Finding My Other Shoe

First of all, shout out to Paul from Rebuilders for the inspiration for this one!  Thanks, Paul!

In January I hit what I believe is known as “rock bottom”.  There were a million and one reasons for this crash, and I won’t bore you with the details.  But, what came out of that crash is one of the biggest blessings in my life.  I was directed to a group of people called “ReBuilders”.  And my class is called RB90.  And it changed my life.  I came in on week three, which was terrifying.  It’s a ten week class, and everyone else had already met and I was the newbie.  I was shaking like a leaf, but I somehow found the courage to walk into that building and introduce myself and start this journey.

Over the next 8 weeks I was forced WAY out of my comfort zone.  I had to write letters and read them out loud!!  I had to ask for help and I had to accept it.  I had to share my deepest insecurities with people I had just met, and I was forced to trust them. And I did all of it.  I did it all and it worked.  I developed some amazing relationships that I will keep forever.  I am now a member of a group who will come RUNNING if I call.  I have always been blessed with supportive friends, but these people have been where I was.  They have all been knocked down and they have picked themselves back up.  And they are better and stronger because of it.  And now, I am one of them.  I have picked myself up.  I have learned how to not fall.  I have learned how to grab the arm of the person next to me.  I have learned to be proud of myself and actually love myself!  Holy crap, it’s a damn miracle!

If you had met me one year ago, you would not have recognized me.  Learning these hard lessons has taken a toll, but not in a bad way.  I’m more careful now.  I’m not quite so quick to go with the flow.  I have more opinions and more confidence.  I have a LONG way to go, but seeing the changes motivates me.  I sleep better at night because I’m becoming whole.

And this brings me to my Chucks.  Paul and I like to talk about shoes.  Because shoes are obviously the most important thing in the world, hence the name of this frigging blog!  And he told me he just got a new pair of Chucks.  Instantly I perked up.  Chucks?  I LOVE me some Chucks.  (In fact, after I finish writing this, I may take a little field trip to DSW and see if there are any new Shorelines out.  Oh yes, DSW is equivalent to going to a museum.  aaaaaahhhhh!)

Anyway, Paul got a pair of Chucks.  “What color?”, I asked.  He said, “White”.  Because his old white ones were all beat up and dirty.   This is where I paused to think about this blog.  I instantly knew that I had found my topic.

Ok, people.  You may be getting sick of me relating everything to shoes, but I can NOT tell you how much I love it!  It makes me so happy!  So, lets talk about dirty shoes.  Ew!  I try my best not to get my shoes dirty.  But, I’ve also tried not to get my life dirty and look what the hell happened.  It’s a mess!  My life did not stay clean, that’s fo sho.  My life is all splattered and coated in grime.  I’ve been through some shit.  (Ok, not literally.  Gross!)

So, what do you do?  Do you go get a new life?  Nope.  Can’t do that.  Can’t undo what’s already been done.  Do you have to continue wearing the dirty life so that everyone can see your mess?  Nope, you do not have to do that, either.  You do NOT have to show your scars to the world.  What’s the best thing to do?  In my opinion, you clean that shit up.  You ask for help and deal with the dirt.  You’re careful about who you let see your flaws.  You carry yourself like the confident person you want to be, and that’s what the world will see.  It’s the whole “fake it until you make it” game.  And I am all for it.  I don’t want everyone to know my story….I want everyone to know ME.  It’s different.  My path is a piece of me, but it doesn’t own me.  It has certainly been a rocky path to this point, but ultimately I’m in charge of the route I take from this point forward.  (And if any of you know me at all, you know that I don’t know jack about directions.  Like, not at all.  So, if I’m navigating this journey, I would recommend not following me.  Who knows where we will end up!)

If life was as simple as just “chucking” it when it gets dirty, and starting over, we’d all be perfect.  (OMG!  Did you see what I did there?  Swish!). And, perfect is different for each person, but to me, perfect is boring.  I want to know people for who they are.  For the challenges they’ve come across and conquered.  For the happy stuff and the sad stuff.  It all defines a person. But, I also want to be genuine and have real relationships.  The chit-chat thing makes me wanna barf.  I’ve met a lot of new people in 2018 and I can honestly say that they have all been totally real and awesome.  That’s all I want!  To be Real.  To be Awesome.  And to take frequent visits to DSW.

First of all, I have to give a shout out to Leslie for giving me this idea!  I’m sorry that it came at the expense of your poor shoe, but it works for me!  Especially since it’s all about me.  😉

Have you ever had a week full of ups and downs?  The ups are the best!  I love the ups.  Feeling happy and strong and ready to tackle anything that life throws at me.  I get a very “screw you” kind of attitude!  You wanna come at me?  Bring it!  And then, almost within a blink, life wins and it knocks you down.  But, to be honest, it’s these downs that make you stronger.  How you handle them.  Your coping techniques and your inner strength.  You learn from the downs.  You grow from the downs.

This made me think about a broken heel.  I don’t wear a lot of high heels anymore, because I’m usually already the tallest person in the room.  Plus, there are not a lot of occasions to wear heels here in Colorado.  The dressiest of occasions generally means “jeans with no holes” instead of a gown and heels.

But, think about high heels.  The whole point of the heel is to lift you up.  Make you taller,  make your legs and butt look better, make your posture straighter.  Please keep in mind that high heels are the devil’s work…smashed toes and aching backs included.  But, damn, you look amazing when you are wearing them.  I know I feel more confident.  I’m raised up a notch…check me out!

That’s the up.  Then, the heel breaks and you fall.  That’s the down.  So, then you are faced with a problem.  What do you do?  Do you fix the heel?  Do you try to walk on a heel that has been hot glued to within an inch of its life?  Do you trust that heel?  Or do you throw those shoes away because they failed?

Get where I’m going with this?  Life is all about, “what do you do now?”  What choice do you make?  It affects everything.  And, keep in mind that the choices you make today, will affect your life and the lives of your children in the future.

Here’s what I’ve learned to do…when your heel breaks and you are about to fall over, grab onto the arm of the person nearest you.  They will keep you up.  Surround yourself with people that will catch you.  (Please do not come stand by me…I cannot guarantee I will catch you…especially if I’ve got a box of Cheezits in my hand.  Sorry, not sorry!)

Falling sucks.  Hitting the ground is even suckier.  So, when you feel yourself falling…reach out.  I am fricking loving this analogy so much, I can’t stand it!!  High heels!  Who knew??  Material for days!

So, I just created some ground rules for dealing with a broken heel, and now I will present them in the form of a list.  Have I told you about my love of lists?  Lists are life.  And spreadsheets?  Holy crap, even better!!

1.  Look around you.  Who is there to catch you?  (Again, please don’t look in my direction, especially if there are snacks nearby.)
2. Learn how to reach out!  This was especially difficult for me.  I didn’t know how.  I thought I was going to be stuck in a permanent fall forever, but I learned.  I joined a group of people who literally forced me to ask for help.  (Shout out to my ReBuilder brothers and sisters!). And my first ask?  I asked Leslie to help me pick out paint colors for my kitchen.  Which she did happily!  And now she’s my partner in crime and my kitchen looks fabulous!  All because I learned how to reach out.
3. Accept the arm that is there.  This one is the most challenging, I think.  But, I’ve learned that people honestly want to help you.  If you ask, they will do just about anything.  If I called my mom tomorrow and said that I needed help, she would be here.  If I texted any of a zillion people in my phone, they would come.  It’s more than asking, though.  It’s accepting.  Two different things…both ridiculously hard.
4. Be willing to help others.  It’s a circle.  You give and you get.  You give without expecting reciprocation, but you know that when the day comes that you need help, people will be there.  that’s the best feeling of all.  You won’t fall, I promise.

 

 

And yeah, all of this sounds like I have my shit together, but I’m far from it.  My heels have been broken and glued and taped and nailed together.  I am being held up by a big mess.  But, I’m not throwing them away.  I will never throw them away.  I am learning how to walk on mended heels.  I get closer to having my shit together all of the time.  But, you are never going to be completely done getting your shit together.  Shit never comes all the way together for anyone.  Your heels will never be brand new, they will never hold you up the same.  But, all you can do is be a tad better each day.  Shit happens.  Shit doesn’t need to destroy you.  You’ve got this.  Screw you, shit!

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of digging.  Digging into who I am and what (and who) I want.  Therapy has been super productive and I’m surrounded by the best people on earth.  This bubble of support and happiness has been priceless.  And, it has also allowed me to be somewhat vulnerable and start poking and prodding at some of my hurt places, to see if I’m ready to deal with them and start to heal.

Now, I’m not going to bore you with all of my “issues”, but I will tell you this….We all have them.  A shit ton of them.  Some of them can be as small as the memory of a stupid boy telling me I was ugly in 8th grade (Jeremy Scott…you are dead to me.).  Or they can be super major.  But, the bottom line is that they all affect us.  They all have worked on our insides to make us feel like less than perfect.  Less than the person that we want to be.  For me, specifically, they make me feel like a shell of a person sometimes.  And then, I start to compare my issues with other people’s issues, and I get mad because mine seem so minor.  I’m enormously blessed.  I have a warm house, healthy children, and plenty of shoes!  I’m lucky….but I still struggle.

Recently, I came across a thing on instagram (I want to use the word “meme”, but I don’t know if I’m cool enough to pull that off.  Imma stick with “thing”.). And this thing said, “what is meant for you shall not pass you”.  That hit me hard.  Here I am, out here floundering around, looking for my other shoe, when I need to just chill the eff out.  Maybe I’ve found my match.  Maybe I haven’t.  But, regardless, what the hell can I do about it?  All I can do is live my life and be a good person and a good mom and a good friend.  Right?  Everything is going to happen the way it should.

This is where I start thinking about steel toed shoes.  Now, this is a pair of shoes that I do NOT own.  Nor, do I think I ever will.  But, they are brilliant.  They look like normal shoes, but when you’re wearing them, and someone steps on you, you won’t get hurt!  They keep your little piggies safe and sound and uncrushed.

This, my friends, is what I need, what we all need.  A life sized piggy protector!  Keep me safe!  But, don’t be all obvious about it.  So, what does that look like?  After I thought about that for a bit, I deduced that it’s all about self confidence.  Your outer shell needs to be tough.  You need to KNOW that you are awesome and lovable and valuable.  If you truly know that, other people’s opinions and words won’t be able to hurt your piggies.  Your insides will be uncrushable!

The journey to healthy self esteem is a real shit show.  You have to dig up some gnarly stuff to clear it out of the way.  You have to accept a lot of the garbage that has happened to you, so that you can move forward.  And it’s not fair.  Life isn’t supposed to be full of garbage, but show me someone who doesn’t have garbage and I’ll show you someone who is full of crap.  We all have it.  In various degrees, sure, but we all have it.

My journey has begun and it’s been really interesting.  I find it amazing how people keep dropping into my life at the exact moments that I need them.  I find it amazing that I get a text or a phone call right when I need it.  Just knowing that someone out there is thinking about me makes my self confidence soar.  And I am FINALLY realizing that I am pretty ok.  A step above meh….and climbing!  Why would these awesome people consistently want to be in my life if I sucked as much as I think I do?  Maybe I don’t suck? Could it be????  Maybe I’m a hoot and a half!

And now that I truly believe that what is going to happen, is going to happen.  I can toughen up and let life hit me in the face.  I can take it.  I have a happy future waiting for me.  And it’s not going anywhere.  And nothing I do will change that…I am going to just keep on being a hoot!  (Sidebar….have you seen me rap?  It’s my claim to fame.  I threw down this weekend, and I’m quite sure I blew some minds.  My “meh” meter just climbed another notch!)

As I’m walking down this road of introspection, I’m discovering so many new things.  It’s been amazing.  I can’t even tell you how happy I have been feeling.  I have gotten some very positive feedback from this blog…even people have asked when I’m going to write again!  And, I’ve heard that they are thinking about shoes and feelings…success!  Because, I gotta tell ya.  Writing about this stuff is pretty scary.  I kind of feel like I’m just walking around in my underwear, hoping people don’t run away screaming!  I have realized that I’ve been living my life with a mask on.  My sunshine mask!  Just call me Lori Sunshine!  And by revealing some uncomfortable things, my mask is starting to fall off.  But, guess what?  Underneath that mask?  There’s more frigging sunshine!  But it’s real!  And it is me.  Not faking it…the real deal.  Dammit, I’m lucky!

I know you’re dying to know about flip flops, amiright?  Ok, stay with me on this one.  Think about flip flops for a second.  There are a million styles.  You can get the cheap rubber guys for $1 at Old Navy.  You can get the swanky leather ones for a zillion dollars just about anywhere.  But, no matter what they cost, they all work the same.  A thin piece of something goes under your foot, to protect you from the ground.  Another piece of something barely tethers your foot to the shoe.  And then, every time you step forward with one foot, the other asshole shoe slaps you on the bottom of your foot!  So, even though you are trying to go forward, you get slapped with every step.

Profound, right?  Thank you, thank you.

This is how I have been living.  barely holding on.  I’m the little strap holding myself to the shoe.  I feel uncomfortable because I’m squished between two toes and I know I’m making someone uncomfortable by simply being there and doing my job.  The flat piece of rubber is barely hiding the bumps and the rocks that you have to travel to get through life.  This blog, and my people are that piece of rubber.  Helping me to not feel the bumps and the rocks as much.  Putting a little distance between me and those jagged edges helps to see them for what they are…a fricking pain!!

So, here is my plan.  I’m going to try to take that mother effing flip flop off and just walk on the rocks.  I’d rather do that, then have it slapping me with every step!  I can handle it.  I’ve gotten tough and strong.  I feel good!  GRRRRR!!

Anyway, enough seriousness for one day.  I’m too old to waste my time with being serious all of the time!  Let me tell you about my new venture with Dana.  (Remember me mentioning that in my previous blog?  No.  Go read it now.  I’ll wait.)

Dana is my cheerleader when it comes to writing.  So, she asked me to write for her and I did.  And guess what?  She flipping flipped!  She loved it.  I’m sooooo cocky now, I can’t even tell you.  I’m doing something that is so easy for me, yet she thinks I’m amazing.  I truly can’t pat myself on the back enough.  (Hold on.  Am *I* supposed to be doing the patting?  Nevermind.)

As you can see, I’ve a positive few days.  And I will do whatever I can to make them continue.  But, my flip flops don’t come off that easy.  I’m always wondering when the slap is going to come.  I’m dodging and ducking and dipping and diving and dodging.  (OMG, if you get that movie reference, come find me and we will run away together.).

I think that the ultimate goal is to not be afraid of the slap.  To keep moving forward and taking the slaps in stride.  Don’t let them take you down, because there’s always going to be another one coming.  But, once you know that your forward progression isn’t going to slow down, the slaps won’t hurt as much.  In fact, eventually you might not feel them at all.  And that, my friends, is where you will find peace.

This past week has been chock full of revelations and aha moments.  (Did Oprah coin that phrase?  Because if so, I’ll choose a different one.  Booo Oprah!)

You know how in the military they say that they have to break you down before they can build you back up?  That’s what happened.  Last weekend I felt like I was finally broken.  Things just weren’t going my way, and my list of grievances was hella long.  (Why does Festivus have to be in December?  I need a monthly airing of my grievances!). But, as has become the case with my life, things started dropping into place.

I began to work with a new therapist.  I have high hopes for her and what she seems to be capable of doing.  I will not ever stop digging until I reach the end.  And the end, my friends?  Is peace.

But, the biggest push for me this week came in the form of a blast from the past.  I have a wonderful friend named Dana.  She is the coolest.  She has been working her fingers to the bone to launch her jeans company and she really has potential to be so successful.  I’ve always been so proud of her.  But, what she did this week is literally a turning point in my life.  She texted me, then emailed me, and then texted me again.  She wants me.  ME!!!  People, this is huge!  She wants me to write the blog for her company because she thinks that I have a flair for writing and she thinks it could give her company an edge over it’s competitors.

After the crap storm of my life over the last few years, this vote of confidence has meant the world to me.  And hell yes, I’m gonna do it!  I’m going to write the shit out of those jeans.  I’m going to represent the woman who is exhausted and drained.  Who is a mom, a friend, a wife (or ex-wife), daughter, sister, friend.  The typical woman who really, really just wants her ass to look good in jeans without having to go to The Buckle and have a 20something size 0 say, “um?  Try these?  They have a lot of stretch.”   (I hate you Buckle girl!)

So, this boost in confidence, along with some little pieces of peace (omg…that’s going to be my band name.  Pieces of Peace.  Carry on.) and I’ve turned a corner.  That’s where the title comes from…burning down the house.

I had a dream the other night and it’s one of those where you wake up in the morning and say to the dog, “hey po?  Did our house burn down last night?”  Can you relate?  Anyway, in my dream, my house was on fire.  My home.  The one I have lived in for 11 years.  It was burning.  I was standing outside, with my kids and animals.  I knew that they were safe, so I was watching it burn without any fear.  With no emotion, actually.  It is just a thing.  My precious possessions were standing by my side.

And that is how I feel.  My previous life is burning down.  I do have emotions about it, for sure, but I’m not crippled.  I’m sad.  I’m disappointed.  I’m a tad lonely.  But, I’m not broken.  I have my most precious possessions by my side.  And together, we will be totally fine.

And the uncomfortable clogs?  That’s what I’m wearing in my imagination.  They are heavy.  They are clunky.  They don’t fit right.  But, over time, they will become perfect.  They will form to my feet and turn into my favorite thing to put on.  This new life of mine feels a little heavy.  It feels clunky and I’m not sure how it looks.  But, it will transform and I am confident of that.  I’m on the right road and it feels good.

 

Disclaimer:  I do NOT, in fact, wish for my house to burn.  Please don’t alert the authorities for a potential firebug situation.  Having a house is nice.   It’s all a metaphor, for Pete’s sake!

A stripper shoe?  What the hell?  Why am I feeling like that, you may be wondering.  Well, it’s quite profound, if I do say so myself.  A stripper shoe is hella uncomfortable, amiright?  And talking about this garbage makes my stomach clench.  Stripper shoes are sky high and uncomfortable, but you walk around in them with a smile and a bunch of ones in your g-string.  (OK, the ones don’t apply, but I need to paint an accurate picture.). Those shoes hurt.  And they are clear.  So, even if you are smiling, you can still see those poor toes squished in there.  Those toes with the chipped polish and the callouses and ingrown nails.  Sweating and squished.  But still, you smile.  That’s me in a nutshell.  Squished on the inside, smiling with a crotch full of ones on the outside.

Let’s back up a bit, shall we?  No one acquires all of the baggage and amazing shoes out of nowhere.  There had to be a beginning.  Where did I begin?  Well, it all happened on a probably horrifically cold February day in Illinois.  I came into the world as what looked like a fat, Asian baby according to my pictures.  And this is why I continue to assume that my REAL parents must be royalty and switched me at birth.  I would love to find my Asian parents some day, but I digress.

Growing up in the heart of Illinois, cornfield land, the land of butter and cheese and emphysema, was not so bad.  I loved my little town of Washington.  I was able to ride my bike wherever I wanted and spent all of my time with friends.  I loved being outside and playing sports and laughing.  Always laughing.  And at home, I spent my time more quietly.  Reading and being alone.  I turned down the laughter until I needed it to lighten the mood.  My father was very much a perfectionist.  He wanted a perfect family, and he got us.  Me, my brother and my mom.  About as imperfect as you get.  But, we tried hard. We did everything we could to keep him happy.  Because when he wasn’t happy, nobody was happy.  Staying under the radar was my way of coping.  Making myself small and quiet.  Trying not to be seen, and definitely not heard.  Getting good grades and never complaining or rocking the boat.  And it seemed to do that trick, because I became the “good child”.  My brother?  The “bad child”.  And I can tell you, those roles are very difficult to shake.  Even now, as a 44 year old woman, I strive to please and to stay under the radar.

But, as I’m learning, my soul, my personality, my heart doesn’t want to be quiet.  It wants to shine and smile and be seen.  Being invisible has been my life.  My father and my ex never saw me.  They never heard me.  But, fuck that.  I want to be seen and heard.  I have things to say!  I have shoes to wear and they will not be quiet!  Those babies sparkle and shine.  They insist on attention…That’s what I am trying to do.  Hey everybody!!!  I’m here!  I actually matter, for Pete’s sake!

One thing that I’ve learned recently is that my coping mechanisms are super common for children of narcissists.  And, lucky me!!!  Make me a prime target for future narcissists! Please enter…The ex.

Now, this guy was someone who would not be quiet or fly under the radar.  He was smart and tall and important.  His words meant business.  He took no shit.  He was the boss.  And he liked ME!  Stupid me with a degree in math and a nerdy personality to match.  I sat behind my computer for 40 hours a week programming a database to profile customers of catalogers and predicting future customers so as to optimize mailing lists.  Now, if that’s not fodder for entertaining dinner conversation, then I don’t know what is!!!

This guy took a liking to me.  We bonded over Stephen King books and beer.  We went to happy hour and I fell like a ton of bricks.  He was successful and handsome and smart.  He quickly removed me from one life and inserted me into another.  Just like that.  Boom.  (And now, I’ve learned that his behavior is called “love bombing”.  And he bombed the shit out of me!)

The funny thing is that I willingly went into this relationship with a sigh of relief, thinking he was exactly the opposite from my father.  This guy really gets me.  But, as time passed, I was crushed to realize that I, in fact, married a clone of the man who didn’t see me or hear me.  I slowly because invisible.

I gave birth to our first child, a daughter, in 2004.  Our son followed in 2006.  And these two souls are my reason for living.  I couldn’t love them more and everything I do is for them and their happiness.  They are going to see their mother pick up her pieces and come out of the shadows.  They are going to know their value and their place in the world.  They are going to be seen and heard.  (Even if what I’ve been hearing lately is less than optimal.  Thank you 11 year old boy and your poop humor.  Keep it coming!)

Separating from the EX was the most difficult thing I’ve EVER had to do.  (And please keep in mind that child #1 was a 10 pound 4 ounce hoss of a baby.  And her Asian influences were clearly visible at birth.  If my real parents are reading this…come find me!)

As time progressed, my two kiddos and I became a team.  The EX was there in body, but not as a partner.  The three of us were a force!  We were always together and we continue to have a bond that is my greatest achievement.

I began to have concern around the time that child #2 was 18 months old or so.  I always wanted a son, since the EX was an athlete in college and I assumed that he would be out throwing the ball around and doing all sorts of “boy stuff”.  Well, I assumed wrong…by a mile.  I would ask for help and get scoffed at.  I would continue to spend time with the kiddos while he golfed.  Priorities clearly in place…not!

It was around this time when I wrote my first email to the EX.  Since he had a habit of not hearing me, I determined that email was the best route to take.  So I took it.  I wrote an email begging him to be a part of our family.  Trying to encourage him to interact more with the children and give me some help.  To join our team.  Begging.  Pleading.  What did I get in response?  Silence.

And so it began.  My life of being squished on the inside, but dammit, all you could see was the smile.

So, I’m giving this a shot. I’ve decided to write down my experiences because, honestly, they are a tad unbelievable. And perhaps, there is a teeny tiny chance that my journey will help someone in a similar situation. And, ideally, the goal is to navigate this nonsense called life and emerge on the other side as a relatively normal and happy person! (Emphasis on the happy, notsomuch on the normal!)

Here’s a quick rundown of the events that brought me to this point….

Unhappily married since 2002? Check. Mom of two amazing and precious kids that drive me to the brink of crazy on a daily basis? Check. Getting through divorced life with a narcissistic man who has OBVIOUSLY done no wrong? Check, double check, insert eyeroll here. Proud owner of a weird cat and a handsome gentleman of a dog? Check. And last, but never least, proud owner of the world’s coolest and most unorganized shoe collection? Boom!

Throw in a little sexual harassment from a boss and you get me. An imperfect soul who is floundering around life. But, I try to do it with a smile on my face and a bit of sunshine in my heart.

The reason I named this blog “finding my other shoe” is because that’s the gist of my journey. I love shoes. Like, love them. And my shoe pile is a testament to that. The pile of shoes represents my life right now. Theres a lot of cool ones in there, a lot of old ones, clean ones, dirty ones. What I’m striving to find is MY other shoe. My perfect match. I need to find the right to my left. the organized to my mess. And this may or may not come in the form of a person. It may come in the form of knowledge and lessons learned through therapy and support from friends. My hope is that one day my heart will be open enough to find the person who matches me, but for now, I would be content with finding the match within myself and then using that knowledge to get my shit together and finally tackle that pile!