I am a mover and shaker in both work and my personal life. Perhaps it was the success in career that made me think I could get a good handle on life and tame it to barrel race on the course I set. I realize I’m an anxiety filled individual. I’m also driven to make things happen based out of, at least partially, that anxiety. It’s not always a bad thing. I keep myself mentally strong and I have a Plan B for most everything. But sometimes I can go into overdrive. And some items on my life check off list cannot have a Plan B no matter how much I feel the need to see the future. Relationships, kids, and pretty much any human connection deserves the present moment; a Plan B is almost a disgrace to what’s going on right now. Sadly, instead of Plan B’ing finances and such–things that can be Plan B’d–I become careless and spend way too much on retail therapy. Usually because I have no control over Plan A. It’s a silly little game to play.

However, I will say a lot of the shopping I have done on clothes the last 6 months has been out of need. Because of a gain to a 14, and subsequent loss to a size I was when I was 19, I don’t have clothes that fit!!! So, I do grant pardon in that area. Besides, if I have the credit limit and I can slide into a size 4, damnit I’m going to go buck wild this time. Last time I was a 4 I thought I was fat. As me & my cousin Amy say, “FTS.” I’m enjoying the 2013 weight loss extravaganza as a pure fashion festival. To look in a mirror and smile and love myself is one of the most healing events of my life. I tried and I succeeded. And you know what? That’s an area where there is no Plan B. My health and my body are something I get one shot at. I did that right this year.

So maybe starting this blog by feeling I lack any understanding of so-called Plan A & B is not quite accurate. If I thought harder about it, I might could find more examples. Still, I need to slow down, stop worrying so damn much!!!, and trust God’s process. My phone is blowing up from people who want to shop and eat steaks so FTS about worrying and I’m going to go have some fun!

I’m reading a book by Dr. Brene Brown called “The Gifts of Imperfection.”  It’s a great work for anyone who might struggle with living an authentic life and self-worth.  By “struggle” I don’t mean an inner battle, I just mean you fight for those things and you lose more than you win.  If the reel playing inside your brain speaks more bad than good; if you chastise yourself more than compliment, maybe you struggle.  I like to call my own battles the “not good enough” syndrome.  I can name you a reason for everything why I’m not good enough. 

The Not Good Enough (NGE) developed, in my case, because my self worth was hinged on achievements and performance to earn approval and acceptance.  I was not “sporty” enough (or so I was told) so what I lacked in athletic ability—a trait highly coveted—I made up for with good grades and other such achievements.  No one instilled that in me, it’s just something I did at a very young age to get some sort of validation.  And it came very easy for me.  But it lead to a great deal of perfectionism.  Looking back, my idols have all been people with great struggle, most of which did not end well:  Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, The Beatles, tortured poets and writers, artists who cut their own ears off and such.  Only the last decade or so have I found writers with purpose, Oprah, Albert Einstein and the like to be more influential.  Looking back, my obsession with imperfection was like a “what not to do” guide.  Or perhaps I was just looking at people so f’d up yet they were still accepted for the gifts they had.  Was it my way of saying to myself, “It’s ok not to be perfect?  Look at this guy…”  Who knows.

Perfectionism is a deadly disease.  It kills off relationships and isolates you.  It isn’t that everyone around you has to be perfect.  However, you are driven to make all situations perfect and it’s hard to accept yourself when you’re not perfect.  I beat myself up about my marriage for years.  Truth is, I was only 50% of the equation. And you can be imperfect in a relationship.  I just didn’t realize it then.  When you have a voice telling you how you aren’t perfect and you suffer from perfectionism, it’s quite deadly to the soul.  He wasn’t 100% of the problem.  Hell, it’s not anyone else’s responsibility to fix me.  In fact, that marriage, and subsequent divorce, did more to show me how I operated and loved more than anything else.  I’d go so far as to say nowadays Mr. Cavender was a blessing and a gift in my life almost as much as any of my family or best friends. 

But here’s a problem:  you are expected to make marriage work and instead of seeing things for how they are, a perfectionist (and most others I reckon) see divorce as the ultimate “I screwed up.”  First off, for anyone who may see this or may soon be in the divorce position, it’s isn’t an “I” screwed up, it’s a “we” screwed up.  Marriage is a partnership in it’s most purist form.  If you can’t operate as partners in life, than it’s a dual failure.  Because, in my humble opinion, taking marriage vows is no more than offering your life as an equal partner to someone else.  It’s a strange and tricky little mess this partnership thing.  You are NOT always 50/50.  Very few days of a marriage (or any partnership) are equal loads carried.  It’s not about splitting things down the middle either.  Oh no, not about that AT ALL.  In fact, divorce is when things are split down the middle.  During an active partnership, sometimes you have to carry the burden of [insert your own little quirky relationship thingy] for years.  It’s certainly not fair.  However, in a good partnership you both realize and acknowledge the other person might be carrying some other little quirky relationship thingy for you as well.  It’s great if this can be verbalized, but it’s not mandatory.  Gratitude goes a long damn way.  I’ll even go on a limb here on my little soap box and tell you gratitude can make or break your marriage aka partnership.  Mutual appreciation at all times can be your key to success.

Secondly, divorce was my life’s greatest teacher.  If you don’t leave a relationship/partnership and understand how you contributed and how you could have helped that person and yourself better, you really did just waste the years.  Otherwise, you’ve had the joy of learning firsthand about yourself and who you really are.  That’s the greatest gift anyone can give you.  Same as friendship and any other connection that crumbles:  there’s a time to beat to yourself up & then there’s a time to step back and love yourself for all your flaws and peacefully accept it just is how it is.  People just are how they are.  And that’s 100% ok.  They are meant to be them; you are meant to be you.  Accept the insights and knowledge they bestow humbly and move on.  SOOOO much time is lost on harassing ourselves for what we did or did not do.  Please hear me other perfectionists: You will never make up the lost time or learn to do better when you are looking at yourself through eyes of NGE.  You have to drop that NGE shit or you can never find your own value.  The worry, anxiety, depression, addiction, etc will haunt you for nearly every day until you figure that out.

So, I’ve been studying how imperfect is the absolute perfect.  Yes, that’s right, how things that are flawed are what make life its most beautiful.  That you fought and lost, but learned, makes everything right in the universe.  I’ve taken to studying and appreciating the imperfections in people as much as what is so perfect about them.  Amazingly, I’m learning they go hand-in-hand. 

It’s no secret I’ve reached the point in my life I want to settle down and have some baybays.  But I see why God had to teach me some important lessons before I was ready.  And this gift of imperfection lesson is probably one of the most monumental.  Whose to say if I’d had kids earlier in life that I wouldn’t lead them down my own path of perfectionism?  That would suck.  How can you teach a child they’re good enough if they see an example of NGE every single day?  Hmm. Something to think about.

Enter dream sequence… What does the gift of imperfection look like when it comes to relationships and family?  I’m thinking that imperfection is no matter what, we make one another smile and laugh.  We look in the mirror when we’re alone and each of us can smile because we are happy with ourselves.  We aren’t afraid to try new things, even if we fail.  And when we fail, we laugh about that too.  The gift of imperfection would be stains on nice carpet from all the dirt from tiny feet running in and out of the house.  Someone sending me some flowers just because.  Seeing the toilet seat up everyday and letting it serve as a reminder you’re on a team.  The Good Enough Team.

Enough fantasy and speculation for one day.  I’m going to the Truck Driving Championships down the street!

The winds of change have steadily been blowing as of late.  Ya know, one thing I really enjoy about getting older is that you start to learn every struggle is a lesson, every joy is a gift, and that change is your true constant.  When life stops being an enemy you battle, every day is a good day.  Coming on the other side of a hard month, it’s a lot easier to look back and say these things.  Sitting in the depths of the tornado, not so much.  I guess that’s why when it settles down—the winds become breezes—I soak it up and thank God. 

I’m not going to dish or gossip but I will say there have been some things I know to be true.  First and foremost, I am not a good empathizer.  And in some ways, that’s awesome.  I don’t want to tell every friend “I know how that feels” when, in fact, there is no way I know how it feels.  What I CAN say is that if you are hurting then I am hurting.  I think it’s awesome to have that realization but it can also kind of stink when your friends need you to see the situation directly from their own eyes and heart.  I feel like a failure in that area but it’s all I got right now. 

There’s much more to say but I’ve written two articles tonight and I’m wiped out.  Goodnight.

I remember getting dropped on a curb in Brooklyn and being overwhelmed. But I looked over and saw the skyscrapers and the city of dreams and knew it was the start of a giant adventure that I couldn’t back down from. My driver came in a Prius and off we went. Along the way into Manhattan he told me about his venture from Russia to the US and having kids. He told me where he was 9/11 and his daughter was on a plane and he was just blocks from the World Trade Center. He still gets emotional thinking about it. After he dropped me at 48th & 7th I was completely lost. I must have spent half an hour trying to figure out which direction to go. I walked those two blocks a hundred times. And passed the hotel up at least twice. Carting around giant luggage. I had been up about 30 hours at this point I think. It was 2-3pm.

I got up to my room with all intention to nap. But I opened the blinds and there it was. Endless possibility stared at me from every building and the beautiful May day around me. I brushed my teeth, changed my underoos, & went to just get a piece of pizza from the place next to the hotel. But I walked past it. There was another spot around the corner. And then I turned and saw Times Square ahead. I walked as fast as any New Yorker that day. There was more in those four blocks around the hotel than in Sherman and the Coast combined. But I loved watching the people most of all. They all had a story. I could feel the energy of them all around me. They were part of my biggest dream and happiest day even though it was just another day for most of them.

That day I had hope. And nothing was impossible. I loved life. I felt the universal pulse and knew I had purpose. I walked blisters on my feet and then kept going. I went inside a two story CVS for blister band aids and slapped them on and still kept going.

On that particular day I was doing the world good, my friendships were in tact, my bank account was fat, I was proud to be me, my hair wasn’t thinning, and I didn’t really care that I was fat. I want to bottle that feeling and sip from the flask every damn day. I want to not give a damn about the blisters on my feet and just keep moving. I want the feeling that God is carrying me; it was effortless to feel awesome. Adventure was at every corner. The world was loving me back that day I hit NYC. I wish I could feel that way again and then pass it on to everyone else.