, disappointment, frustration, loss, guilt...I didn't. I felt...free. It became very clear to me that my most important work is right here, right now. I learned how much I value my own growth, and how important it is for me to make that my priority. I want to work on this icky perfectionist piece- the part of me that thinks I have to do x, y, and z in order to be loved. I want to speak my truth to my friends in every moment. I want to carve out time for phone calls with my sister, no matter how busy life gets. I want to meditate and talk to the Universe and love myself through this very messy life.

And so, it shall be (in an imperfect way, of course!). And right now, I am being called into the kitchen by the smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies. Mmmm...this living in the now business ain't so bad.

Swirling

There is so much swirling about in my life right now that I have developed a seemingly permanent case of the butterflies. I'm not sure what it means just yet...

I just ended a bout with the flu. My trip to California is cancelled due to the residual exhaustion, as well as a feeling of it just not being right. Something's off, that's for sure. Tara is dealing with a lot of chaos in her life right now, and I'm so willing but unsure how to support her in that. And then there's my own personal work, the work that's right under my nose, something to do with perfectionism and feeling like "enough."

Right now, I'm sitting in gratitude for what is here now. I'm a little scared and a little hopeful. Tonight I'm getting quiet and going within to find the answers. More on that, soon. ;-)

In the meantime, can you spread the word about our little project up at Donor's Choose? I know some adorable kiddos who are ready to write those thank-you notes!

Love to all.