Dating With Dignity

If Valentine’s Day were a person I would be defending her, taking her to lunch to help “pump” her up, and unabashedly wondering why people are avoiding her at all costs.  I mean, geez, she’s just a pink and red Hallmark holiday moment. She doesn’t smell.  Dress weird, or have bad breath.

It seems the truth is, or at least what seems like the truth based on all the email blasts I have been getting from love coaches in the last few days, is that if you are single on this holiday then you should accordingly be depressed, sad, hopeless and bitter.  You should need to take a class to feel better, be mad that the guy you have been casually dating hasn’t “stepped up” to the plate.  If you are in a relationship, you should feel “bad” for putting pressure on your beloved to show up with a bit of romance on Sunday.  In fact, one email I got said that she and her partner were “boycotting” Valentine’s Day because they show love towards one another daily.

STOP the presses.  REALLY, now.  Does Valentine’s Day deserve to be trashed?

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Hey Dignity Daters! I’m preparing for my workshop tomorrow night in Los Angeles in which I’m collaborating Dr. Theo Kousouli, a chiropractic healer. We are going to dig deep into one of the most frequently asked questions here at Dating With Dignity — a question which I have received a few times from clients the past few days. Here it is:

Q: I want to make changes in my life, but seem paralyzed by fear. I hear voices that say, “I’m not smart enough,” “It’s the best I can do,” or “It’s too hard and scary.” What do I do? Sometimes I feel hopeless?

A: It’s quite horrible when the feelings seem so big, scary and paralyzing. In fact, I remember times in my life where I simply buckled to my knees and heaved giant sobs. Other times, the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, I felt vast amounts of anger, powered by thoughts of revenge, rebellion or hatred. Ultimately, however, I tired of myself. My complaints, the whining, and the same feelings of dread and sadness became monotonous. What, I wondered, could I do that would enable me to really experience joy. Here’s the steps I took, which involved a process we will discuss tomorrow during the workshop at The Beverly Hills Country Club.

1. I learned how to shift my thinking from that of the “victim,” to a place in which I decided to take responsibility for my life. Instead, I became very intentional regarding the specific steps I could take to move into action. What step will you take today to move into action?

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I’m back from Maui, and spent yesterday planning for 2010 with my team. While that’s all fabulous and exciting, I also want to reflect on my vacation, and the state of mind I had which enabled ideas to flow freely, love to grow and compassion to deepen. In looking more carefully at this, I realized I had a certain routine while on vacation which enabled me to access deeper parts of myself; A routine in which I took care of myself.  Ahh — back to the concept of self care, – and an expansion of the Self-Care Bootcamp I began in the end of 2009. So, what did I do in Maui?

1. Daily exercise: Ok, here’s the truth.  I didn’t do one hour of killer cardio on the stairmaster, run 6 miles every day or lift weights 4 times per week.  I did 30 minutes on a stationary bike, while reading a novel or listening to empowering, motivating audio discs. Hardly hard core.  Sometimes, after 15 minutes, I transferred to the elliptical machine.  I never stayed more than 40 minutes in the gym.  Ever.  During my official 6-week Self Care Boot Camp I took the advice of a long-time friend who is a personal trainer which was this:  ”Less is More.”  I cut back on power yoga.  Cut back on lifting weights.  Started walking with a friend, stopped running stairs.  As a recovering exercise bulemic who didn’t used to consider the 60 minute spin classes I taught five times per week as my exercise for the day, I have come far.  Some days, I skipped the gym entirely. Other days, I went for a long walk with my dad.  And one day, I decided to explore a new part of the beach path and went for a run/walk.  I tried to surf, pushed past my fear of choppy waves and snorkeled with my kids.

2.  Daily quiet time to reflect: Part of the Dating With Dignity 10-Step Process to Manifesting Love includes developing a connection to the still, quiet voice inside.  I call it “spirit.”  Others call is a Higher Power, the Universe or God.  As part of my daily routine while on vacation I took time to listen to reflective audio tapes, read important passages that connected me to spirit, or just meditated for 5 minutes or so while laying on the beach, in a hammock or near the pool.  It doesn’t mean I  sat cross-legged uttering ommmms for 40 minutes.  While I don’t get to meditate in those environments at home, this reminded me that when I take time to reflect, I connect.  This practice grounds me.  It reminds me to let go of anger, practice forgiveness daily, be compassionate and focus on the abundance that I have in my life.

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I’m still in Maui, but have been spending each morning at the gym listening to inspirational audio lessons from teachers I respect.  Today I was reflecting on an email I received from a cousin in Colorado this week, who was moved by watching the “24 Hour Power Thought Challenge,” I posted on the site last Sunday.  She was moved not to change thoughts regarding someone in her immediate family or a friend, but regarding thoughts and feelings she was having towards me.  In truth, she was pissed, hurt and felt neglected. And guess what?  The reasons she cited for feeling hurt were rational, accurate and completely true.  I had neglected to call her when her mother was ill and then when she ultimately died in September I didn’t send a card.  I had been aware her family was going through this tragic loss from other family members, yet because she lives in another state, we don’t communicate regularly and I was in the midst of my  life, I completely ignored or put off the small voice in my head that occasionally reminded me to write or call her.

I made a mistake.

Ugh.  I’m supposed to be better than this.  How could I have done such a thoughtless thing?  And then I began to think further.  What other mistakes have I made this year?  And more importantly, how can I change these behaviors and begin to let those mistakes take me to a higher place of being in 2010?  In fact, I realize, these mistakes are opportunities to grow, become a better person.  I can become more compassionate.  Learn to stop ignoring the small voice.  I can change, shift, transform, and learn.

I have been keeping a journal while I’ve been here containing thoughts and ideas for 2010.  Things I want to do.  Places I want to go, and goals I would like to achieve.  And as a result, I have decided to become a better at communicating with family.  I am going to send more notes.  I am going to forgive myself for mistakes made, and put writing condolence and thank you notes higher on “my list” to do list.  I am going to send birthday greetings, and send more gifts.  I am going to practice what I teach — make my words and actions match.

What is on your list?  Take out a small notebook or journal this week and use it to play.  Become creative.  Imagine and dream.Use markers.  Type it.  Pull images from google.  Or simply put colors on the page. Express your self. How will you change this year?  Where will you grow?  These are not “resolutions,” per se.  Instead, they are ways in which your actions can better reflect your values in 2010.  They are actions you can begin to take which will help you become more fulfilled, happy, joyous and compassionate; Simple strategies to create the life you love.

Mine is a hero’s journey; I will not be a victim to mistakes, negative thinking or circumstance.  I will use these mistakes to take heroic leaps forward into my becoming.

Join me.  It will be a fantastic ride.

Aloha.

It’s Christmas Eve Day, and quite frankly while I am really feeling blessed and blissed, I am also frustrated!  I haven’t seen my kids in more than one week (they are with their dad) and for someone who is a recovering control freak, I hate feeling so “out of control.”  This is the time where I remember to take my own advice, and step out of this victim, ick feeling and begin to feel grateful for the incredible relationship I typically have with my kids’ father, the friends who love me here in Maui and at home, and the fact that my boyfriend is supportive of me despite my complaining (even though these days he is slightly obsessed with the 40 foot waves that are expected on the North Shore of Maui on Christmas Day!)  Knowing all this, he is not responsible for “getting me out of this mood,” nor is the sunshine, the gym or the tray of chocolates on the dining room table.  I get to be responsible for me, for transforming this day into one of calm, peace and gratitude.  I am going to forgive myself for agreeing to this vacation schedule with my ex-husband without really looking closely at the dates, jump into the day, and make it incredible!

Now, on to the guest blog, written by David Shade.  While it has nothing to do with Christmas, per se, it does for me.  It was on Christmas Eve, six years ago, that I was madly in love with the consummate bad boy.  He was all these things.  Sometimes he was worse.  Sometimes he was better.  I tell people, “he was the best, worst thing that ever happened to me” because the pain I suffered as a result of this relationship was debilitating.  The good news is that it took me to the depths of myself, forcing me to pick myself up, transform my thinking, and take back control of my life.

My wish is for you to take control of your life in 2010.  I’m here to support you on the journey.  In the meantime, I’m going to smile, post this blog, breathe deeply, and do what is necessary to enjoy the warm Maui breeze

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In recent conversations with a variety of dating and relationship gurus, matchmakers nationwide, and good ol’ fashioned humans, I have discovered that men and women are hesitant to give someone a second or third chance if they don’t have the “hots” for him or her on the first meeting.  Here’s the truth, By the end of 2009 the dating industry is expected to top $1.049 billion, and is likely to grow in 2010 at a rate of 10 percent.  What’s more, online dating sites generated 27.5 million unique visitors in June, 2009, alone.  What does this mean?  It means that people are dating.

A lot.

Men and women like you are spending money, time and energy to meet someone with whom they want to fall in love.  What’s more, it means that because there are so many people actively dating, it is easy to rule someone out within 30 seconds of meeting them.  ”Ick,” you think.  ”She’s out.  Who’s next?”  Clients tell me there was “no chemistry,” admitting that after those first thirty seconds they literally stopped engaging with the person. Stopped listening carefully, never looked the person across the table in the eye, and immediately discounted them as someone they wanted to get to know.

The result?  People are dissatisfied.  Frustrated.   Moving through dating experiences numbly, shuffling in and out of coffee shops, flipping through online profiles in disgust.

He’s in.  She’s out.

In. Out.

Go home.

Get back online.

Bad date?  Men and women consistently tell me that they get back on Match.com before they even consider making a cup of tea, watching television, or reading a book.  WOW.  It’s as if we have become so addicted to instant gratification that we have no tolerance or willingness to get  to know if someone could possibly be someone whom we could love.  I’ll admit that a person must, in fact, be attractive to you.  However, what could possibly happen if someone with whom you didn’t think “hot,” became attractive to you because you spent more time together?  Perhaps you begin to notice their sense of humor, the compassion they have for the older woman crossing the street, a cute crinkle in the crease of their eye when they smile, or the way she moved her hands when describing her favorite movie.

Let me tell you my story.  The story of Ari.  I went on six dates with Ari, however I would never have even gone on date number 1 if I wasn’t tired of living with so many “rules,” about whom I would date.  Ari was 5 foot 6 inches.  He was smart.  Good looking, funny.  And successful.   But, despite my interest in him, I kept telling myself that anyone under 5 foot 10 inches was an unacceptable partner.  Nevertheless,  I decided to date Ari, branch out. I liked him, but at 5 foot 7 inches, it felt odd to be so much taller then my date.  Hugging him, I felt huge.  A giantess.  Returning home after the second date,  I pondered.  I dug deeply.  I liked him, but why wasn’t I attracted to him?  It was then that I realized it was an issue — an issue I had buried somewhere between 7th and 8th grade; the summer I grew from 5 foot 1 inches to 5 foot 7 inches.  There, walking the halls of my middle school with boys named Cory, Craig and Eric, boys who were barely five foot tall, I decided tall was “not pretty.”  The voice in my head — the inner critic — shouted it loudly.

“You are too tall.  Too big.  And boys do not like girls who are too big.”

Yikes.  I was shocked, horrified to relive those feelings I had while I was a student at Franklin Junior High School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.  And then, I realized the truth.   Tall is sexy.  Plenty of men like taller women.  Hmmmm, I thought.  Could I reframe this whole thing, imagine that it was incredibly sexy to be taller than Ari?  I decided to try, agreeing to date number 3.

Date number 3 rocked.  I had fun.  I laughed.  I even wore heels, relishing in the fun of this new frame of mind.  While Ari ended up being someone who was ultimately “not a match,” I enjoyed getting to know him.  Woot!  Woot!  I did it!  I busted through my limiting beliefs to rule Ari “in!”  Imagine the possibilities, I thought,  if I continued to expand my horizons and begin to think of ways to rule men “in,” instead of quickly judging them as “out,” within seconds of saying hello.

Most of the dating experts, including me, recommend a three-date minimum before you decide it’s “not a match.”  Challenge yourself.  And then let me know what happens once you begin to rely on more than the “Lust-O-Meter” to decide if someone is worth seeing again.

It seems that letting go of a relationship, especially when the person meets 75% -80% of your needs, is a challenge.  Men and women constantly ask me what is the “right” way to break up?  Should they have “break-up” sex, can they be just  ”friends,” should they talk on the phone regularly?  Or, should they just sever ties  –  make a clean break?  While I have specific advice on this topic, be assured that I have had vast experience with breaking up.  Prior to doing the work I did in creating the Dating With Dignity 10-Steps to Manifesting Love  I had a horrific time letting go of a relationship with a man who wasn’t a match.  In fact, he wasn’t someone who ultimately made me feel good about myself.  However, the hope and promise of what it might be  – if he changed — kept me coming back for more.  I hoped.  I prayed. And, while I tried desperately to be “just friends,” I was so completely attracted to him that it was hard not to think about connecting with him physically.  I tried clean breaks too, but during those periods he would send emails, call or just reach out telling me he missed me, and wanted just to talk.  These messages hit my weakest spots, making me  temporarily feel worthy, loveable and wanted.  Of course, even after weeks of  successfully not talking, I acquiesced and made contact.  The bottom line?  It took me more than 18 months to let go of a relationship that should have ended just six months after it began.  During this” on and off again” period I mourned, tried to date other people, and went out with friends.  Mostly, though, I pined for him, dreaming that “one day,” he would recognize my awesome-ness and come back begging to be with me.  What was most sad about being in this limbo state of being for me, was the fact that during this time I never focused on how I had been treated poorly, accepting merely crumbs, or why we weren’t a match because of differing values.  Yes, he was good looking.  We had incredible chemistry. I adored his kids.  But still, he wasn’t what I deserved.  To say we had “break up” sex at least one-half dozen times might be accurate, it could have been more.  I was lost.  Drowning in false promises.  Hope.  And pretending that he was the soul mate I might never find again.

Now, back to reality.

The truth is, this break up was horrible.  I could have saved myself pain, tears and months of agonizing heartbreak if I had lived in reality.  I could have moved on more quickly, creating space to meet someone new if only I had not waited to do the work I ultimately did to find self love, date with intention, and create a life I loved.  Fast forward 18 months later, and behold, I had become a dignity-dater looking to make a move forward.  As a result, I landed in a nice relationship with a man who lived outside of Los Angeles where I live.  We dated for three months.  He was an excellent communicator, passionate and we had the same spiritual sense of being.  Nevertheless, he was NOT a match.  While on a trip together, I realized that while I thought this man an incredible person, he would never be the person with whom I could partner.  That said, I had to have the “it’s not a match,” conversation.  I loved him.  He was sweet, and had been there for me when my mother was very sick, dying from cancer.  Nevertheless, we agreed that while love is necessary, it is NOT sufficient.  This, my friends, was a clean break.  I missed him terribly the first week.  After all, suddenly there was nobody to talk to while driving to work, not a soul who cared that I had gone to the grocery store to buy chicken and ended up with chocolate.  There was nobody to say goodnight to before my head hit the pillow.  And there was nobody who would stand beside me at my mother’s funeral.  Bottom line?  Yes, it was hard. It was uncomfortable.  And, quite frankly, it hurt.  But, I knew that if my patience and wounded heart could withstand the test of time, if I took comfort in my friends, hobbies and the incredible life I had created, I would not only survive but thrive.

So…. is there such as think as a clean break? Yes.  And no.  I value the break-up conversations.  I even value break-up sex.  The problem becomes when breaking up is so dramatic, poetic and perfect that it leads to nothing less than shear  fantasy.  It leads to what if’s?  What could have been?  And, if only.  The challenge becomes when breaking up leads to making up, breaking up again, and then once again, a dramatic reunion which results in fantastical sex and connection.  This, my friends, is one hell of an unfulfilling, no-win romantic rut.

When you decide “it’s not a match,” decide for good.  Decide for you.  Decide to save yourself time.  Energy, and sadness.  Move forward so that you can begin to create a life you love.  It will be worth it, I promise.  :)

Happy Turkey Day Dignity Daters!  I’m sure most of you are knee deep in stuffing right now, while others might already be in the post-tryptophan coma!  Me?  I just finished baking up some yams in honor of my mom’s renowned  Thanksgiving recipe.  I woke up this morning totally missing my mom, who died 14 months ago after a heroic battle with lung cancer.  I had a dream last night in which she turned up, “not dead,” and we were driving around Arizona (the place  my parents lived for the past 15 years) looking for a place to stay.  In the dream I kept suggesting to go to her friends’ homes, but she insisted they had adjusted to her being gone so we should not “freak them out” by turning up.  Weird, right?  Thing is, I miss my mom.  Sometimes more, sometimes less.  But the truth is that today while I was baking yams I wished I had spent more time cooking with her, instead of going for the long run, reading in my bedroom, or watching football with the gang.

What, you ask, what the heck does this have to do with dating?  Or relationships?  Or dignity?

Well, here’s the bridge — today I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend, Jem, but woke up in a funk.  I felt  sad that I didn’t wake to the aroma of pies baking in the oven, the smells of cinnamon and spice flicking yum throughout the rooms of my house, and that the only noise I heard was the intense quiet that resonates when the kids are at their dad’s house. It felt like a knife had sliced open my gut.  Top it off, my British boyfriend doesn’t really “get” this holiday (yet) and had rushed off first thing to wash his car, grab coffee and run errands.(he literally had no idea every shop in Santa Monica and Venice would be closed for the holiday). While I knew we were ultimately heading to my ex-husband’s house  to have the  traditional Thanksgiving holiday meal with my three daughters and friends, I just couldn’t shake the funk.

In an effort to un-funk myself, I went for a run, did the “stairs” in Mar Vista and listened to some amazing audio from a CD series I listen to regularly entitled, “The Dream Builder,” written my Mary Morrissey. (click on this link to get Mary’s incredible dream builder kit for free —  be assured there is no commission for me — I just want to share this incredible resource).  In this CD, Mary discusses  how for most of us it’s quite easy to be grateful “for” things in our life when life is good.  During Thanksgiving, we rush to update our Facebook status declaring gratitude for family, friends, love and life.  Easy.  Right?  Yet, when life turns dark, things sorta suck, and it seems like we are so desperately alone, it becomes difficult to muster up anything that resembles gratitude.  Mary presents the concept of having gratitude “in” things (vs. “for” things), which involves the ability to find gratitude in any situation we find ourselves.  This, says Mary Morrissey, is the ultimate human freedom — the freedom to choose.  The freedom to choose to have gratitude even though life is giving us lemons.

Cut back to Thanksgiving, the dream about mom, and Jem.  Well, after running, sweating and thinking, I ultimately remembered whether to “funk,” or “un-funk” was my choice.  The challenge became then, how would  I un-funk to find gratitude in this odd Thanksgiving, even though I felt sad.  I remembered the great times I did have with my mom, setting the Thanksgiving table, baking pies with my kids. and witnessing her grace and incredible culinary aptitude cooking for crowds that would often exceed 30 people. Jem said that in some ways my dream had allowed me to be with my mom, because it felt so damn real.  And then, I told Jem that  I had figured out that when it comes to holidays, in truth, our cultural differences, need to be addressed.  In the future, I need to state my expectations for American holidays up front.  He’s never had Thanksgiving before (his ex-wife was British), so I need to understand that someone who didn’t grow up watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, watching football, and cooking all day with his family would have NO idea whatsoever that this is America’s favorite holiday.  And, as a huge family person, I explained to him that spending time together before dinner with the kids  had been paramount to my having a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.  Ahhh.  Sigh.  I took action.  I spoke my truth.  I listened, asking for help.  I moved from funkful victim thinking to self-awareness,  curiosity, and then forgiveness of myself, Jem and for my mom who went and “got” cancer.

Hmmm.  It was my choice how this holiday would be for me.  I chose to unfunk.  I chose to be grateful in being alive.  In knowing that even when life gives it’s proverbial lemons, it presents an opportunity to create lemonade.

The yams are done.  I went and made the kind with marshmallows too, even though I was asked to bring the marshmallow-free variety.  My house now smells like Thanksgiving.  Jem put on Vivaldi.  My daughter just texted me, to tell me it’s black Friday tomorrow.  Two of the butterflies, who have been metamorphasizing in my 7 year old daughter’s room, have broken free of their chrysalids today.  And my boyfriend is talking to his sister in Australia via Ichat.   She is doing paperwork, completely unaware that today is America’s favorite holiday.  Ahhh.. the foreigners

I love my life.

I am blessed in the choices I have made.

And I am officially declaring myself  ”un-funked.”

Happy Thanksgiving.

Gratitude and blessings to all of you!

The truth is this, the man (or woman) who you dream of — the one who makes your heart pitter patter, the guy who is still interested weeks later, even though you haven’t had sex, the one who calls the next day, instead of vanishing after telling you he hasn’t had this much fun in years — this guy, will not randomly end up talking to YOU at Starbucks today. Unless, that is, you have done some serious work to prepare yourself for his (or her) arrival.

That said, I hear women and men consistently tell me they are, “ready for a relationship.”  In fact, I said it myself for three years.  I told myself, friends, and family that I was really enjoying myself, having fun dating, but if the “right” guy showed up, I would totally be “open to a relationship.”

Heard that somewhere before?

The truth is, I wasn’t ready.  Not even close.  Here were the signs:

1.  I kept meeting the “wrong” guys. Let’s see, they were nice, good-looking but not wanting to make a commitment.  They were super hot, but too young, too focused on their career or super not interested in dating a divorcee with three kids.  Or, they were really nice but I wasn’t attracted to them for a myriad of reasons.  I went speed dating.  Online dating.  I had a blind date with Chuckie, who my friend’s friend said was  ”successful and amazing.” What she didn’t tell me was that Chuckie would reveal somewhere between the appetizers and entree that he  ”felt sorry” for the stripper he had been recently dating so he gave her $10,000, to help her “get back on her feet.”  Needless to say, Chuckie was not a match.  I met the 43 year old hot  guy (At Starbucks, actually)  who had a foot fetish, which only became clear to me when on our 2nd date he wanted to see my closet.  It wasn’t until I broke it off with the the nice teacher guy  I dated for three months who happened to conveniently live 400 miles away that I realized I was just not ready.  Then, the question became why.

2.  I was really enjoying my independence, something I had never experienced before, and it had become very, very safe. I had been married at 22 years old, a wife for 17 years, and had never before lived independently.  And now, I truly enjoyed being in control of my life, my children, my travel plans, the remote control, my weekends and my bedroom.  I enjoyed deciding when I would exercise. When I would see friends.  And when I would hit an evening yoga class, eat cereal, and watch 10 episodes in a row of “How I Met Your Mother.”  I remembered hearing a friend of mine tell someone she was spending her weekend sans kids traveling to her boyfriend’s parents home on the East Coast to attend a Bar Mitzvah.  I thought, “Holy cow.  This is the last thing I would ever want to do with my weekend.  ick. bleck.  ugh.”  I was not ready.

3.  I began to wonder if I enjoyed my freedom, or was just terrified of losing it. Because I had never before had an interdependent relationship, I began to fear that  it wasn’t that I enjoyed my independence, but that I was mostly afraid of losing it.  I didn’t know if I could mesh “my” life with the life of another person.  I didn’t know if I could still feel strong, secure and love myself if there were a man in my life to shlep the suitcases up the stairs or pump my gas.  I wanted a relationship, or so  I thought, but at what cost to me?  Clearly,  I wasn’t ready.

And then, suddenly, I became ready.

When my mother died it hit me.  Suddenly, I knew the truth.  She had been married to my father for 45 years.   I knew then that although hooking up with hot guys had been fun, and quite frankly developmentally appropriate for a divorcee who married at 22, and that it had been quite empowering to take my three daughters camping in the wilderness solo, this was the ultimate truth; I didn’t want to leave this planet without experiencing these things:

1. true, unconditional love
2. intimacy
3. becoming truly empowered by my vulnerability, and
4. what it would be like to participate in an interdependent partnership.

“Yikes,” I thought.  ”This is a tall order.”   Then I remembered the vision I had created for my life.  A vision I had been working on diligently since December, 2006 when I did the Hoffman Process.  I remembered how hard I had worked to become authentic, real and independent.  And I knew, that the relationship I had with built myself was now secure.  Safe.  I knew that it was now my time to become ready.

What I learned that becoming ready to be in a relationship was a process.  Hard work.  It was a time when I had to dig deep, ask for help. Get support.  And become educated.  I beefed up my investment in coaching and therapy. Attended workshops.  Did my homework.    And then, months and months later, when I had cleared my plate, the Dating Fast in full force, I knew I had truly become ready.

It was three weeks later that I met Jem, The Brit.

So then, are you ready?  Are you willing to go to any lengths–to do the work necessary to become prepared for your Starbucks moment?  Come find out next Tuesday, November 17, at a workshop I’m hosting, “5 Ways to Totally TRANSFORM Your Love Life for 2010.”  Your vision — your relationship –is waiting.  To register go to:

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Each April in the mid 1980s, my mom and her best friend, Linda, would jam five kids between the ages of six and sixteen into a rented, vomit-brown Chevrolet minivan with stained velour seats. We would drive nearly 17 hours during this trip from Cedar Rapids, Iowa to Keystone, Colorado in which I would mostly sleep, wake intermittently and then begrudgingly ask , “When….when are we going to be there?”

I didn’t enjoy this drive. Mostly, I simply ignored the camaraderie of the other children while they laughed, played Mad Libs, and half drank cans of lukewarm Tab, crunched their Doritos and chewed the packs of gum our mothers had brought to sustain us on the 17 hour drive. I was bored, so I slept. I slept through the flat Nebraska terrain, layered with varietals of dirt, rubble and oil. Occasionally, I would open my eyes, heavy lids lifting, to see fields, usually bursting with bright yellows, olive, lime and bottle- greens during summer that were brown, russet, and completely barren. Hour upon hour, I drifted in and out of consciousness, the dull milieu never changing. Voices hummed like static. The CB radio cackled. Drivers commenting on the broken pieces of tarmac, or recently fallen snow stained and contaminated from the muck the cars, 18-wheelers and minivans like ours that zipped towards their destinations in Colorado and beyond.

I wanted to skip the night in the Motel-6, squeezed next to my brother on a queen-sized bed with the frayed brown coverlet. I wanted to eradicate time spent at truck-stop diners, pit stops at Pizza Hut and avoid completely the treacherous climb through the Rocky Mountains to Summit County, the home of Keystone Village and Arapahoe Mountain where we would ultimately ski. I wanted to be there.

In the 25 years that have passed since those annual trips to Colorado with my closest friends, I have learned not only to tolerate road trips, but to enjoy them. I now settle into the topography. I imagine faces, the interesting lives of those people who live in towns called Viejo, Morrisville or Chittenango. I take time to talk, connect with fellow journeyers, laugh, even sing. I listen to good music, relish books on tape I’ve wanted to read for longer than forever, or simply talk on the phone to people with whom I never have time for those life-sustaining one-hour long conversations.

I enjoy the journey.

In relationships, too, I have managed to overcome my childhood hate of the trek and the trip itself. I’m now able to put to rest the agonizing question, “when will we be there.” Prior to meeting The Brit I had been divorced, comfortably single with children. I learned to become independent. I created a life I loved filled with friends, spending precious time with family, and creatively exploring things like career, yoga and writing. Then, carefully, tenuously, I made the leap from single to seeking. Relieved to know what I wanted, I learned to successfully date with intention. I knew what I wanted, began to effectively vet out those men who weren’t a match for me.

Then, brilliantly, unexpectedly, The Brit came into my life. Jem had potential, possibilities unlike I had ever experienced. I luxuriated in the early phases of dating, enjoying the anticipation, the wondering, “does he like me as more than friends?” Then there was the first date, first kiss. Butterflies! We discussed exclusivity and soon we began to explore the different mutations of the word relationship. It wasn’t long then before we began the slow, arduous process of intertwining the life I had with my children into the relationship. It was tenuous, often nerve-wracking but I stayed present in each moment, taking it slowly, day by day. We decided to travel together. He met my dad. I learned he was good on trips. I relished in his take-charge attitude, the way he planned excursions, the way he fished with the kids, hooking the fish first then excitedly calling over my daughter to tell her she had a bite. Throughout the summer he hugged me when I cried, missing my mom who had passed away last September.

Then, nearly five months after we began dating, Jem said he loved me. Although it seemed I might burst from wanting to say it first, I was so grateful I had been patient, enjoying the process of getting to those three words, “I love you.” Six months into the relationship, we decided to live together. I cleared a space in my closet, emptied drawers and ecstatically anticipated the day we would move his things from a storage unit into my home.
As I have navigated the twisted pathways of this five-year journey from divorce to dating, and then to finding and experiencing love, I mostly enjoy the journey. Not that it hasn’t occasionally been fraught with periods of sadness, loneliness and the overwhelming fears that I was odd; that I was a person whose cloth wasn’t cut to be in a relationship. Nevertheless, I stayed in the process, relying on my deepest belief that because I had learned to love myself, create a life I loved, and had practiced living with peace, presence and dignity, that love would ultimately come into my life.

But then, something happened. It seemed I had arrived. Tantamount to turning off the ignition for the last time after that prolonged two-day drive to Keystone, Jem and I were living together. We were in love. My kids accepted him. In fact, he was driving them to school. Picking them up when I had to work. He had become my partner. We didn’t fight. There was no drama. It was exactly what I had wanted. In fact, my relationship with Jem was better than anything I could have even imagined possible. I had manifested a relationship beyond my wildest dreams.

Why then, did I wake some mornings wondering what might be next? At 43 years old, I had never experienced life without some sort of relational destination. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel I needed to continue working on becoming a better, more open and communicative partner, because I did. Instead, I had to recognize what it might mean to live in a more three-dimensional place. A place where there was no specific destination, just a curiosity to explore the relationship, the new life I had created, in more deep and meaningful ways. It was difficult though, because for the first time I wasn’t really looking to land in a concrete sort of place, get a specific thing I had thought I always wanted, or even look forward to a specific occasion I had dreamt about. It was more Twilight Zone thinking. Or, to paraphrase Jean Luc Picard, Captain of the Starship Enterprise, I had to “ explore strange new worlds…seek out new life…and boldly go where I had not gone before.”

And so I have.

Each day I appreciate where we are in this relationship. I feel the sensations, vibrating at various frequencies, feeling the nuances, exploring new tacks and turns as I move through the life I have created. I practice staying present, forcing myself some nights to close the laptop, breathe, stop moving. Even though my drive and determination to make my business work takes me far away from connection to Jem, my self, and my children, I stop to kiss Jem, smile, play Jenga with the girls, or laugh with Jem when he interrupts me in the midst of the most mundane task like emptying the dishwasher just to give me a hug, playfully grab me from behind, or chew on the corner of my ear. These days I’m thinking about things like my values. And that if I truly value love and deep heart-to-heart connection then I want to make our relationship a priority. I want to practice loving Jem, just like I practice yoga. Create time, making space knowing I can’t just show up one day, after a week or more expecting I will have the same strength or connection to spirit. I am learning to understand what it takes to have balance in my life. When it’s time to stay in bed past eight to feel Jem’s skin next to mine, and mush my pillow closer to his, just talking, or get to yoga at 7am, leave the warm, soft comforter in the dark to make it on time. I am learning when I need to choose between having lunch with a girlfriend, and knowing when I have to reschedule to attend my kids’ basketball games and volleyball tournaments. There’s time to skip listening to a marketing tele-class, miss yoga, again, and go volunteer in the school library.

These days there is no external destination, no mountain road to climb. There is just the journey I am taking inwards. I am now moving towards a deeper sense of myself. I am questioning how I can live with more integrity, discovering that life is giving me plenty of opportunities to question, create and choose the kind of lover, mother, entrepreneur, writer, daughter, sister, teacher and friend I want to be.

It is a new road I have taken, a new path both unchartered and necessary. And as I walk I remember the words my cousin Joanie wrote in the journal she gave me when I was twelve years old:

“Enjoy the journey, babe. Life is at hand.”