It's Been a Minute

Grief  is one of those emotions from which we cannot escape. You can hide and run from it but it will catch up to you sooner or much later. I know of which I speak because have I loved and lost lovers, friends and family members. Losing a beloved pet, however, is an altogether different kind of grief that has no roadmap for processing.

I adopted Francisco 20 years ago under duress. I had a tuxedo cat as a child and didn't want the reminder of Kitty who disappeared under mysterious circumstances when I was 9 or 10. I searched high and low for the perfect non-tuxedo and also I wanted a female cat. Instead I got everything I didn't want: two male cats, one tuxedo and one black. The black cat died young, but Francisco lived on to be 18 years old. He became the center of my life. There for me during some of the most tumultuous periods of my life. 

He was fiercely protective. He functioned as a barometer for relationships that matched my worth. It was not unusual for him to use his mace-like paw to establish dominance, mark a border or punishment for some perceived slight. Frank grew to just under 20 lbs. by the time he was seven years old.  

When I moved to Italy he was too heavy to ride in the cabin. He had to fly in cargo which was a nerve-wracking experience for us both. At JFK I had to go through the metal detectors with him in my arms, all we had were each other making the transatlantic journey. He seemed to understand the moment and was exceedingly complaint even in the chaos of JFK's TSA. We had a brief layover in Germany in which he had to deplane and go through European customs. The Germans claimed they couldn't find his microchip and we would not be allowed to proceed. My German is rudimentary, but I made it clear that Francisco would not being staying in Germany without me. They quickly realized how much of problem this would be especially if it was their faulty equipment causing the issue. After a few phone calls were allowed to complete our journey to Vicenza.

We spent the next seven years in Italy where he outlived two other cats in our household and escaped a devastating house fire that almost claimed my life. He took refuge on the roof of the apartment building during the fire and was waiting on the couch for help to come get him. 

In 2017 we moved to Savannah spending a few months in a hotel before finding our home in the suburbs. He was a companion and also a deep source of comfort, but he began to show signs of age in 2019. He developed a heart problem, then kidney disease. He was on several medications. He disliked all of them and could detect them in his food. He would refuse the food tainted with his lifesaving meds, but age and disease took some of the vigor out of him and I could subdue him with effort and administer the meds. 

Medication can only do so much. He began to loose weight, suffer incontinence and constipation. Last year in February at his final veterinary visit I was faced with the decision to end his long life. He was not getting better and his quality of life had diminished too much to justify a continuation. I knew this day was coming and yet I was not prepared for the despair that engulfed me. 

We had to break the news to our son, but he had a friend's birthday party to attend so we held off on telling him for a few days. When he asked when Francisco was coming home we said he needed to spend a few days with the doctor. Eventually we had to tell him which was a fresh wave of pain.

The grieving process for a beloved pet is very different than grieving a human. Francisco gave me an unconditional love that was unlike any human relationship. He was also wholly dependent on me for all his needs and therefor a large power differential.

My veterinary hospital made a donation in Frank's name to the University of Georgia's Veterinary Hospital. He was cremated. The veterinarian sent his ashes back with a tuft of his hair. I intended to take Frank back to Brooklyn to spread his ashes, but on a recent trip to NYC I realized it was better to keep him with me. We are both better off together. 

All the Light We Can See Is for Us

Last time on The Cat I was in full bloom heading home from acupuncture and feeling not just like myself but more like a new self. Ready to celebrate coming through a health challenge. I considered what I learned about my body over the past few months. Comfort, security and strength were all diluted as I  muddled through fits of uncontrolled emotions and unease in my body. I fostered a new relationship with my body. I listened with intention to what my body was telling me to figure our what was needed. In that listening I found a deep well of courage. I know for sure the universe has my back, and with that knowledge I knew I could do anything. 

What do you do when you believe you can do anything? You go to a Beyonce concert. I won't bore you with the details of the emergency hair appointment or the the jumpsuit that languished in my closet for seven months prior to the concert. Suffice it to say I drove the 247.1 miles to Atlanta and had the time of my life.

After months of not recognizing my body, I found new regard and security than I ever before. I had come through a period of darkness and that allowed me to see more light than ever. Until next time on The Cat.

My Summer of 2023 Renaissance

Last time on The Cat I was discussing options with my GYN. According to her, we had a bevvy of options from which to choose. I trusted her and was ready to explore. The first tool in her toolkit was low-dose birth control. It promised an end to the the roller coaster of emotions, pelvic pain and hot flashes. Sign me up!

The initial weeks on this protocol were phenomenal. I felt better than I had in months. My energy was up and my pain was down. My general outlook on the world was positive and optimistic. Low-dose birth control where have you been all my life? I wondered why I hadn't done this before. Things were looking up. I began to use the membership we have at the YMCA. Lifting weights, building muscle, and looking good.

By the second month the tides were turning, in the wrong direction. Summer was in full swing. Hunter and I decided to try FOUR different summer camps this year. With my job at The Savannah Book Festival my schedule gave me the flexibility to try camps with hours and locations that were previously out of reach.

Along with a diverse sampling of summer camps, Hunter had a two-week trip to Chicago, and I had a week in NYC planned for work. It all went off without a hitch, except for the mood swings. They were back. 

Spikes of fury and exasperation, some provoked others outsized reactions to normal inconveniences became frequent occurrences. A few other unmentionable symptoms kept me awake at night pondering the purpose of low-dose birth control and my harried existence. I traded my life for an existence. I was not living. I suffered physically in ways that sent me spiraling into despair one moment and feeling awkward and uncomfortable in my body the next. 

With the side effects outweighing the benefits, I ended my relationship with my GYN, and her protocol. Instead, returning to my acupuncturist and an herbal treatment plan. Within days I felt better. I emerged from a fog of incoherence like Italian Renaissance painter Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I was refreshed, sharp and filled once again with my robust, impulsive life force.

As I basked in the newness of my post-hormone replacement therapy emergence, an urge to celebrate my survival and reinforcement of my ability to trust myself above all else became imperative. 

What better way to celebrate my renaissance than with Beyonce's Renaissance tour. Until next time on The Cat.

I Had My First Hot Flash in 2019

The aging process is inevitable. A reflection of our inability to control time. Although we can have an influence on how we experience time as well as the aging process we can't stop it, move it forward or reverse. All this to say I'm perimenopausal, which is not awesome most of the time. 

Moving into middle age is not for everyone, but we all have to do it. For women this process can be harrowing. As we produce less estrogen and progesterone because we are moving out of our reproductive years, our bodies awkwardly adjust. For some it's a breeze, a walk in the park, nothing particularly memorable. For others, namely me, it's a bumpy ride toward menopause. 

I had my first hot flash in 2019. It was unmistakable. Like the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion I remember exactly where I was when it happened. I was at work, one the many jobs I have had since my arrival in Savannah, when I felt an unusual heat rising in my pelvis. Not just my pelvis, but in my vaginal canal. You know that saying: Stick it where the sun don't shine? Well it felt like the sun was shinning inside me with a heat and intensity that caused the rest of my body to at first warm and then, God help me, burst into flames of sweat. It was fast-moving, powerful, and propulsive. I thought the heat was going somewhere, taking me somewhere I didn't know, but might be fun? The heat continued to build expanding from my pelvis upward into my abdomen, my chest cavity, my neck and finally my head. Within seconds I was covered in sweat. My bra and panties wet with perspiration. And then, just like that, it was gone. 

What just happened? Have you seen the animated series on Netflix: Hilda? Hunter and I love to watch this show. There's an episode where Hilda uses a witchcraft spell to help her mother and best friend achieve their heart's desire. Her plan goes awry when even though her mom gets her dream job, and David gets a solo in the school choir, the payment is their SOULS. As Hilda, David and her mom careen through the streets of Trollberg to the site where they can undo the spell, both David and Hilda's mom fall into myoclonic convulsions from which they emerge amnesic of the previous 90-second fit.

 

This is what a hot flash is like. For a short burst of time I felt hot enough to lose consciousness and then suddenly my bodily functions returned to homeostasis as quickly as the heat began. As I sat in office in my wet underwear (ideal conditions for yeast propagation), I considered what just happened. As I tried to describe it to a friend I diagnosed the condition with my description. I said the strangest thing just happened to me. I had a flash of heat come over me quickly and then leave. I gasped, cupped my palm to my mouth with a popping sound, and whispered: I just had a hot flash. It was a revelation of epic proportions.  

The symptoms in the months and years that followed were recurrent, with mysterious triggers. New indicators of my perimenopausal existence appeared. Mood swings that swung from despair to white hot anger were illogical, unprompted and profuse. Lethargy, inability to focus and pelvic pain joined this unholy diagnosis. 

My gyn reminded me at every annual that if symptoms became too uncomfortable, I had options. By May of this year I was ready to explore my options. Until next time on The Cat. 

When One Thing Ends Another Begins

Last time on The Cat I chose motherhood over career which was intimidating and the opposite of what I typically do. I am a Capricorn that means I am driven, goal oriented and safety seeking. Taking the leap out of full-time work scared me, but watching my son's face when I took him to school and picked him up everyday told me everything I needed to know. I made the right the decision, and it was going to be ok. 

I spent the weeks after TEDx adjusting to my friend's and family's recognition that I am a 9/11 survivor. That I struggle with that description was a surprise to many. There was a period of adjustment for us. In the meantime, I looked for work. Not with very much intention. I set parameters around the kind of work that could meet my needs instead of the other way around. After a few short weeks a software company came calling. I approached the process with a light touch. Unsure if full-time remote was what I wanted, they made me an offer that was too hard to refuse. 

Before I knew it I was working fulltime remotely with colleagues in three different time zones, using equipment and platforms that were both new and intimidating. The first few days were exhilarating. The weeks that followed were tough. A new industry and a culture that was foreign to me in ways that left me bewildered. As the summer came to a close and Ryan prepared to leave for foreign adventures, I realized it was not a good fit. Although it was a WFM position, it was not as flexible as I hoped. 

Hunter was stuck at a nearby summer camp where he watched more Disney movies than I have ever seen. It was the only camp that could accommodate my hours, but I wanted much more for Hunter's summers. I left the WFH gig and sought greener pastures. I spent the next few weeks supplementing summer camp with park days, play dates, and boardgames. Hunter and I spent time together doing things we both enjoyed. I also took sometime to figure out what was next for me professionally. I asked myself some questions such as how much cash do I have on hand, and how much do need? Not how much do I want, but how much do I need? Next I asked what I wanted. Flexibility was at the top of the list, and fun was next. I began to pray for a job that I would do for free, but of course would pay. It wasn't long before the position at The Savannah Book Festival sparked my interest.

When I arrived in Savannah in 2017 at the behest of one of my best friends, I networked. I volunteered, attended, and accepted every invitation that was extended to me. TEDx and the Savannah Book Festival being my favorites. I saw an announcement that they were looking for an Assistant Director. The job description was a good fit. It was advertised as part time, which meant I would have the flexibility I needed.

The outgoing Executive Director remembered my competence and outgoing personality. With a good word from her and my participation in online and in-person events the job was mine. I started my new position a few days later. The new job meant I would spend my days recruiting award-winning and debut authors to one of the most prestigious book festivals in the country. I spent the next few months reading more books than I ever had in my entire life in preparation for the festival. It also meant I would be reunited with one of my favorite authors, Douglas Preston. 

I Have My Reasons for the Delay... and They Are Good Ones

Last time on The Cat, I gave a TEDx talk. An experience that took almost a year to recover from. I have very good reasons for the delay. First, I got COVID. I laid on the couch at home in recovery from my Talk and all the powerful emotions that came with it.  I also felt like someone kicked me in the throat. One minute I was fine. Just feeling a bit tired. The next, I couldn't swallow.

Over the next 48 hours, my symptoms increased in severity. Aches and pains, followed by a fever and sore throat. Hunter had the flu a week before. I was certain it was the flu so I took Dayquil and worked from home with my camera off and declined to opportunities to speak.

By Wednesday of the next week, I went to Urgent Care asking for a Z-Pak to speed up the process of the flu. It was the end of June in Georgia and temps were well above 90, and yet I sat in my car with the heat on shivering. 

Surprise, I tested negative for the flu. Bewildered, I began to gather my things to head home and continue my DayQuil treatments. The PA suggested a COVID test, which I thought was absurd. I went along with him and after almost 20 minutes I tested POSITIVE. I couldn't believe it. Even after I spent a day in an auditorium filled with 200 people, I wasn still in disbelief. I shook hands with strangers, hugged my coaches repeatedly, and snacked on continental-styled hor d'oeuvres. I still had a tough time accepting the diagnosis. 

I had two doses of Moderna and a booster. You can read all about the fun I had here. How could I possibly have COVID? As many of us have learned, it doesn't matter how or why the vaccine performs the way it does because the vaccine is not a prophylactic. At best, it will decrease the severity of symptoms, but it cannot prevent them. 

I spent the next few days sleeping as much as I could and dreading the time I needed to spend in front of my computer. It took a few weeks to feel normal again. And by then I hated my new job. I left the job I had for three years to spend more time with Hunter. Only to realize working from home solved some of the conflicts of Ryan's travel schedule presents, but not all. Facing down the barrel of motherhood is a defining moment in every mother's life: your child or your career. 

The wise women among us say we can have it all, just not all at once. I have so much and I have deep gratitude for it all, but I knew I had to start thinking about work differently. Hunter is at the age where he needs more and with Ryan gone most of the time and family in NYC and Chicago. I'm all he's got. I needed work with much more flexibility. And that my dear friends is exactly what I got. Until next time on The Cat.

Some Words Are Best Said in My Voice

On Friday, June 24, 2022, the long delayed TEDx Savannah live event was held at the Yamacraw Center for Performing Arts. I love all things TED. It was one of my tethers to the cultural movements at home during the Italian years. There certainly were times I thought I could do a TED talk. Or wouldn't it be fun to do a TED talk, but I never imagined that it would arrive in my grasp, but it did.

The road to TEDx was a winding path of self-discovery, courage and mental toughness. I was a TEDx Savannah volunteer in 2018. It was one the most thrilling experiences of my life. I didn't understand then what moved people to take on such an opportunity for growth. All the work for applause didn't make sense. Things began to shift for me in 2019. I reframed the idea into what my message could mean for others. That my journey and experiences could add value to the lives of others began to take shape. 

That's the boldness of giving a talk such as TED or TEDx. I imagine super famous people are invited to give TED talks, but TEDx is different. As speakers, we decide that our message has value and pursue our chance to get on stage.  

I had a few hurdles to cross to get to that stage. Including a massive panic attack on my way to the most incredible mall in the world, which happens to be located across a massive bridge in Jacksonville, FL. There was also the emcee's email stating I had PTSD, which sent me into a spiral so intense that it altered my speech and my perception to accept that I do in fact have PTSD. Everyone around me knew it accept me. I was repeatedly reminded of that fact as I tried to distance myself from that reality, even in my talk. What a gift to receive. All of those experiences afforded me the opportunity to see myself as deserving of grace, tenderness and love.

The link doesn't go live for another few days. Big TED has to review and approve. Next steps are to allow the rest of this journey to unfold as the universe intends. I allow for things to stay as they are (unlikely) or something fascinatingly better to come into being a new reality.

I Leaned In So Far I Fell Over

Have you ever wanted to change your life? Have you ever had the feeling you were in the wrong place, but only to show you how to get to the right place? If you have then you intuitively understand the intersection of confusion and knowing that I have lived for the last eight years. 

Motherhood is complicated, and first-time motherhood is arduous terrain. A few weeks after my son, who is now eight, was born his Godmother uttered chilling words I will never forget, "From now on your life will be dominated by the search for efficient and safe childcare." The joy and satisfaction I had holding my son after I survived 14 hours of labor leeched out through one of the folds in his blanket. Her words hit me at me at my weak spots. Between the two of us Ryan and I have five healthy parents. That's plenty of hands to go around! However, as days turned to weeks, months and years, I found the reliance on family for childcare was a pipedream. Compounded by the fact that we lived halfway across the world in Italy when Hunter was born, it dawned on me that Hunter's Godmother was prescient. 

I viewed my career as an essential part of my identity. Independence is a requisite component to my happiness. It was why I worked so hard to graduate from college and grad school and secure a career. I could not, should not give that up to RAISE A BABY. EVER. No one I knew did this. My peers hired nannies or seemed to have a mythical set up that ensured their offspring were always cared for no matter what. What happened next in my journey was a surprise. 

My resourceful nature was key to balancing motherhood and career. My aunt stayed with us for the first three months after I gave birth. Then Ryan's mother for three months after that. By then Hunter was ready for daycare. I cried that first day at drop off but prioritized getting back to work. I needed my identity to be tied to my career. The alternative title, MOM, more precisely STAY-AT-HOME MOM terrified me. Waitlist navigation became an essential part of my existence. When the list for daycare, preschool, kindergarten and later specialized elementary schools opened, closed and how many were on the list dominated my life. 

One of us, typically Ryan, travels a few times a month. I juggled childcare needs and stuffed down any sense of guilt that tried to make its way to the surface. The juggling act was trickier Stateside. Although closer to family, they weren't as willing or available to us as we had hoped. 

Most unfortunately, I became determined to prove I could do it all. Buoyed by Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In, I continued to push for a defining career worthy of my experience, education and talent. I needed to be challenged and respected at work. I pushed, networked and applied until I got as close to my previous high-powered roles as I could. When I finally arrived at my cube back in Corporate America a sense of unease slowly began to creep over me like slug on the concrete after a humid spring rain. The title was impressive inside the organization, although coordinator had an administrative ring to my seasoned ear. The pay was better than any other since my arrival, but below my worth. 

I tried to treat Ryan's schedule as a minor inconvenience (he travels two to six months out of the year). An event to be managed. Something to be worked around. I reveled in the idea that everyone was looking at me marveling at how I got it all done. "Isn't she amazing.," I hoped they whispered as they closed their eyes before bed. This was cold comfort as the pandemic forced me to re-evaluate what matters most. Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

Here's What I Watched in 2021

Have you been watching all the things on television? I have tried, but there is so much "must watch" tv and so many different platforms I have to put in as much energy into watching TV as I do at my job. It's a confusing time for so many reasons and watching tv should not be. Here's what I watched and loved in 2021:

1. Succession is an HBO show about a ruthless media magnate, (Is there any other kind?) Logan Roy, who built his empire and a family to fear and work hard for his affection. Creating insecure minions and children that hope to one day inherit the business in the process. Of the three siblings I was drawn to Siobhan. A stylish political operative with a good heart. She seemed like the obvious choice as the successor, but as the series develops, we learn that Siobhan is more like her father and brothers than she led us to believe!

2. The Mandolorian is a member of the Star Wars universe, of which I am not well-versed. However, you don't need to be a fan of the George Lucas phenomenon to fall for the ubiquitous BABY YODA. Like animals and infants, he is nonverbal. All his emotion is revealed through the giant eyes in his wrinkled, green face. The first season is good, clean fun, with action and adventure galore. By the time the second season finale comes around you'll be (1) wondering how they were able to keep that secret; (2) thanking whatever magic makes CGI work and; (3) looking forward to seeing Mr. Pascal in more stuff.

3. Star Trek Discovery is the Star Trek little Black girls have been waiting for our whole lives. The first in the series from the perspective one of the ship's officers instead of the Captain. There's an important Vulcan storyline that will leave you gasping for air. Most importantly there's Sonequa Martin who is reminding us to trust ourselves more than anything else each time she is on screen. 

4. Sense 8 is a Netflix show by the Wachowski sisters that I ignored for years. There was a lot of talk about it, but nothing about it resonated with me. A close friend encouraged me to get past the first few episodes and IGNORE the Daryl Hannah character altogether, and instead focus on the broader international themes, diversity and relationships. Once I did that, I was in love with the story of human connection, love, sex and adventure. 

5. The Expanse in a space odyssey. I don't get to use the word odyssey enough. The Expanse is well, expansive. It begins with a missing woman and a quirky detective hundreds of years in the future, but as the final episode of the sixth season approaches, we find our characters at the far reaches of the universe fighting each other for survival against an unknown foe. 

This list is by no means exhaustive. Admiral mentions goes to What We Do in the Shadows, The Mayans, and Pose.

Here's What I Read in 2021

I have tried different methods of expression in this space. One year I posted every day for the final days of the year. It was fun and an excellent way to send off the year. I have been thinking about posting every day for the first five days of the year to see what follows but, I am not securely attached to the concept just yet. For now, let's dig into what distracted me from my work and childrearing.

Here's my top five books of 2021 in a very particular order of preference:

1. The Book of Longings: A Novel by Sue Monk Kidd

I could go on ad nauseum about this book but believe me it is better to savor the beauty of it with your own eyeballs and heart. It's a deep meditation on the nature of self-confidence, motherhood and history. It is the book I didn't know I needed. I look forward to reading more Sue Monk Kidd. 

2. The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family by Annette Gordon-Reed

Annette Gordon-Reed won the 2008 Pulitzer for History and the National Book Award for Nonfiction for this. She thoroughly researched four generations of the African American Hemings family from their African and Virginian origins until the death of Thomas Jefferson their master and the father of Sally Hemings' children. But this book is so much more than that. It's also about the origins of slavery in this country and the structure of racism revealing the stark truth that race is a social construct.

3. Both/And: A Life in Many Worlds by Huma Abedin

Yes, you know Huma. Not to be confused with Amal Clooney British-Lebanese attorney who is married to George Clooney. Huma is an American political operative (aspiring politician?) with Indian and Pakistani heritage that is famous for working with Hillary Clinton and her marriage to disgraced former congressman Anthony Weiner. Her exotic looks, eclectic background and ability to stay below the radar made this a thirst quenching read. How did she create such an extraordinary career? Why did she marry and stay married to that guy? She answered all the questions with compassion, grace and vulnerability.

4. This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger

A colleague at my office handed me this book and said read it. I work with engineers, a very smart lot. It is very common for folks to drop books on my desk with one word: READ. This was a difficult novel to get into. It's about a little white boy growing up in one of the Native American conversion schools during the Depression era that have been in the news recently. It's gritty, grueling subject matter. Racism, physical and sexual abuse of MINORS, family secrets and tragedies. Not the sort of book I thought a middle-aged lady at my office would hand me with strong insistence I should read. I trudged through the first several chapters asking myself why this book written, why did Debbie recommend it, and why to me. I also wondered why she liked it. Once you have a child, consuming art that puts children in harm's way can be a harrowing experience. Then one day Albert gets bit by a snake, and everything comes into sharp focus, and you don't want the story to end. 

5. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

Another book plopped on my desk with instructions to read. This one is about 30-something Nora whose life is filled with disappointment and regret. Feeling rudderless, useless and unaccomplished she tries to commit suicide. Gawd have his mercy. I gave this book, and Candice the side-eye for leaving it on my desk. WTH is this depressing, morose British novel doing on my desk I wondered. My boss also recommended this book, so I got started and WOW! It's about the paths not taken. It's about infinite possibilities. It's about never giving up because success is often just around the bend.

Next time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary: What I watched 2021

My Pay-It-Forward Mocha

During my Italian years I didn't drink much coffee. I kept my caffeine intake mostly to a minimum. Don't get me wrong, I could be seen sipping capuccini as a mid-morning pick me up a few times a week as well as indulging in the occasional after dinner espresso. The thing is the coffee in Italy is strong and would often keep me up at night if I had drank it too late in the morning. 

Back stateside, I opt for the Starbucks Hibiscus tea. It's light, refreshing and reminds of something my Guyanese parents call sorrel. To my grave dismay, hibiscus tea is almost impossible to come by during a pandemic. Enjoying a Starbucks beverage with friends and colleagues has become an American pastime. It's become a crucial element to the work-life balance construct. 

With the shortage of hibiscus tea, I opted for the ubiquitous mocha Frappuccino with a Fox Cake Pop as my go to Starbucks order. I don't crave either of these as much as they have become something I do. That all changed last week.

I live in a booming area of the Southeast. In the four years that I have lived in Savannah, we have seen new projects such as a hospital, a major supermarket, two gas stations and two exclusive apartment complexes, one with a salt water pool, arrive. Rumors were rampant about Starbucks' arrival. That day came approximately one month ago.

I established a routine a few months ago that included a workout at the YMCA followed by a mocha Frappuccino at a local cafe. Feeling proud to support a local business, I went back every week after my workout. I decided to shake it up a bit last week by stopping at the newly opened Starbucks. I ordered my standard mocha Frappuccino and Fox Pop. With my credit card at the ready, I approached the window to pay. That's when having a Starbucks beverage transitioned from a having a routine caffeinated beverage to a deeply satisfying experience that lit up my prefrontal cortex. 

When I approached the window to pay, the Starbucks associate let me know that the customer before me PAID FOR MY ORDER. She was giddy. I thought I misheard her, but I hadn't. The car before me paid for my order. Bewildered, I asked if this was a "thing". I had heard about pay-it-forward scenarios, but had never been intimately involved. She confirmed that for the last few minutes customers were paying for the cars behind them. I became giddy as well, and paid for the car behind me, which by the way, was less than my order.

That was the best mocha Frappuccino I ever had. It has become almost impossible to drive by that Starbucks without stopping. Clever marketing ploy or delightful happenstance? I may never know. What I do know is it felt euphoric paying it forward!

 

That time I got the COVID-19 vaccine was the worst...

I woke up sexy AF again. Last time on TCWSTC I was recovering from the second dose of the most expensive vaccine in history. Remember that? Well, I can't forget it. I have a great reason for keeping it fresh in my memory. I said I was on the mend but, I was sick for another TWO WEEKS. I had most if not all of the side effects for two weeks. I couldn't eat. I had no appetite. The sight of food made me nauseous. Inside my mouth everything tasted like ash or like I had been chewing it forever and still couldn't swallow. I had brain fog. I couldn't remember basics like how to talk. My thoughts came slowly. Searching my brain for words and concepts was a strangeness I disliked. I was also emotional because I didn't want folks to worry. I put on a brave face at work but, thought I was dying slowly every day for two whole weeks. I'm not altogether sure how I survived it. I had neighbors help one afternoon when I was too sick to drive to pick Hunter up from the YMCA. Then I forgot I asked her to help and wondered out to the driveway in my pajamas. 

sick but alive

I did the best I could for two weeks, which fortunately was good enough to take care of me and Hunter. According to some anecdotal research, my response is typical if you had COVID previously. Insert eyeball emoji here. There was the trip to Amelia Island in early February last year before things got crazy that I got sick. Not much of a cough, but most of the other symptoms. It was still too early to think it was seriously COVID, but it does make sense of how hard the side effects hit me. 

Thankfully, I had a full and robust recovery. Things are back to normal here. Traffic is everywhere. Most people have stopped wearing masks and those floor stickers warning us to stay six feet apart are finally gone. Sometimes there are specific food shortages at the supermarket. Apparently, cat food is a low priority for manufacturers, and gas prices are steadily creeping up. Things are certainly in recovery. We are in a much better place than we were this time last year. The delta variant may be cause for the return to hypervigilance, but as always taking it one day at a time. 

This Whole Time I Just Needed Tylenol

The Covid-19 virus has presented opportunities for growth everywhere. Some call them challenges. Others refer to them as "fucked up shit". I have weathered the storms with best of them, but I spent last night in a place I call the dark night of the soul.

As is customary on this blog my course of vaccinations were not without a healthy dose of drama. In this case perhaps too much drama. My first dose of the Moderna vaccine was approximately one month ago. My allergist contacted to me to say my asthma qualified me to get my first shot. Up until that moment I was unsure if I wanted the vaccine. High falutin' ideas such as "heard immunity" and  "I'll wait and see how it goes" made me feel safe-ish. But when I got that call images of me frolicking in the west village, and parading down Eastern Parkway as I made my way to the Brooklyn Museum flooded my consciousness and I said yes please.

Yet, when the day arrived my needle phobia crept in. How bad is going to hurt? My inside voice replied, "Bad, really bad. It will be worse that vaginal childbirth that one time in north Italy just outside of Venice. This time without the epidural." I shuddered at the thought. I held fast to my visions of frolic and parades. I kept my arm loose as I caught sight of the syringe. The reality that I was about to receive the most expensive vaccine in history, and had the privilege to ponder if I should take it washed over me. It was over before I had time to think much more about it.

A month later I headed back to receive my second dose. I was not feeling well. We have had a spate of dry weather here and my allergy symptoms were severe. When I arrived I asked if I should postpone since I was already not feeling well. The nurse assured me that once I did not have a fever I was fine to proceed with my second dose. Disappointed I shuffled into the room where I waited. So much has been said about the second dose producing a "robust" reaction. I was concerned, and thought about leaving, but I stayed.

This needle I felt. I also felt liquid dripping down my arm. The nurse asked if I was on blood thinners. I'm not, but I have been taking Tylenol for my allergy induced headache. She explained that Tylenol can act as a blood thinner. As blood sprayed and streamed out of my arm I thought of all the times I needed to give blood and it never came. This whole time I just needed Tylenol.

She applied two band-aids and cleaned my arm up and the rest of the room that resembled a small crime scene. I waited the allotted 15 minutes then headed home. I awoke the next morning feeling a bit foggy. By the time I made it to the office the next day I had body aches. At home I had teeth chattering chills, and deep bone aches. My chest burned and then got heavy. My eyes were dry and gritty. My stomach was wracked with pains I don't have words for. I contemplated calling 911 when my chest got heavy, but I waited it out as I tried to manifest an oxygen mask. I drifted between wake and sleep and at 3:40 am I exploded into a cold sweat. I woke up, dried off, and slowly began to join the ranks of the living. I worked a full day. Not much of an appetite, but certainly on the mend. 

  

The Mask Under the Mask

Last time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary we were talking Paul, the Guides and transmutational incantations. Sounds like I got your attention, and we could possibly be off to the races. Let's see where were we? Ahh yes, I was watching a mid-season episode of the Amazon Prime original "The Boys" starring none other than Karl Urban aka Xena's nemesis Caesar. I enjoy watching Karl, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caesar behind his eyes. The show is a gritty take on a parallel universe in which superheroes are flawed creatures hardened by heartache and power trips. Nothing in the show signaled I should have been monitoring for a trauma trigger.

There was a hijacked plane and Homelander and Maeve were dispatched to stop the hijackers and bring the plane and the 173 passengers home. I was stuck on the plane hijacking part, which in retrospect was a warning. I thought: No one hijacks planes anymore. You see what covid-19 has done to us? Now when I watch a television show about hijacked planes, I think ha, that sort of thing doesn't happen anymore. The security and health risks make it almost impossible, but also it's a different world since 9/11. This was my second clue to back away from this episode, but I ignored the internal signal.

Then the superheroes were on the plane to disarm the Arab terrorists. Really, in 2020 we are still stereotyping Arabs as terrorists? It's such a cliched trope at this point. This couldn't happen anymore but, I digress. Suddenly the rescue mission went sideways, and the plane and the passengers were doomed. The plane was freefalling, and the director and the set designer were doing a phenomenal job of creating tension and drama as the superheroes as well as the passengers realize the plane is falling too fast and the superheroes can't save them. That's when it happened. 

Suddenly I was back to 9/11 2001 hearing the whoosh of the plane come in too close and explode into the second tower. Then I was in the plane, not "The Boys" plane. Not the plane that crashed into the tower, but the one that was headed to the Pentagon. The one the passengers fought the terrorists for, and crashed in the field. I could hear the men hatching the plan to stop the hijackers and right before execution of the their plan the fatal last words "let's roll." 

The last thing I remember was throwing the remote, and going to the bathroom to try to calm down, and ground myself. Use your tools I heard a dear friend whisper in my head. I failed. I came back to the couch and fell into a catatonic state. I was in the throes of a panic attack I have not experienced in YEARS. It was intense. I was in that plane. I could hear the chaos and feel the cold bite of fear and knowing death was inevitable. I lay on the couch blinking, jerking for a few minutes as I stared out at the paused tv screen. 

Terror doesn't describe it. Fear does no justice. I was in that plane. I went on like this for a few minutes. I'm not sure how long it was in actuality but, it felt like an eternity. All I could do was hold on like one does on a roller coaster you know will end if you just hold on. Eventually I came back to my body. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed the buy-one-get-one-free cantaloupe chunks I bought last week. The chunks were cool and sweet as I sunk my teeth into them. The chilled sensation helped bring me back into my body. The sweetness helped soothe my dry mouth. Chew-swallow, chew-swallow, chew-swallow, I went on like this for a few minutes until I could see the bottom of the bowl. I drank some water and went to bed feeling disappointed that I had reverted back to my trauma place. I spent a few minutes as the host of my pity party. Kicking myself for believing I was better and healed. For goodness sakes I wasn't even on that plane. That wasn't even the plane I watched explode into a ball of flaming madness that would haunt my dreams and waking hours years later. The horror of the faces running at me as they ran from the explosion. That wasn't even the plane. I kept saying to myself. 

I had work the next morning, and all I could do was concentrate on the day. Concentrate harder than I have in a long time. At first I tried NOT to think about it, but that required thinking about what I was not thinking about. I managed to create some distance between myself and the plane. The one I watched explode, the one that crashed in the field and the one on "The Boys", but now I was teetering on the memory of the panic attack itself. The potency of it scared me. It had an all-consuming mind of its own. As it surfaced in my memory I approached it as one does a hot pan from the oven. Tentatively touching it: are you hot? Or a dead vs. sleeping body: are you alive? You rush in. Stop short. Touch. Pull away. Wait to see if it burns or stirs. Was that panic attack real? It threatened to get me if touched it. I left it alone. I made it through the work day.  A placid expression sealed onto my face. Serene, focused, pleasant. The mask under the mask.  

At home I couldn't resist the reality. Was that real last night? The panic creeped toward me full of doom, power and foreboding like a CAT 4 hurricane or typhoon or other diluvial natural disasters that we ignored for too long and now threatens the known universe and all in it.  

I am working with a teacher/coach. We discussed the panic attack and its perverse intensity. She had insight to share during our regularly scheduled session. The work we have been doing over the past few months has made me more permeable. Meaning I have more access to my emotions. I described it as a tourniquet being removed. I had to stanch a plethora of emotions after 9/11 in order to move forward. The stoppage was supposed to be a temporary solution, but it became a way of life; a bad habit if you will. I closed off increasingly more emotions. Before long, most of who I was lay on the other side of the tourniquet, dammed at the barrier.

The meditation practices, the knowing Paul and the guides are encouraging are loosening the tourniquet. Long held back feelings are rushing through me. I have feelings in my extremities again. I recognize conflict in myself and thoughts. I see things as they are, and as I want them to be. Most of all I have a deep knowing that I am present to my being and know that others are in some version of this knowing too. The path through the wilderness of growth is unknowable, but companionship of others fills me with joy beyond measure. 

They Cause Gentle Ripples on Your Skin

I considered "2020 so wack" as a potential title for this post. Or "the great pandemic of 2020". However, there is no certainty that this will be over in 2020 because (1) folks are afraid to take the vaccine. Yep, I said it #facts. And (2) let's be honest, there is nothing great about it unless you look through the lens of opportunity, and progress. I am referring to both the broad societal reckoning, and all the things we are facing as we shelter in place together, alone.

July was my one-year anniversary at my first "real" job since returning to the States. And by real I mean it provides financial and social advantages such as a steady paycheck, 401(k) benefits, on site medical attention that includes prescriptions, and intellectual stimulation also known as stretching. 

In the few hours that I am not working, I spend time thinking about how to meet my unmet needs. I always need things, but the pandemic brought them into high relief. I have always been a seeker. Whether it is of knowledge, adventure, realization or love I have always been searching for a better way to understand myself. In truth we all are.

I took steps over the course of the last few months to embrace the search, and the payoffs are what I am here to share. It's a departure from my usual topics, but it remains in the vein of expression of self-worth and my passion for travel. It's also an invitation to join me because traveling alone can be fun but, travelling companions certainly deepen the experience. 

This all started with a few podcasts, first shaman to the stars: Shaman Durek, and as revelations are wont to do, his podcast led me to another. Aubrey Marcus fitness and gym guru led me to Paul Selig. Paul is a channel and the first time you experience his channeling it will be weird. This is Aubrey's word not mine. I would describe it as confusing at first because the being he is channeling, yes the being, is whispering to him and then he is repeating what was whispered. It is best described as an echo. What peaked my interest quickly became all consuming. I repeated the words he asked me to repeat. It wasn't quite a command, but his voice definitely has some bass to it. I didn't have anything to lose by saying a few words, I began "I know who I am. I know who I am in truth." Tingles gently rippled across my skin. I later learned the words are more than just words. The words are coded with vibrational accord. 

Dear reader I know you are wondering what the words in the previous sentence mean when they are strung together. My suggestion is to experience Paul Selig for yourself. With an open mind I think you will feel the gentle ripples on your skin too.

In the meantime, I did what any red-blooded American who was inspired by a double talking, middle age bearded man speaking about vibrations, truths and mystical teachings would do. I googled him. I didn't find a whole lot. At least nothing that deterred my interest. All I could say for sure was the words shifted the energy in and around me. When my younger cousin called in crisis a few weeks ago I encouraged her to repeat after me as I said them. Days later she called to thank me for making time to talk to her. She struggled to describe what sounded like ripples and a new awareness to my ear. She said, "Mickie remember when I called you last week and you told me to say some words? I don't remember the words. I just know they helped me." 

There are books. Several of them. They are not linear, and neither is time according to the teachings, but you interpret as you wish. I chose to begin with the audiobook, "The Book of Freedom". What's it about you ask? My efforts to describe the book feel like trying to explain the flavor of an avocado or fresh shrimp to someone who has never had either. Avocado is more about texture than any specific flavor. Same goes for shrimp, unless it's bad, but we are not here to talk about shrimp gone bad. Perhaps it's like trying to explain sex to someone who has never had it.

"The Book of Freedom" is about life, but not the life we live. Instead it's about the life we presuppose people who are special, richer, more famous, more beautiful live. It's about those people that are happier than us. That are more in love than us. That is until TMZ shows them doing something crazy such as running into a salon to shave their head, and you realize we are all here making mistakes, falling off the wagon, and making a mess.

With all this learning. I began to feel grounded and unshakeable and prepared for whatever would come next because one of the teachings of the Guides communicating through Paul is there is no destination. There is no end. It's all journey. I began to wonder how I would fare when an opportunity for growth came my way. That's how I describe challenges now: opportunities for growth. I was excited to put the vibrational accords into action. And then there I was in the middle of the first season of the Amazon Prime original, The Boys, when opportunity knocked.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

Woman on the Verge

My work from home situation

For weeks as the impact of the pandemic spread through our lives, I wondered what was next. I did my best to live in the moment as the media onslaught seemed to threaten our existence on the planet. I adjusted to working from home and homeschooling, but as my professional responsibilities ramped up, I began to feel the pressure. How to care for my son, work 40+ hours a week and manage to eat and sleep? With a key element in my support system in NYC dealing with a prolonged cough and nationwide restrictions, I found myself increasingly overwhelmed. My son's every need rested squarely on my shoulders. I felt the weight of it deep in my heart. Long accustomed to "handling" difficult situations well, I began to feel torn between motherhood and career with renewed intensity.

We are all coping with COVID-19 in various ways. Each of us in our private circumstance, but the minute we compare our situation to that of others, we have slipped into despair. Comparing our insides to the outsides of others is not only a waste of time. It is also irrational behavior that we all engage in from time to time. It is normal to have the thought, but it's important to let the energy of the thought pass through you as quickly as possible.

I was having trouble doing that. I was comparing and despairing that others were having an easier time managing their time and stress level. When I finally snapped out of it I remembered the best advice I can I take is my own. My son needed me. He is a social creature. The abrupt end to the social engagement of school, and a wildly disrupted routine was taking its toll. The school district offered one hour Zoom calls, but they did little to stem the tide of boredom and loneliness.  

When our children are not well, we are not well. As I sunk into this awareness I also began to speak up. I shared my list of anxieties with my virtual book group: The Cheetahs. They showed me enormous compassion and kindness, and I began to think clearly. Finally.

I had a few conversations with my boss and our HR Director. I chose to step back from work for a period of time. Two weeks to spend with Hunter, and two weeks part-time. Enough time to get him moving outside in the sunshine. Shower him with affection. Spend lots of time making eye contact with him and assuring him that we are safe. Yes our routines are disrupted but, I remind him often that we have each other. We take it one step at time and recognize that this is all temporary. We have started a gratitude practice. We document on paper all the things we are thankful for especially when we get down. 

Summer camp begins on Monday, June 1. It will mark my return to fulltime work. This time with my son has been an amazing experience. He teaches me patience in ways that are new and often challenging. I am excited for this next chapter. I look forward with optimism to the opportunities for growth that are ahead. 

A TEDx Talk Deferred...

Last time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary I was gushing about my only in my wildest dreams opportunity to give a TEDx Savannah talk. I was beside myself with pride and joy when things began to take a subtle turn into what I am calling the unstable unknown.

It began in early March. Glennon Doyle released her third book in her memoir series, Untamed. To say that I was looking forward to this third installment is an understatement. I listened to the second in the series via audiobook with rapt attention after Oprah named it to her book club in 2016. I had not read that kind of raw honesty that managed to inspire while it shocked me since Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I could not stop thinking about Glennon's meticulously chronicled life and in particular her exploding marriage.

Then suddenly she met Abby Wambach and in quick succession dating and marriage. It was a lot to happen to someone who I thought I knew and understood. I was more curious than ever about Glennon. I thought she and Craig were working it out, but when she described what their sex life was like after she discovered he had been cheating on her for years, I was not altogether sure how they could move forward. Turns out they could not move forward, at least not as husband and wife.

I am not ashamed to admit that I am a Glennon groupie. I am a devoted follower on the Gram. So when she asked that we pre-order her third book I did. That allowed me to get have the book within day of the release delivered to my home. There was a book signing in New York that I hoped to attend but, my TEDx photo shoot was scheduled for the same day.

I highlighted my way through most the book within a few days. Savoring every detail especially that parts of her burgeoning romance will Abby. The book challenges women to put themselves first and let the rest burn, which is a radical concept because women are more often coaxed and cajoled to put themselves last. Placing the needs of their children, husbands and other obligations before their own. Here Glennon advocated revolt against all that. Focus on self and let the rest burn. Radical thoughts indeed.

When the book concluded, I was revved up with no place to go. I was finding my way back to a book that sparked the first revolution of my adulthood: The Celestine Prophecy. I recalled there were some sequels to it and began to look for them. Instead, a deep red background with gold lettering appeared in my suggestions feed: Mary Magdalene Revealed. It stopped me in my scrolling. This book called out to me in a familiar voice that I wanted to learn more about.

Within a few days I found myself besotted. It was moving, expansive and inspiring. The book is about the nature of love and the rightful place of the feminine in Christianity. It reveals what has been hidden from us.

As I sat fully immersed in the wisdom of the author, I was also working on the meat of my TEDx Talk. My talk is about authenticity and the only path to it is vulnerability. Both Untamed and Mary Magdalene were full of instructions of how to express those concepts. I was living inside my inspiration. I was eager to extol the joy of my self discovery when COVID-19 began to work its way into all of our lives.

The call came during my daily walk. It was one of the TEDx organizers. He called to say the event was being postponed. That was expected in light of the daily developments. He went on though. The event was postponed until next year. That last detail left me reeling, but I quickly saw the reality of the situation. The virus was only beginning to affect every part of our lives.

I am a Tedx Savannah 2020 Speaker

Me volunteering at TEDx 2 years ago

Seven years in Italy is a long time. It was a wonderful, most of the time. I am even grateful for the times when I wasn't living the dream. Now that I am back and just celebrated my third anniversary in Savannah I happy to report I am getting the hang of living in America again. I have fully reintegrated into American society. What does that mean? How is that different from say last year or the year before?
so glad that you asked. Last year and certainly the year before I felt very much the outsider with my nose pressed again the window looking in fogging it with my mouth breathing. I felt keenly out of touch with nature of how things move and work here. The rhythm of the language, the decrease in the number of seasons and the skittish, but sometimes rogue wildlife all took some getting used to.

Let's begin with the seasons. In NYC and Vicenza there are four seasons. Yes, yes, climate change has made them shorter and more extreme but there are four of them. Here in Savannah not so much. There are two seasons not so hot and too hot. Next is the accent. Once so strange to my to my ear. Who am I kidding? The southern accent is still unfamiliar to my ear, but there are some idiomatic expressions that are unique and helpful. More than once I have had the urge to us "y'all" instead of the plural you. It just fit the situation. I always forgo the urge and use something more natural to my natural way of speaking and say "you guys" or "hey". But my all time fave is: "It bees like that sometimes". Oh it is such a wonderful expression, and I get tremendous use out of it. Here it is in action: I went to that new comfort food restaurant. The food was delicious, but they got my order wrong and the service made me fee like I interrupted the server's lunch break. "It bees like that sometimes" is the perfect response.

I saved the best for last. The skittish yet oftentimes bold wildlife around here is a mystery and a delight. There is a gaggle of geese that commandeer the streets whenever they damn well please. There are easily 50 or more gees that will parade down the street here and we all know to get out their way when we see them coming. We had to rescue a turtle once, build a barrier to keep an armadillo out of the yard and finally deer can be seen grazing in the grassy areas of the sidewalks in front of the houses in my neighborhood.

In spite of the unusual challenges I have made incredible headway. Two years a go I volunteered at TEDx Savannah. First I created a role for myself that didn't exist, which allowed me to interact with all the speakers and organizers. Then I was invited to come back the second year to assist one of the organizers and this year I will be a speaker. Terry, my Toastmaster mentor has been gung ho about being a TEDx presenter for as long as I have known her. She believed the round of applause at the end of her talk would enrich her life and take her to heights yet unknown. I don't crave the approval of people I don't know. Instead I long for the approval of the people I do know.

However, I am learning that the only approval I truly need is my own. It is taking some time to get used to that idea but, I am on my way.

The Golden Age of Television Blazes On

The cast of All American

It's been a minute since I wrote about TV. I have been too busy out here living that life! But, there are a few months in Savannah that can be considered winter. Those months are December, January and February. And even those three months are mild considered the winters in northern Italy and Brooklyn, NY. Here the temperatures dip just below 50 degrees for a few hours before finding their equilibrium at low to mid 60s. Even with the mild weather I am spending less time outdoors and more time reading, watching tv or scrolling through Instagram. This month I discovered two gems. The first, All American, was a fluke. I read about the show in an article about the female character Bre Z, formerly of Empire fame. I tuned in out of curiosity, but stayed for the compelling storyline. The show is based on the true story of former NFL player Spencer Paysinger. It delves into his inspirational story of growing up in the rough neighborhood of Crenshaw and moving to Beverly Hills to play high school football. Think of it as a mash up of Beverly Hills 90210 and Boyz in the Hood.  I cried during approximately half of the 16 episodes. Granted I was pmsing for some of those, but I standby the emotional validity of those tears. I found myself cheering for the Beverly Hills High football team, and I don't know much about football. In fact I didn't even watch the Super Bowl! Once you get past the fact that these kids look nothing like I did in high school you are in for a treat. Take my advice keep the tissues close.

As you may or may not know I intended to BE Diana Ross when I grew up, but as it turns out I don't have a very good singing voice, contacts in the music or metaphysical world. I needed the later because there already is a Diana Ross and I can only replace her with magic or alchemy. Once I got over that, I wanted very much to be her daughter Tracy. That did not go quite as planned either. Next up Zoe Kravitz. I was obsessed with Denise Huxtable on the Cosby Show. I had never seen someone like her on tv or anywhere else. She was the epitome of cool. Now all these years later her daughter Zoe has turned the movie High Fidelity on its head. Zoe is in the lead role and she has that same strong sparkle that Lisa Bonet has on screen perhaps an even stronger sparkle. She shines in Big Little Lies but, in High Fidelity she is open and vulnerable and yet as mysterious and captivating as her mother was in the original.

It is refreshing to see Zoe break out of her shell and express a full range of emotions. It's what I have always wanted for her. Well that and to be her of course.

The 2019 Round Up

Turkey legs are a thing at Magic Kingdom

Although we are securely in 2020 I feel a 2019 roundup is necessary because it was such an amazing year. I found my footing in Savannah, both professionally and personally. To be sure there were challenges, but the rewards were better than I could have imagined, and I am grateful for all in equal measure. 

The highlights of the year were easily the Xena Retreat and the new job. To have one of those happen in the year would have been amazing. Instead I had the opportunity to spend three days immersed in my favorite television show and meet other women more obsessed than I am with Xena. Then when the timing was just right an amazing job opportunity plucked me out of obscurity. And just like that I was back in the corporate game. It is not the most exciting job, but it is in my field, near the house and I have enough flexibility to have lunch with Hunter once a week.  

We had dear friends from Italy spend the holidays with us. We took a quick trip to Orlando and spent a few fun filled days at Disney and Cape Canaveral. It was exhilarating to have a piece of my Italian life here with me in Savannah. 

I also chose to work with a life and business coach this year. I met Samantha almost immediately after my arrival in Savannah via Meetup. All the chaos you have likely heard about in the news is true, but the folks holding down the the fort at WeWork and are keeping the Meetup.com social networking platform alive, but I digress. I attended a few of Samantha's events and we soon became friends. She introduced me to a few other women online and a few others in Savannah as well. I watched the people she surrounded herself with grow, change and become more. Of what you may ask? More of who they are. 

It began to dawn on me that I had an unmooring after Italy. Seven years away from friends and family can do that to girl from time-to-time. With new adjectives and roles in my life I often felt adrift. I am American but, there are still a great many cultural obsessions that I missed out on and often don't relate to here. Memes, gifs., and a few Microsoft word shortcuts to name a few.

Let's welcome Samantha to the performance area that is my life. Although we are friends I wanted to change that relationship into something of a more professional nature. I had never done anything like that before. Your therapist can never be your friend. Same as professors, well perhaps professors can become your friend. That is a story for another day. Today we are discussing my decision to hire my friend as a business and life coach. 

When I approached Samantha with the idea she was surprised. She knew I had a business  idea I was trying to get off the ground. I had attended a few online workshops with her for that, but then I realized I needed to do some inner work to fix a vibrational issue. I knew she could help with that too. I was very clear with her: I want to vibrate higher and I think you can help me do that.  

We agreed to 12 sessions over the course of seven of the best months of my life. All of our sessions were online and recorded so that I could view them later if I needed (I have not needed.) She gave me books to read, The Four Agreements. Videos to watch, The Circle of Influence. There was even homework.

I was racing to work after dropping my son off at school one morning. A police officer stopped me for going 62 mph in a 55 mph zone. He let me off with a warning but, the traffic stop scared me half to death. Traffic stops gone wrong are allover the news and social media. Samantha helped me to pull apart all the fear and anxiety around the traffic stop. In some of our sessions we tackled 9/11, but mostly importantly she helped me regain the inner confidence I lost after a bout with postpartum depression and the house fire in Italy. There is always more work to be done, but the work I put in last year has set me up for a terrific 2020.