Being Vulnerable

Being vulnerable is usually seen as a negative attribute and often times it can be interpreted as being "needy." Most of us avoid being vulnerable because it's a time when all of our insecurities rise to the surface for all to see. It can feel as though we are walking around with an open wound and our mere exposure threatens to damage us beyond repair.

I interpret vulnerability as a time of change. Just as a physical wound needs exposure to the air in order to heal, your insecurities need exposure in order for you to recognize and accept them for what they are... fear of the unknown, and doubt that you can handle it.
Vulnerability is imperative for growth and reaching your higher potential. It just means that you are changing, and change means you are becoming more. While it may seem silly to think that most of us run from becoming more, it's true. Most of us would rather stay exactly as we are, than run the risk of looking stupid or failing.

Being vulnerable means we are holding on to a way of life or perspective that is no longer working for us. We cling to people who are familiar to us, only to find these people don't quite understand us anymore. We grasp onto a way of life that once fulfilled us, only to discover this lifestyle is completely unfulfilling. Our soul is trying to tell us to try something new... but we resist because we're afraid. We're afraid of losing a life we had, and at the same time realizing this is a life in which we no longer belong. We lose our footing and feel ungrounded. We're not sure where to turn or what step to take next.

If we can see this as a natural part of the growing process and an opportuniry to develop new aspects of ourselves, we just might see this as a good thing.

Being vulnerable means we are cracking ourselves open to new possibilities. It's our creative nature calling and asking us to listen to our intuition. It may mean taking risks and it most certainly means you may look foolish... but aren't you worth it? Listen to your creative impulses and ask yourself, "What in me is waiting to be born?"

Being vulnerable means it's time to stop waiting and start trusting that you can be more... that you are more. Vulnerability signifies a window of opportunity for doing something different and being something more.

Out of Control

One morning while sitting at a stop light, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a car coming at me at a rapid speed. I knew I was about be hit... and yet there wasn't anything I can do to prevent it from happening. I tightened up and braced for impact. I was hit from behind, then the car that hit me bounced off my bumper, rolled back and then forward, hitting me again, which in turn caused me to hit the car in front of me.

The female driver of the vehicle had unexpectedly suffered a seizure and this is what caused the collision. Fortunately, the woman's air bag deployed which prevented her from being seriously injured. My daughter was in the car with me and thankfully, we were not physically hurt, except for experiencing a few bruises and some soreness.

The next morning, my daughter asked me to take a different route to school because she didn't feel safe going that same way. I told her I didn't want the situation to control our sense of security, so we took the same route in order to face the fear of be unsafe. I actually thought that taking this same route and facing the possibility of us getting hit again would make me feel safe, but it didn't.

Since the accident, whenever I'm behind the wheel of the car, I find myself wincing when I see someone in my mirror steadily approaching me from behind or following me too closely. I know that I keep revisiting the accident and I've tried to shake it off, but still, after several months I continue to tighten up when a vehicle approaches me at a rapid pace from behind. I'm really tired of feeling this way and yet I can't seem to help it. So I finally asked myself, "what is it that I'm so afraid of?" I'm afraid of getting hit again... since the chance of this happening in the exact same manner is highly unlikely, I then realized that it's something much deeper that I'm really afraid of. I'm afraid of not having control over what happens to me and those I love. I'm afraid of being out of control. I never think of myself as a control freak, but I have to admit that being out of control is something that scares me. It took this accident to get me to see clearly that I need to surrender my need for control. I can steer the wheel, but it doesn't mean I'm in control of what happens to me on the way to my destination.

It's ironic that I fear being out of control, because all the major events of my life that led me in a different direction and created positive change, have been unplanned and ones that I didn't see coming. They reinforced my faith and trust in the fact that I am always given exactly what I need, even if it doesn't seem that way at the time. Everything that happens to me serves my growth and development.

So why then, knowing this to be true, do I now fear being out of control? It took this accident to remind me that I don't have complete control of my life. Each time I get in the car and become uneasy with the anxious feeling of wincing and tightening when someone approaches me from behind, I'm actually trying to control of all that happens to me through my fears. As much as I want to believe I have control of what happens to me, I'm much more uncomfortable with the thought of going through life being afraid and allowing my fears to control me. I know the only way to stop this uneasiness when I'm in the car is to surrender my need for control. Surrendering my need for control is surrendering my fear of being out of control.


Now, when I'm driving and I see someone coming at me from behind and I feel myself start to tighten up, I realize this is my pathetic attempt to control something that I have no conrtol over. Once I start to feel anxious I know it's time to say, "I surrender."

Honor Oneself

As I watched the events of the last few weeks unfold between NBC, Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien, I realized that I was was watching the development of personal power right before my eyes. This is not about the blame game or casting anyone in a negative light, it's about the sacred act of honoring oneself... in my opinion, Conan O'Brien executed it magnificently with his decision to leave NBC and with his final show on Friday, January 22nd.

We all have the opportunity to influence the next stage of our lives through the choices we make in the present moment. Conan was given the directive that his show would be moved to 12:05am and this directive caused great discomfort for him for many reasons. Conan had the self-esteem to recognize that this discomfort was actually his intuition guiding him to take charge of his life and make choices that will enhance his spirit. Guidance requires action, but it does not necessarily guarantee safety. Guidance will most often direct us on a new path and one of new cycles of learning that will ignite our creativity.

From the outside his decision seemed easy, because he would still be financially set and able to maintain a comfortable lifestyle, but this is about self-respect. You cannot put a price tag on self-respect. This was a decision about choosing to honor his spirit or his physical comfort and security. In his last show, he said this was the hardest decision he has ever made in his life... and I believe him. He had the responsibility of all those people on his staff who uprooted their families to move to Los Angeles and would now lose their jobs. He had his reputation on the line and he had the possibility that his contract would prevent him from working on television for a number of years. He was at a crossroads and he had to make a choice. Should he make a choice that's safe and provides physical security, or does he listen to the discomfort he is feeling and recognize this as guidance directing him to honor his spirit?

By choosing to quit his job, he broke free of familiar and safe patterns and chose to test-fly his own creativity. He was breaking away from corporate thought and establishing his own sense of authority. He was re-creating himself and his boundaries in the face of opposition, and he had the courage to express and maintain his boundaries, as well as his principles. He did all of this based on a genuine inner belief in himself. His goodbye statement was heart-felt and devoid of negativity. He showed dignity and character. He is a shining example of personal power and the sacred act of honoring oneself. I have no doubt, that now that his spirit is in command, the next stage of his life has been positively influenced by his choice to honor himself.

Doubt

All too often I receive a visit from that pesky little demon called "doubt." If allowed to come in, it can seep through my pores and develop into self-sabotage, dismantling all my creativity.
Last week I was working on an artistic project for a client's wedding. She had used my work before and called again for an additional request. The request was a little outside my usual work and I began to doubt myself. Could I do what she requested? Yes, I could do it. Could I do it perfectly? No, I couldn't. Would she be happy with it? I didn't know. I wanted to make her happy and I doubted I could produce something that would meet her expectations. Doubt had seeped in and taken control of my psyche.

I began working on the project and I heard the voice of doubt telling me that it was not perfect and it would never be good enough. It told me that I wasn't good enough. I threw countless sheets of paper away, then in total frustrastion decided I needed to take a break. I refused to focus on it and started ironing instead. As I was ironing, something popped into my head, just out of the blue. I remembered seeing a show about "decluttering" your house. The host's advice when choosing what to keep or let go of, was that one should heed the mantra, "when in doubt, throw it out." Instantly, I knew this was not a random thought, but soul guidance speaking out to me. I was "in doubt" and I needed to "throw it out."
I sat right back down, released the doubt, and finished the project. Second guessing or self-sabotage was no longer allowed. I felt good about the work I produced and the client was happy too.

Undoubtedly, my pesky little visitor will return again and spew the trash talk. The next time "doubt" sashays into my psyche, I'm prepared to declutter my mind and just "throw it out."

It's Not You, It's Me

Many years ago I was working at a law firm and shared an office with another paralegal. Now I liked this woman just fine, in fact, I can still call her a friend today. The one thing that was bothersome about this arrangement was that this woman talked a lot. She also had a bit of a negative outlook on things. I knew things about her upbringing that gave me clarity into why she saw things as negatively as she did. Therefore, on most occasions I could ignore the negativity.
I did a lot of research at this firm and I liked it just fine, but what I really loved was writing Memorandums of Law. I never told anyone how much I did love it, so consequently, I didn't get assigned too many writing duties. One day, counsel from outside our office asked for assistance on research and writing a Memorandum of Law. Because all the attorneys were busy, it was given to me. This tickled me pink, because I loved the opportunity to write for submission to a judge. It's pretty straight forward, it requires the facts of the case, the law as it applies to the facts, your argument intermingled within and your conclusion.
I took this home and worked on it on my own time. I researched, wrote, edited and refined until I got down to a final draft. The next morning I went into work to finalize and present it to the attorney for his approval. While sitting at my desk, my co-worker came in and started talking. She talked and talked and talked. All I could think about was how I wanted to finish the Memorandum and do my best, but the talking was distracting me. I couldn't concentrate and in a moment of self-indulgence I picked up my papers and went to the senior partner and asked whether I could use a recently vacated office to do my work. He told me to go ahead. As I was sitting in there working, this partner walked in and said that if I wanted to make this my office I could because no one else would be using it. I finished the Memorandum and turned it in.

The next morning I officially moved my things into the new office. I had only told my co-worker that I was moving and didn't explain why. Later that day she came to my office and sat down. She had tears in her eyes and asked me why I moved away from her. I felt like such a jerk and I knew I had been one. Part of me wanted to tell her that while I liked her, she talked too much and her negativity was sucking the life out of me. But I knew her self-esteem was not at its highest point at the moment, and I didn't want to bring her to a new low. So I uttered the old break-up line... I said, "It's not you, it's me." Normally, I would say this is the coward's way out, but something happened as I said those words. As the words came out, I knew I was speaking the honest truth. It wasn't her, it was me. While she annoyed me at times, I learned that rejecting her and her ways was not the real issue. Thanks to her, I stated my newly discovered truth. I told her that while I loved working with people and being around others, when it came down to my individual work, I liked to work alone. I told her that is when I get the best results and I also liked time alone to process the day. Up until that moment, I hadn't totally appreciated that aboout myself. As far, as work was concerned, I required alone time and it had nothing to do with her. It was all about me.

From that moment on, when I inevitably encounter an annoying person, I look at what I need to learn about myself. After all, "it's not about them, it's about me."

Phoebe in Wonderland

As I was walking down the aisle in the video store, the cover of a DVD caught my eye. It was the movie "Phoebe in Wonderland" and it had a picture of a huge sunflower and a girl peeking through the petals. I'm not sure why it caught my eye, but I picked it up and read the back cover. It didn't offer much clarity on what the movie was about, so I decided to leave it on the shelf. After perusing the plethora of movies, something brought me back to "Phoebe in Wonderland." Because I've learned to act on my intuition, I rented the movie and took it home.


Once home, I sat down with my husband to watch it. About fifteen minutes into the movie, my husband and I looked at each other in disbelief. It became very clear to us early on that this movie was about OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) and Tourettes Syndrome. Both of us are intimately aware of these disorders because we have two children that have them. Normally, I don't share this with just anyone, because it involves my children and I prefer to keep it private. However, this movie touched me so much that I feel I need to share it because it may touch and help others going through the same thing.


Daniel Barnz is the writer and director of this brilliantly executed movie. It chronicles a young girl with OCD/Tourettes and her quiet, yet painful struggles, which are all too often misunderstood. The fluent depiction of the overwhelming affect that OCD/Tourettes has on Phoebe and her family is stunningly accurate.

What I loved the most about this movie is that while it shows Phoebe's battles, it also allows the viewer to recognize and value her unique talents. With the compassionate guidance of her Theater teacher, who has the ability to see and focus on Phoebe's gifts, Phoebe gains acceptance of herself and is allowed to shine.

The Purse

I'm not sure of the exact date it first started or even why it started, but every year or two my sister would send me a purse. After she sent me the first one, she called to let me know something was on its way. Her exact words escape me, but she said something like "I saw this... I thought it looked like you and I wanted you to have it."

My sister and I are different in many ways, but for some reason she has a knack for picking out the perfect purse for me. I was always delighted with each purse and grateful to her for giving me something which she had chosen especially for me. The icing on the cake were all the compliments I received when carrying one of these purses. With each compliment I said, "Thank you, my sister gave it to me." Most of the comments were, "Wow, you must have a nice sister?" To which I responded, "Yes, I do."

Early this spring I was feeling the need to get a new purse and started shopping for one. I shopped and shopped and just couldn't find the right one (or should I say, the one that fit my champagne taste, but Boones Farm budget). I thought about my sister and how she always picks just the right one out for me. I selfishly picked up the phone and called her. When she answered the phone, I said I had a mission for her, should she choose to accept it. She asked what that would be. I went on to tell her that I would like for her to pick out a purse for me. I told her that I wanted to pay for the purse and the shipping, but I wanted her to choose the purse because she had a talent for selecting the perfect one. To my surprise, she was delighted to take on the task to find just the right purse and send it my way.
A week later my sister called and said she had found the purse and was putting it in the mail. I could hear the excitement in her voice, she was so happy that I had selected her to choose a purse for me. She told me it was perfect and she knew it was the right one for me when she saw it. She said it was a designer purse and it was pink.
Now, I have never owned a pink purse in my entire life and I tend to dress on the conservative side, but I knew instantly that this was the perfect purse for me. The truth was it didn't matter, what the purse looked like, I trusted that she bought this with her heart and that is what made it perfect. I knew I would love it because she had carefully and thoughtfully chosen it just for me. In that moment, this gift became so much more than just a purse. It became a trust, a bond and an opening of my heart.
My sister went on to say how much it meant to her that I called her to pick out a purse for me (and I thought I was being selfish). She said she loved doing it and wanted me to promise to just wear it through the summer and then she would select another one for the fall. She also said that she would not take any money for it or the shipping because she wanted to do this for me. I had no idea that asking her to accept this request would bring her so much joy and such a feeling of validation. This purse had become so much more than just a purse, it had become a gift of love.
When the package came in the mail, I called my sister and opened it. It was the perfect purse!
I proudly wear this purse and everyday I carry a part of my sister with me. This purse is a representation of what matters to me and all that I cherish.
Just the other day, someone complimented me on my purse. I smiled and said, "Thank you, my sister gave it to me." It is truly one of the best gifts I have ever received.