Can you imagine a table loaded up with love and yet you remain starving?
I’ve considered this on a week where HARMONY was our Word of the Week, and all of the messages I kept reading referred back to LOVE as the secret sauce for harmony.
When I am out of sorts with myself, I’m learning to check my love levels. Since Costa Rica, my first step is to check out how well I’m loving ME (or not). Because I’ve learned that I will only attract what I emanate.
Harmony is when there’s unity of thought and feeling – and fear is always the great divider.
Fear’s leading line is, “What if…” and leads down the rabbit trail of negative possibilities.
That’s when I need to go and sit in Mom-Mom’s chair, and talk to myself.
Taking that five minute (or more) time-out is just what I need to get back to unity between my soul and spirit, and it always ends with a little love note to myself.
“I love you Brenda.”
When was the last time you said those words out loud to yourself?
Picture yourself, through all of the many stages of your life: The chubby toddler, the acne-stained teen; the insecure but tough-looking college student or the polished (but anxious as hell) professional.
With each mental image, let love well up inside of you. You’ll find floods of empathy and compassion, tenderness and grace rise up.
Then let those loving feelings wash over you.
Some tears may spill out of your eyes. That’s okay. It’s your angels washing your heart from the wounds accrued over time.
After that good, cleansing cry, you may find that where there was discord, harmony now resides in your heart. And you’re ready to face life again, because YOU’VE got your own back.
The table of love is a feast that is always set before us. May we all choose to partake!
I talk a bit more on this (and just wish I had put some better lipstick on), but you’ll forgive the momentary lapse of aesthetics in the new Word of the Week reveal:
Looking at life with fresh eyes is how I’m going to approach creativity this week.
After all, if I keep doing the SAME thing, I’ll get the same results.
I want new stuff! How about you?
Oh, and let’s GIVE THANKS for all the wonderful stuff we already have. I hope you and yours enjoy a marvelous Thanksgiving holiday, seated at a table where the feast is LOVE.
Divine interruptions are sometimes the universe’s way of keeping us out of harm’s way. Or bringing us an adventure!
I’ve got to look at it this way, as I write this week’s post from the Tampa Airport Marriott…a hotel I had not planned on staying in, because I had intended to be on a plane to Philadelphia.
The plane got to Philly Friday night, but without me.
I was finishing up a work meeting with plenty of time to spare to make the flight. Ten miles from the airport, a dreaded standstill drained all of my lead time – and more.
I arrived in time to board, but they wouldn’t take my bag and offered no solutions to get it to Philly. And in my bag was my LIFE. Ain’t no abandoning the bag option for Brenda!
I try to go with the flow when my life is interrupted, but when involves or affects other people, I get a bit antsy.
One thing was certain: Come #$%@ or high water, I was NOT going to miss my sister’s play on Sunday afternoon.
It was clear that no flights out on Friday night on ANY airline would get me to my destination without blowing up my credit card inordinately, so my next option was to search for Saturday morning flights.
Picture me traipsing from ticket counter to ticket counter – United, Delta, American, Spirit, Frontier, Southwest…only to discover there were NO reasonable seats to Philadelphia.
But Newark! Now there’s an option!
So yes, I got a flight for Saturday AM that would get me to Newark in the early afternoon. This would mean I’d miss coffee time with Renee and Steve (boo) and an afternoon visit with Roseann, Mike and her parents (boo) but at least I’d be in South Jersey in time for an evening with the star of “Our Town” and her husband (my brother-in-law), Tony.
Getting a room at the Marriott was the easy part. I thought it would be equally easy to adjust my Budget rental to a pick-up in Newark and the original drop-off in Philly.,
After placing me on hold for 45 minutes they said (basically), “Nope.”
Dollar Rental to the rescue! A few clicks, and it was done (at the same price as Budget.)
So now I am here in Marriott-land, unintended and upended…but planning on embracing our word of the week, EXPLORATION.
First, I want to explore a menu. My stomach is growling! And I will go down to the restaurant EXPECTING something wonderfully serendipitous to happen.
Because that’s how I roll. Who knows why this all happened? But it did. Maybe I am a bozo and should have left earlier. Lesson learned. Maybe there’s a person on this newly booked Southwest flight that I am meant to meet. Or an accident somehow avoided if my plans had gone as…well, planned.
We try and script life and yet each day can be fraught with plot twists. We can either let them frustrate us – or we can see them as adventures in the making.
Yes, first I cried.
Now I am going downstairs to lose myself in an order of French fries.
I hope YOUR explorations brought you happy surprises this week. Next week I hope to have a full report of how this all played out! And I close out the word with my thoughts about exploring our INTERNAL lives. Take a listen:
My sister has been my chief cheerleader and support system for 54 years.
When I cried incessantly as a baby, my parents threatened to put me up for sale in a wheelbarrow by the road.
I think in today’s world, someone would have called child protective services, but back then it was their way of saying, “If this child doesn’t stop screaming, we’re going to lose it!”
Of course, they never INTENDED to sell me, but my five-year-old sister couldn’t grasp the nuance of dark humor yet, so SHE began to scream and beg for my life.
She wanted me, tears and all.
She still does.
Always more comfortable with a drawing pad or lost in a good book, she never failed to encourage my more “outward” pursuits. She schlepped me to Philadelphia from Buena, NJ to get my head shots taken. When I competed in the Miss Magic 103 radio contest, and belted out my Cher impressions for the world to hear, no one laughed louder. Before and after big events,she sends me handwritten cards or flowers. And when I’m blue? She reminds me that better days are coming. Usually in about two weeks, if you mark it on the calendar. In man respects, my sister Shirlee has been my guardian angel.
Shirlee DiBacco has always avoided the spotlight, yet has always helped my face find the sun.
And this past Friday night she made her acting debut!
Forever she has loved the play “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder. An “Our Town” groupie, she’s seen the play from New York to Hammonton numerous times. She quotes from the play, because to her, there’s a line from “Our Town” to fit any situation.
She tried to talk herself out of it, but couldn’t shake it. When she showed up, she practically recited an encyclopedic knowledge of the play. She would have paid the producers to give her a part.
No need. So captivated by her enthusiasm, she handily won the part of “Woman in the Balcony.” The woman with a movie star face who always took a back seat and applauded for everyone else is finally having her moment.
And I am so proud of her I could just burst.
I’m flying up to see her final matinee next Sunday, the 12th. And I am equally delighted that she (and my mom) picked our new Word of the Week!
I wonder what new things are right around the corner for us this week?
When TRUST has been broken, how do we avoid becoming hard and bitter?
I came face to face with this question this week as I suffered a disappointment regarding a new friendship.
Full disclosure, my friend was equally disappointed in me.
Two sides, neither willing to yield.
My stubbornness? Born of a newfound desire to not abdicate what I deem precious to make others’ comfortable. To value my soul enough to give it voice and not dismiss my feelings is THE point of my current journey.
Perhaps as I find the balance and rhythm of my new life, I will be more willing to yield, but for now, it is critical that I not.
Here’s why: Because I know that in yielding that first important thing can come a slippery slope of acquiescence; the path to losing myself again.
I refuse to.
And in my friend’s unwillingness to give my refusal space, there came a parting of the ways.
Here’s the kicker: I have written about my carefulness to engage in new friendships. When you have quality, beautiful people already in your life and you’re not needy, you have the luxury of being more discriminating about those whom you choose to spend time.
This person had checked off all the boxes that were important to me: Depth, kindness, spirituality, humor, self-awareness…and I let them in.
Then, the great impasse. The argument with no resolve. The parting of the ways.
One side of me says, “Why even bother? Who NEEDS this?!”
The other side knows that in each encounter are lessons to be learned.
That in the decision to “Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin'” comes the promise of disappointment, hope, pain, joy – the entire kaleidoscope of feelings.
I’d rather live and feel…even if the feelings are sad for a season.
So back to the question, “How do you avoid becoming HARD?”
The freshness of the disappointment was wrapped in a sense of innocence lost. Could I ever be so willing and open with someone new? Had I lost my capacity to try again? Would I become hard – or stay soft?
The answer sank into my heart and was a soothing balm to my soul:
“You stay soft when you put your trust in God, not in people.”
If I put my trust in people, I will always be disappointed. Because they are human! They are as flawed as I am. But to accept that the Universe is unfolding exactly as it ought; that some relationships are just for a season and that there are rich lessons to be gleaned from each one? That comforts me enough to put myself out there again. And again.
Then I hear the words to Kesha’s song “Rainbow”: “What’s left of my heart’s still made of gold…”
But in the dark, I realized this life is short
And deep down, I’m still a child
Playful eyes, wide and wild
I can’t lose hope, what’s left of my heart’s still made of gold
You’ll find a rainbow, rainbow, baby
Trust me, I know life is scary
But just put those colors on, girl
Come and play along with me tonight You gotta learn to let go, put the past behind you
Trust me, I know, the ghosts will try to find you
But just put those colors on, girl
Come and paint the world with me tonight.
You can hear it here:
The rainbow was God’s promise that he would never send another flood that would destroy the world. Yes, there are floods…but they will not destroy you.
Keep living, my friends. Take the hits – and stay soft. What’s left of your heart’s still made of gold.
And now, my video take on the word TRUST and a new Word of the Week:
I met a stranger this week who turned out to be a sister.
It had been a particularly difficult day, with a myriad of work and personal matters mounting as they sometimes do.
My method of blowing off steam is to head to my evening Zumba class and jump around like a maniac to pounding music. Shaking up a storm and sweating always helps to re-set my frame of mind.
This particular class started late – at 7 PM – so it was close to 8:30 PM by the time I pulled into my parking garage at the apartment complex.
Frustrating! A space was (oddly) not available on my floor, so I had to go up another level. This had never happened before.
As I got out of the car, I saw a young woman heading to the car parked next to me.
It is always my practice to say hi to strangers, and as I did she said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I just found out my boyfriend is cheating on me.”
Then she fell into a puddle of tears, and I gathered her into my arms.
It didn’t matter that we were strangers. In an instant, we were sisters.
When her sobs subsided a bit, I asked where she was going. Fortunately, her mom lived close by – but I wasn’t confident that she was in a frame of mind to drive safely. So she handed over her keys and I got her to her mom’s (knowing Uber could easily get me home.)
During the drive she shared her heartbreaking story. Her intuition had told her something was off; he protested…then she discovered a series of salacious texts that confirmed her fears.
He held the financial power, so her only choice was to leave. I held her hand. I told her to feel her feelings (which is the lesson I have been learning.) “There’s no better place to be than with your mom, where you can have a good cry.”
The wound was too fresh to offer more than that…but I did sneak in my sister’s favorite line of comfort: “In a few weeks you’ll look back on today and feel completely differently.” Time has a way of healing wounds, or at least making them less pronounced.
We can sometimes even see that we dodged a bullet by not getting the thing that we wanted.
I held her hand, got her safely home – and marveled at the privilege of being there for her. It was a Divine hand that had provoked me to go to that late Zumba class and that had filled up all of the normal parking spaces, causing me to be at exactly the right place at the right time to meet a need.
I told her, “God really loves you. And just the way he took care of you tonight is how He will always provide.”
And in meeting her need, He met mine. How quickly the pesky matters of the day faded away when I saw a gentle soul hurting.
Really, isn’t this what life is all about? To love our fellow man…and woman. To act as a sister or a brother, even to a stranger?
More on Sister/Brotherhood and the new WOW:
TRUSTING that this week brings you peace, and smiles, and confirmations that “it’s all going to be okay.”
I am on a quest for self-acceptance – warts and all.
Concurrently, I’m becoming more and more clear about what I will NOT accept.
Unkindness. Disrespect. A callous disregard for my feelings. Injustices perpetrated against myself (or those I love.)
I’ve discovered a new fight in me! Brenda 2.0 is feisty! She’s not buying what you’re selling (unless it is anti-aging serum, of course!) and she’s not afraid to tell you want she wants.
Which means that some new friendships have a short shelf life.
I have become a careful observer of behaviors that previously slipped under the radar screen. For instance, I welcomed a new friend to town and invited her as my guest for lunch. The second time, knowing she was finding her footing, I took her to lunch again. The third time was coffee…and she didn’t even attempt to pay her way. The fourth visit – at her request – was another lunch. When the bill came, she made no moves to her own pocketbook.
Here’s the thing: I LOVE being generous. But I do not love feeling taken advantage of or taken for granted.
And it’s not just about money. Another new friend started a challenging position and was dealing with a host of nerves. Each time I saw her, I’d encourage her and ask how it was going. I delighted to hear about her progress and how what started as a source of angst had become a blessing.
When we recently ran into each other, an impromptu meeting turned into a half-hour conversation. A completely one-sided conversation; a running diatribe about her position, her boss and her sales.
Not once did she ask how I was. I don’t even think she knows what I do for a living!
I took a careful mental note.
Is it me, or is everyone completely self-consumed these days?
I used to be perfect fodder for narcissists because I was a captive audience with such self-esteem and acceptance issues, it never occurred to me that I was being bamboozled.
Now, we all fall into the trap of selfishness sometimes. I love my other new friend, who admitted that in a recent conversation I wasn’t allowed to get a word in edge-wise.
Yes, I left the conversation considering if we would ever have another – after all, this is NOT the phase of my life where I’m going to waste time on one-sided friendships.
Then he called to apologize for running away with the conversation.
The point isn’t being perfect, but it is being humble enough to see how our behavior affects each other.
What are YOU accepting that is beneath you? More on this (and the new WOW):
Oh, well let me praise my SISTERS and BROTHERS, because I am RICH with their love and kindness.
My real friends? We FIGHT over who will pay the bill. We always check in to see how each other is doing and usually have to be FORCED to talk about ourselves. These precious gems are fail -safe cheerleaders, humorists, supporters, confidants…and truly the family God has given me.
This week, I will not retreat into my ever-ready shell. I’m callin’ on you, sisters and brothers! I can’t do this life without you, nor would I want to try.
Who comes to mind when YOU think of a sister or brother of the heart?
Have you ever noticed how tension precedes release?
That’s probably why we shouldn’t freak out so much over stressful situations. They never last forever (though yes, it can FEEL like forever.)
Alternately, those moments in time where we sense liberty and benevolence from the universe? These, too, are fleeting little buggers.
In this week’s video, I talk about how completely sure I was that after my experience in Costa Rica, I would never feel tethered to the base feelings of life again. I was soaring! Floating!
And I was wrong.
Well, LIFE happens.
We don’t have the luxury (nor would we really want it) to escape to an island where other peoples’ drama can’t affect us; where the news reports can ‘t jolt us; where a bad tamale can’t give us indigestion.
Angst, upset, nausea and all the other feels are just part of the package of the human existence.
The key for me is what to DO with all those feels so they don’t bring me down for too long and I can get back to sweet release.
For me, the process involves sitting in my grandmother’s chair. I call it my thinking chair. Just the act of planting myself in that seat says, ‘It’s get real time, Brenda. Talk it out with yourself.”
And I do. And yes, I talk back.
I’ve learned that having regular conversations with my soul is not only not crazy, it helps keep the crazy at bay.
In these self-chats, I peel back the layers of falsehood that inevitably try to masquerade what’s REALLY going on.
Turns out, the Holy Spirit wasn’t just talking about my house.
My friend Anita joked with me that I’d come back from Costa Rica renouncing fine dining and eschewing my propensity for the Ritz Carlton, fake eyelashes and my tendencies for glamorous creature comforts. I emphatically countered that I was quite happy to savor the finer things in life and planned on continuing to do so. It’s how God made me. And, by the way, harrumph!
I protested too much.
Turns out, this week I was faced with an awareness that I had, indeed, become too focused on getting; that my psyche had been led down a path in which being “flush” equaled success. I bought the lie that I needed to “make up for lost time” and fill my coffers to ensure…that I was valid.
My circle only included people who could easily pick up the tab; who looked and sounded like me.
Then I met a man who has nothing. And I discovered that he is the richest person I know.
You’d never figure we’d make good friends. He is completely out of the mainstream and doesn’t even make small talk. He lives in senior affordable housing and has limited calling on his government-provided cell phone. We met in the airport on the way home from my Costa Rica trip, and I was struck by his jewelry, his colorful gypsy clothing, his self-possessed persona and aura of joy and peace.
Within moments of engaging in conversation, I discovered that he was a practicing Buddhist, and we engaged in a lovely conversation filled with the richness of spirit. I gave him my card, and he was kind enough to check that I made it home safely.
Over the course of just two weeks of texts and phone calls (limited, due to his limited minutes!) Roger Mayberry became an important person to me.
Then I got the call that he was in the hospital.
I visited my new friend and observed that within minutes of being admitted, he had charmed every person on his floor. Doctors, nurses, technicians, random passersby – they all couldn’t help but smile at his pure, childlike joy.
He says it himself, “I’m the richest poor man you’ll ever meet.”
When he first said that, I said, “Roger – stop defining yourself as a poor man!”
Yes, there is some truth to avoiding the sticky tape of speaking out words, for they have power.
However, it never occurred to me that being poor could ever be a good thing.
Stay with me on this, friends.
Roger is so not connected to the drumbeat of performance. He is not tethered to this life. He is an otherworldly creature; a student of the spirit who can talk and listen for hours…and you WANT to hear what he says. Further, when you speak, you feel HEARD.
Spending time with him has caused me to ask this question:
What ARE the true riches of life?
No, I’m not saying I’m taking a vow of poverty. However, I am conscious of a shift from the oh-so-seductive material world to the priceless beckoning of the Spirit.
These recent months have been, for me, devoted to not only self-discovery but also a quest for truth. Stripping away the veneer fear has built over the years has surprised me.
What a thing to realize that, at some point, I began to equate the car I drive and the bag I carry with my own self-worth.
Me! A self-professed spiritual person!
It broke my heart (in a good way) this week to see that I am being called to a new humility. Instead of the constant drumbeat to scale up and have more and better, I find myself drawn to a simpler life.
When I finally called it by name and acknowledged what was going on inside of me, I cried tears of release. Repentant is a turning from one thing to another. True repentance isn’t about beating yourself up; it’s simply an “Aha! I was wrong and now I can be right!”
This awakening to how I had veered on to a shallow path brought sweet release, because I know now I will not waste more time accumulating stuff.
The one with the most toys is NOT who wins.
People like Roger win. His bank account is overflowing where it matters most.
More on RELEASE and a beautiful new Word of the Week, coming right up:
By the way, the good news is Roger’s out of the hospital and on the mend.
Hooray! I intend to continue to plague him with questions and pick his brain and heart…all the while thanking him for shifting my view of life by his very existence.
This week, I want to ACCEPT people beyond face value. I want to ACCEPT what is and relax in the knowledge that the universe is unfolding exactly as it ought.
I ACCEPT that who I always thought I was may not be who I really am, and choose to release those old constructs born of fear and insecurity.
For many years I struggled with the concept of success and “getting what’s mine.”
For much of my 20’s and 30’s, I enviously observed other people achieving results, living exciting lives full of travel and material wealth and I longed for the same.
It seemed that there was a glass partition that I just couldn’t break through, keeping me from accessing life from the driver’s seat of the limo. This wasn’t a question in the back of my mind – it was in the FOREFRONT: “Why can’t I connect the dots? What am I missing?”
For as long as I’ve been me, I’ve wanted to live life to the fullest. Along the way, I got sidetracked and convinced myself that I could settle into mediocrity and still be happy.
Here’s the thing: the definition of mediocre is different for everyone. My idea of living high might be settling for you (and vice versa).
At our core, though, we know what we are capable of and what will make us fulfilled. If we fall short, the question “Why?” is a worthy one.
One day I had my breakthrough. The time I actually got an ANSWER to the question was on an ordinary day as I was driving home from work.
In my spirit, I heard, “You don’t really believe that there’s plenty to go around. You believe in the idea of abundance, but not as a reality for YOU. Do you truly believe that there is unlimited success, wealth, potential, blessing, resources available to you? Then start acting like it.”
My prayer life changed. I started THANKING God for provision. I started EXPECTING favor.
And my life took a major shift from scarcity to abundance – not just materially, but mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually.
Louis Vuitton handbags showed up in the mail (thank you, Shirlee.) I became an occasional guest at the Ritz-Carlton (thanks to my fairy godmother and father – you know who you are).
Yes, kindness and generosity flowed to me from amazing people.
And I even started to manifest some of my own miracles. Speaking engagements and freelance gigs flowed to me, including travel to places I’d always dreamed of going.
But the shining example of my new way of living life abundantly was my beautiful home in Sarasota. I’ve told you the story before, but it always held up as a high-water mark of proof that God loved me and wanted to give me the desires of my heart.
I wanted to live there forever. I would proclaim to anyone, “This is my dream house. I’ll spend the rest of my life here.”
Until faced with the decision to surrender it.
There was a critical point where I had to choose: Should I stay in the house of my dreams…or start living the LIFE of my dreams?
At my core I know that no matter how beautiful the home or breathtaking the pool and jacuzzi, I had no peace.
I once read a quote (paraphrased), “Your net worth will never be greater than your self-worth.” – Robin Sharma
Here’s a good one, too:
Once I “got” the lesson about abundance, the second round of revelation was wrapped around the question, “Would my STUFF define me?”
What we have can have US; it can lock us up in a prison (a very comfortable one, mind you), but it can suppress what should be an irrepressible spirit.
This is not to say that I have since renounced abundance. Hell no! Remember, I’m the girl who wore her false eyelashes to a spartan retreat in Costa Rica and who goes to the lobby of the RItz Carlton just to sniff it. (Really, it smells divine.)
But Brenda 2.0 is not beholden to any of the trappings of this life. Yes, they can be fun and the icing on the cake…but the cake is the peace in my heart, the love I have for myself and the respect I now give my tender soul.
I speak more about this in my closing thoughts on SURRENDER:
Here is what is so amazing and cool and miraculous about our new, never before received WOW, release: When I stood in those rushing waters in Costa Rica, I asked for a RELEASE of creativity. I asked for my laughter to be unleashed. (And a few other private things that also go along with this wonderful word.)
My friends, perhaps the universe is saying that on the other side of our surrender; if we’re willing to let go of what has held us captive; if we relinquish your fears and let the white flag wave on the life we THOUGHT was our dream come true – what awaits us all is RELEASE.
Woo-hoo! I’m doing a happy dance for all of us.
So now that I’ve told you mine, please tell me about your surrenders and releases. It makes this journey together all the more wonderful to share them.
My trip to Costa Rica was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Yes, it was purposefully planned to hit the pause button on my life and to shine a light on the deep places in my heart.
But I didn’t realize how difficult such honesty would be.
I thought leaving my church and leaving my marriage were the hardest things I’ve ever done.
But nothing prepared me for the stark reality of coming face to face with ME.
When I left my marriage, I knew that I had embarked on a new phase in my life – but by no means did I enter into a celebration of freedom.
It broke my heart to leave a man I loved – and for whom I will always have love.
Our story is not for public display; I will only share my journey in the hope that it may help you, too.
Though my life was in upheaval, my spirit was resolute: To embark on this new chapter of my life in a healthy way, a spiritual path – an awakening – was needed, and a key question cried out for an answer:
How did Brenda fall in to a toxic church relationship and jump from that into a marriage fraught with similar toxic patterns?
This answer, I believed, was needed to avoid jumping into any other alliances. And I sure didn’t want to waste any more time sleepwalking into relationships.
After many tears shed, I knew I needed help getting to the root.
Through this very blog (a reader contacted me), a path forward presented itself and was confirmed by my dear niece, Deena, and my sister, Shirlee.
There is a place in Costa Rica, the Iboga Wellness Center, that uses what Americans deem unorthodox methods to address deeply-rooted hurts. The week-long, psycho-spiritual retreat has been purported to produce the effects of 10+ years of therapy.
People I love and respect affirmed that they were truly set free.
Freedom – and answers – were what I longed for.
I booked the trip in June and in the three months leading up to the retreat, was weaned off of Zoloft. Iboga is an ancient medicinal root that originates in Africa, and it does not mix well with pharmaceuticals.
It fights and weeds out toxicity. The first treatment focuses entirely on removing toxins from your body – and following that first dose I was flat on my back for an entire day.
It was hard. This was no spa resort. For much of the time it was me – and my bed – and a pail to catch vomit.
That first recovery day, I had severe panic attacks and considered fleeing. There were no distractions; I was face to face with ME for yet another five days.
Midway through the journey, a river cleansing ceremony was held. Imagine Eva Gabor on Green Acres, trekking down a slippery 15 foot embankment in a pounding rain.
Just making it down to the river was a victory for my psyche. The ceremony itself was powerful – my hurts were named and seemed to wash off of me as the rain poured down. Next, my intentions and dreams were also voiced. The river took them, too and I sensed that the current would take them to fruition.
I cried healing tears.
And was ready to go home.
My body didn’t want to face another Iboga ceremony. I reasoned with myself: “There’s a hurricane coming; I need to get home to prepare.” I questioned the process, “How much more can I look inward? I’ve gotten some release – I want to get back to my soft bed.”
Yet I knew there was more, and I wasn’t about to let fear talk me out of what I traveled there for.
The second journey involves a guided meditation.
All I can say is that I came face to face with little Brenda; the child who so didn’t want to upset anyone that she kept all of her fears and hurts locked up.
I had a bird’s eye view of my soul, shrunken down and diminishing with every passing year.
I saw that because my true feelings were never expressed, they lied dormant, unfulfilled. To cope (and not upset the apple cart), I learned over the years to suppress feelings of anxiety, depression and insecurity because they were “bad.” I became adept at psyching myself up into a false optimism.
This worked for a while, and I even enjoyed some success – but the false front is not sustainable. Eventually you crack.
The church had built on this faulty premise, teaching that feelings were bad and you couldn’t give them any credence. It was a sin to be sad.
And my soul continued to die inside of me.
The performance that became my life – surviving the church, trying to present an image of the happy marriage – mostly, trying to present the image of a happy Brenda, nearly destroyed me.
All I wanted to do was make everyone else happy.
And I realized I couldn’t.
Happiness or not is a choice we all make individually. No winning the lottery or taking exotic vacations can shift a person’s paradigm from dark to light.
Least of all, mine.
As the facilitator guided me back through my life, I SAW me…little me…crouched down and crying soundlessly.
I recognized her and my heart welled up with such love for her. I held her in my arms and said over and over again, “I love you. You matter. I will never silence you again.”
My soul is now free to feel. Decades of feelings are now validated and by doing so, I no longer need to look to external sources for validation.
I am valid.
I am whole.
If saying those words out loud to yourself is uncomfortable, I pray for your own healing.
We are destined to have a great love affair in this life…and it is with ourselves.
How can we enjoy a healthy love with anyone else until our own souls are restored?
Yes, I took drastic measures to have a drastic change in my life.
And I got what I went to Costa Rica for.
I recorded this week’s video before my trip. I look forward to what comes out of me in the future, now that I have had a major life healing.
When I feel un-moored, I am so grateful to now have practical tools to get me back to ME.
My thoughts on Kindness and the new Word of the Week….
Ah, SURRENDER. Yes, it’s uncomfortable to let go, yet so freeing to open up to something beautiful and new.
By the way, if any of you have questions about my week at the Iboga Wellness Center, please ask. What I’ve written here is a condensed version, but there are volumes more to tell.
I wish for each of you the freedom that comes from healing the little soul on the inside so she (or he) can grow up into maturity and strength and power.
In my recent Toastmasters speech, “Dance Like No One’s Watching,” I referred to the 80’s as my heyday of dance while acknowledging that my persona wasn’t a true reflection of Brenda.
The decade, for me, was all about image. Sky-high hair that defied gravity (thank you, Aqua Net) and four-inch Candies’ spike heels made me feel invincible when I entered the club. Combined with three layers of makeup and pronounced charcoal black-smudged raccoon eyes, I perfected my Philly tough-girl persona.
I wanted to look tough.
The victim of vicious bullying throughout my high school years, my reinvention intended to keep away those who would dare tread on my heart.
A dark haired Madonna, I looked like the Material Girl.
In truth, I was Like a Virgin.
The disconnect between that sassy chick on the dance floor, and the word-nerd, old-fashioned girl at my core led to a multitude of brief and failed romances.
The guys at the club dug the unattainable disco queen, but when the lights came on, they soon realized she was the kind of girl you take home to Mom. And skedaddled to the next conquest.
All those years of wishing and hoping someone would fall in love with the true ME, it never occurred to me to…well, BE me.
An exhausting and destructive pattern had been established. I went from the club girl Madonna to the church girl (aka Joyce Meyers or fill in your favorite Tammy Faye-ish) preacher.
DISCLAIMER: This is not to say I wasn’t sincere in my ministry, because I was. But the church became yet another stage on which to perform. Because of its toxic nature, on the rare occasions that I dared to allow my true self to emerge, the leaders brutally punished/counseled/scolded me.
Oh, and then I got married.
I think back to my wedding day and am so grateful that it happened. I always wanted the handsome man at the end of the aisle; a church full of people applauding my dream come true; the dance party scripted to my specifications.
I loved my wedding day.
Because of the toxic and backwards nature of the church, though, I rarely had alone time with my husband prior to the wedding. He often joked that our first “date” was the night we got engaged. And it wasn’t a joke.
We were two strangers who were crazy about each other and thought that would be enough to make it work.
And, to do so, I did what I do (or did) best. I performed the hell out of it.
A life-changing trip with my girlfriends in 2016 (and a mini-breakdown from emotional exhaustion – performing sucks the life out of you!) revealed that I was burning myself out while trying to be who everyone wanted me to be.
In the process, I had lost ME.
Mind you, if my performance-based approach to life had been working for me, I would have kept it up. It took 50+ years for me to realize that no matter how beautifully I performed, it didn’t make anyone else truly happy.
Least of all, me.
What follows is a bit vulgar and not language I normally use in my writings. To those who might be offended, I apologize in advance.
Concurrently, I’m not apologizing for using this photo. Because this is part of the TRUE me! I find this to be funny!:
I remember seeing this card and laughing out loud.
It’s true. Not so much the “F word” part, but the things I say and do today are far different from Brenda 1.0.
Discovering the true me – and the true you – is the quest of a lifetime. It takes honesty, bravery, and huge doses of unconditional self-love.
But this is my one shot to be Brenda Viola. For the first time since my early 20’s I finally have given myself permission to be her.
I hope you like her, but if you don’t, that’s okay too.
Sometimes I don’t like her!
But I always love her. And I hope you love the true YOU, too.
Parting thoughts on AUTHENTICITY and the new WOW, coming up!: