Proof of happy Saturday.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
happy saturday
That's right, it's a happy Saturday because I woke up to rain (okay, drizzle...well, some drips) this morning! I'm only happy when it rains! I'm only happy when it's complicated! I usually get antsy if I stay inside all day - unless, like this glorious day, it's raining and freezing in LA! I saw my breath!!! Taking the dog out was like a magic show... watching magic fog come from my mouth on every inhale and exhale...It was wonderful. I rejoiced in the pep in my puppy's step as she too noticed the excitement in the winter storm. It's rare that the significant other and I have two days in row off together and we have it weekend which is awesome..I've had studying to do so while I did that today she assembled things like shelves and put them up. I made sandwiches. The puppy slept in my lap on the couch (I've been told she is developing bad habits but its rare in her teenage days that she wants to shower me affection so if baby wants to cuddle, baby gets to cuddle).
Tonight we are cooking dinner, drinking wine, listening to the Nutcracker, putting up some decorations and trying to survive this winter storm.
Tomorrow we have Christmas-y things to go to (and no alarm clock to set!!) and then it's Monday- the day where one of my bridesmaids is getting here for a week of bridal salon appointments! Hashtag life is good. (Ewwwww did I just do that??? Yes I did!)
Tonight we are cooking dinner, drinking wine, listening to the Nutcracker, putting up some decorations and trying to survive this winter storm.
Tomorrow we have Christmas-y things to go to (and no alarm clock to set!!) and then it's Monday- the day where one of my bridesmaids is getting here for a week of bridal salon appointments! Hashtag life is good. (Ewwwww did I just do that??? Yes I did!)
Thursday, December 5, 2013
the airplane.
Soooo Thanksgiving happened. And so did a really really big, huge thing. I flew on an airplane and was okay. I have had a horrible, debilitating fear of flying (in planes, regular flying I'm great at) that has been an issue for me, whoever I'm flying with, and the poor people that have to bear witness to my cries....for years.
I was a scared little girl growing up. The world inside my head is often more real to me than the world outside. Until recently, I didn't consider myself as someone involved in an abusive relationship with Fear - I knew I "worried" about a lot growing up, but I mean, someone's gotta do the dirty work and take care of things, right? I have always felt like the Universe and I have a eyes-meet-across-a-crowded-room thing, where it expects me to have its back. It never occurred to me that it might have mine too. What did occur to me was that there were very bad, scary things that could happen, like dying, or choking, or being kidnapped, or the house catching on fire, or getting stuck in an elevator, or having a freak stroke at 13 and that it was imperative that I avoided all risks and that I knew precisely how many minutes I was to the nearest hospital at all times. Geez it was exhausting.
In the land of Fear, the airplane was enemy number one. Scream 2 brought to life. I didn't want to know what it did last summer, I wanted to be as far away from that metal tube in the sky (the SKY - hello?? There's nothing holding it up! Are you people insane?!) as I could. I daydreamed about the pink, safe canoe I would build for my overseas trips since planes weren't an option. And yes, build.
My relationship with my fiance seemed to act as a buffer between me and my fear for awhile. Our first plane trip to Mexico went remarkably well. Things seemed to be All Quiet on the Panic Front for a long time. Until dear old 2013 was born. This year I have had a massive resurgence of panic and fear in my life (and that is a wholllleeeee other story in itself, one for another post or twenty) and my fear of flying was back. I found myself at the mercy of my imagination, which when doused with fear can show the meanest, scariest movies on a projector in my head on repeat. I could not imagine a day where I would be able to fly on a plane without sweating, crying, feeling faint, having a panic attack,literally losing my head or without feeling as if I just went got out of a trauma ward for a few hours after.
I've been in therapy to work with my fears and understand the purpose they serve in my life, and how I can learn to communicate with it better. Fear and I have been in couples' counseling. We've kind of learned to make love and conceive someone new - my Loving Adult, the part of me that is strong and wise and spiritually connected. The part of me that doesn't need to check things on the outside in order to be safe on the inside. I've watered her lots over the past several months and have watched her grow. The same water that nourishes Her simultaneously dilutes my fearful self, and sometimes it rains so much I float.
So with her by my side, and an audio recording my therapist made me, I made the conscious decision that this time it would be different. That the bullying inside my head stops here. That if I don't start making this choice now, and everyday, that my fear will continue to pummel me and I will remain caught in the current. It wasn't easy; it took a lot of mental focus, and more than anything - self trust, which is the single-most valuable thing I have gained from this journey with anxiety and fear. I had to take a stand, to show up for myself, to start changing the story.
As far as technical things I did to manage the fear on the plane, the number one thing I did was to use my mental focus to keep my entire body relaxed. I told myself that my only job was to keep my entire body relaxed. Whenever I started to think about something having to do the plane, or would start to smell the smoke of the fear fire, I told myself "Okay, but somebody else's job is the plane. That's their job. Your job is your body." I kept reminding myself of that. That this plane thing is a group effort. We're all coming together to float through the sky and everyone has a little job to do (it helped me to imagine the people in glittery elf outfits doing cute little tasks everywhere) and my part in this is solely myself.
On that note (was there a note?), here are some resources that have helped me (aka changed my life):
The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer
The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron
Mindfulness Meditation podcasts by Lisa Dale Miller (free on Itunes!)
The work and writings of Sheryl Paul - her blog is amazing.
www.innerbonding.com
And at the top of my To Read list:
Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron
Dying to be Me by Anita Moorjani
The Way of Transition by William Bridges
I was a scared little girl growing up. The world inside my head is often more real to me than the world outside. Until recently, I didn't consider myself as someone involved in an abusive relationship with Fear - I knew I "worried" about a lot growing up, but I mean, someone's gotta do the dirty work and take care of things, right? I have always felt like the Universe and I have a eyes-meet-across-a-crowded-room thing, where it expects me to have its back. It never occurred to me that it might have mine too. What did occur to me was that there were very bad, scary things that could happen, like dying, or choking, or being kidnapped, or the house catching on fire, or getting stuck in an elevator, or having a freak stroke at 13 and that it was imperative that I avoided all risks and that I knew precisely how many minutes I was to the nearest hospital at all times. Geez it was exhausting.
In the land of Fear, the airplane was enemy number one. Scream 2 brought to life. I didn't want to know what it did last summer, I wanted to be as far away from that metal tube in the sky (the SKY - hello?? There's nothing holding it up! Are you people insane?!) as I could. I daydreamed about the pink, safe canoe I would build for my overseas trips since planes weren't an option. And yes, build.
My relationship with my fiance seemed to act as a buffer between me and my fear for awhile. Our first plane trip to Mexico went remarkably well. Things seemed to be All Quiet on the Panic Front for a long time. Until dear old 2013 was born. This year I have had a massive resurgence of panic and fear in my life (and that is a wholllleeeee other story in itself, one for another post or twenty) and my fear of flying was back. I found myself at the mercy of my imagination, which when doused with fear can show the meanest, scariest movies on a projector in my head on repeat. I could not imagine a day where I would be able to fly on a plane without sweating, crying, feeling faint, having a panic attack,literally losing my head or without feeling as if I just went got out of a trauma ward for a few hours after.
I've been in therapy to work with my fears and understand the purpose they serve in my life, and how I can learn to communicate with it better. Fear and I have been in couples' counseling. We've kind of learned to make love and conceive someone new - my Loving Adult, the part of me that is strong and wise and spiritually connected. The part of me that doesn't need to check things on the outside in order to be safe on the inside. I've watered her lots over the past several months and have watched her grow. The same water that nourishes Her simultaneously dilutes my fearful self, and sometimes it rains so much I float.
So with her by my side, and an audio recording my therapist made me, I made the conscious decision that this time it would be different. That the bullying inside my head stops here. That if I don't start making this choice now, and everyday, that my fear will continue to pummel me and I will remain caught in the current. It wasn't easy; it took a lot of mental focus, and more than anything - self trust, which is the single-most valuable thing I have gained from this journey with anxiety and fear. I had to take a stand, to show up for myself, to start changing the story.
As far as technical things I did to manage the fear on the plane, the number one thing I did was to use my mental focus to keep my entire body relaxed. I told myself that my only job was to keep my entire body relaxed. Whenever I started to think about something having to do the plane, or would start to smell the smoke of the fear fire, I told myself "Okay, but somebody else's job is the plane. That's their job. Your job is your body." I kept reminding myself of that. That this plane thing is a group effort. We're all coming together to float through the sky and everyone has a little job to do (it helped me to imagine the people in glittery elf outfits doing cute little tasks everywhere) and my part in this is solely myself.
On that note (was there a note?), here are some resources that have helped me (aka changed my life):
The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer
The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron
Mindfulness Meditation podcasts by Lisa Dale Miller (free on Itunes!)
The work and writings of Sheryl Paul - her blog is amazing.
www.innerbonding.com
And at the top of my To Read list:
Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron
Dying to be Me by Anita Moorjani
The Way of Transition by William Bridges
Thursday, November 21, 2013
back in the closet
So I'm not the type to write about fashion (why do I constantly have to discredit what I'm about to say before I say it) but here it goes.
The majority of my closet since about the age of seventeen has consisted of dresses and random pieces from Goodwill and thrift stores. Really cool dresses that are totally funky and playful and channel my inner Courtney Love from the 90s. My favorite style, basically. My "me" clothes, my "catherine" clothes. My "if-you-insult-this-dress-you-are-insulting-my-entire-soul" clothes. And that was totally fine with me, and kinda still is, but as I've gotten older (HA-ripe old age of 23) and literally outgrown some of my classic-catherine outfits, or they have fallen apart, I have been dabbling in the "big girl" inspiration. You know, the "big girl" that wears "everyday jewelry" (you mean there's something other than costume jewelry?) and - GASP - boots?! Yes, Catherine from Closet's Past, boots. Turns out, there's a lot of value in a good basic piece. I can't believe I just said that, but I did. Clothes that serve as the backdrop for the face, the person - instead of clothes that serve as the main event while the face and person are merely the easel holding up the canvas.
Now before I go on, let me say there is awesomeness in both styles, and that if there ever comes a day where I don't own a pair of awkward weird clogs or a floral dress from the 90s, I give you permission to push me off a bridge. Okay, I've said my peace.
Something I love about pieces that enhance and support the face and the person is that it encourages you to own yourself. There's not so much to hide behind. I love when I see a woman in the most basic, elegant clothes, hair pulled back, no make-up. Brave enough to simply Be. Allowing the soul to be what overflows, the energy to be what you remember and feel. You want to be around the person, not the "idea" or "image" that's being projected.
So in a sea of vintage, thrift store, random clothes, sometimes it feels good to have something *nice*. Something grounding. I am all about pieces that are chic, beautifully designed, yet so comfy and effortless. Like, Carolyn Bessette effortless. Things you can throw on, hang around in the house in, or go out and still feel stylish and put-together. But not trying too hard. There is an adorable store in our neighborhood in Silverlake called The Runway Outlet that carries the fruits of local designers here in LA. It is pricey, but great quality, magical designers, sweet and helpful gals working there, and there's always a great sale rack. It's next to our favorite wine store, Silverlake Wine, but that's for another post :) I stopped in there today to use a giftcard my honey gave me a few months ago. My heart quickly got friendly with the racks.
Here's what I discovered:
Black Orchid
The majority of my closet since about the age of seventeen has consisted of dresses and random pieces from Goodwill and thrift stores. Really cool dresses that are totally funky and playful and channel my inner Courtney Love from the 90s. My favorite style, basically. My "me" clothes, my "catherine" clothes. My "if-you-insult-this-dress-you-are-insulting-my-entire-soul" clothes. And that was totally fine with me, and kinda still is, but as I've gotten older (HA-ripe old age of 23) and literally outgrown some of my classic-catherine outfits, or they have fallen apart, I have been dabbling in the "big girl" inspiration. You know, the "big girl" that wears "everyday jewelry" (you mean there's something other than costume jewelry?) and - GASP - boots?! Yes, Catherine from Closet's Past, boots. Turns out, there's a lot of value in a good basic piece. I can't believe I just said that, but I did. Clothes that serve as the backdrop for the face, the person - instead of clothes that serve as the main event while the face and person are merely the easel holding up the canvas.
Now before I go on, let me say there is awesomeness in both styles, and that if there ever comes a day where I don't own a pair of awkward weird clogs or a floral dress from the 90s, I give you permission to push me off a bridge. Okay, I've said my peace.
Something I love about pieces that enhance and support the face and the person is that it encourages you to own yourself. There's not so much to hide behind. I love when I see a woman in the most basic, elegant clothes, hair pulled back, no make-up. Brave enough to simply Be. Allowing the soul to be what overflows, the energy to be what you remember and feel. You want to be around the person, not the "idea" or "image" that's being projected.
So in a sea of vintage, thrift store, random clothes, sometimes it feels good to have something *nice*. Something grounding. I am all about pieces that are chic, beautifully designed, yet so comfy and effortless. Like, Carolyn Bessette effortless. Things you can throw on, hang around in the house in, or go out and still feel stylish and put-together. But not trying too hard. There is an adorable store in our neighborhood in Silverlake called The Runway Outlet that carries the fruits of local designers here in LA. It is pricey, but great quality, magical designers, sweet and helpful gals working there, and there's always a great sale rack. It's next to our favorite wine store, Silverlake Wine, but that's for another post :) I stopped in there today to use a giftcard my honey gave me a few months ago. My heart quickly got friendly with the racks.
Here's what I discovered:
Black Orchid
Now I got these pants in army green, but couldn't find a picture of them online (oh duh I could have just taken one). They have a really faint paisley print that you can barely see on the green pants. They looked awesome folded up on the table and the girl convinced me to try to them on. I was sure they would be too small...I tried them on and at first was all "ohhhhh noooo these are wayyy too tight" - but apparently that is the style now, and they were supposed to be like that! I usually don't like skin tight clothing at all, but this....this was something magical. This was a unicorn. This was Britney Spears having coffee with me. They were SO comfortable - they felt like pajama pants, like a comfy hotel bed. The girl said they fit exactly how they were supposed to, and as I gazed in the mirror I thought "Oh my God! I get to be one of those girls! This is my time!" I loved them so much, and right then and there, I welcomed them into my closet. I took a chance on them, and they worked. The great part was that they were $55.00, which isn't a lot for jeans- really nice, awesome jeans that make me feel like a Grown City Gal.
This picture really doesn't do it justice. The skirt on the bottom of the top reminds me of a ballerina (my favorite thing to feel like) and how fitting that their runway models wear ballet shoes:
I got the pink top, but tried on the other one - wish I could have afforded both. I am in love with this designer. And again, pictures don't even do it justice. There's nothing like the way it feels when it try it on - the fabric is amazing - SO comforting, sleek and sexy. It feels so effortless and hangs beautifully.
And now this next designer I discovered about a year ago at the same store, and everytime I wear my top by her, I get so many compliments- and it's the simplest, comfiest top ever. I wear it all the time!
So there ya go. I just became sophisticated.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
'it gets dark so early now'
*bonus points for anyone who knows where that line is from.
It's officially Christmas time - yes, before Thanksgiving, thank you very much radio! The days are short and the lines will be getting long...I kind of can't contain my excitement for the holiday season and am proud to say I have saved our Iowa Pine Mrs. Meyer's hand soap from last year - I just can't let Christmas go.
Here are some of my favorite (oh so consumer blah blah) things that I am either wanting or obsessed with or will never let go of:
Mrs. Meyers Iowa Pine cleaning products:
It's officially Christmas time - yes, before Thanksgiving, thank you very much radio! The days are short and the lines will be getting long...I kind of can't contain my excitement for the holiday season and am proud to say I have saved our Iowa Pine Mrs. Meyer's hand soap from last year - I just can't let Christmas go.
Here are some of my favorite (oh so consumer blah blah) things that I am either wanting or obsessed with or will never let go of:
Mrs. Meyers Iowa Pine cleaning products:
Kate Ellen Metals jewelry - ANYTHING that she makes...
(photo credit - her website!)
I was lucky enough to meet Kate when I modeled for her three years ago. She's awesome and an inspiration as a female artist.
This Closet Romantic Sgt. Pepper jacket. I have been in love with it for two years now and can't find it anywhere - other than in the closet of my future mother in law...
This wall art from Scott Coppersmith Designs. I want this sooo badly. We met him at a street fair about a year ago and I've been holding onto the card ever since.
Art from Phoebe Anderson - I met this girl at the yoga studio I work at. She was carrying around some of her paintings and I asked for her info. She has some awesome portraits of puppies and kitties too...and I often dream of a huge painting of Starbelly on our walls...
My lovely friend McLean McGown is yoga teacher, mommy, nutritionist, and now Pangea Organics Queen - we order our Pangea from her and next up to try is their Balancing Facial Oil for my breakouts.
My honey's clothing brand Californiamor features organic materials and the highest quality screen-printing. Great for holiday gifts! My favorite is the three-quarter baseball tee :) They are californiadorable.
That's all for now...overdosing on coffee and MSNBC...
Monday, November 11, 2013
a love song
I'm getting over being sick and haven't written in forever. Not because I've been sick, but because every time I remember I have this blog, I'm conveniently stuffing my face with pistachios in the kitchen and I tell myself one day I will become really witty and insightful and have something awesome to say. Something cool. Something that Meg from A Practical Wedding would say. Something that would encourage me to put on my broken, sideways glasses (I really really need new ones). But I'm just here, watching Dateline, with a sore throat and practicing breathing through my nose.
I'm not even sure why I have this blog because I'm a private person and don't really like technology. I'm not even sure why people like blogs these days. I have one that I follow religiously (mentioned above, ahem) but that's it. But these blogs where people just write about their lives and we're all supposed to jump on board? I don't know. I'm not sure what that says about us. Are we finding ways to connect and build community or are we really just desensitizing ourselves to real human contact and living in a false reality where you can make your identity whatever you want..You can be the person that you wish you were in the aisle at Whole Foods. You know, when someone's walking by you on the trail and you both do that halfway-hello thing that sounds like a baby meerkat asking if dinner's ready yet. Maybe?
I just watched a video someone posted on Facebook; it touched a nerve. It talked about the distress and fear in my gut that I've been dealing with for so long. The contradiction between things being so beautiful, so full, so intertwined in my soul, and things being so temporary, so fleeting, so foreign - so much so that I'm just a doll dropped into a dollhouse trying to figure out how to fend for herself. To find the way out. To get back home.
I'm realizing, through many storms and forests of panic and anxiety, that Home is actually in the impermanence. In the uncertainty. In the fragility. Home is not escaping fragility; Home is inside of Fragility. Home sits in the eye of vulnerability. Where my fears rub against my insides, where my love softens my shoulders. For so long I have been so petrified to be alive because it means one day I won't be. Holding anything takes strength, owning anything takes responsibility. My fear is not my enemy- it shows me where my boundaries are, where I feel safe, and more than anything, it shows me the gaping holes that desperately need to be filled with faith. It shows me where I'm empty, where I need to connect. It's a love song from the universe to me. It gets loud when I don't listen, and when I do, it gets so quiet- so much so that I am drawn closer and closer until we are one again.
I'm not even sure why I have this blog because I'm a private person and don't really like technology. I'm not even sure why people like blogs these days. I have one that I follow religiously (mentioned above, ahem) but that's it. But these blogs where people just write about their lives and we're all supposed to jump on board? I don't know. I'm not sure what that says about us. Are we finding ways to connect and build community or are we really just desensitizing ourselves to real human contact and living in a false reality where you can make your identity whatever you want..You can be the person that you wish you were in the aisle at Whole Foods. You know, when someone's walking by you on the trail and you both do that halfway-hello thing that sounds like a baby meerkat asking if dinner's ready yet. Maybe?
I just watched a video someone posted on Facebook; it touched a nerve. It talked about the distress and fear in my gut that I've been dealing with for so long. The contradiction between things being so beautiful, so full, so intertwined in my soul, and things being so temporary, so fleeting, so foreign - so much so that I'm just a doll dropped into a dollhouse trying to figure out how to fend for herself. To find the way out. To get back home.
I'm realizing, through many storms and forests of panic and anxiety, that Home is actually in the impermanence. In the uncertainty. In the fragility. Home is not escaping fragility; Home is inside of Fragility. Home sits in the eye of vulnerability. Where my fears rub against my insides, where my love softens my shoulders. For so long I have been so petrified to be alive because it means one day I won't be. Holding anything takes strength, owning anything takes responsibility. My fear is not my enemy- it shows me where my boundaries are, where I feel safe, and more than anything, it shows me the gaping holes that desperately need to be filled with faith. It shows me where I'm empty, where I need to connect. It's a love song from the universe to me. It gets loud when I don't listen, and when I do, it gets so quiet- so much so that I am drawn closer and closer until we are one again.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Fall, Flooding & Fear
This year so far has probably been the most soul-changing year I've ever had.
I am happy to be sitting here in September, the month I met my fiance three years ago.
I am happy to be wide-eyed, conscious and to be on this journey of nurturing the relationship between the internal mother in me and my inner child.
I am learning to hold the reigns of my own life. I am learning that I do deserve love, and that there is no need to be afraid of my sadness, my grief.
I love this month. I can start to feel the energy shift in the earth at night, the hint of fall in the breeze, the refreshing hollowness of winter air is just starting to trickle into the saturated summer air. Things will soon get so bare (as bare as they get in Los Angeles) until there is nothing left but stark, quiet space. Space for the joy of the holidays, space for shedding of limiting fears and false beliefs, space for stretching, space for growth, space for connection, space for hibernation. Space for hope. At the beginning of each season there is a certain hope that I love so much. The possibilities. The fresh eyes meeting old traditions.
We picked the perfect place to get married. A place that is under water right now, at the mercy of rushing floods. Destruction and rebirth, chaos and cleansing - however you choose to look at it. But the place we chose is just as sturdy as it is vulnerable; just as grounded as it is fluid; just as ancient and sacred as it is young, new, and vibrant - like the marriage it will give birth to in nine months.
I can't wait for daylight to get shorter this fall. I can't wait for the quiet peace of winter.
I was told by a dear friend that when a strand of a spiderweb is broken, it actually strengthens the structure of the web instead of weakening it. Life is fragile, floods are scary, loss is heartbreaking, but the web only gets stronger. Many thoughts and prayers for Colorado, and for anyone suffering for that matter.
I am happy to be sitting here in September, the month I met my fiance three years ago.
I am happy to be wide-eyed, conscious and to be on this journey of nurturing the relationship between the internal mother in me and my inner child.
I am learning to hold the reigns of my own life. I am learning that I do deserve love, and that there is no need to be afraid of my sadness, my grief.
I love this month. I can start to feel the energy shift in the earth at night, the hint of fall in the breeze, the refreshing hollowness of winter air is just starting to trickle into the saturated summer air. Things will soon get so bare (as bare as they get in Los Angeles) until there is nothing left but stark, quiet space. Space for the joy of the holidays, space for shedding of limiting fears and false beliefs, space for stretching, space for growth, space for connection, space for hibernation. Space for hope. At the beginning of each season there is a certain hope that I love so much. The possibilities. The fresh eyes meeting old traditions.
We picked the perfect place to get married. A place that is under water right now, at the mercy of rushing floods. Destruction and rebirth, chaos and cleansing - however you choose to look at it. But the place we chose is just as sturdy as it is vulnerable; just as grounded as it is fluid; just as ancient and sacred as it is young, new, and vibrant - like the marriage it will give birth to in nine months.
I can't wait for daylight to get shorter this fall. I can't wait for the quiet peace of winter.
I was told by a dear friend that when a strand of a spiderweb is broken, it actually strengthens the structure of the web instead of weakening it. Life is fragile, floods are scary, loss is heartbreaking, but the web only gets stronger. Many thoughts and prayers for Colorado, and for anyone suffering for that matter.
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