Second Chances

SECOND CHANCES
Last time I laid in bed in a dark room for 18 hours a day was four years ago recovering from TBI.
Back then I thought my partner would share my story and let you know what’s happening and you’d help me, but he didn’t. Honestly after my hospitalization and I was well enough to travel he abandoned me at the airport, he wanted to go on to Paris.

This time I myself am sharing the process. 
I don’t want to hide my suffering.
It’s not all rainbows and unicorns. It’s tough.

I am in severe pain.
I can’t see.
I am scared.
I am triggered to last time when I almost died.
I use meditation and mantra to calm me.

I am tuned into everyone’s suffering thru this portal of my own experience. I’m feeling the friend who just lost a parent, the friend who got the diagnosis, the friend who lost their job and Friends who feel lost. I’m feeling it all.

It’s all going to be ok even when it’s not ok.
In the meantime I pray and rely on my faith, giving my hurt to God. Mother Mary on my altar next to Lakshmi and KuanYin and rose quartz holding space.

I am grateful to new Friends in Sydney saving me from dealing with hospitals and doctors on my own. And for holding my hand, getting me food, helping me walk, reading for me, writing things for me, giving cuddles (that means hugs), driving me around, making me tea, saying it will be ok.

I am in receiving mode.

The universe is ready to shower me with blessings.

Thank you voice memo and Airbnb hosts to share this note.

Recovering Perfectionist Embracing Messy Life

Real life. A little messy.
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I wouldn’t want it any other way. I am in love with imperfect people. I find beauty in imperfection. My favorite personal moments are right after yoga when I’m unshowered, or when I first wake up in the morning, taking off my helmet after a long scooter ride or after 24 hour travel days.
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I relate easiest to rumpled people who aren’t afraid to show me what they look like when they cry ugly. My fellow travelers who wear the same three outfits for three months. The natural fashionistas who make magic with two scarves and a hat. You are beautiful to me after you’ve danced wildly for an hour and aren’t just “glowing” but are so sweaty your clothes are sticky. I am happiest together when we eat with pure joy and I see little bits fall on your lap and you’re not embarrassed. I appreciate people who gobble up cookies or gelato and aren’t afraid to wear some around the corners of their mouth. I love meeting you on the beach when the wind has whipped your hair around in an odd way. I really like it when you make that weird face. I especially love when you turn the wrong way in yoga or lift your other right leg up.
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Honestly, your messiest side is what I like most about you. 😊
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I’ve learned more about compassion and forgiveness from my most imperfect relationships. To me perfection is a delusion based on pretending to be what others want us to be. It is the contrary to authenticity. I’d rather we just be ourselves.
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I’m enamored with places in the world like Bali where the chaos is in plain view instead of hidden away under ground. I’ve come to appreciate exposed wires and chickens wondering around and no traffic lights. I don’t see flaws I see diversity. I travel to places where I can’t control the outcomes and where life is messy on the surface but underneath things are calm. Instead of what it’s like in the USA where our imperfections are hidden from sight but inside we are falling apart.
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Even right now I have what you might think are too many windows open on my laptop. My fridge isn’t as orderly as it could be and my underwear drawer is pure chaos. My socks keep losing their mates and there’s constantly sand in my Birkenstock clogs. I have a ton of little tubes of almost finished creams and 5 tooth brushes that finally feel soft enough.
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The best experiences of life are messy.
Sex, eating, sleeping.
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What I know is that if we wait until we think we’re good enough, perfect enough, to really live fully and do what we want, well the truth is the waiting will be forever.
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So we might as well get on with it. And along the way give grace to everyone we meet who are just doing the best they can too, imperfectly.
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Today do me a favor, give someone a second chance. Maybe that means you.❤
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And let go of the self Shaming when you don’t get things “right” the first, second or third time. That’s the name of one of my books, “A Third Chance.”
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Oh, by the way, I am a recovering perfectionist. I healed myself by #meditating more, traveling the world, and allowing love but also pain to be my teachers.
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Lens #mexico #writerslife #travel #baja #writer #latina #imperfect#wanderlust #wonderlust #yogaeverywhere #yogaeveryday #weirdfaces
#nofilter #athirdchance

My Car has a Story

Today was my first day driving my car in a couple of years. The 2016 plates would confirm this.
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⭐️ My car has a story. ⭐️
By the time I got the raw courage to file for divorce I had already been courageous more than once, including recovery from a hit and run at age 25 years old, losing my beloved Father on February 9, 1995 and one other time I don’t yet speak of.
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What I remember was after working for years to get my ex-husband the professional help he needed to deal with his anger issues I finally gave up on my marriage. I had to save myself because I couldn’t take any more abuse. At that point he suddenly woke up a bit and realized I was really leaving. So one night he convinced me he had a surprise for me he wanted to show me. We ended up at a car dealer where he “gave me” this car you see here, my Volkswagen Tourag. He said he thought I deserved it for how hard I worked. For a moment I believed him, “again.”
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It later came out in the MSA (Marital Settlement Agreement) that he bought my car for me with MY MONEY from my Yoga studio Total Body Yoga checkbook. I want you to know he never at any point had anything to do with my studio. He was so disinterested he never even took a single calss. He then asked for the “value” of the new car to be in my column showing up as one of my assets. He received the value of it as part of the non settlement.
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After I left for Seattle the car stayed at my Mom’s home for a year until I could afford the $989 to ship it to Seattle from Chicago. You see after 2 1/2 years of divorce proceedings and tens of thousands of dollars in my attorney’s fees I fired my attorney and hired a female attorney instead and said, “get me out, do whatever it takes.” My therapist had suggested this “scorched earth method.” It is a viable option to LET IT ALL GO.
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And so I did.
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Well, that’s how I have this car.
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You tell me, what does it represent? I could have left it in Seattle, sold it for cash money. But somehow I felt like it had a bigger meaning. If I had to describe that in one word I would say “FREEDOM.”
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It demonstrates what I was willing to do to save myself, to be my own prince charming and say yes to the Hero’s Journey ala Joseph Campbell.
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After I had to get out of Seattle to heal my heart, I left the country for most of the last 3 years living as an official Expat. I didn’t need my car and quite frankly since I didn’t feel called to move anywhere in particular so I didn’t know where to ship it to either. So it stayed in Seattle, first on the street in front of my home that sold January 6, 2017 and then at my friend Kim’s home (with forever gratitude).
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Driving around today we were awkward together. I touched the brakes too hard, I didn’t know how to turn on the wipers front or back. It was so odd to be in this living time machine with fewer than 30,000 lifetime miles.
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It’s parked for the night resting now, likely confused as to how it got from Chicago to Seattle to California but that’s ok. I’m not sure of all the details of how I got here either, but certainly I’m going to make the most of it!