WHAT A DIFFERENCE A SMILE MAKES

“How could you do this to me? Why don’t you love me? ” I thought to myself. The maitre d’ was taking us to our table, but the man I was with slowed down. He was staring across the room at a woman sitting alone at a table.

I wanted to tell him how humiliated I felt, but I decided not to start an argument. We were in our favorite upscale restaurant and I had hoped for a pleasant evening. But I was so angry that my body was shaking and I could feel tears filling my eyes.

I had been told by friends to learn to accept him because I was not going to change him, but I refused to accept and forgive the roving eyes of the man I was with. My ego wouldn’t let me. I felt I should be the only one in his life, the only one he cared for and the only one he looked at, and this is exactly what I expected, when I was with him.

KEEP IT LIGHT

He knew I was upset and he grabbed my hand. He assured me that all he wanted was for me to see her smile. He told me that it would be nice being around someone who smiled a lot and gave my hand a tight squeeze.

I gathered courage and looked at the woman. I saw a woman who looked happy. When I looked at her, I did see a smile, a nice friendly smile. People walking in the room looked at her. It triggered in me the fact that not only was I unhappy, but it showed on my face.

IT CHANGED ME

I was wallowing in self-pity and it wasn’t a pretty picture. It was time to change.

I would catch myself with an angry or sad thought and could feel my lips set tightly in anger, a frown covering my face. I forced myself to smile. I forced myself to relax the muscles in my face. I smiled at nothing and may have looked foolish, but I didn’t care. I discovered that I felt better when I relaxed and smiled, and I wanted to keep that feeling.

I smiled for no reason other than to portray an aura of confidence and happiness. I hadn’t realized the effect a smile can make on one’s face. When someone is smiling everyone else smiles and it lightens everything and everyone around. I practiced. I smiled even when I was alone.

I decided that this is the way I wanted to be perceived. I knew it would take a degree of acting. I knew I would have to smile even though I felt the man I was with wanted to be with someone else.

It took practice because I had been feeling sorry for myself and by appearing sad and dejected others would feel sorry for me. I had made myself a victim. I wanted to be saved. Therefore, I had no power. Now was the time to regain my power and this was the way to do it.

A SMILE CAN MAKE A CHANGE, FOR ME ONLY

Did this change the way my man felt about me? Did this change his desire to lust for other women? No.

I can change me, but I cannot change anyone else. This lesson has not come easy, though. I continually tried to change the man I was with. And the man I was with continually tried to change me.

There is something liberating when you feel dynamic, powerful, and have a smile on your face. You feel more alive, centered and self-confident.

EXERCISE

•  Are you aware of the way your thoughts affect your feelings and your facial expression?
• Can you see how changing this would make a difference?
• Do you try to change others?
• Do others try to change you?

 

AN EMPTY KITCHEN

We had just gotten married a few days before and had moved into our tiny basement apartment. Each of us had lived with our parents before marriage and had never experienced living individually on our own. I didn’t know what to expect or what was expected of me.

We ate out or brought take-out home for the first few days, but that was becoming expensive and boring. I wanted to cook and have dinner at home. I just had to figure out how to do it.

My thoughts went from meatloaf, to beef roast, to chicken. They all sounded good, but not only did I not know how to cook them, I wasn’t even sure how to pick out meat at the grocery store. I didn’t know what to buy and if I had known, I would not have known how to cook it.

I had never been in the kitchen when my mother prepared a meal and, and as a result, I didn’t know what to do. Meals in my parents home had somehow appeared like magic.

THE RIGHT STUFF

I reached for the phone and dialed my mother’s number. She was an excellent cook, and not afraid to try something new. But, somehow, she had never taught me how to cook a meal. I knew how to make pull-taffy, divinity, fudge, and cookies galore, even a cake or two with seven-minute frosting and pies. All done from scratch, and all mouth-watering, but nothing that would work for dinner.

My mother laughed at me, but I knew she was happy that she could help. From then on, each time I needed to cook a meal, I called her, told her what I was hungry for and what I wanted to cook. I discovered that it was very important to have not only the right food, but also the right pans and utensils. We had received a lot of useful items at our wedding, but not everything I needed.

After getting the grocery list from my mother I would go to the store, buy the items I needed and take them to my home. I would then call and get her explicit step by step instructions, writing them on 3 x 5 cards, sometimes calling her several times. This went on for possibly a month or until I could cook everything I wanted.

MY BIGGEST MISTAKE

My husband liked my cooking except for one very big mistake. I decided to try something different for Sunday dinner. I assumed that since he had been raised on a farm he would like my choice. I had the meat cooking and as he walked in the door, he covered his face with his hands. I was cooking a lamb shoulder and he could not stand the smell.

I loved lamb. It was a meal my mother made fairly often, so I assumed everyone would love it. Not the case, as I found out. I threw the meat out, opened the windows and aired out the house fixing something else for dinner that did not resemble lamb. After that whenever I had the urge to cook lamb chops or lamb shoulder blades, I did so when I knew my husband would not be home.

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

My mother is no longer alive, but I have most of the recipes she made and loved. I remember as a little girl helping her add recipes to her many scrap books. I found out later that she had thrown the scrap books away, thinking that since my father was on a low-fat diet she would never again make the food she loved.

Once I had that initial guidance from her, it didn’t take long before I understood all the measurements, oven temperatures and top of stove cooking. I felt confident in getting the best cuts of meat and poultry and picking the best produce.

Cooking became my passion and still is. I love to experiment with flavors and spices. And then there is cooking with yeast. What a wonderful experience, watching the dough rise and eating the homemade bread and yeast rolls. Yes, I continued to make lovely desserts and still made some with my mother as we had done before I married.

As a young mother, I made peach jam and pickled beets with my neighbor and friend. We took the freestone peaches that filled a tree at my house and made and froze peach pies. As a grandma I experimented with different foods for my grandson, mustard squeezed on a slice of American cheese and rolled up. Who needed bread? Eggplant cooked with butter and bread crumbs with a side of pineapple.

Then there were the times I would be at my daughter’s place cooking dinner and everyone would leave the kitchen because I would take over stirring three pots at the same time, and checking the oven and microwave. They would run from the kitchen, laughing and saying, “Look out! Grandmas at it again.”

My second husband liked to cook meats so we would have family and friends to dinner (20 to 30 people). He cooked two or three meats and I prepared all the side dishes. Everyone loved our meals together and on the way out they asked when we would do it again.

Cooking is still a creative outlet for me, a way to get lost in another world.

EXERCISE

• What is your passion?
• Is there something you want to learn?
• Do you know someone who can teach you?
• Memories are made of wonderful life experiences.

HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE

I walked out of the building feeling elated rather than forced out. What could have turned out to be devastating actually gave me hope for better things to come.

The Vice President of the company I worked for had just laid me off. It was not a surprise, but expected since the day they hired a controller. One of the conditions of his taking the position was that his assistant was to come with him. I was the existing assistant, and he didn’t need two.

I was formally given my exit notice, but the Vice President had more to say.

He told me I could never make the money I wanted by working for someone else, and I would always work under the threat of being laid-off. Being a woman you just can’t make the money you want. He used his wife as an example of a woman who was independent, making her own decisions. His wife had a part time job working in the medical field, but she started her own multi-level jewelry business. By creating her own business she also gained independence and freedom.

His parting words of encouragement were to remember that this is an opportunity to change my life, to start my own business, to become self-reliant and to no longer depend on an employer for an income. I felt that this was a challenge that needed to be taken seriously. Of course, I wanted to make more money.

I TOOK HIS ADVICE AND . . .

The words he had spoken would lead me on another path, if I allowed and accepted them. What he had said made sense. I had, up to this point, lived a life of dependency. If I wasn’t dependent on a husband for money, then I was dependent on a job. I had not thought that I could create a business or an income for myself any other way.

For the next few days I racked my brain to come up with some logical business ideas. I needed to figure out what I loved to do. Then the questions started pouring from my mind. What could I do? How would I start a business of my own? Did I have enough experience in any field to begin a business? What did I love so much that I would want to do it? Did I have the courage to begin my own business? I spent a lot of hours and days in my head, but was left without a usable idea.

WRITE, WRITE, WRITE

While I was in this thought mode, one of my neighbors stopped by to say hello, and told me he had a word processor for sale. An old one, but it still worked. I decided to buy it, thinking that I could write.

Writing had never been a dream of mine and never something I even thought of doing. The only time I remembered writing was when I was 10 or 11. We had a project at school. We were told to write a short story and the next day read it out loud to the class. At the appointed time, I proudly stood in front of my class and read my short story. I was thrilled to share it with others and excited when they applauded.

Remembering this, I decided to put the wordprocessor to good use. I wrote the beginnings of three novels, a children’s book and a self-help book.

I contacted an editor who was also a writing teacher and of course a writer himself.

He was impressed with what I wrote and said it was nice to finally talk to someone who actually had the talent to write. He then told me not to attend classes, even his, and not try and edit my writing. He wanted me to write creatively and not stop. He would coach me whenever I felt I needed advice or confirmation that I was doing good and he would charge me a minimal fee. All he wanted me to do, was to write, write, and write.

I felt honored that he said those things to me. Though I had been looking for a new way to earn an income, I never considered this a business opportunity, nor did I think about being paid for the books I wrote. Maybe it is a short attention span, but I did not finish anything I wrote. Even so, I loved to write. I loved the words I had written and at times was even excited at the outcome of the story.

LACK OF MONEY RAISED ITS UGLY HEAD

Meanwhile, I was out of a job and without a paycheck and I knew there was no feasible or practical way that the writing I was doing would lead to an income. There was no getting around it, I was very quickly running out of money and I had to do something. At the time, I had it in my head, that I would never go on unemployment. I was completely capable of finding a job and would not make the government pay while I looked.

So, I found a job, went to work and resumed receiving paychecks. Instead of writing I was involved in a job. My writing suffered and nearly ended. It was a pattern I repeated and would repeat many times again.

EVEN TODAY

I would like to say that I’ve had a marvelous revelation, but alas I cannot. I still work for a paycheck which is minimal, dreadful and abusive. I write because I love it and because there are so many thoughts and words I must get out. My writing is a source of happiness as is sharing it with others.

I have learned that far from providing instant gratification, writing does not produce immediate success. It is time consuming and the rewards are not quick. I have to finish (and it can take a very long time) before I am paid.

Changing the way I earn money and the amount of money I earn can only happen if I believe. Believing that I can be the master of my work and the money I earn is essential to moving from dependence to independence.

EXERCISE

• Do you find yourself repeating patterns?
• Does it seem impossible to change?
• Have you given up a dream or using a talent to work for a paycheck?
• Decide how you can make new choices and different choices, even if they are small steps.

REALITY OF WORKING

I sat at the desk looking out the large glass windows toward the street and the shops on the other side. There wasn’t a lot to do, take in payments and answer the phone and neither was busy nor constructive. It was a job in an office and I was doing what the job consisted of. Other than the money I was making I felt as though it was a waste of time. I spent most of my time looking at the clock wishing it was time to go home.

I didn’t have to work. My husband preferred that I stay at home, but that was boring, too. I needed something to do, and something to occupy my time, and this seemed to be it. Or at least it was the only thing I could think of.

At this point in my life I did not have a very good track record. I was still trying to find myself, still trying to decide on a job, and trying to decide what a job was, other than a place to receive a paycheck.

Starting at the age of 16, I had worked in retail sales for two years, worked in the catalog warehouse for a major retail store, and worked in the personnel office at a Federal Agency for a few months. None had been good choices, but they had provided a little experience.

THIS JOB

I had found this job about a mile from where we lived which allowed me to walk in good weather, since we only had one car.

I had not worked for a loan company in the past. I was somewhat familiar since we had to get a loan to buy a car, but I soon learned that working for them would be a pragmatic eyeopener.

I’ve always been good at observing, listening and making mental notes. At this job I needed all these resources. I soon discovered how things worked. My bosses needed collateral that was worth more than the loan amount. It seemed that in the back of their minds their first thought was the possibility of a default on the loan, since the interest rates were high there was a good chance the customer would not be able to make their payments, in a timely fashion. The owners made sure that the collateral was the amount they needed, so that they could repossess the item or items.

When I learned this, I knew that we were paying a higher interest on the car we bought, than if we had spent more time searching for a better and cheaper way. That was disheartening

NOW FOR THE BEST PART

Then a young couple walked in with their child. They spoke at length with the loan officer, as he made notes on a pad of paper. The next step was to hand me the piece of paper with the notes and I was to type the information on a legal contract.

They continued talking to one of the loan officers and they were about ready to sign on the dotted line. The loan officer walked out of the room, to speak with the manager and maybe to give them time to discuss the deal between them. The young couple nervously spoke and argued in an almost inaudible tone. I could tell by watching and hearing as much as I could that they were not sure this was what they wanted, but it was what they needed. They were going to do it.

I walked up to the young couple and told them, don’t do this. Walk away. The interest you are going to pay is very high. They are planning on repossessing the item, because they already have figured out that you won’t be able to make the payments. I chased them away.

Yes, they said, thank you and I was happy to know that I helped someone.

IT WASN’T MY PLACE, OH WELL!

The loan officer had been listening and he ran outside to see if he could catch the couple and bring them back to the office, but it was too late. They were gone.

Needless to say, he was very angry and on the spot he and the manager fired me. And it was a good thing, because otherwise I would have had to quit. I would not want to work in a career or for people that deceived their customers and actually hoped they would fail.

Was I sorry? Absolutely not. I felt the young couple should know the real truth before they made a decision and the loan officer was not telling the whole story.

These loan officers were concealing facts and concealing the way they do business, but it happens all the time and especially to unsuspecting people who are led by their fears. This scene is similar to situations with mortgage companies convincing people that they can afford homes that they can’t and selling them mortgages that ultimately increase interest rates and monthly payments they cannot afford.

FOR A GOOD REASON

I don’t know what happened to the young couple. Hopefully they did more research or maybe realized that saving money to buy something is the most responsible way to make purchases.

I learned to be more careful with my money. If I need to borrow, car loan or mortgage, I make sure that I understand everything, if not I ask questions. It’s reassuring to have the experience and wisdom to make better choices, even if this experience means working at lousy jobs or making mistakes.

EXERCISE

• Are you wondering why you have your job? Is it the paycheck?
• Have you ever watched unscrupulous actions of someone you’re doing business with?
• Have you ever stood up for yourself or someone around you?
• Are you willing to walk away rather than stay in an uncomfortable or dishonest situation? Even if it means giving up your paycheck?

  

AFFAIRS OF THE HEART

I crouched down in the corner behind my bed hoping they wouldn’t see me. Hoping they had forgotten I was there and could hear everything. My parents were having an explosive and angry argument in the other room. I knew my mother was mad, because her usually soft voice was dominating their conversation. Their voices raised and lowered and the words I heard were related to my mother accusing my father of being with another woman. The significant part of the conversation was at the very end when my mother told him to pack his bag and move out.

My father did move out and it felt as though everything in our home was falling apart. I can only assume that they made up because he came back after only a few days. He never again moved out, but I don’t know if he any more affairs. Regardless of a betrayal they did love each other and remained married for the rest of their lives, maybe because divorce was regarded as something you just didn’t do. After my father died, my mother told me she wished she had divorced my father. I told her that if she had done so, I would have stood by her.

SECRETS I KEPT

Until my parents had the loud argument and he moved out, I did not understand the full ramification of his behaviors. Sometimes, when my father had an errand to run, he would take me with him. This was exciting to me, since we lived on a small farm and I was always bored. On one particular day he took me to what he called a “greasy spoon” café. He told me that it was his favorite place to eat, as it had much better food than the other larger restaurants. Presumably he had been there often, since the waitress behind the counter and he knew each other.

I watched him as he paid a lot of attention to and flirted with the waitress. It made me nervous and uncomfortable and I kept wishing he would stop. When we left the restaurant and headed for home, he told me not to tell my mother. This would be a secret between the two of us.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE PAPERBACK BOOKS

Had I not had the opportunity to read the books my father gave me, I may not have understood their argument as well as I did. He gave them to me discreetly so that my mother did not see them. He quietly told me not to tell her. It was our secret. It was another secret that he expected me to never reveal. This was okay with me. I enjoyed the books.

I knew they were hidden from my mother not because they were mysteries, but because they contained some sexually explicit parts. She would not have allowed me to read them.

AND THEN...........

It seemed that my father let me in on his secret life because he was treating me as his son. I was supposed to have been a boy, not a girl, and rather than continue to feel bad, my father decided I was going to hang out with him. Then it would seem okay, actually maybe normal for him to divulge his tawdry tendencies. So I was treated to something that was for me, a little strange, but because he was my father, I felt it was okay.

A SENSE OF HUMOR

There were many smaller secrets, ones that were insignificant when my father would tease my mother. My father had a bigger than life sense of humor. He was always playing pranks on the unsuspecting around him.

My mother would be putting clean sheets on their bed, tucking in the sides, making sure it was perfect. Trying to hold his laughter in and starting to turn red he would look at whoever may be watching, put his finger to his lips signaling to not speak out. He would then divert her attention away from what she was doing. My mother, used to his sense of humor would turn and pretend to scold him by using his full name. This was a harmless secret.

Then there was the time when my father wanted my mother to ride on the new escalators that were recently installed in our department stores. She was very afraid to ride on them, so my father convinced her by telling her that they took the elevators out of the building and she would have to ride the escalator to get to the second floor. He chuckled, turned red and put his finger to his lips signaling to me not to let her in on the real truth. I felt very bad for her. My father was lying to her and I wanted to tell her the truth. But, I knew my father would be very angry with me if I did not go along with his plan.

She was furious with him as she bravely rode the escalator and in front of eyes as she got off was, yes, a working elevator.

THE SECRETS REMAINED HIDDEN

I never told my mother about the books nor did I tell her about the waitress. I wondered if the waitress was the one they were fighting about. Had my father had an affair with her?

There was no reason why I should tell my mother about the waitress, or my suspicions. I was their child and I felt it was not up to me to come between the two of them. Obviously, I didn’t need to, as my mother seemed to have figured it out herself.

I became more tolerant and understanding in my observation of the relationships of others and of my own. Of course, there will be arguments, but that does not mean an end to the relationship.

EXERCISE

• List a time you were asked to keep a secret from someone.
• Did you think it was right or wrong? Did you do it anyway?
• Did your parents or friends ever have a heated argument?
• How did you feel?

  

 

PIANO ROLL BLUES

My fingers touched the keys trying to feel some familiarity, but it wasn’t there. There was silence in the parlor of the old Victorian style home of my piano teacher. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as they waited with great expectation. I began playing. For a moment it felt that everything was okay, until I could hear whispers. I heard the music I was playing and I did not recognize it. My first thought was to run out of the room, but decided I had better finish.

I kept playing hoping that the disaster I was creating was just a dream, but I knew it wasn’t. I felt horrible and ashamed and I hoped I would never see these people again. I wasn’t sure that I could do anything right as my world came tumbling down. “I am so stupid.” I thought.

I had failed in front of my teacher, all the other students and their parents, and, what was worse I was the only one that made such a spectacle. I did not know what to expect from my parents, but I could only imagine their humiliation and shame. I was sure that my teacher was angry, but I would have to deal with her later.

I was eight and my parents wanted me to follow in my sister’s footsteps. My sister was good at playing the piano. Not only did she excel at her lessons, but she could also play by ear. I always knew when she had heard a new tune. She would run in the house, so she would not forget the tune, dash to the piano and play the song . But that was my sister.

DEJECTED AND REJECTED

When we arrived home after the recital, my parents told me that I had been on the wrong keys through the whole song. As my mother put it, ever so kindly, “That’s okay. All you need to do is sit and look pretty.” I know she wanted to console me. I did not have the talent to play the piano. I let my parents down, humiliated and disappointed them, especially my father. He had bought me several John Phillip Sousa music books thinking that I would actually play them.

It was as though there was nothing left for me to do. My goal may as well have been exactly what my mother said, to sit there and look pretty. I don’t think my parents, after the recital fiasco, believed I could do anything. They never seemed to understand that even if I couldn’t play the piano (after all not everyone can), I could do other things. To them it was the piano or nothing. The one good thing that came out of this was that I never had to play the piano again.

COMPETITION OR ENVY?

There was no doubt in my mind that my parents felt I was a loss cause. My self-esteem dropped to the lowest point. I knew I was not as good as my sister. My parents had given up hope for me.

At that point I felt rejection and I felt my parents loved my sister more. I would have to find something to prove that I was as good as my sister. But I couldn’t. My parents were not going to let me take dance classes or any other classes so I could show them something that I could do. Something that would make them proud of me.

AS THE THREAD WEAVES

I soon learned that it would be impossible to make up for the piano recital disaster. My parents had stated how they felt about my ability to play the piano, and the fact that they had wasted a lot of money on the classes I took. I was really in trouble.

I had wanted to show them by taking dance classes that I could do well and that they could be proud of me, but they would not even discuss it.

Three patterns developed from this situation: I could not do what I wanted, the money for anything I wanted would not be available to me, and I did not follow through on anything I started.

I knew I could not change their minds about dance classes, but in junior high school I wanted to try out for cheerleading. My parents seemed to have a very good memory and they reminded me of the piano recital. They also explained that the uniforms, for cheerleading were too expensive.

I had built quite a reputation based on one failed piano recital. They didn’t trust me, they didn’t believe I was worth it--nor did they believe I would follow through.

AND THE THREAD CONTINUES TO WEAVE

As I am an adult, making my own choices and decisions I find that these beliefs still have a pivotal effect on my life.

A number of years ago I decided I would take the dance classes that my parents stopped me from taking. I found that I loved to dance and excelled. Then the beliefs must have hit me in the head and heart because I came up with excuses. I decided that I didn’t have the money for the classes and the costumes. That I didn’t have the time for classes and rehearsals. In other words, my beliefs stopped me from finding creative expression and something I was good at.

The same thing happened when I went into Real Estate. I conjured up every bit of logic I could think of that would make me fail. I finally reasoned that I did not want to do it anyway, so why bother. What I should have done was to find another Real Estate Company to work for. One that would train me and had willing agents and mentors.

To prove to myself and others that I can follow through, I stay in demeaning low-paying jobs long after I know I should quit, as I am in the job I have now. It is miserable and the hours have been cut tremendously, but I keep trying to hold on.

TRANSFORMING DOUBTS

It is extremely difficult and unproductive to continue living with the restrictions my parents placed on me. Therefore, to transform and change my doubts, and the unnecessary and debilitating beliefs, I must let go of the stigma surrounding the piano recital.

I now believe that I can do whatever I want. I follow through when doing what I love. I always have enough money to provide anything that I want. I am deserving. I am worthy. I am good enough.

Writing posts for this blog is the first thing I’ve ever creatively done, enjoyed and followed through on. For me this is a very big accomplishment.

EXERCISE

• When you feel you are unduly criticized or a statement is made that lowers your self-esteem, do you believe yourself or them?
• Do you lose hope? Do you feel like giving up?
• Can you remember a time when failure consumed you?
• Are you willing to accept constructive criticism?

MAKING UP MY MIND

I started writing for myself about 15 years ago. At that time I had started three novels and a child’s book, contacted a writing instructor and editor and received very positive feedback from him. He was impressed, told me to do nothing but keep writing. I was not to take a class, not even his and not worry about the editing, not at this time anyway. Doing the editing would slow down my creative energy. He met with me a few times, to answer questions I had, and then I quit writing.

I got involved in my job and didn’t find a lot of time to write. When I did start up again, I called him and found out that he was no longer teaching or editing. He had a few writing assignments that he was involved with and building a house for his wife and her son was more than enough to keep him busy.

I sputtered, started and stopped with my writing and never made it into anything concrete. I did finish one novel, but was not really pleased with it, and let it go. I started several non-fiction pieces and even worked on scripts, nothing completed. Actually completing any of my writing meant that I needed to believe that what I was doing was really good. I also had to believe that I could and would give up working at a job. It became a real lack of confidence, even with the positive feedback from my editor.

IT’S WHAT I WANT

This time it’s different. I think it is because I feel more in control of what I want to do with my life. I know I have the talent to write, and now I intend to do something with this talent. Writing also has the potential to give me everything I want from freedom, independence, working from my home and setting my own schedule, to the possibility of earning an abundance of money.

I knew all this before, but I think I didn’t believe I could possibly make all this happen. Now I am taking a more realistic look at the way my life has been. It is a continuous line of degrading and miserable low-paying dead-end jobs. What I see is what I get.

In order to make this change I had to, without a doubt, make sure I understood this completely. I had to understand that I will never have what I want by working for someone else, not ever. It has helped that with the job I have now my hours have decreased so that I would not miss the income if I quit tomorrow.

WHAT I KNOW

I realize now that whatever I was told about not being enough, or not having what it takes were just words that my father repeated from his past. I understand this because even though my father said unkind things to me he also wanted the best for me. He wanted me to have the work that allowed me independence and wealth. I am willing to let go of the derogatory things he said. There are more than enough positive things that will give me the self-esteem boost I want, and remind me that my father and mother loved me.

IT’S A WRAP

I started writing again, because I never completely stopped. I was always making notes and writing in a tablet whether I was driving, at work or putting on make-up. I could continue this way or actually decide to do something with it. I decided that even though I had a full time job, I always woke up very early in the morning. This was the time that the world was quiet and even to this day I still write early in the morning. I’ve found that I am no longer rigidly set to writing just in the morning and will sit down to write anytime of the day.

I’ve made a promise that I will give myself the life I want and in order to do this I have to make changes to the way I think and the way I do things. My choices and the methods in which I plan to make a change are now a way of life for me. I no longer am wishy-washy in my thinking about ending my job, of knowing I will have to adapt to a different way of being paid, by results rather than hourly. It has become a way of believing in me and my abilities.

What do I want? Freedom, independence and wealth. I believe I have all this in being a writer. I believe that I have the courage, power and ability to make this happen for me.

I have had to rework the way I think about me. Instead of a woman who keeps everyone around me happy, I am the woman who makes me happy first of all and still have room for others. I will never have what I want or even what I need by working at a job for someone else. For me to be happy I must have freedom, independence and wealth, but I also must be happy and fulfilled. It is a package deal, but a package that I wrap for me.

A change can never happen if you don’t really want it. I not only want this change to take place I am also willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen. I can make this change only by believing that I deserve to have what I want, and also believing that I am worthy. I now have an editor, who is fabulous, working with me to fine-tune my writing.

Making a change is facilitated by making it a habit that you repeat constantly. I now mentally focus on my writing all day every day. I click on the delete button in my mind extinguishing all thoughts about my job and the people I work with. At this point my writing is in the limelight, brightly beaming and my job is fading into obscurity.

EXERCISE

• What changes have you wanted to make, but never carried through?
• Think of the messages that may have caused this pattern.
• Allow yourself to forgive those in your past who may have discouraged you from achieving what you wanted.
• Take control of the changes you want to make.

 

I DID IT MY WAY

Screaming and crying I ran into the house, my mother a few steps behind. She was trying to make me go to school, and I was not cooperating, just like the day before and many days before that. I was about six years old, and I knew that if I threw a temper tantrum my mother would give in and let me stay home. From the time I first walked into that huge scary building, I knew I did not want to go to school. My mother and my teachers had already had quite a few conversations about my attendance record. My mother had tried everything to get me to go to school, but nothing worked.

I had it figured out, though. I would stay home for a period of time and then, when I knew I had to, I grudgingly went to school. I would do all the assignments that I had missed, then ask the teacher for all the future lessons that she had ready. I completed 10 days of assignments in two days, and then begged for more work. At that point she would tell me to help the students who were falling behind. When I completed all the tasks, she had given me, I decided I would not go to school again. It was a routine I had created and I’m not sure anyone else had it figured out. In spite of not being there most of the time, I easily passed each grade.

WRITING MY OWN RULES

I continued the pattern of missing school through junior high and in high school, minus the tears and screaming. I had it figured out: I was very bored. The subjects that I had to take were of no interest to me, so I dreaded going to school. I asked the Dean of Girls if we could have an art class so I could study sketching and colors, but I was given an emphatic NO. In spite of all this, I maintained very good grades, since this was what my parents and teachers demanded from me. In my senior year I was elected to the National Honor Society.

I remember the time in high school when I decided that if I did not get my homework done in school or in study hall, I would not take it home. I would not use my free time at home to study. I made that rule for myself, even though I knew it had the potential to be self-defeating. It became a challenge. Could I do all my homework assigned to me during my hours at a school, and still pass all the tests?

My parents and teachers did not know what I was doing, the only requirement was to get A’s and B’s, Seeing my report card was all that mattered to them, not the process in reaching that point. Which meant the new rule I had made was perfectly okay.

A LITTLE FIB

I suppose that because my family did not have rules for me, I had to make up my own. On one occasion, my friends and I had been out a little later than we probably should have. The next day they told me they were really in trouble and were grounded for getting home past curfew. I felt left out so I told them a little fib. I told them I was grounded, too. Looking back, I’m not sure why there was such a lack of rules and accountability for me, except that my parents, especially my mother did not associate with any of the other parents. Even though they had raised my sister, who was nine years older than me, they may not have considered what it takes to raise a defiant teenager. My sister was cooperative and compliant, while I was stubborn and independent, somewhat of a spoiled brat and I knew how to manipulate people.

A CONTINUING PATTERN

I continued my pattern of not spending extra time doing homework into my adult world. For instance when I went to class to study for my Real Estate exam, I refused to study at home and I refused to be worried. I would have to comprehend and remember what I learned during class. Did that work for me? I passed a very difficult Real Estate exam the first time.

The exceptions to this rule are my creative activities. I’ve always spent time practicing and rehearsing anything that I feel passionate about, such as writing, dancing, acting, design and decorating, cooking, and voice.

WHAT I LEARNED
 
While still a teenager, I went on a date, and the boy I was with tried to get me to drink flavored vodka. I was angry, appalled that he would think I was that kind of girl. I was afraid I would not be able to handle him if he started drinking. So I made another rule: I was not going to drink, nor would I be forced to drink. I made this rule since my parents did not give me any advice on dating. I was not going to drink nor would I be forced to drink. I did not care what my parents thought or what he thought. This is how I felt.

  

As an adult, I was out with a group of friends at a bar, and they kept ordering rounds of drinks. I was told to drink up. As they drank, they became louder and more forceful, but I refused to succumb. I did not want to drink the beverages that were sitting in front of me. Worse, the man I was with did not support me. In fact, he was angry because I was not being sociable and because I refused to comply.

I’ve noticed that sometimes it is difficult to go against what everyone wants. I’ve also noticed that to be true to me and true to the rules that I set for myself, I am going to make people angry with me. I accept this, and I continue to make my own rules to live by. I find that by making rules that I know will benefit me, I will less likely be swayed by others. By setting my own rules I also have set my standards high and place value on what is important to me. I have no one to answer to but myself.

EXERCISE

• Did you, out of necessity, make new rules for yourself as a child or teenager?
• Do you still use these rules in your life, today?
• Are the patterns plainly visible or do the patterns creep up unexpectedly?
• Is it time to make new rules and patterns?

SO MUCH ALIKE

Choosing not to appear to be better than anyone else, he had selected an office on the same level as all the other brokers. He sat quietly behind his desk when I entered the room, and pointed to the chair in front of him. I sat down. After a few seconds, he looked at me and said, “It’s difficult for a right brain person to make it in this left brain world.” I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. We talked for a while, discussing what happens when we try to fight and struggle against the rules and control of those who refuse to understand us. And how much we abhor following orders and working in this environment. It was a topic he knew I would understand.

He was known in the company as the ‘maverick manager’. He wore dress pants, a casual shirt and no tie to work and occasionally brought his dog or his guitar into this very professional environment. There were times he felt the sales assistants were not given enough recognition and praise, so to show his appreciation, he would rent a limo for us, bring his guitar (we would all sing while he played) and take us out to dinner or to a baseball game. Yet, he ran a very successful office, which is probably why the higher-ups accepted his idiosyncracies. I didn’t know what he had done on the corporate level that led to such a title, but I liked it. I secretly wished that I could be more open with expressing my own indignation to rules and regulations.

I had my own maverick tendencies. I had been taking time off, with his permission, to do auditions for acting jobs. At least once a week I went after work directly to my acting coach for a class. I did a commercial for a local television station and a small part in an industrial film. Also, several years prior I adopted the practice of being holistic.

Some of my coworkers were curious about my behaviors and asked me questions. Like him, I was different and I didn’t hide this fact. Instead, I was and still am I am proud of who I am.

LIKE A TIGER IN A CAGE

Our conversation that day helped me to understand why I had such a difficult time conforming to the work place. Why I was always searching for something else, but didn’t know exactly what. I just knew that I was bored, and never had the drive or inclination to be an overachiever.

He understood, though, and it was in that instant in his office that I knew I had a choice. It was the fact that the words he said were spoken out loud for both of us to hear. I think up to that point we were hiding in our misery. We were both trying to fit in a place that we did not want to fit in, but felt we had to. How else were we to earn an income working at a job if we didn’t do what they asked?

I quit a short time later, but I couldn’t think of anything that I could do other than getting another job. The time I spent in creative classes, the auditions, the two acting jobs were the beginning of knowing that I wanted to do something creative. Acting would not be it, though. I talked with one of my acting coaches explaining that I had a very difficult time saying the words that someone else wrote and make it sound believable. He said writing would make much more sense since it is my word and not someone else’s.

The Maverick Manager also quit a short time later--packed his guitar, took his dog and moved to a town in the mountains. He was doing what he wanted. He had found his freedom. Me? I got a new job, thinking maybe it would be better, hoping it would give me more freedom and more money. It didn’t.

I still had to figure out what I wanted. I was not as brave as he was, nor did I have a concrete talent to use as a way to make money. The only way I knew to make money was to work for someone else and because of that belief that is where I was stuck. I went right back into working for someone else.

WHICH IS IT?

I've had several jobs in which every day I go to work, or just thinking about going to work I live under the abusive threat of being yelled at or fired.  Why would I want or be willing to work under these circumstances, if not for the fact that how else can I make money? Certainly not because I enjoy performing a miserable and boring job. On the days I am not working I fear not having enough money. Where is the happy medium? By what means do I actualize loving my work and enjoying prosperity and freedom?

The reason I have not been successful in my endeavor to have freedom, and be self-reliant and wealthy is that I remember being scolded for believing in something so ridiculous. Scolded for being a dreamer.

CAN WE HAVE BOTH?

Which is worse, not having money or not having peace and happiness?

I am working part time at a job, gradually phasing it out. Full time though I am writing. The pieces of the puzzle are not quite in the place they need to be, but time is on my side. A practice called determination and focus on my dreams will win out.

EXERCISE

• Did someone in your past make you feel your dreams were not worthwhile?
• Do you ever feel like a caged animal?
• What do you dream of? What work do you really want to do more than anything else?
• Is there a way that you can save enough money to quit your job and work at your dream?

WALKING AN UNPLANNED PATH

I made a new choice very different from what I had intended when I graduated from high school. Rather than the higher education that my Mother and Father wanted for me or the fashion design college that I wanted, I traveled a very different route. A route that I did not research or plan out. I would get a job.

That would not have been so bad, had I fully understood what a job would entail. Up to that point my experience in a job was working part-time in a dime store in my junior and senior years. I never considered it anything other than the way to pay for a car. Yet my boss had me pass over the older women, the ones who had been there far longer than I, to do the bookkeeping in the office and to decorate the windows every week with new sale items. This was hardly the foundation for knowing what it would be like to work at a job for the rest of my life. The only thing I enjoyed was the window decorating. I did not just enjoy it, I loved it. I was so proud of my displays in the window especially as I stood across the street and appraised my work.

Here I was, eighteen years old and trying to figure out a job for the rest of my life. I knew I did not want to work retail anymore. I would, I decided, do work in an office. This was an interesting idea because I had no idea what people in offices did. I just knew that an office would have to be better than a store.
So, off I went trying out a few jobs, not quite happy in any of them, but at least learning and making a little money.

WAS THIS WHAT I WANTED?

I tried to feel good about what I was doing, but finding a job and being happy in the job were two very different things. It seemed I was not going have both at the same time.

Mostly I was bored, the work seemed tedious and repetitious regardless of what I was doing. An office job was not that great and I soon found that being confined five days a week to the inside of a building was depressing. How could anyone be happy looking at four walls, pieces of paper, files and a pen and pencil?

I kept changing jobs looking for some oasis in a desert, and it wasn’t happening.

THIS IS IT

After awhile my outlook changed. I knew this was my chosen path and I would find the best job I could, no matter how many tries I made. I believed I would find the job that would become a career for me. I believed I would be happy in the job I loved. How could that not be true? Here I was ambitious, talented and intelligent and determined to make a successful life for myself. It was a change that I had not made plans for, but it was one in which I knew I would figure it out for myself.

Eventually my inner being, to bring me peace of mind, accepted my role as an employee. It wasn’t that I was happy with my choice of any job, but it was the fact that this was my choice and I knew I had to make the best of it. But why? I knew I wasn’t fulfilled. I could feel that I was missing something, that there was a void in my life. Then I realized that as simply as I made a choice to get a job, I could also make a choice to do what I loved. This shift in energy allowed me to understand that the time has now come to change my choices.

I now look first to what I love to do and there are several things that I not only love, but that I do well. It is a matter of deciding which choice to make and changing my life. I am complete only when I am fulfilled and this is my first consideration when I now make a choice to change the work I do.

EXERCISE

• Have you been on a path that was not only unfamiliar, but uncomfortable, too?
• Decide how you can make this work for you, at least for the time being.
• List ways in which you can change the choices you once made.
• Begin to implement a new choice.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?

It happened many years ago when I was a teenager. My age and inexperience didn’t stop me. First, I should explain that my parents were much older when I was born, so for me, I sometimes thought of them as my grandparents.

In this particular instance I had gone with my parents so that my father could buy a new car. He insisted on buying a new car every two to three years and it was now time.

Having decided which car he wanted we sat down at the salesman’s desk to finalize the deal. I remember the salesman telling my father about all the gadgets that he could get on the car, and with each gadget the price was going up.

I HAD TO SAY SOMETHING

I sat quietly, listening intently to every word that the salesman said, until something in me bubbled over or maybe it just exploded. The price kept going up and the gadgets were unnecessary and my parents were about to say yes when I interrupted their conversation with an adamant no.

I, stood up and not so quietly, told the salesman exactly what I thought of him and his sales tactics. I knew that my parents did not need everything he was trying to sell them, nor did they need to pay the exorbitant amount that the cost had risen to. I knew it wasn’t right.

After my explosion my parents and I left the building. Honestly, I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I felt I had to protect them.

EXCESSIVE PRESSURE FROM AUTHORITY FIGURES

Definitely the salesman was in a place of authority and used it to his advantage. This was his job, this is what he was paid to do. I don’t feel anyone of authority has the right to take advantage of another person who for whatever reason, does not or cannot stand up for themselves. I felt this way then and I still do.

My intuition, my inner self or whatever you want to call it seems to innately know when someone is being taken advantage of. Even at that young age. I protected my parents, my children and animals from anyone who intends to do them wrong.

When I recall this incident, I think of how my parents may have felt. Maybe they thought I was out of line, but I did it. I couldn’t change it and I wouldn’t have, not then and not now.

I felt they needed to be protected, because they were getting ready to sign on the dotted line. They seemed to not see what the salesman was doing and I didn’t want them to end up with a very expensive bad deal. This was also at the time that my father may have been at the beginning stage of some health issues. Did that influence his decision making? Maybe, but nevertheless it still was not right.

IT WAS A GOOD THING

We left that dealership and went to another where my parents did purchase a new car that we drove home in. Did the salesman try to take advantage of them? No. Were my parents upset with me? No. They thanked me for helping them and I felt proud and powerful. I knew when I spoke up that I was doing the right thing. I can use my voice to make changes.

The one thing I learned about myself is that I do have the innate ability to make powerful and wise suggestions to others. You see, this wasn’t planned. I did not leave the house thinking that I would have to watch over my parents and make sure they will not be pressured or cheated. I acted on what was happening in that moment.

EXERCISE

• Have you been in a precarious situation in which you knew you needed to say something?
• List the times you knew you should have said something, but didn’t.
• Would you do differently now?

POVERTY: JUST A STATE OF MIND?

The lady tossed her keys on the counter, the emblem shining brightly taunting me with the realization that she drove a luxury car. The quick movement startled me, the clanking noise abruptly changed my thoughts. I couldn’t take my eyes off her keys. I knew this happened for a purpose and the purpose struck me as one in which I should take notice. She obviously was proud of her ability to own a car of such stature.

The set of keys still lay on the counter in front of us as I asked her to wait a moment while I checked the price on an item she was purchasing as I thought it might be on sale. She told me, “No. Don’t bother checking. I prefer to pay full price.”

In the light of everyone I knew, and everyone whoever walked in or shopped in the store this was very unusual. They all wanted a deal, they all wanted to pay less than the discounted price, and they weren’t ashamed to say so.

WHAT AN INFLUENCE!

Not only was this lady boldly exhibiting the fact that she had money and could prove it with the car she owned, but also that she did what most everyone does not and that is to establish the fact that she owned the mind-set of being wealthy. Not one ounce of her exuded a near-poverty belief. She was the epitome of a wealthy mind-set and I had the opportunity to witness it up-front and close.

IT SEEMED NORMAL TO ME

I grew up in a family that had money and they spent it on what they needed and wanted. My Father had a good job that paid well, my mother did not work outside the home and she had the innate ability to manage their money.

My life as a child in my family meant that my father bought a new car every two to three years. My mother bought her clothes at an expensive department store in Denver equivalent to Nordstrom’s. We had the best food and the best meals. My mother, for our Sunday dinner would prepare a five-course meal beginning with a shrimp or oyster cocktail. When we had our farm, my father insisted that our cattle be grass fed with the most healthy grains added. With all this, my mother still managed to save money and we lived well.

The only time that I remember rejection was when I had asked my parents to buy me a sweater like that of one of my friend’s, and I was told it was too expensive. That having been the only refusal to my requests seems innocuous in my thoughts now.

My life in my family seemed quite easy financially, and this was a pattern that would have been my way of life going forward. But because of choices I made, because of a crucial turning point that I am responsible for my life started in a different direction. This was a direction in which I could never have imagined the results.

THEN I LEARNED SOMETHING DIFFERENTLY

For me, though, I was sidetracked from my dream of being a costume designer by my parents, and had to quickly make other choices. I did not research and plan for my future. I settled for getting a job and did not know what to expect. This lack of planning ultimately turned out to be very foolish. I didn’t know if I would like working at a job for the rest of my life, but I made the choice and knew I would have to live with it.

Maybe I was following in my father’s footsteps since as children we learn from what we see before us. Whatever the reasons this began my foundation as an adult. Since I did not have a dream job to plan my life around, I set myself up for failure without my realizing it.

INTERNAL COMBUSTION

I learned how to struggle financially since this is what I saw around me. After I married, I learned even more since all of our neighbors and friends were struggling. This is where I learned poverty thoughts, where determination turned into failure.

Watching all that was going on around me I soon learned that men went to work, disliked their jobs and never earned enough money, while women stayed home, raised children and became the ultimate homemaker.

I learned from my best friend and neighbor how to can peaches, pickles, jam, and beets. I learned how to make clothes for my children so I would not spend so much money at the store. I love doing creative and artistic things so cooking and sewing are even now quite enjoyable, but that was not all that I was learning. I was learning near-poverty thinking because all of this was not the act itself, but the reason for doing it. To save money, not to spend so much money or to believe that there was not enough money to do and have all that I wanted.

I learned to struggle. Struggle, became the name of the game, but we never called it that. It actually was entrapment in a way of life that we could not get out of. We all believed the same. We did not believe in wealth or living in a way that would induce wealth, we believed we would struggle in near-poverty for the rest of our lives.

A WAY OUT

Except for my friend who canned peaches and sewed with me. One day she came to the realization that no one was going to take care of her. That she would be responsible for taking care of herself and she made a choice to change her life by changing the way she made money and the amount of money she made.

CONFLICTING THOUGHTS

Words and actions that create a lack-of, continuous worry and struggles need to be changed to those that create prosperity, confidence and freedom. You are changing thoughts that are natural to your way of thinking and that fit the pattern that you are familiar with, to thoughts that are conducive to the way a wealthy person would think. It only takes seconds to change the thoughts running through your mind.

A wealthy person would not need or even think of using coupons when shopping or eating in a restaurant, after all, that would not contribute to being wealthy. Remember that with wealth there is freedom and you are not free if you are confined to the worry of not enough money and to using coupons. Instead you are continually worrying about having enough money for the food you are buying, therefore your mind-set is of poverty.

MY FREEING THOUGHTS

I had a friend who has since passed on, say to me one day. “I have so much money that I could never spend it all.” This coming from a man who I remember some 30 years’ prior was struggling to make his company successful and make enough money to survive. These were words that astonished me when he said them, but I also wondered how it would feel if I were in a financial position to say those same words.

I now choose my thoughts, choose what I want to think in the very moment. There is an instantaneous change in the way my body feels when I change my thoughts. If I am concerned or think about how much an item costs, I quickly change this thought. I can go from worry to wealth consciousness in a fraction of a second and it is breathtaking. I know this way of thinking is changing my life right now, as I write this.

I keep what he said in my thoughts, often. These words are even more powerful because this is someone I knew, and he said this to me not because he was boasting, but because it was a fact.

EXERCISE

• Are you thinking thoughts of near-poverty?
• List messages of struggle and lack of that are now a part of the way you think and live.
• Ask yourself if these messages are still valid.
• If not, then let them go.
• Incorporate new wealth-based messages into your thoughts.

SAY IT ISN’T SO

It was the time in my life in which I would make a life changing decision as does everyone who is about to graduate from high school. With brochures and an application in hand from Bauder College of Fashion Design located in Dallas, Texas I, with unwavering confidence and absolute joy, presented them to my parents. They wanted me to go to college so I assumed they would be happy and that when I came home, they would have read through the brochures and put their signatures in their perspective places. My dream would have taken its first step to reality.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. It wasn’t until I was in school that day did I realize the negative impact my decision would have not only on my parents, but the school educators, also. I was called into the Principal’s office welcomed by a group consisting of the Principal, Vice Principal, Dean of Boys and Dean of Girls, who informed me of my parents’ concern. They were convinced I was making a very bad and unreasonable choice and they were going to change my mind. When that failed, they called a professor at the University of Denver who would later send his assistant to take me to meet with him. They were being logical, I was being emotional and we were at a standoff. I knew what I wanted, without a doubt. I also knew what would not work for me and no convincing or manipulating would change my mind.

This was a major turning point in my life. Without realizing it I was going to be traveling down a devastating and destructive path. A path that would affect the rest of my life.

MY DESIGNING DREAM

I had known since I was eight that I would be a designer. It was all I wanted to do and all I spent my spare time doing. When my older sister took me to the movies, we were the last to leave. We waited until the list of credits came on, the title Costume Designer and the name Edith Head. It was at this point that I visualized seeing my name in print in place of Edith Head. This was before the self-help books were available and told us how to visualize. I just knew this was the path I was meant to be on.

Still, to this day I notice a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach when I look at a sketch that a designer has made. It is a calm feeling. It is a feeling that I am safe that I am home. I wish it were I sketching the dresses, coats and hats, but it isn’t. So I let it go.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

I had been elected to the National Honor Society and mostly my grades were very good, so with this in mind, my father expected me to go to college. He wanted me to become what he could never achieve. He wanted me to study business, and become wealthy buying and selling my own houses. There was nothing wrong with what he wanted for me, except I wanted something different. And what I wanted was to the extreme opposite of his plans for me. What I wanted and needed was the freedom to make my own decisions and choices and to feel good about these decisions and choices.

I should have known that he would never agree on my studying the arts, of any sort. My fathers twin brother was an artist and had the honor of studying at Walt Disney’s studio. I remember the loud arguments that my mother and father would have with him. They telling him, he would never make it as an artist, that he would have to get a job. He did give up and give in and I saw a very sad man. My sister could play piano by ear, but she was never encouraged to continue. Instead of pursuing my dream, I made a conscious choice to work for someone else and then to eventually marry.

I had obeyed my parents as best I could, appeasing their appetite for controlling me and kept my dreams to myself. I had never discussed this with them, knowing that if they knew ahead of time that would have squelched my idea immediately.

A DEFEATIST ATTITUDE

There is a message that creates a pattern in my life. It is a self-defeating pattern that goes something like this. “If you don’t let me do what I want, I will show you just how miserable I will be.” I must have thought they would take pity on me and give in. It didn’t happen and with that kind of attitude how could I not be miserable. This message set me up for a pattern of giving up and giving in. I knew I was not good enough to fulfill my dreams.

WAS THERE A COMPROMISE IN THE OFFING?

Were my father and mother disappointed? Of course, but then so was I.

Had my father been the man who would listen to my opinions, who would take the time to discuss what I wanted, possibly he might have been able to discourage me from being a designer, and at that point it would have been my idea. Instead he would become angry, turn red, raise his voice and demand I do what he told me. He was domineering and it was impossible to have a discussion with him. It was his way or no way. My mother would call him a bullheaded Englishman. There were times when my mother would intercede and convince him to let me have my way, but this time my mother was on his side.

I decided I would not attend college. Instead I would get a job which would lead to a succession of jobs, all lackluster, dead-end and low-paying, some even demeaning. After setting myself on this path, because it was the result of a choice I made, I then decided to get married and have children. I never felt that there could be any other choice, any other path to be on. I had made my decision and that was it. There were children to be raised and they became my sole purpose.

My parents reluctantly accepted my decisions and never again brought up the subject of college. I’m sure they realized that there was nothing more they could do. We remained close, and I watched over them until their deaths. Even after they died and to this day their messages are ever-present and tend to control my decisions and choices. I have been forever angry that I could not follow my dream, but I never told them how I felt. Maybe being a designer would not have been what I wanted, but I was never allowed to find out for myself and that would have been a part of growing up.

WHAT I LEARNED

That there can be new choices and new endings. I did not have to choose to completely give up my dream, but rather change how I would make my dream a reality.

I kept my desires and dreams to myself. No one knew that after graduating from school I also studied to be a model. I knew that if I told my parents they would never support me, so why take away the joy I found in applying make-up, in walking, in colors and the other classes, even though I ended it before I could be successful. No one knew that I dreamed of dancing on Broadway in New York. The people I confide in are those who are in the creative arts field.

Now I know that by telling myself repeatedly that I can do everything I want, that I am an intelligent woman, that I am creative and artistic is my way of becoming successful. I tell myself I’m going to do it (whatever I’ve chosen to do) no matter what. I must stay focused on what I want and follow my chosen path.

Ultimately, I learned that I have to change the messages I received from my parents so that the patterns will change. The messages they gave me led me to believe that I wasn’t good enough, that my ideas are worthless, that I don’t have what it takes to do what I want. This is how they controlled and manipulated me into doing what they wanted. This is how I failed at being me.

FROM THAT MOMENT ON

Most noticeable major changes or turning points in my life were my two divorces. Another time later in my life was when I decided to take creative and artistic classes, watercolor painting, dancing, acting and voice. I did not have any plans beyond taking classes, although I did do two local TV commercials.

I made a choice to stop dating for a period of time because I was using relationships and marriage as a replacement for denying my creative and artistic self.  Until I changed, it seemed unadvisable that I become involved.

Now I have made a choice to end my pattern of ‘getting a job’, working for someone else, on their schedule, their pay. An end to depending on a job to give me what I want and need, because it can’t, it never will. I desperately need my freedom and the freedom of making choices and decisions. I will have to learn to use my freedom because for me it never came easily.

There is no way around it, if your life is going to be different you have to make a choice to change it. Anytime you doubt the choice, anytime you feel uncertain, anytime you feel you need someone to assure you that you’ve made the right decision and choice, you weaken your ability to be successful.

THE GOOD RESULTS

Taking dance classes such as tap, ballet and jazz gave me much needed confidence, but also the ability to reach out much further, to succeed beyond my expectations. Dancing affects not only your feet, but your entire body and mind. You learn to center and ground yourself and this makes you feel and step with the music. Once you feel this confidence it stays with you all day, every day.

EXERCISE

• A body/mind related activity such as dancing, or any type of sport is going to teach you to be   grounded.    It will teach you that you can do more than you ever thought you could. It will give you confidence in all of your daily experiences. Start small and move up, but get yourself moving.
• Forgive those who tended to restrict our dreams and desires. These people showed us our strengths to make choices of our own.
• Determine what you want to do, what you love, what you dream of and find a way to do it. Allow yourself the freedom to have fun and enjoy whatever activity you choose.

A SMILE A DAY PAVED THE WAY

As a child I was told I was shy, so I assumed this must be a problem since I was continually reminded of this flaw. I grew up with a father who believed there were no strangers, that everyone is your friend. I watched him as he waved or spoke to everyone whether he knew them or not. To be like my father seemed difficult and scarey for me, but if he could do it, so could I.

HOW MUCH FUN CAN IT BE?

I decided to put myself into a situation in which I was surrounded by strangers, a busy downtown street. Then I walked among these strangers holding my head high and looking into their eyes as they passed me on the street. After I succeeded at this and found that no one would hurt or even scare me, I added on a smile. The earth shattering part faded and after practice it became easy and natural. In my mind I assured myself that I would be safe, that this wasn’t so hard. I then realized that this was fun, genuinely fun.

MAKING SENSE OUT OF IT

How was I to ever understand myself if I couldn’t communicate with others? How could I fulfill my dreams if I was too afraid to look beyond my own two feet? By taking control of this area of my life I knew I could do anything I wanted. From this exercise in courage, I received the confidence to speak up, to ask for what I want, to stand up for myself, to do things that without this courage would have remained impossible dreams.

POWERFUL CHANGES

I took command of my life. I took back my power. I changed this part of my life, by changing how I believed, how I perceived a stranger. Change your actions along with your thoughts. The combination is dynamite.

Exercises

• Choose something that you would like to do, or someone who does something that you would like to emulate. Those in our lives are there to teach us, we just have to notice and allow.
• Decide how you can do this, how you can fit it into your life.
• Then practice. New habits can only be formed if they are repeated and become part of your daily regimen.