Monday, June 17, 2013

The Truth Behind "Bitchy Resting Face"

 So, the first time we went to Ireland, we chose to spend our first night in Limerick. We had bought vouchers to use at bed and breakfasts throughout Ireland, and the package stipulated that you had to have your first night booked. Limerick isn't too far out of the way from the airport in Shannon, and with its tie to author Frank McCourt, we felt we couldn't go wrong.

It was our first trip overseas, and we'd been advised to just keep going after we got there because it would help us get through the jet lag. We spent most of the day wandering around like aimless zombies, just trying to get our bearings. We went to a mall, and we ended up at a McDonald's. Not the quintessential first day in Ireland either one of us had imagined.

We should have remembered that McCourt's poignant memoir about his childhood was wrought with despair, and devastating greyness so profound that it could splay your heart wide open. I don't want to say that Limerick was that bad, but the shades of green weren't exactly obvious.

We were so exhausted that by the end of the afternoon, we nearly begged our hostess at the B&B to let us check in early so we could sleep for a few hours. We were not in our right minds.

Sometimes, when you're not in your right mind, you react poorly or even bizarrely to situations that seem benign.

After we were seated at the Unicorn Restaurant for dinner, the waiter stepped in to take our drink orders. I requested iced tea.

Tea
That's right. Iced tea. Even in America, where iced tea could make sense, it's rarely my first choice of beverage. Twelve years later, I am still clueless as to why it would be my first choice in a country where tea comes in a pot and is served with milk.

It was a total disconnect. But there are lots of ways in which the things we do, say or seem like communicate things that don't make sense together.

I recently heard of a video circulating around about women with "bitchy resting face." It's a comical short produced by the fine folks at "Funny or Die."

I remember at a very early age, my step-father used to look at me with consternation and annoyance and command me to smile, or wipe that dirty look off my face. Ninety percent of the time, I was oblivious that I had any sort of look on my face that was communicating anything to anyone. So, I suppose I suffer from "bitchy resting face."

I admit that until recently, I didn't really care about it. When someone had mentioned it to me, I hadn't watched the video, and I only remarked that maybe the people who have this look about them really are in a place of struggle and turmoil, and they just can't communicate it.

In recent years, many companies have started to teach leaders about the warm-fuzzy, and sometimes, prickly and sticky ways of interpreting what their direct reports are communicating without saying a word. And many times, the things they learn are spot on. We all say so many things without ever opening our mouths. It's amazing sometimes how whole conversations can be had in complete silence.

Sometimes, even the strongest people cave in on themselves.
A dear friend of mine is being let go from her job, at least in part, because she doesn't seem happy. She doesn't smile when at rest. I'm sure there are other things that aren't working, but I think it's difficult for anyone who works really, really hard and has been committed passionately to the company for which they work to accept that one of the skill sets they lack is a look of serenity and contentment.

I don't smile at rest. Most of the time, I don't realize that failing to smile at rest communicates anything. And up until the last year, it didn't mean anything at all. I have always spent a great deal of time wandering around in my head. I write, so mentally, I'm writing most of the time. But now, it does mean something.  My little family has hit upon some really hard times in the last year or so, and right now, when I walk around in my brain, there are a lot of things that are really hard to see staring back at me.

I'm not writing about this because I'm offended by the "bitchy resting face" video. I'm writing about it to say what I can't say everyday to the people who see me unable to smile while I am at rest. At any given moment, I might be processing an unimaginable set of things that threaten to drive me to tears, or even self-destruction. It might just take "one more thing" to provide the final push. It may be that everyone around me is lucky that I am maintaining "bitchy resting face," because when I fail, it becomes "incoherent, snot-sobbing, wailing" face. I have a small modicum of pride, and while I frequently can't get past "bitchy resting face" to smile, I at least try to take a stab at avoiding the more embarrassing faces that often are just below the surface.


Not surprising that it eventually slid off.
I am not the first person to suffer trials. I won't be the last. I also remind myself, sardonically, that things could be worse--then I cringe, just in case. And though I don't believe it right now, I know that someday, all that I see when I wander around in this brain that I don't want to, will be a distant memory. I don't see myself going all Virginia Woolf, and loading up my overcoat pockets with stones before I walk into a river, but I understand better than I'd like the comfort of a stone in my hand right now.

So, I find myself locking arms symbolically and in solidarity with anyone who does not smile at rest. I know that for most of us, it means nothing. It's not symbolic of some deep-seated inner dismay. But for a small handful of us, it may be the best we can do at the moment. It may be the way we manage to maintain what little dignity we feel in ourselves the right to ask. 

That first night in Limerick, I probably didn't want iced tea at all. At the end of the long trip to get to that table, I just couldn't communicate that I was completely spent, and the Coca-Cola actually on the menu would probably suit me better.

Black and White--Sarah McLachlan

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Life--the most important purchase you'll ever make.

So, I was thinking about dreams this week. It has been a week of some dreams starting to come true, and others starting to fade.

It is without question that the part where dreams are starting to come true, regardless of their size, is the right thing to pay attention to, because without that, the fading dreams feel all the heavier.

In thinking about the fading dreams, however, I can never help but think about the way they force us to start over. It's an opportunity, but also a grief to acknowledge. Without recognizing these moments, we build the foundations of our new lives on the sand of unfinished business. It also makes me feel how important it is to encourage each other to believe in the impossible, because when we don't, we put our dreams at risk. And at the end of the day, sometimes, those dreams become the only legacy we will have.
Proof copy of Soul Seeker

I was thinking this week that we should live our lives and pursue our dreams with the same intent as we should when buying furniture.

About fifteen years ago, we moved into our first house, and as with most newly married couples, we didn't have a lot of furniture, and many pieces were either thrift store finds or hand-me-downs. Granted, that green and beige striped sofa I loved so much when Jeph first bought it still survives in our living room. It was well-made. It was a good purchase.

We decided to shop for some new pieces to place in our den. Money was tight, and we wanted to get the biggest bang for our buck.

I fell in love with a gorgeous mission style coffee table. Jeph wanted to purchase a set of furniture that came with a couple of tables. Of course, the table I liked was pricier--that's just how I roll. I didn't stand my ground on much that shopping trip. To be honest, I often cave in when it comes to what I really, really want. I could kick myself every time I do it, because I know in the end, I'm going to regret it. I did, however, stand my ground on that table. My argument? How many times do you want to buy something?

We settled for an inexpensive living room set with a sofa, love seat and chair. All these years later, the table is still one of two favorite pieces in our home--trumped only by the lingerie cabinet he gave me as a wedding gift. The sofa, love seat and chair have spent most of their "lives" covered up with sheets or blankets to protect them--unsuccessfully--from the hazards of life with pets. They haven't held up as well as we would have liked. But they work, for now.

And that's the problem with settling for anything in life. What you settle for only works "for now."

It's just as true about the choices we make in other areas of our lives. Most of us start off with giant dreams. Little by little, or sometimes in giant chunks, they get whittled away by the need to make what feel like practical decisions and by what works "for now."

Last week, I took a giant and tiny step toward what I like to think of as life-correction. Under my own power, I self-published my first novel. I'm trying to be realistic about the step. Unlike many people my age, I'm trying to start over. In the same week, we have learned that our dream of having a child would probably take divine intervention. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't believe in that. While we aren't completely ready to give up, I am also trying to be realistic about that. There are some things in life that, unfortunately, you just can't start over. It's a painful loss. I will regret not trying sooner every day.

One of my dear friends learned that the career she had worked so hard to build, and that was such a huge part of who she has been, is drawing to a close. She'd been kicking around ideas for restarting her life, but learning of this impending end has forced her hand. Sometimes, life has to be like that. Sometimes, you need to make a decision almost without consideration. Sometimes those are the moments that give you the opportunity to make the choices you always should have been making.

Another of my friends is waiting to hear about medical test results that could so dramatically change her life, my heart can't bear to think about it. The only thing I know for sure is that I admire the life she has chosen, so much. I'm sure she would say that there are things she wishes she had done--but everyone feels that. And hopefully, not too many things will have to change. She, too, will be starting over. I'm sure her dreams will be changing too.

The one thing that all of this teaches me is a tough lesson to learn. You can't replace giant dreams with lesser ones. No matter how many little dreams you try to throw at your life, you're never going to be satisfied when you leave the giant ones behind, and for some of them, you can't go back.

Jeph and I are eventually going to have to buy new furniture. I'm eventually going to be standing in a room full of bookshelves, sofas, dining room sets and the like. I'm going to be falling in love with things, not their price tags. I'm going to have to remember to ask myself how many times I want to buy these items again in my life time. Furniture is costly, but replaceable.

Life is the most important purchase you will ever make. How many times do you want to buy it? How many times do you want to start over? And how many times do you want to take the risk that you won't be able to?

Dreams--The Cranberries


Sunday, June 2, 2013

It's never too late to turn the car around and "shut off the oven."

So, there are moments in our lives in which we feel like we forgot something, or somehow, something is missing.
The lovely cover of my book. Thank you Jeph Blanchard

How many times have you left the house to go on vacation, only to start worrying that you forgot to shut off the oven? It's a horrible feeling. You may be really far down the road when that feeling hits you or, if you're lucky, just a few blocks away.

That's what it feels like when you realize that maybe you aren't where you should be, and you aren't doing what you were meant to do.

I remembered to "shut off the oven" today.

Today is the day that the Sorcha that inspired this blog came to life. It's the first time in a very long time that I don't feel like I've gotten too far down the road to turn around and do what I should always have been doing. It's the most amazing feeling.

The closest thing I know how to equate it to is something our oldest dog used to do. We taught Blue how to sit, shake hands and roll over. He got a treat whenever he obeyed any one of these commands. At a point, he started to do all of these things at once any time we commanded him to do any one of them.

Right now, I'm somewhere between tears and ridiculous grinning. I can't decide from one moment to the next which I should be doing; so I know that I am kind of doing both.

I don't have dreams of grandeur in the least. I elected to self-publish my novel as an e-book on Amazon.com. I'm not going to live in the same literary zip code as Stephenie Meyer or Charlaine Harris any time soon. It's not about garnering some great fortune. It's not about having my book turned into a full length feature film or a television series.

It's about completing unfinished business with my very soul. It's about finally being true to who I have always quietly been.

The great thing about this feeling, is it feeds the desire to feel it again. Success, no matter how tiny it might measurably be, is such an amazing rush. I already want to feel it over and over.

The craziest thing about getting here is how far I got down the road before I realized that I forgot to "shut off the oven," and how willing I almost was to keep driving whilst knowing that everything in my life was potentially going to go up in flames. I know how extreme that sounds, but when you aren't following the most basic advice William Shakespeare ever shared--"To thine own self be true"--I am convinced that's exactly what will happen to you. The fire may be a slow burn, but eventually, you will resent all the miles you put between yourself and your "house" before you went back to save it.

Two people really helped me. It's as if they phoned me or texted me in the car to remind me that there was a wealth of stuff worth saving, and I really should just turn back around. And while I make a habit not to name names in my blog, I'm breaking with that today. Jeffrey Bishop simply took the time to enthusiastically explain the process to me. His unabashed exuberance was disarming. And my own Jeph needled me day after day, and month after month to work on my book and to put it on the flash drive over and over. Without them, I would probably still be driving and driving.

I also want to thank the face of Sorcha. I had a vision in my mind of what she looks like. My friend Ginnifer Jobgen looks very different than what I had in my mind's eye, but in the days since she and her husband Jason struggled to finally get a photo of her ginger-haired awesomeness without a shit-eating grin on her face, she has become my Sorcha.

Tomi Mix deserves a shout out for being the first person to purchase my book, but also for being moved enough to share a quote from it on her Facebook page today. There's nothing like seeing your own words mean something to someone else. These were the two moments that nearly brought me to tears today. I will never forget them. 

And finally, my friend Anastasia, who has become ever so much dearer to me of late happened to be here this weekend for a Lumineers concert. I knew that at some point my book would get published, but she was with me today when it really happened. She and I have been going through rough times, luckily together. There's something about people who are there for you at some of the hardest times. When something wonderful happens, it's even more fantastic to share it with them, because they know how much you have been battling everything else. When I look back on today, and this fantastic moment, I will remember that she's the person I was with when I could breathe the sigh of relief that the "oven" is finally "off." I love her dearly, and I hope that she gets back to her own "oven" as soon as she can. She deserves it, too.

I said today that this was a giant and small day. It's because accomplishing this changes everything, and at the same time, it changes very little. I'm not going to be able to quit my "day job" as they say. But I am going to remember this feeling of wonderful, and I am going to want to feel it again. So I am going to go back to the fragments of another book, with other voices that whisper to me when I am in the middle of the "drive."

I don't know what will happen tomorrow. But I do know that everyone deserves moments like this. We live both too short and too long to find ourselves driving down the road and worrying that we have forgotten ourselves, or that some piece of ourselves is somehow missing. 

No matter where you are on your journey, you can always turn the car around. You can always "turn off the oven."

Beautiful Day--U2


Link to download "Soul Seeker" on Amazon.com