You Never Because....When there are no excuses left....

Obsession is the single most wasteful human activity, because with an obsession you keep coming back and back and back to the same question and never get an answer.
Norman Mailer 


It has been so long since I've made a blog post that I can't even figure out how to change my job title in the admin settings, which leads me to my disclaimer, ahem:

This blog is in no way affiliated with ActionCOACH or ActionCOACH Spokane or any of its subsidiaries, monasteries, or any other word ending in "ies."

I'm only writing this blog post because I ran out of excuses.

Let me explain.

First, let me insert disclaimer number two, ahem:

I'm rusty at writing. My literary tendons are tight.

Moving on.

As I was saying, I'm only writing this because I ran out of excuses. I actually looked my therapist in the eye and said tonight, "I'm too depressed to write."

He countered back with "Ernest Hemingway committed suicide."

Touche'.

Saying I'm too depressed to write is like saying I'm too sad to be a poet or I'm too thin to be a ballerina...or too fat to be a sumo wrestler. You insert your own witty little line. Point being, I have no excuse not to write, even if I don't exactly have a point at the moment.

You could say that I'm writing to hear myself type. (get it? do you?)

This blog started out as a motivational communication tool. Turns out I'm not that motivated and my recent life experiences haven't been all that positive. This last year, my life has felt like a house of cards and all I've been doing is playing 52-card pick up.

I'm at ground zero folks. Time to rebuild.

Time to get inspired. Time to live a little. So, this blog post is me, peeking around the corner from obscurity after a second nervous breakdown. Literary physical therapy. Trying to get back in the game.

This was step one. Stay tuned...

A little honesty, some gratitude, and a bite of privilege pie

The greatest day in your life and mine is when we take total responsibility for our attitudes. That's the day we truly grow up.
John C. Maxwell





Dear Readers...

It's been quite awhile since I've written a post. Or, at least a post with some substance and depth. Sometimes I get lost in the fluff. It's a nice hiding place now and then.

I haven't written because of the same reason I freak out every time I try and speak about my art. I'm afraid I'll reveal too much about myself. I have spent the majority of my life trying my hardest to present to everyone around me, a disinfected version of my life. Granted, I'm not much of a neat-freak any way you look at it, and trying to maintain this sanitized sense of self now seems ridiculous.

It's been a bumpy road full of pot holes, dragons, zombies, asteroids, death rays. All of which, I must say, I have dodged with grace, dignity, and have never lost a limb. I have teetered on the edge of rock bottom. I have stood on the edge of it's rock wall and stared down it's throat like a bottomless well. I have swayed but never slipped.

Until last November. Spokane is a small town. (duh). And it's not like I don't talk....all the time. And let's face it, I don't exactly walk the line well of "T.M.I" when it comes Facebook. I am brave on the internet. It's not the real world. Facebook is fiction. I don't walk around all glossy and Photoshopped in real life. (Yet...I'm waiting for that awesome invention though!) I'm pretty shy....(stop laughing). Out here, (Spo-town) I stand out. I talk a little louder. I use my hands. I worship Liza Minnelli. I'm a New Yorker by blood. But, back east? I get lost in the crowd.

I'm sure that, at this point, I'm the only one who still thinks my nervous breakdown last year is a big secret.

So here it is folks:

I had a complete psychotic break last November, lost custody of my two amazing beautiful girls, and spent two weeks in Sacred Heart.

There.

Phew. Glad I don't have to keep hiding that one anymore.

There are a lot of people to which I owe a lot of gratitude. I won't reenact a Grammy speech here (I'd like to thank my manager...my record producer...my poodle and the man upstairs...) But my life has changed.

I have never worked for more supportive people in my life. Their positive reinforcement, patience, and wisdom has enabled me to understand that here are different ways of viewing the world. I am 37 years old (I know I know...I don't look a day over 28). The first time I ever heard anybody say to me "your better then that" was when I showed up to work after maybe two hours of sleep, still possibly intoxicated from the night before. Jim looked at me and said, "your better then that." He said that to me once after that when he basically told me I have three weeks to get my act together at work. That was three weeks ago. I'm entering my fourth week....(so far....so good...but it's only Tuesday)

What I'm saying, here, now, is that motherhood is not a right. It's a privilege. Having a job isn't a right. It's a privilege.

Happiness is not a privilege.

It's a choice.

Privilege lies in abundance at your feet. All you have to do is free yourself from the fluff and the rest will follow. 

That, I promise. 

TRAPPED IN SWEATPANTS: Erase these two words from your vocabulary.....

Medical Lake's Next Top Model: Only models five feet and under need apply!

This post is dedicated to those guys and gals in the fashion "scene" who keep Spokane looking good. It was so much fun to experience an actual photo shoot. If you're a mom, you should get to experience this at least once in your life. But I will WARN YOU: This is harder then it looks. I hate to say it, but....I always thought models just stood there and looked pretty. WRONG. I really thought just anyone could do it. WRONG. I also thought I was in pretty good shape. WRONG. There are muscles that are still sore I didn't even know existed anymore! I still can hardly move from this photo below. AND it was freezing! (I'm wearing two pairs of nylons underneath the knee highs) I think I seriously pulled a muscle and may need a hip replacement. I gave up my chocolate chip cookies for 7 days in preparation. MMMM cookies!

Photo by: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Thomas-Richardson-Images/116021311793439

By Joy Mizzoni
Team Support Specialist at ActionCOACH Spokane

I have strong feelings about the fashion industry, society's standard of beauty and the ceaseless self-deprecation women endure to attain that never attainable pie in the sky called perfection.

Few people know that I am a classically trained ballet dancer. I studied in Saratoga Springs with Madame Phyllis Latin (http://www.americandancecentersaratoga.com). Although these years spent with Madame deserve much more then a brief cameo, I'll save that novella for another day. Point being, I understand perfection. I understand hiding extreme physical pain behind the illusion of graceful fingertips and elongated necks.

I don't care who you are, what you do, or how strong you profess to be both mentally and physically. I DARE you to spend a week with Phylis Latin. Go ahead. I DOUBLE DARE YOU.

They say youth is wasted on the young. How quickly we forget our inner strength and outer beauty. Motherhood, marriage, and mortgages alone are enough to make most women forget the dazzling joys of celebrating our beauty. We are so quick to replace glitter and sparkles with the muted colors of the professional world. When once we admired and emulated the seductive power of beauty, we now judge, disparage and condemn.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not pointing fingers...what happens when you point a finger at someone else? That's right boys and girls...there are those silly three fingers pointing right back at moi'.

Every woman wants to feel beautiful and I suspect most women really do, indeed, care that others think they are beautiful as well; but we limit ourselves. We become too sensible. Suddenly there is an "us" and a "them". We become too short, too old, too chubby, too this and too that. "Someday" and "When I..." have become our mantras.

But what about now?  It's not like you're suddenly going to wake up looking like Giselle. I hate to tell you, tomorrow, and the next day, and, the day after that...you are going to wake up with the same gray hairs, stretch marks, wrinkles, and c-section scars. You're going to look in the same mirror and see the same face.

So what are you going to do with it? Do you intend to keep ignoring  your very own daydreams and fanciful wishes?

There are TWO WORDS that you MUST erase from your vocabulary. Ready? Here it is...

"YEAH BUT..."

Want to kill you dreams?

Want to pass up opportunity after opportunity to have a little fun in your life?

"YEAH BUT" WILL DO IT EVERY TIME!