Does failing make you a failure?

Original Framed Oil on Canvas Painting

Today I am considering the idea that failing does not inherently make me a failure. I'm a person who wants to make everything right, do everything well. I don't consider myself a perfectionist. I am capable of letting little things go, and not agonizing over little trifles, but in the great land of "Being an Adult", I am finding that these skills only need to be amplified, strengthened, continually over time. It's not like a plateau we reach, where everything after that is straight ahead without potholes.

Perhaps I never would have identified this as a characteristic in myself, but I have been acting as though I'm finished as a person, that everything should be perfect now that I'm a fully functioning adult. I've been living in an imperfect body, with an imperfect mind, and wearing clothing that is imperfect, even selling things that are imperfect. Yet I have been expecting more from myself than I expect from anyone, or anything, else.

Now I'm going to sit in a pile of my own imperfection and hope it melds with my thrifty self. See you later :)

Hug a veteran :)

A Charles Schultz ode to veterans on Armistice Day (11/11)

There was a purple station wagon in the parking lot when I pulled up to one of my favorite thrift stores this afternoon. It was dotted with silver-toned ephemera, lots of crosses. I got to meet the owner at the cash register, and I'm really glad I did. Turns out he was a POW in Vietnam, and the purple on the car matched the purple heart license plate. He was also covered in silver-toned ephemera, with a Western-style outfit and pristine cowboy boots. He said that he never sleeps, so he makes jewelry and decorates his car. It's his thing. I assume it keeps him alive.

This article reports that one US veteran suicides approximately every hour (average of 22 a day, higher than previous calculations). 'Purple Car Man' reminded me of how important it is for people to have something that they find joy in, that keeps them busy, helps them to find meaning, etc. Of course it's never that simple, but it's a big thing. It keeps blood flowing in important areas of the brain, encourages human contact, maybe even increases the input of sunshine.

I can imagine that when people come home from war, minor hobby-ish things seem incidental, perhaps even silly and a waste of time. But unfortunately, this way of thinking keeps the trauma of war close at all times, increasing paranoia, and disconnectedness.

Thought of the day: Hug a veteran :)

Have you spoken to a child lately?

Like really, seriously and intentionally, had a conversation with a child? Children, who I often refer to as aliens in this world (because everything is new to them), are extraordinarily brave and authentic. I often feel thankful when I remember that I spend a lot of my days working one-on-one with children, children who want to be heard and seen. And it seems like such a small thing, my entrance into their lives, such a small, insignificant thing.

But then I remember how I saw adults who took time for me when I was young. The smallest things changed me. When I was about nine years old, a friend of the family picked me up unexpectedly from ballet. I don't even recall why, but she was going to take me to her house where I'd wait for my parents to pick me up. And on the way home, we stopped by this little burger stand and she got me a burger and fries, and for some inexplicable reason, this seemed like a magical gift to me.

I'll never forget that moment, and how I later felt when she died, that she had seen me in this really sharp, powerful way, and gave me something to hold onto when life continued to be rough. I think that maybe, deep down (because I'm tearing up right now, just thinking about it), she really cared, and somehow, deep down, I could feel that. So every time I see a child, I know how important it is for me to see them, and acknowledge them, that small things that seem insignificant to me, might seem huge and life-changing to them, and I won't let those precious moments go by wasted.

Anyhow, thoughts of the day. Peace out :)

Actually, you're pretty awesome.

We all have baggage. We've all made decisions we regret. I mean, if you're over the age of 30, you've had lovers, haters, and maybe even some pregnancies. You've been drunk one too many times, written one too many poems on your arm, and made out with the wrong person in front of a room full of people.

You've dropped out of school. You've broken up with the love of your life, "...because while he was sweet and sexy and basic, you were afraid you wouldn't be able to discuss Russian novels together (The Deep End of the Ocean, Jacquelyn Mitchard)." You've listened to more Phil Collins and Taylor Swift than you care to admit. You have a tattoo of someone's name that treated you badly. You've loved other people, taken care of other people, more than you've taken care of yourself.

You've hurt people on purpose, and said nasty things that still haunt you. But you deserve to be loved unconditionally, with abandon, just like everyone else, no matter what you've done.

Breathe in...breathe out...

All 26 poses in the Bikram series :)

Oh man. I've really been struggling the past couple days. I've become overwhelmed by the amount of pain and suffering in the world, the constant horror stories I'm privy to. I know I can't save anyone. I know it's not my job to fix anyone else's problems. But it weighs on my soul in a way that feels like I can't breathe, and it almost feels better not to breathe, but then I get really really tired and I want to lie down and die.

This feeling makes sense to me because of Bikram. I've noticed that it often feels better in some poses to stop breathing, because breathing necessitates moving, and makes me more likely to fall down. But one has to breathe in order to get through the whole series. You might be able to get through a pose or two without breathing, but then you're too wiped out, and have to sit down. I get dizzy when I stop breathing. So I have to consciously breathe, six counts in, six counts out. Sometimes it hurts to breathe. I don't know why. But you have to breathe.

So breathing feels like dying, but won't actually kill you, and not breathing feels better, but might kill you. Quite the paradox, no? Somehow there is a psychological profundity in there, but I can't find it. Whatever it is, it isn't a pleasant thought.

Image retrieved at: http://theguiltlesslife.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/bikram.jpg

Laziness & Photographing Textiles

Vintage Vera Neumann Curtain - A Rare Find!

So I have a ridiculous procrastinating habit with photographing textiles. They're so big! So yesterday, I faced my fear and did a bunch all at once, just laid them in the driveway in the early morning light, and shot the hell out of them. Yeah, so it's not professional, but it got the job done, and in the end, that's really all that matters.

In my professional, non-eBay life, I deal a lot with the term laziness. People tell me that they don't/can't do something because they're "lazy". And in response, without fail, I say, "Bull. Laziness doesn't exist. Find another word." It's my shtick. It's my higher self speaking, because in my darker moments, I am just as likely to think those same things about myself. But I don't want to be a person that ever talks about myself that way. Would I say that to a friend in a condescending way? Would I insult them like that, or would I be understanding and acknowledge their weariness/exhaustion/pain and need for rest? Probably the latter.

Calling yourself "lazy" is a cop-out. It's the end of the sentence. Nothing can follow it. It prevents you from digging deeper and figuring out what's really going on. It prevents you from acknowledging your own humanness and forgiving yourself from being imperfect and a non-superhero.

So forgive yourself already and take a nap.

Word.

Boosting your own ego

Not completely empty, but mostly :)

This week's episode of The Bachelorette made me think about a phenomenon I've seen in heterosexual romantic relationships: Women pressing the man to admit that he is indeed hopelessly in love with her, causing total exposure and emotional nakedness (but only for him). She manipulates the situation because she wants to know that it's a sure thing. She isn't going to go all-in unless she first knows that he's all-in first. It's like, "You show me yours first, then I'll think about whether I'll show you mine."

I call it a phenomenon because I've seen it happen over and over again with my single friends. They agonize over whether or not some guy likes them because they depend upon that knowledge to judge themselves. If he loves them, then they're worthy of being loved. Their worthiness is completely dependent upon that knowledge (Oh man, this drives me crazy).

We use people's vulnerabilities against them in order to make ourselves more powerful! When I make the guy admit his feelings first, then I have the upper hand. I have the power to crush him if I want, and now there's zero chance that I'll get crushed. Self-protection at its worst, my friends. Using other people's vulnerabilities to boost your own ego? Not cool.

But resistance is not an easy task. It means making up your own mind. It means a whole hell of a lot of risk on your part, with the possibility that there is only pain on the other side. But the cool part is, you get to become a whole person in the process, and that's worth every painful moment, and every tear.

Differentiate yourself.

I'm not exceptionally good at describing jewelry yet.

So I'm reading this book called Passionate Marriage, by David Schnarch. I guess you could say that it's a book about sex, but it's not really. It's more a book about how sex reflects our intimate relationships in both positive and negative ways. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to give it to people as a wedding gift, maybe two copies, because the book is all about differentiation, and how we can have better relationships when we don't expect the other person to define us or affirm our worth.

In most of my relationships, I don't need other people to give me worth. That's not a hard thing for me. Maybe at one time it was, but now not so much. However, that is not the case in my closest relationships. I have so much trouble saying, "This is where I end and you begin...This is you...This is me." I take on people's problems because I "love" them, but when I do that, it communicates that I don't think that they can handle their own problems, that they need me to function properly, and that's exactly what I do not wish to communicate.

Truly intimate relationships are difficult to navigate. They take constant work, and pain. Sometimes there are easier times than others, or else we wouldn't be able to cope, and we certainly wouldn't stay together. But if being human is hard, in and of itself, then being human with another human has to be exponentially difficult.

So to all y'all out there in long-term partnerships, more power to ya :) You are each a testament to the possibility of love to triumph.

"Natural" remedies

In honor of being sick, I give you a list of herbal remedies I use obsessively:

1. Crushed garlic (severe cold/flu)
2. Warm Garlic/Olive Oil blend (ear infection)
3. Goldenseal/Echinacea (moderate cold/flu)
4. Vitamin C (mild cold/flu)
5. Cranberry capsules (urinary anything)

When I was trying to cure myself of diabetes, and wasn't taking any meds, I used:

1. Cinnamon
2. Prickly Pear Cactus
3. Chromium
4. Taurine

On a normal day, I take the following (vegan overload):

1. Vitamin B Complex
2. Prenatal Multivitamin (for the extra iron)

Until we are called to rise...

We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies--

The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king--

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

The pain can't last forever.

Have you ever felt debilitating emotional pain? Have you ever done everything in your power to then cover up or numb that awful feeling(s)? If so, you are not alone. And I am here to tell you that that numbing that you seek is perfectly understandable. Those terrible feelings are oftentimes the reason people attempt suicide. Sometimes those feelings do indeed feel worse than one imagines death could ever possibly feel. "Hell? This is hell."

So this is a shout out to all those who have felt those debilitating feelings of awful, unspeakable pain. You are not alone. Ride it out.

Someday the pain will end. It has to. It really must end at some point. I'm beginning to think that if I equate emotional pain with physical pain, I can begin to imagine that this awful feeling in my chest that makes me want to die is actually my heart healing from a horrific injury. It has been blasted, and now it is doing the difficult work of putting itself back together. I'm not going to pour salt into it by sleeping around and making it worse. I'm not going to start drinking excessively. Alcohol will only make it worse.

All of things we do to ease the pain only prolong the feeling(s). And in order to get over those feelings, we must FEEL them. We must do the awful, heartbreaking work of sitting with those feelings and waiting.

So wait, dearies. It will end. Someday, somehow, it will end.

Please don't suck it up!

I hate passive aggression, hate it. It makes my cheeks flush, heart races, blood pressure goes up, brow furrows. None of these are good things.

Instead of coming out and saying, "I'm not happy with you", the passive aggressive person waits until you're not expecting it, long after any uncomfortableness has passed. They lie in wait until you're innocently drinking from the stream like a young deer, enjoying the fresh cool water, the blue blue sky, and the gentle breeze blowing over your fur. Then POW! You're shot in the heart, and proceed to die a long slow miserable death, choking on your own blood and gasping for air. All you want to know, before you are gone, is "Why?" and "What the hell is wrong with you (i.e. passive aggressive shooter)?"

A few years ago, this was the only aggression I knew and understood. Then I met a wonderful person who wonderfully told me how she felt at the exact moment she was feeling it. Then that particular anger-inducing incident was over, in her mind. I would of course grieve for days about the loss of our friendship, and come crying to her to take me back, which she always would. But she was never stewing. She was just sad that I had to be sad for so long. She had never even considered not being my friend (Thank you God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I never deserved that amazing gift).

Phew. This relationship lifted the heavy load off of my back that I'd been carrying for decades. Now, whenever some idiot wants to come and return the heavy load, or give me a new one, I can't even stomach it. The idea of taking it back makes me sick.

My motto is: Don't make your problem my problem. Tell me how you feel and be done with it. If you don't, you'll still treat me (and possibly other people) badly, probably unintentionally, and you don't want that.

Tell 'em how you feel, no matter how bad or shameful it seems to you. Your feelings outside of your body are better than your feelings inside your body eating away at all of your organs.

My life- a regular soap opera

So for some reason, I have received several insulting criticisms over the past few days via the internet. Some were veiled with false praise, while others were just blatantly unkind and unnecessary. Add to this some very passive-aggressive behavior by other people in my immediate life, and you've got yourself a regular soap opera, courtesy of Megan's world.

I was once very sensitive to critique of any kind. But now I hear criticism and I have to let it go, or else I would crumble. I have to suck up my defenses that immediately bristle. Instead of saying, "Hey bee-otch. Why do you find it necessary to be so rude to someone you've never met?" No. Instead, I say, "I am so terribly sorry that you are unhappy. Please let me know what I can do to make this right." There was no response to that particular email. Success! I was somehow able to diffuse a very hostile situation with total submission.

Finally, I take a deep breath, remind myself of the numerous people who appreciate me, and move on with my day.