Dear Business Coach...

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A few posts back, I mentioned that I've thrown away all of my old journals. Not only were they totally irrelevant and unnecessary to hold onto, I could never get through one page of one journal without turning to my imaginary friend, opening my mouth and my eyes wide wide, as if t say "Oh.... MyGod. What a loser!" But that's not to say there is no value in revisiting words, videos or photos that represent who and where we were at a point in time; I just didn't need twelve books all written in the penmanship of a retired Pharmacist, explaining how shitty my upper-middle class teen-aged life was. I mean...right?!

But as I sifted through some old emails today, I came across one that I wrote to a Business Coach I hired almost exactly one year ago. My relationship with her came to an end shortly after I wrote this, but maybe the point of hiring her was to have a reason to get all this out. And that's what I did.

I'm sharing this email with you for a few reasons:

 1) I share everything else with you, so why not this?

2) Even "Coaches" and creative entrepreneurs (like me) don't know what the hell they're doing with their life, sometimes.

3) I'm not the only relatively neurotic human being who's had these thoughts and feelings.

4) I'm no longer in the same place I was when I wrote this email and I thought I always would be.

This Coach's name is irrelevant so for the purposes of this post, I'll call her

"Business Coach."

Without further ado...Happy Spinning!

spinning

January 4th, 2015

Subject: "Spinning"

"Happy New Year, *Business Coach! I hope 2015 is finding you well.

I'm emailing because I'm spinning today. I feel so anxious and scared about my future and I don't know how to navigate any tools to put things into perspective.

I've always been able to see a big picture that I deem to be my destiny or an ultimate dream of mine, but I am impatient when it comes to taking the necessary steps to get there.

Blah blah blah. I could go on typing, trying to over think things and express myself in  practical, self-loving, compassionate, forward thinking words. But I feel more compelled to list the cycle of thoughts that occupy my mind and my body 24 hours a day, leaving no room for anyone or any thing. So, here goes..

I'm 28 years-old and have not been able to financially support myself, despite all my education, experience, talents, willingness and ability to work hard.

I love working with children and I'm good at it. I love my title as Director at My Gym, and I'm frustrated I am accepting only $18,000/year.

I feel guilty about believing I am worth more, since there's so much hype about wanting money as an American is a bad thing. And how greedy we are as a culture. I feel like I need to prove to the world I'm not trying to earn millions, I'm just trying to pay rent.

I'm an excellent writer and public speaker. I have always articulated my thoughts with sincerity and clarity. Not everyone can do this and I wonder how I can put this skill to good use and/or profit from it.

I may be sensitive as a person, but I am also tough. I'm fearless in many ways and terrified in others.

I'm terrified I won't ever be in a loving relationship.

I'm terrified I won't ever have children.

I'm terrified we've done so much damage to the human psyche that Coaches, Counselors, Therapists and Social Workers who want to help, will always be spinning their wheels.

I will fearlessly check behind every door, in every closet and under the bed for someone hiding, waiting to kill me. But I am too fearful of getting my heart broken or being a failure in business or relationships, so I avoid them.

By default, I am always on Craigslist, looking for jobs, to feel safe. But I don't want to just work for a paycheck for the rest of my life. At least at My Gym, I'm making a difference and get to be active. No, I'm not getting paid what I'm worth, or enough to live, but at least I don't feel like a drone. The next tab I open, right after Craiglist, is PadMapper.com or any other apartment website, looking for a place with cheaper rent. I pay $1450, which some days seems like a lot and other days seem reasonable, considering any other apartment or studio in the South Bay will only save me, at most, $200, to which I think I could just become a prostitute for an extra $200/month and BOOM, there's me making up the rest of my "outrageous" rent.

*Business Coach, I'm so scared. During our first conversation you mentioned that our country comes from a state of scarcity, thus that's why our country is poor. So, like, all I have to do is keep 'coming from a place of abundance'? What the hell does that even mean? And as a side note, I don't want to do only ONE job. I have lots of things I'm good at and want to work toward. I wouldn't even want to be a writer full-time. Full time equals "fast burnout" to me. But that makes me sound like a spoiled little child, because I don't want to saturate all my time in just ONE thing. Who the hell am I to think I have a choice?

I think I've covered just about everything that has me curled up on my couch in fetal position today. I don't know what I need from you as far as a response. If I were brutally honest and had my wish, I would want to hear

 "You're going to be more than okay, Erica. I understand everything you're saying and most people who are about to go through a huge breakthrough feel this way. I've seen it. I've given you a boost with my hand to get you to the very top of the fence, where you now have 1 leg on each side. This is the hardest part and I promise you're doing the right thing by going over to the other side. You don't need to move out of your apartment. That is your home and you have every right to stay."

Part of me wants to hear this from you, just because I'm investing a lot of money into working with you. But I know I need to be saying these things to myself.

I feel so alone in the world and I feel like I'm spinning, failing AND flailing, left and right...which always causes me to binge eat. And that opens a WHOLE other can of worms.

Thank you for taking the time to read my sincerest feelings. If you don't mind, I'd love to hear any thoughts you have.

Love,

Erica"

So, friends...please know that the way we feel about our jobs, our family, our relationships and the direction of our life is never permanent. Sometimes we're certain, sometimes we're not. Sometimes we're lost, sometimes we're found. Sometimes it takes a cup of tea and essential oils to bring us back down to earth. And sometimes dinners with friends and a very dirty martini, or three, helps smooth out the rough edges and harsh thoughts. It's okay. You're okay.

So much love to you, wherever you are on your path to wherever the heck you wanna go!

And as always, feel free to tall me where you are on your journey. Have you ever had these thoughts? Am I alone, here?

xo,

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*photos via

My Daughter Dreams of India

*A letter from my Dad to the Universe*

To whom this may concern,

I write to you this evening in the hopes your infinite wisdom can help me. My Daughter, Erica, will be traveling to India tomorrow and there are some things I need you to know, before she embarks on her first journey out of America...

The night before Erica turned eighteen, she was very upset. Her tears fell hard and fast, as she told me how scared she was to turn eighteen. She realized that in the eyes of the law, she would now be an adult and she was afraid. What does being an adult mean? I asked. She said it meant I didn't have to take care of her anymore; that I could throw her out on the street, if I wanted to. That I could abandon her, legally. She said if she accidentally broke the law, she'd "no longer qualify for Family Court" and she'd most certainly be tried in criminal court. (She's so cute.) She said being an adult was a huge privilege and she couldn't imagine herself taking on such a responsibility. She felt that from here on out, life would blindside her, ambush her, hurt her.

Before Erica was born, I thought of the things I'd be afraid of as a parent; how I'd be able to financially support the lifestyle I wanted to give her, how safe she would be in her car seat--which I tested fifteen times before she was born, by slamming on my brakes, almost giving myself a concussion.-- I had all my fears and concerns in check, but I never considered what my Daughter would be afraid of. What would be the things that keep her awake at night? I didn't know she'd have an innate fear of being abandoned. I didn't know she'd come to believe she is unworthy of love and belonging.

I listened fully and attentively to my soon-to-be-eighteen girl that night. I assured her that only good things can come of being an adult. I told her life is never just thrown at us. I said that as opportunities and responsibilities come, she'll already be ready for them. I said, Life is gradual. Life is a process. She took a choppy deep breath and said, Okay, Dad. I believe you.

Two years later, I died. And life for my child was not, as I'd promised, gradual.

Although she was thoroughly heartbroken and in excruciating pain, I wish I could say I worried for her; that I thought she couldn't survive without me. But I didn't. My Daughter knew exactly what she needed to do and she's done it. She sold our house and made a new home for herself by the sea. She went to school to earn her degree. She's easy with her love and sees the gifts and power in her vulnerability. And now, she's going to India, with her best friend, Hailey. As a parent, I couldn't wish for a better travel buddy.

Erica often feels afraid, yet she keeps showing up. For every doubt that she is worthy, she takes at least three new chances. For every moment she believes she's forgettable, there are ten people who can't imagine life without her, and they tell her so. She is sensitive and tough. My Daughter is very much interested in life. That's who she is. That's my girl.

So, Universe, for this adventure, my wish for Erica is to abandon the mental and emotional ways she's kept herself safe. May she let go of the relationships, the fears and the beliefs that have kept her small, and gently take down the walls she's put up, protecting her from being heartbroken, the way she was when I had to leave. I want her to ride the elephants and do the Yoga, as she's been saying. I want her to allow this once in a lifetime adventure to wash over her, around her, through her. Mostly, let her laugh; it's my favorite sound.

Tell her I'll know she's arrived safe and sound, because I just know those kinds of things. She must know that I am with her, that she is my front row seat at her Talent Show. She needs to remember that she is not OF my greatness, she IS my greatness. She is expansive, brave and authentic in ways I could have never been.

Tell her I am always accessible to her and always have been. Show her that in life, the only way out is not through, but rather, in. Remind her not to worry what to do with her life, but rather what her life is doing with her. Emphasize that she's always had everything she needs to not only survive, but thrive. Also, please remind her to drink bottled water, check in with her Mother and don't talk to strangers.

Thank you for taking care of my little girl.

Sincerely,

Larry Jacobs

Evergreen: My First Tattoo

"Yes, I'll take a shot", I answer. The creamy taste of coffee and liquor run down my throat, eager to numb me enough to make it through the next hour. But numb I am not. I am all here; nerve endings, proprioceptors and brain cells alert, and surprisingly willing. I think about my Dad, then I don't. I think about going to India in four weeks, then I don't. I think about tattoos and my Jewish heritage, then I very quickly don't. My thoughts are drowned as I hear the first buzzing of the needle. It's coming for me. Erica, relax your jaw and for God's sake, open your eyes all the way...you look like Gilbert Gottfried. It swipes my fair skin for the first time, then a thousand more times, this is no joke. Erica, breathe. Yellow, green, teal, brown, I can see my tree coming together. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles.               That's what I keep telling myself...

Though I never planned on having a tattoo, I figured if I did, it would be because I'd finally had it all figured out; that life and the ecosystem in which I live made perfect sense and I was so sure that what I was about to put on my body was the only thing that could soulfully represent who I am and why I am here. I suppose by the time that happens, I'd be on my death bed and no matter what design I settled on, it would just look like Madonna eating corn through a picket fence. (No offense, Madonna). So now, at the age of twenty-eight, creamy white-girl skin still pulled taught, breasts still relatively perky and I've still got most of my brain cells, this feels like a great time.

I know I've permanently marked my body with a needle being dragged across my skin, filling it with ink and yet I didn't give it multitudes of thought. I have not been thinking about this design for five years or even five months. But I realize this Evergreen Tree on the inside of my ankle will forever represent this time and space in my life; twenty-eight years old, about to embark on a trip to India with my best friend, who reminded me that tattoos are just another way of documenting where you are at a certain point in life. So there, I'm just starting a new journal. Right?

Without further ado, this is the meaning of my tattoo. It is based on the ancient Druid Horoscope, which is represented in trees. I am an Evergreen...

In the dead of winter, when the countryside was dull, grey and blanketed with snow, the Evergreen brought color and life to the landscape with its cold and austere beauty. The Evergreen is symbolic of friendship, resilience, perceptiveness, longevity and honesty.

Evergreen people are very sensory-oriented and are drawn to dim lights and the aroma of perfumes.

Evergreen people love antique jewelry and other old things and they enjoy being a part of majestic celebrations. Despite this last attraction, and because they are capricious and not easy to live with, they often experience a strong sense of isolation, even among large groups of people. Those born under this proud and resolute sign do not give up until they've achieved their goal and they are not likely to fall under anyone's influence.

Evergreens can be very demanding and hard to negotiate with. Knowing and understanding their true value, they always try to get the most out of life and usually they manage to achieve it.

If an Evergreen ever falls in love, the experience shakes her/him to their core. Their love can be truly unconditional.

When Evergreen people have to choose between different options, they usually pick the most difficult path. That's because deep down they believe it is their destiny to create difficult situations for themselves. But whatever happens, Evergreens are very noble and one can fully rely on them. They remain optimistic through every endeavor and never lose their faith. However, Evergreen people usually neglect the small things because they prefer to focus on the big picture instead.

an open letter to twenty-eight

 

Dearest Twenty-Eight,

In the deep, dark quite of my living room, I hear the clock in the kitchen. It counts down the remaining fifty-eight minutes of being twenty-seven.

I'm hardly ready for you; my phone has 20% life, clothes are unnecessarily scattered everywhere. Dishes are piled in the sink, DVDs of Seinfeld, Girl Interrupted and The L Word, are just...on the floor. Things are not where they're supposed to be, twenty-eight. I'm not married, I don't have children. I'm a writer and I'm not even wearing the right outfit to type this letter; it doesn't scream Carrie Bradshaw at all!

The thing is, Twenty-Eight, I was conceived mid afternoon, on the bedroom floor, after a huge marriage-threatening fight. (I do love drama). And forty-two blissful weeks later, on a Tuesday in 1987, my 7-pound ass was hauled via emergency C-Section into a culture driven by numbers, data, facts, conclusions, deadlines and fear. In many ways, Twenty-Eight, you're a ticking time bomb; not yet thirty, but dangerously close. Most 28's in my culture are expected to have it figured out. We are to be financially stable and independent, settled in our sexuality and secure in who we are. We ought to know our purpose and our passions and the difference between the two, because there is a difference.

Since the human body has its own rhythm--which we audaciously deny on the daily--so much information can be gathered every 365 days in a human's life. On a physiological level, predictions can be made about the condition of the body as we age; metabolism, bone health, reproductive ability, etc. If I die tomorrow, a skilled professional would be able to tell I am around twenty-eight, more or less by the stern end of my fourth rib, the length of my bones and my teeth. That's a beautiful and often helpful thing, but it would be hard to determine how I felt as a human being. Was I happy? Did I feel complete and secure in my purpose? Did I show and receive enough love? Did I pay my own rent? I mean, I was twenty-eight, after all. Interesting how age can only predict, depict and determine so much and yet we allow it to define who we are, by setting so many deadlines. This isn't a bad thing, it's just what is, for today.

Twenty-Eight, getting older hasn't been the hard part for me, growing up is. As a grownup, I've had to make very hard decisions and judgements. I've told the truth when I really didn't want to, and I've lied when it was my only option. I have to constantly be humble and realize things about myself that aren't favorable, but helpful to know. I've walked through shame, grief, fear, heartbreak and hopelessness. It's not all bad though, Twenty-Eight. Concurrently, I've really surprised myself, as a grownup. I've shown myself grace and a willingness to be here in a way I didn't and couldn't as a child. I have friends who seek me out and think of me all the time. I have a loving, smart and very strong family. My Mother has become my favorite person, thank God. I've cried so many tears of joy and I have much to celebrate, each and every day.

Twenty-Eight, I just really want you to know you are NOT a deadline. You are just a point of reference, like a mall directory, and I'm glad you're here. Of all the numbers so far, you feel the most fun, strong, powerful and enlightening already. You don't scare me...but let's be honest, you haven't demanded anything of me today, other than to receive and really taste all the love available to me. I know things only taste as good as the time I take to absorb them, so I promise to stay present for the next 16 hours. Yikes.

So maybe I am ready for you, sweet Twenty-Eight. For you are proof that I've kept air in my lungs, food in my belly and more than enough love in my heart to sustain me thus far. My dishes might be piled high, I might be single and I don't make 60K a year. My clothes may not make it back neatly where they belong anytime soon and the scattered DVD's won't get re-racked today. But that will come with age...right?

Love,

a name for her hunger

"Storytellers speak in the language of myth and metaphor. They tell us a truth that is not literal, but symbolic. When we listen to stories with our outer ear, they can seem absurd and untrue, but when listen to a story with our inner ear, they convey an inner truth that can be understood on a very personal level and absorbed..." -Anita Johnston

This week I have written a story in the language of metaphor. I ask you to listen to it only with your inner ear, in hopes it resonates with your own story.

One cool and damp morning a little girl awoke to find the biggest, softest, most complex-looking animal sleeping right next to her. She was startled, of course, but she quickly realized its harmlessness. In fact, its giant body was its most comforting feature. She ran her hot pink polished nails through its thick, shiny fur and traced her hand over the intricate and unique peaks and valleys of its face. Her big brown eyes were alive with curiosity, as she tried with all her might to roll the animal onto its side to see if it was a boy or a girl. But this great, big animal would not budge. She let out a frustrated groan and to her surprise, the animal groaned back. When she took a breath, it too cycled air. When she smiled, the animal mirrored and so on. Lacking the knowledge of its gender, she decided to name this animal, Life.

She felt excited, giddy, as all little girls do when they've met a new friend. She could not keep this a secret. She threw on her favorite purple knitted sweater, her grandmother made for her last winter, rushed into her village and cried, I've found the biggest animal I've ever seen!  It's name is Life. I'm going to keep it and you're welcome to come over and visit us anytime! The village people --not to be confused with the music group-- laughed, as one big headed, short sighted man said, Well, just don't let it grow too big, it may very well swallow you whole! An equally arrogant woman chimed in; you'd better starve that animal to make it smaller or else it might kill you. They told her she'd soon lose control of Life.

Confused, rejected yet resilient, the little girl rushed home, to the safety of her new companion. There, in the 'castle' she'd made of sheets and blankets in the middle of her room, began a friendship, a support system and a deep fondness for this wild animal. When Life seemed hungry, the little girl fed it, when Life had difficulty falling asleep, she sang lullabies. And on super chilly days, she made soup and layered homemade blankets on the animal. She took care of her Life the best way she knew how. Naps, imaginative play, reassuring hugs, delicious meals and belly laughs described their typical day. Everything was lighter. It was like a film had been removed and she could see her friends more clearly. She felt more graceful and accepting of her family. She was easier with her love and in turn, her family was easier with theirs. The bigger the animal grew, the fuller the little girl's heart became.

Then one day, something changed. A parasite of sorts crept in and burrowed itself in the carefully knitted web of solace and joy, that had become the little girl's truth. Everything looked different, especially the animal. This dear friend, confidant, nurturer now looked and felt like an enemy, something not to be trusted. She realized in that moment the villagers could be right; this animal is certain to control me. This animal could kill me. She decided in an instant Life wouldkill her. She began to grow inward, isolating herself from her loyal friends, her loving family and especially her monstrous companion. Her world was small and windowless, no room for light, no space for learning. All she wanted was for the animal to go away but as it turned out, Life had grown too big and her body would surely break if she tried to move it. So she decided to starve it. She stopped feeding the animal, only to find its growth had nothing to do with food. She stopped signing lullabies and discovered it fell asleep faster without her song. She took the warm blankets off the animal and learned nakedness was it's truest, most comfortable form.

Despite her efforts, there was nothing to do, except continue loving Life. So on they continued, filling their days with belly laughs, delicious meals, reassuring hugs and imaginative play. Despite everything else that everyone had said, the little girl knew in her heart that her friend, this animal she'd grown so fond and trusting of, is no monster at all. It's just Life.

*When my life was governed by the notion that smaller is better --smaller portions, a smaller body etc-- my life was smaller. The more I tried to tame my hunger and restrict my food, the more uneasy I was with my love. But when I was willing to be vulnerable in front of a larger plate of food and unafraid to accept my body exactly the way it is, I was able to provide myself a heftier helping of life, as well. I now actively acknowledge that as a human on the earth, I will always have an appetite. I will always be hungry for big, colorful and delicious meals, long, firm, meaningful reassuring hugs, imaginative play and great, big, loud, obnoxious belly laughs* 

What are YOU hungry for?

Wholeheartedly,

erica

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