Universe-ity. School for My Soul

I have learned a few things in my 38 years and 10 months about who I am and how that relates to the greater world. I don't profess to know a right path for everyone, but I do have some lessons learned that help guide me on my way. If you are an empath, or someone who is tuned in to energy, relationships and the greater mysteries of the universe, you may find these tidbits helpful. Mostly, I needed to write them down so I have a reference when I falter.

• We cross each other's paths to learn something. Sometimes our learning takes place in mere moments, other times we need decades. No relationship is unimportant to your humanity and growth. Honor them, the good ones and the hard ones. Let them go when they have served their purpose.
• The best things in life are the simple things. The first sip of coffee or tea on a Sunday morning, a goodnight kiss, holding hands, the friend that shows up when you need her, the sun that rises and sets despite your best efforts to stop time. Make mental notes of gratitude during these divine moments. For the love of joy, do!
• The universe continues on (expanding) because of energy. The energy of the sun and wind, the energy of love, the energy between people, and the energy in your cells, among others, is what moves us closer to bliss. Without this unseen life force, there would be nothing. Honor it by taking care of the energy you receive from another, and reciprocate with your own light energy as an offering of goodwill. Apologize and explain when you can't muster enough good energy to be a positive force in the world. That alone will contribute to the bank of good tidings. 
• Honesty is one of the most important virtues. Too many of us learned as young children to tell white lies so as to save ourselves or others from fear and pain. When the energy of your lies build over time though, you constantly live in fear and pain for not being honest. What you work hard to fight against, you create. Create truth. Create love.
• Do I want to be happy? Not really, no. Happiness, to me, is a fleeting emotion that insinuates falling in and out of a state of smiley contentment that often depends on getting one's way. I want to be joyful. I want peace. I want to know the joy that one feels in noticing the unexpected gifts and, like a child, feeling excited and grateful. Or the joy in hearing your favorite tune on the radio and at once commencing in loud singing, or dancing with abandon. Joy is a state of recognition - when we realize that life is full of amazing miracles in small (and large) packages. And when the joy that flows in waves through my heart and soul pulls back, I want the feeling of peace to be what remains. 
• Why do some people hurt people? Fear, insecurities, anger, triggers from old memories, wanting/needing/having to be right. Love on people that aren't interested in showing the world their woundedness, but instead share their vulnerabilities and grace.
• They say that the things that bug you about someone else are a mirror to your own issues. That you are just projecting. I see this a lot and I do agree that many people project their stuff on to others, but I also realize (now after a lot of time spent analyzing) that some people are just assholes and it has nothing to do with you. We empaths need to know this or we will spend an inordinate amount of time analyzing our shortcomings. Everyone has stuff to work on, sure, but don't let someone else's stuff become your stuff or you'll burst at the seams.
• It's okay to admit that you don't like someone. For as long as I can remember, I thought it was my gift and my purpose to find something to like about everyone. Some people have made that really hard. Others told me it was me and that I hadn't done enough for them. Some people didn't give two shits if I liked them or not. So, why did I spend so much of my life caring about people who didn't care about me when I could have been spending that energy caring for myself or the people that did? I'm almost 39 and for the first time I recently admitted there are people in this world that I don't like. Hello, my name is Katie and I am (still) a recovering people-pleaser.
• I've often wondered why some friends don't put a lot of effort into scheduling time together. They claim they like you. They say it's fun to hang out. They never call. I don't know if I have clarity quite yet, but I know that maybe it shouldn't matter. If you believe the relationship is a good one and it is mutual then spend time with that person when you can. If they are saying they like spending time with you, but their behaviors don't match their words don't spend extra energy worrying about it. For some reason they can't be honest with you, in which case maybe you don't want to be that close anyway.

Knowitalledness, Be Sabered!

I've been thinking a lot lately about the recent day that the phrase know-it-all was used in conjunction with "your tendencies" (your, meaning mine). It really bothered me at first, because I truly don't want to be thought of as anything but smart, lovely, kind, and wonderful. Not because I need someone else to give me a sense of personal worth, but because that is how I see myself (and oy, I know how that sounds). I recognize that I am not those things all of the time, but I also recognize that at my core I AM those things in abundance. The thing is,if I can see my smart, lovely, kind and wonderful self, it means I have eyes to see the world, and you, in the same way.

The most uneasy thing about being called a know-it-all is that I knew it had truth and yet I struggled with the negativity of it. It was a hard thing to own immediately because when you Google Know-it-All, you'll find this definition on Wikipedia: A know-it-all or know-all is a person who obnoxiously purports an expansive comprehension of a topic and/or situation when in reality, his/her comprehension is inaccurate or limited. The rub for me was "obnoxiously purports and his/her comprehension is inaccurate or limited." My comprehension is certainly limited when it comes to your life and what you need. That's a given. However, I don't speak about things which I have no comprehension. I ask about those things. I don't know if I come off as obnoxiously purporting things to be true that aren't. If I do, tell me. The truth is that I love to learn from others, from the internet, from books and from life experience. LOVE it. I will consume as much information as possible about a subject in order to have as many perspectives as possible. I will research something until I have exhausted much of the library and Google's relevant information. I will try books, products, ways of being, new activities, etc. to see what thing/way feels true to me. I don't research to know everything that is right for YOU, I research to help me understand my world. When you and I have a conversation, you may notice that I love to talk and connect dots with you - connection is another of my favorite things in the world.

So, it is true that I love to accumulate information. Not to be a know-it-all and impress you, but so that I can know what I like and how I want to live. Then, here's the rub on YOU, friend, I get super excited about what I have learned and what I know and I like to share my knowledge. I don't do it in hopes that you take my word for it and follow my path, look up to me, or think I'm amazing. I share with the hope that you will share, too. I really do respect your journey, and I really like you, damn it. I want you and I to be freakin' bad-ass Jedi's and cross our lightsabers. And I want you to tell me all about your lightsaber and why you love it and what amazing things you have done with it. I don't think my lightsaber is better than yours, it's just the tool that I use to deflect the darkness. I picked up the methods I use to wield my lightsaber in Jedi training, as well through certain natural instincts. I totally get that you have your Jedi training and your own natural instincts and I want to honor them. Have I lost you, Obi Wan? This is the heart of my rambling: You have your own way of living, loving and being. And I LOVE that about you, and I want to know how you manage to do all that you do and be all that you are because you are my hero. I am in awe of you.

The conclusion? I don't want to be on anyone's pedestal. I want to be someone you walk your path with (for as long as you will have me) sharing stories, likes and dislikes, and Jedi Master tricks. And, I want you to know that when I tell you about the latest thing I love or have found, or that my life is better for something or someone that I have come to know, I am not saying it with any sense of I-know-better or I-am-better. I'm not. It's not my way. It's that I love me. And because I love me, I love you. Because I love my life, I love your life. Because I am grateful for amazing finds, I am grateful for finding an amazing you. This may not make my knowitalledness any easier for you, but knowing what I know about me, it's made it easier for me to accept what I am. I am okay with my current level of Jedi training, my purple lightsaber and my path (including the shadows), and I am more than okay with yours.

With genuine love for thee,

Katie

**As a disclaimer: this post is a response to a comment a friend made after I argued (in love) with her about pasta. I know this person loves me for who I am and that helps me feel safe to dig deep. I have amazing friends that see all of me and love me with honesty and I am extremely grateful.

Thesis for my Masters of Science in Quitting

For over six months a very persistent but understanding voice has told me that it's time to move on. I have ignored it, I have attempted to reason with it, I have resented it and been angry at it. Who in their right fucking mind quits a job when they are the ONLY one earning a stable income and bringing in benefits? Who? That would be me.

My life in review has led me to this truth: I am a quitter. I quit things that I don't feel are right for me. As a kid, I quit piano (mean teacher), gymnastics (too tall), and soccer (probably saved myself from anorexia or bulimia). I quit friendships - every year in high school I had a new group of friends. I retreated from those that overlooked me, were uninterested in really knowing me, or those that were interested in friendships that brought status. When I quit my high school boyfriend, it was to begin dating a handsome, long-haired, art education major in college. I thought it would be a short fling - an exciting dance to the tune of Wild Thing. I am still dancing with him 19 years later. The summer after my freshman year in college I came home, got a job at Burger King and then quit said job after my first elbow-covered-in-french-fry-grease night. I immediately told my parents I would not be spending the summer living with them (I was 18) and I moved back to East Lansing where I lived for three and a half years, gladly paying my own way that summer. I almost quit college, but decided against it and instead finished in three and a half years. Immediately after graduating from MSU, I quit the state of Michigan and moved to Phoenix, Arizona with my boyfriend-turned-fiance in tow. No jobs, no friends, just a rented apartment. Eventually we found jobs and made friends. We solidified our togetherness there - 2000 miles from any expectations, traveling the red rock, desert land of the west. We had been in Arizona for nine months, were married in Michigan during that time, when I decided we should quit Arizona. I had quickly realized how much I loved and needed Michigan and my family. We bought a house in a lovely neighborhood and we each had jobs, when I decided we needed to have kids. I then quit my job to stay home with them. I have quit multiple part-time jobs as a mom - always looking for a schedule and variety that worked best both personally and for my family. And now, the biggest risk I have ever taken is quitting a job that provides medical benefits and a stable paycheck to once again be at home. Why? Because...

I haven't quit my childhood dream job - to be a great mom.
I haven't quit my kids.
I haven't quit my marriage.
I haven't quit faith.
I haven't quit adventure.
I haven't quit listening to my intuition.
I haven't quit trusting in my ability to land on my feet.
I haven't quit knowing who I am and what I am capable of.
I haven't quit my dreams.

I am not done quitting. I look forward to quitting. I will gladly quit:
fear.
caring about other people's opinions of me.
looking backward.
worry.
resentment.
materialism.
wondering if I am enough, if my life has been worth it.

Today, I am a happy and peaceful person because of the things I quit. I don't regret one thing I have quit. I have known when it's right to stay and when it's time to move on. All of my decisions have led me to a greater understanding of myself and of life. I am so grateful to have solid, loving, mutual friendships. My husband I have have worked really hard to nurture the love and passion in our marriage and despite difficulties and dark days we continue to move forward. We are both nurtured and frustrated by the growth that we ask of and create for each other. I have three beautiful children that love me and still admit it out loud. I have family that lives near, in this beautiful state that I love. I live in the town that I grew up in and happily have claimed again, through a new love affair, as "home". I am looking forward to building a business with my husband and a holistic health practice of my own. I don't feel like a quitter at all. I feel like a doer. Like an adventurer. I'm a life-liver-and-lover and I'm at peace with who I am.

“Quitting is not giving up, it's choosing to focus your attention on something more important. Quitting is not losing confidence, it's realizing that there are more valuable ways you can spend your time. Quitting is not making excuses, it's learning to be more productive, efficient and effective instead. Quitting is letting go of things (or people) that are sucking the life out of you so you can do more things that will bring you strength.” ― Osayi Osar-Emokpae, Impossible Is Stupid

I still kinda & sorta love life, a lot

I can't believe I am back to this blog. I originally birthed it as Scandalicious Suburbia. I got a kick out of being an unexpected goof ball. Maybe I come across as composed and with my shit together. I am not. Sometimes I am. Not really though. I don't know everything. I don't have it figured out. I do know life has a way of teaching me that you can never know what is next.

I don't like to tell my story because I know that it is just that - a story. It's my "this is why you should listen to me" plea. This is why I matter. Honestly, we all matter. You matter. Let's tell each other stories.

When we believe that we are unique and super-special, it's like we mentally hop a luxury yacht to the Island of No One Understands Me. Island life is unsettling - most everyone else is on the island of misfits or on their own private island of specialness. When we are over concerned with our own uniqueness, we send the message that any understanding, compassion, and love directed at us is misguided. If they haven't lived to tell the story you have lived to tell, how can they possibly understand? If we don't want to be alone, a victim of our story, we have to row-row-row ourselves to the island of misfits. It is there that we will find community among kindred souls.

How do we get to a place, as individuals, where we can both deal with our individualistic minds and expand our consciousness to include our desire for community and love? How do we rectify the two? Our egos want to us to believe we are Jesus reincarnate, but our souls know that we are all Jesus reincarnate. My story is your story. My antagonist is real to me, yet still an antagonist - a crucial character to every good story. My story has been told before and will be told again. My story, though the events are seemingly rare, mirrors at least one other story that I am aware of in my small city. How can I be so selfish as to worry about the stuff I go through when I know that people go through worse? Yet, how can I not worry about me when I have to help me survive? It's a conundrum that requires at least a year's worth of tissues, bad movies and sugar-laden treats to get through.

I was never one to lament. I am not a fan of it.I am a lover of life - as it is. And yet, I am sad to report I have spent the last year lamenting. I have grieved my choice to love and be open with people, I have said a big F-you to living in the moment (because it's really hard when the moment is shit covered in vomit), and I have just been a place where authenticity (caution: buzz word) seemed inconsequential and "playing it safe" seemed, well, safe.

But you know... if I really believed that I wouldn't be writing this. Playing it safe is not my cup of tea. If I live once (or live again with no memory of this), why do I care about being careful? I don't have a death wish. I have a life wish. I wish to live fully, in every moment. I wish to love. I wish to help. I wish to see beauty. I wish to breathe and dance and play and laugh.

In Living Color

I have a blank canvas. It's white. I detest white. Okay, not really detest. White can be exquisite and beautiful, especially in contrast to what is normally green and brown. Snowy days are gorgeous. Ivory soap is pretty. White hair can be stunning. What really bothers me about white is that without vigilance and constant attention, at some point, somehow, Life is going to come along and mess it up. White is impossible to maintain.

White is said to represent purity, innocence and cleanliness (from Wikipedia). Is that why I have a problem with it? Let me dissect purity. True purity is a virtue that likely no one can claim fully. The white wedding dress is an easy example. Whether or not you had sex before marriage is irrelevant. You probably had impure thoughts, at least. If wedding dresses could give away secrets, I wonder how many dresses would be completely white...... (still wondering)....... Mine? Not red or black, thank you very much. I think at least a spot of pink on the hem for even the purist of the pure. Having a name that means "pure" has always made me chuckle. I didn't even try to live up to that one ..... [grin] .....

I like the idea of purity, innocence and cleanliness. But kinky, experienced (wise?), and dirty is fun too. So, for me, adding color to life is among the best expressions of authenticity. My favorite color is purple. It always has been. But I don't decorate with purple. I have never painted a wall purple. When I decorate I use autumnal colors. Oranges, reds, browns, greens, yellows.... Those bold colors are my self-expression colors. Purple I save for my thoughts, small gestures, intimacy.

So, today I literally have a blank canvas. Interesting, too, that our lives are blank canvases. How will I best express myself with this blank canvas that I have? I have chosen my colors and my creation method and soon I will get to see what manifests from my intentions and actions. Maybe I will let a speck of purity and innocence show through. Maybe I will not. For me, at least, life is more fun when experienced in color.

The Dreaded Christmas Letter Containing Picture of Family Dressed Alike

Last year I sent out a Christmas card that was da bomb. I had so many people tell me that it was the BEST one they had ever received. I think it had something to do with my (at that time) 3yr old. He wasn't wearing a stitch but held a gingerbread house in a mommy sanctioned appropriate spot. Seems like something a Bad Mother would do. The thing is that kid was a nud----is---t at the time. He wouldn't keep his clothes on for 2 seconds in the house. Most people just take their shoes off when they come in the door. Not he. And I was tired of dressing my kids in matching sweaters and making them smile with their arms around each other like they actually get along. They don't really. And they don't like cutesy sweaters and matching outfits. They just want to be themselves. And when I force Preppy-Unity it backlashes. So, instead I offered individuality. They smiled for that picture like the cheshire cat high on weed.

I also find the letters that people send about how Great! and Positive! and Happy! the year has been a little like investigating a crime scene. Because we all know that fueling the gratitude and positivity is the behind the scenes stuff that screams "we made it another year - together, alive and out of jail".

Did sonny boy not flunk Algebra for the 10th time? Yay! Just gush about what a genius he is. Did daddy stop flirting with the secretary after hours? Easy, he's a hard worker and has become the epitome of a devoted family man. And momma found Twilight, blogging, and drinking wine before it's time? Put her down as an avid writer, reader and wine connoisseur who now delights in cooking.

It's not that I am a negative person, quite the opposite I think. I just want people to be REAL.

Here goes my Holiday card to all of you:

Dear friends,

This year started off cold. It was January on the first day of the new year and where we live that means cold. I wanted to move south but my husband said no, so I decided to spend his money to keep myself sane and happy.

While my son was having a hard time adjusting to the different medications we were trying for his anxiety, I wanted to run away. The darkness of the season mirrored the darkness of my mood. But I was holding it together. Which meant I was holding us together. Because if momma ain't happy .... say it together now... ain't no body happy. I know dat's right.

When spring decided to come in late April, the warmer weather, singing birds and flower's sweet scent, warmed, bloomed and pleasantly perfumed my mood. We had paid off enough bills to take out another big loan and replace my long-ago dream car that was falling apart. We began staying up later than 9pm again - which meant we could actually rekindle relationships that had drifted apart when we went into hibernation. Kevin started promising to do many home projects. He spent hours promising and planning, planning and promising. He had big dreams for a new roof & new deck. And, moving along ... we purchased new bikes for the kids so that they could expand their territory in the neighborhood. "Go ahead and ride around the block a few times". I was so proud of them. No GPS systems, or anything.

Summer. Much of the summer is spent trying to balance my life with the life of three kids at home and family visiting for an extended period of time. This year we enjoyed two weeks with family. Yeah, it was hard at first but we managed to get by on only two weeks together. We had to fit more things into two weeks because the year before we had five weeks. I am grateful for the two weeks. Really. Truly. Grateful. We love spending time at the beach and time at the lake. Summertime didn't give me enough craziness, so I decided to start this blog, Scandalicious Suburbia. For that I am really grateful, too. As are you. Oh, and I read Twilight (and the rest of the series) and I have to say just like when I read Jane Austen, my life has changed and will never be the same. Finally, but most importantly, I began a renewed and strengthened relationship with my MIL. That is true. I realized that if you continue to bend over, knowing what is coming when you do, you have no good reason to cry about it. That was a good lesson to learn. Stop bending over.

Fall is my favorite time of year. I love to see bright colors. I found peace again as my children started school. God is good. My nine year old is having a good year. My daughter is reverting to a five year old. My four year old is "really thriving" (to quote his teachers). Little do they know that is because we forgot about him. Because of the positive start to the year, I decided one job was just too few and took on two more. I have made new friends and managed to keep a few of the old. Somehow, despite being very insecure about friendships most of my life, I actually find myself full and satisfied with my current group of friends. What is amazing is that they seem to be satisfied BEING my friend. (Like, they actually call me to do stuff. Count on me. Need me.) While I don't advocate living off of the feeling of being needed, I do condone liking it. Appreciating it.

So, now we come back around to darkness. Just yesterday I learned, as we all did, that the USofA has been in a recession since December of 2007. I love how we didn't know that then, but now we do. Like they can just go and change the past like that. "Oh, BTW, when you thought things were okay in 2007, yeah, well they weren't. Sucks to be you ... then." So now that we are in an official recession many of us are fearful. Yet, I feel light. There is nothing like a cathartic letter of truth and a declaration that when you thought you were all right, you weren't, to make you see that everything is always all right. Things are not always perfect, glowing, syrupy concoctions of our imaginations. Reality is a bit harsher. But much funnier, too. And definitely worth living for. What is more intoxicating and fulfilling than an adventure? And what is life but the biggest adventure of all?

Rock Me Amadeus,
Katie

(Oh, and if you noticed, I don't speak for my entire family. If we were really trying to be truthful about our year we would let everyone write their own story, right?)

Serious Issue Here!

When is it ever okay to pick your nose? When there is not a Kleenex around (in the car, at the bedside, in the store)?

I have a sore in the upper corner of my nose. I get them every few months or so. They look like a little cut/slice and they hurt. I don't know if my nose gets too dried out, or if it's some sort of bacteria/fungus thing. All I know is that because it stings, I play with it. Not really fondle it, play with it, more like pick at it, play with it. I get the scab out only to realize that it's getting worse.

Soon the tip of my nose turns pink with either irritation or infection. Gross. So then I look like Rudolf with a possible obvious nose-picking issue. By deduction why else would the tip of a person's nose be red? I guess I could blame the weather. Though, if I am inside for over 15 minutes, there goes that excuse.

Yes I want your comments! Though, I am almost sure I will get no comments on this post because who is going to admit that they DO pick their nose for certain reasons or on reasonable occasions? Oh, but a few will comment to state explicitly that they HAVE NEVER and WOULD NEVER pick their nose. Yeah, and they probably don't masturbate, either. Whatever.

Anyway, my nose hurts. My finger will have to go up there to put the anti-biotic cream on it next. So, if you see me picking my nose, maybe just hand me a tissue.

God, this must be what confession feels like.

Be It First Before You Expect It

My friend Sarah came to visit a few weekends ago. We had a few drinks at a bar on Thursday night and then Friday we went to an antique store to find goodies for her vintage kitsch collection. After our visit to the downtown antique store we went to a local coffee joint to have a coffee and some good conversation.

We hit topics such as: politics, abortion, religion, spirituality, gay rights, the economy... it was a good convo. 'Specially fun because we weren't defending our stance on issues but sharing our beliefs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw this young (younger than us) girl sitting at her computer. I later told Sarah I KNEW she was listening, and Sarah said she saw her look up at us a few times. She started packing up to go and sure enough stopped at our table.

She was shaking. She went on to say that she had overheard our conversation. She went into a personal story of struggles, fear of crazy religious people, to a moment of clarity, to a church parking lot, to being welcomed by the church members, to a personal relationship with Jesus, to inviting us to her church. Her story was compelling and sweet. Sarah and I could relate to her moment of clarity and her fear of crazy religious people. I can relate to her personal relationship with Jesus (I don't want to speak for Sarah) and her wanting to share what has worked for her with others.

Scandalicous Suburbia is my testimony to the choices and beliefs that have worked for me. I fully realize that I have opened myself up by blogging in that I could potentially have many readers. Or I could be blogging to only 1 reader - me. Either way, once written it is not my choice who reads this blog. People find me and visit me for a number of different reasons I am sure, "becoming a hippie" is topping the list so far of readers that find me through Google.

I don't hold any expectations of my blog changing minds or lives. I don't sit around hoping that my blog gets read by thousands of people and makes me famous. Blogging isn't meant to be my life's work, I know that. But I still enjoy it. It's fun & I do it for me, really. I do it to process my thoughts and live who-I-am out-loud, something I didn't do much of until recently. So, if you read it, you may hear me talk about Byron Katie and The Work because her process on how to live in the moment changed my life. You might hear me mention TUT, the website that sends me a fabulous, funny daily email from The Universe. I have read and loved Seth books by Jane Roberts, Eckhart Tolle, Neale Donald Walsch, Don Miguel Ruiz (specifically The Voice of Knowledge), Wayne Dyer, Pema Chodron, The Tao Te Ching, M. Scott Peck (specifically Further Along The Road Less Traveled), and A Course in Miracles to name a few. These people/books may all get mentioned on my blog because it is MY blog and they were enlightening and important to my path.

What I do not understand is the belief that some hold that their way of life (their choice of religion/books/beliefs/etc) is the only way of life and should be a one size fits all for everyone. What happens when we begin proselytizing to other people is that we begin to look naive, closed minded and cold. The political tactic of making the other guy look bad has never sat well with me, no matter what party. Why aren't politicians talking about what they will bring to the office instead of what the other guy won't bring? And religion: I have known people who hoped to bring followers to their religion, talk to the potential converts like they are stupid and naive, somehow not ready for the "one truth", & disappointing The Lord until the moment they join the "one true" church. The girl that told us HER church was the place that WE could find healing, believed that with all of her heart and stated in simply and lovingly. When she left I loved her for being so brave as to share her sorrowful and triumphant story with two strangers. An amazing testimony from her soul. It was her story about her path to freedom. I can hear it and love her. I don't have to make it her story about my path to freedom.

I have my own story about me. I have shared parts of it here, on Scandalicious Suburbia. I have shared it openly. I don't expect everyone to agree with me. I don't hope for anything specific by sharing it. For me, it's about opening up to Life. Just by writing and clicking "Publish Post" I am opening myself up to the world. I have learned that when I do this the world opens itself up to me, too. However, my sense of self, my passion, my heart is not wrapped up in the comments or the feedback or how many new friends I receive or people I convert to my way of thinking. My self-identity is only wrapped up in Me. How I feel. What I think about. Whether I am being loving, open, and kind to myself. It's only when I am being good to myself that I can be good to others. I play my music and others benefit (if they like the sound of it, that is). Changing my music to theirs to win them over makes no sense and making people change their music to mine to gain followers is loveless.

This video, from Abraham (another of my favorites), is an amazing testimony, for me, to the value of living Your Life without expectations and judgements of others.

The Style Of My Life

When I chose Scandalicious Suburbia it was with purpose. My thinking was this: I have a habit of hiding my ideas, beliefs, humor, and awesome dance moves from friends and family. When I let something "slip" it seems that I usually get a reaction. So I conformed - and still do - to fit in. This is something I have done for a lifetime, but have recently been working on changing. I won't always let my freak flag fly, though, because I am naturally shy and introverted. I need breaks, even from myself.

My great friend, KARK (male version), recently criticized my choice of "suburbia". He's just upset because he lives in the same neighborhood and thinks he's really progressive or something. Which he is. He also says what he thinks. Which I love him for. But I realized recently that I have many friends that live nearby and might feel the same. Though no one has asked for an explanation, I am offering one. As is my style, I suppose.

My concept of suburbia says that it does not matter where you dwell - the outskirts of the city limit, as I do, or the neighborhoods popping up in the fields of the rural areas. What makes suburbia suburbia is the lifestyle. The Style of Your Life.

I am middle class. My husband works and I stay home. I have 3 kids and 2 dogs. I drive a mini-van. My kids ride their bikes around the neighborhood. They can walk to school. Our neighbors are helpful and friendly - baking brownies when you move in and keeping an eye on your house when you are away. We have backyard BBQ's, block parties, Christmas parties, pig roasts, Welcome or Goodbye parties - basically any excuse to get together. We have a community swimming pool (not really - but a friend that shares) and a neighborhood garage sale. I sometimes covet what my neighbors have - like affording piano lessons and mini-vans with automatic doors. My kids have more than their fair share of bright colored plastic. Both my husband and I attend parent conferences and help kids with homework. I shop at Target, the mall, World Market (in other words I shop in the suburbs). I never use public transportation. I have walked to the store only a few times in the last 11 years.

I love the neighborhood that I live in. I call it Leave It To Beaver Land. I think it is a great place for kids to grow up and it fits my values well. I find that it draws people that have the same values as me. Older houses with character. Sidewalks. Diverse schools. Different faiths. Liberals. I am not knocking my piece of suburban heaven. I guess I am just calling it what I believe it to be. I'm not asking KARK to call it suburbia - if he did I wouldn't have another button to push.

I'm Just a Girl in the World

So, I know I am onto something when my husband finds my blog so funny and intriguing that he looks at me as if I have changed from 'mom of three' to the 17 year old hottie I was when he met me . Kevin has taken to my blog like a teenage boy to Playboy. I could be sitting next to him in sweatpants, a oversized t-shirt, with a toothpaste 'stache and he'd still ....well, anyway. He can't seem to wrap his brain around the fact that I, the mother of his children, can be scandaliciously funny. He reads and his eyes widen, "Oh my gosh. You said 'Some Like it Dirty'! You are funny, babe".

I had posted the first two stories before I first mentioned my blog to him. I started with the name only, mostly because he seemed less than interested in actually reading it. "Scandalicious Suburbia" I said. He looked at me like I was crazy. Crazy good or crazy bad, I did not know.

"That's Hot" he said.
HUH?
"Did you think of that name?"
Uh, yeah I did, but after I thought of it, I realized that I didn't invent it. Pretty funny isn't it. It's like it's delicious to be yourself... that's where I ....

He cut me off with his "I want you" eyes. I was confused. I won't go into all of the details why he thinks it's hot. I don't understand the male brain enough to be okay with sharing where his mind jumped to. Afterall, maybe he's wierd or something. Maybe I am naive. That's all I am saying.

The title was enough for him to take interest in reading. Now he's hooked. Blogging is GREAT!, my favorite person in the world is my biggest fan and I am having fun.

He was my biggest fan until today, that is. I guess when Kevin is proud of me he does what any loving husband would do and he shares his pride in me with his peeps. Fine with me (even though his friends are probably sick of hearing what I am up to now, as it changes all of the time - another blog topic). Today I received a friend request on facebook from a woman I didn't know. I was at work and I couldn't get on facebook to try to figure out who she was. A few hours later I receive a facebook message in my email inbox from same woman. Here is a portion of the letter (which I hope she doesn't mind me sharing):

Katie,

Let me introduce myself: HI, my name is Jane Doe and I work with your hubby...He thought i would enjoy your blogging so he told me about Scandalicious Suburbia...AND I AM SO GLAD HE DID!!!!

(((((Insert: about four more lovely, positive, sweet sentences here))))

Again...I am pretty sure you are the coolest woman in Michigan!

Hope to chat with you,
Jane Doe

In the past week I have had a few committed commenters (thanks gals!) and others that have mentioned that they liked the blog. Of course, no lying, the positive feedback feels good. I feel the love, people. I do. But, I am well aware that there are many out there that won't agree with my view of the world. I may eventually get hate mail. Or my worst nightmare is that I hurt a loved one unintentionally with my stories. But people, you MUST KNOW THAT I AM WELL AWARE THAT: I am just a girl in the world. I can be serious, too. And quiet. And shy. I'm a mom of three that sometimes raises her voice. I swear, often in front of my kids. I complain about my job. I can get blue in the winter. I didn't talk to my mother-in-law for over a year. I don't always follow through on things. I have belly fat.

I want to tell you, Kevin, and Jane, and everyone that reads this blog.... I am just me, trying to live the fullest, happiest, funniest life possible. Being true to myself, and my desire to be real with you, has brought me pieces of that life. Big Lovely Pieces of a Full, Happy, Funny Life.

I am overly content with the fact that my husband is my fan, and he could have been the only one. It is humbling, and a bit hilarious, to have received the letter from Jane today. And to her I say, YOU are the coolest woman in Michigan! And while I think nervously about making them proud and continuing the fun, witty, scandalicious posts; I really want, more than anything, to be proud of myself.

So, I continue my blogging with much thanks to all of you for loving me.

What's So Golden About the Golden Rule?

The Golden Rule receives a lot of attention. Parents and teachers use it to teach kids how to behave. Ministers use it to preach kindness. It is a celebrity rule among the millions of rules. We all know it. I have a love/fear relationship with it. I'll tell you why.

If you think The Golden Rule (treat others as you wish to be treated) means to always treat others nicely, with respect, with kindness, & with love at all times, then you might share the same unsettling feeling I often have. This feeling is the "I don't want to, but I guess I have to" feeling.

Your neighbor wants to bust down your door and give you the latest gossip - you might think The Golden Rule would say "don't be rude, just let her in". But your head is saying "No, I am tired and cranky and I want to be alone." The Golden Rule wins and you answer the door tired and cranky; your neighbor can tell and takes it personally. OR If someone consistently snubs you, belittles you, or gives you the cold shoulder - you may begin to be extra nice in hopes of changing their mind about you. Using the Golden Rule on them doesn't change them and you eventually become sad and resentful. Your resentment becomes the elephant in the room - you aren't being honest and you are not communicating.

The Golden Rule always works. Always. However, it often works against us until we recognize that we are not responsible for other people's happiness and they are not responsible for ours.

The flip side of The Golden Rule is this:

If you want to be honest with others, let them be honest with you.

If you want your friend to respect you, respect yourself and respect your friend.

If you want someone to communicate with you, try communicating that to them.

If you want time and space to put yourself first, allow others the time and space to put themselves first.

If you give what is easy for you to give, allow others to give what is easy for them to give.

If you want others to be nice all of the time, well, your screwed. "Nice" is subjective. Unless you can be nice all of the time, don't ask others to be.

The Golden Rule is not only about being nice, you see. It's about allowing. I see it as "Allow others to be who they are as you hope others will allow you to be who you are." The next step, and the part that really makes it Golden, is this: you allow without expectation. You can hope that others will allow you to be who you are, but you won't demand it. You will still BE WHO YOU ARE, but if others can't accept it, that isn't your problem. And without resentment, you can still give that to them. That my friends, is how the Golden Rule got it's name.

If you have time, I highly recommend this video from Byron Katie. The young girl oozes nice and kind. Watch how the Golden Rule can be flipped around on her. Applying this to my life consistently is my goal.

Reformed People Pleaser, Sorry!

I decided to start this blog because I am very conscious of my authenticity leading others to find me odd. There is no place like suburbia to make it easy for your uniqueness to stand out. The theme song for the show Weeds sings it out wonderfully...



For many years I stopped being who I was because it garnished such looks, or comments, like "You're wierd", "I don't get you", "She's a bitch". Maybe the last one had nothing to do with my strangeness and I need to own a bitchy side, too. But for the most part I have always been quiet, caring, interested in right more than wrong. I was never very rebellious.

I bonded early with my dad which led to an interesting, unharmonious relationship with my mom growing up. As a child, of course I didn't understand why she had such a hard time getting me. I know now it was not only my relationship with my dad but my very girly preferences (she was a tomboy), my quiet introverted tendencies (she was talkative and social), and my affection for quietly reading or daydreaming (she can't sit still). My relationship with my mom now is much better. Friendship works better for us than a parent-child relationship.

When I felt, as a girl, that who I was dissapointed people I became fearful of being who-I-am. My fears of being authentic were ingrained deep. People pleasing seemed easier than saying "No" or "Not me". Funny, peer pressure didn't work on me, though. I was not interested in doing what other people did just because. My sense of right and wrong, and my fear of my mother, outweighed what a bunch of immature kids thought was fun. I could see other people's insecurities from a young age and knew that most of their negative actions came from those insecurities. My people pleasing had more to do with adults and less to do with peers. Respecting adults seemed more important than respecting myself.

So, here I am, almost 33 years old, more ready to be myself with every person than I have ever been. I still have all of those traits from my girlhood, plus a lot more that I am just letting others see. This blog is my testament to being authentic. Yes, my authenticity has caused others to glare, laugh, stare, cry, thank me, curse me.... but I don't care. I have learned it is much easier to be myself than to work so hard and expend so much energy to please others. Sometimes it can even feel a bit scandalicious.

"It is not your role to make others happy; it is your role to keep yourself in balance. When you pay attention to how you feel and practice self-empowering thoughts that align with who-you-really-are, you will offer an example of thriving that will be of tremendous value to those who have the benefit of observing you." - Abraham- through Esther Hicks

What Do You Take With You on the Adventure of Your Lifetime?

I have done a lot of work in the past 4 years. Working from home. Working on lightening my load so that my life adventure is the best it can be. This work involved reading. Meditating. Asking. Listening. and The Work. The Work works for me. From the website: The Work is a simple yet powerful process of inquiry that teaches you to identify and question thoughts that cause all the suffering in the world. It's a way to understand what's hurting you, and to address your problems with clarity.

I am also able to see what other people take with them on their lifetime adventure. Their baggage. It may be desiger, inexpensive, simple, newly acquired or from years ago, no matter the outside it is just a container for their stuff. It is lugged wherever one may go. And the contents are worn in countless arrangements: the overall look commonly called their style.

It might be a person's style to commonly get an attitude with the hardworking people in the service industry, despite the quality of service. It might be another's style to take their unhappiness from one relationship to the next, and the next, and the next; always blaming the other person. It might be a kind grandmother's style to worry if there is something to be worried about, and there always is. It might be the teacher's style to care more about manners from children than allowing them to be the smart people they are, with opinions and ideas that disagree with authority.

When I notice other people's baggage now, it is with love. I judge and criticize less and love more. How can I be mad at someone else for having baggage when I have my own? I just notice from a place of knowing what it's like. And I love them.

My awareness of other people taking their baggage with them didn't happen until after I became aware of, and did The Work on, my own baggage. My baggage was (and still is, on occasion) my high expectations of myself, others, and how my life should be. My awareness and questioning of my high expectations has helped me tremendously in feeling more peaceful than I have ever felt in my life. I am the first to admit that I have wanted everything in my life to be completely fulfilling and wonderful (or ahem.. perfect, I dare say). My time spent as a stay-at-home mom with 3 kids. My part-time job. My husband. My kids. My dogs. My house. My friends. My family. Everything was supposed to complete my life. But it did not and does not and will not. In the past, this realization would lead to internal anguish. Why didn't this job, this friend, this person, this house, this God, this choice - fill me up?? It must be the thing, the house, husband, job, the church, kids, friends, and NOT ME!! (Blaming is the cornerstone in believing our baggage to be more beautiful and filled with important things that we have to have to exist - while at the same time believing we know best for another what they need to exist).

The thousands of moments that I have spent disappointed in other people have taken their toll. I am tired of it. I am tired of my idealistic view of life. I have thought things such as: my mother-in-law should have loved me from the get-go and we should have become friends that occasionally spent our free time together. She should have been so pleased and excited to have a daughter-in-law like me! This is not what happened and I let it hurt me for too long. And this doozy: the people that bought our old house should have wanted to be our friends and could have invited us over for dinner to show us all of the great things they did to the house and tell us all of the reasons they love it and the neighborhood. Instead, they wouldn't make eye contact with us, much less have a conversation. Lastly, my relationships with ALL of my friends would be based on mutual respect, fun times, and truth. In actuality, I wanted it but when I looked closely, did I always offer that? No. I was always disappointed and often sad when, for whatever reason, my expectations were not met. In these examples my expectations were set so high that the truth was often disappointing and yet very REAL. Then I realized that I took my expectations into those situations and then had the audacity to feel betrayed and saddened that the reality did not meet my standards. So the person with the problem was me.

The past 4 years has taught me that it is not other people or things that are supposed to fulfill me, but me. I can only be in charge of my baggage, what I pack and where I take it. When I am in other people's baggage, arguing with what they choose to carry around, I lose. When I stay in my own business and actively look for ways to become the best person I can be, I find heaven and life is divine.

Byron Katie likes to say "All war begins in the mind. And separately - All war belongs on paper, do The Work, find peace inside and the world will follow." And "If you want something to be different than it is, you might as well teach a cat to bark. You can try and try, and in the end the cat will look up at you and say, "Meow." Wanting something to be different than it is is hopeless."

Though there are times I still have to dialogue or blog about issues I am working out in my head, I have found a large amount of inner peace by questioning my thoughts. The should haves, the supposed to, the have to are fading away. What's replacing them is the ISness of life and it is beautiful. I don't always understand why, but I now find my lack of knowing the why's and how's of things to be an adventure, not a curse. So, I didn't get the job - that's obviously not what was best for me. Not one of my relationships is with a person exactly like me and that makes them so much more exciting and educational. Finally, I have stopped pretending to be God; dictating how others should act, what is right and wrong, and how the world should be. It's none of my business.