by Jennifer Farlin | Oct 6, 2014 | Life Reflections
Dear Gentle Reader,
My blog did so well the other day it crashed for about 36 hours. It’s like good and bad all rolled into one. I stayed cool, though, (until 10 pm–sorry Audra). I kept telling myself this is an opportunity for change. I’ve been wanting to make changes to my website and this is presenting me with a gentle tickle (at 11 pm it was a brick wall). I’ve been talking about changes and then, not changing. Talking the talk, not doing the walk. Then the excuse part came in. I don’t know HOW to make the changes, I don’t have TIME to make the changes, I don’t want to ask for help to make the changes.
I love self-sabotage. Not the actual act of it but that I now I have a name for it. It’s so good. It’s freeing. You know how you set yourself up for failure and then when you “fail” you totally beat yourself up. For example, yes, you will totally run that 10k race even though it is the morning after New Year’s EVE and you are the one throwing the party for 500 people at your house and you just had open toe surgery on your foot 3 weeks ago and the race is in Alaska. And then you pretty much get carried away in a stretcher at the 1k mark while you curse yourself for being unathletic, out of shape, a total loser…etc… Or, my favorite, you take your two small boys to Target, the dry cleaners, Costco, the Post Office, and a store made entirely out of crystalglassextrabreakableexpensive things that look like toys but aren’t, and they haven’t had lunch or a nap and it’s like, Black Friday and Christmas Eve at the same time and everyone and everything—goes—very—wrong, and then you say, I’m just not patient enough, or not a good enough mom, etc… I mean maybe you are thinking I would never do something that extreme but really? Isn’t it the same as being completely unrealistic about our limitations and then when it doesn’t work out we blame ourselves? Now I have a name for it–self-sabotage. And by having a name for it makes me feel like I’m not the only person who messes up and I can stop myself and say there is a difference between aiming high and just being DUMB.
Another way we, meaning me, self-sabotage ourselves (myself) is to not ask for help. Help is so weak. Help is so passé. Ha.
So last night at 10:30, after the brick wall, I turned on my iPad and opened my iBooks. I’m in the middle of reading Carry On, Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton and in iBooks when you open the app it opens directly to the page you left off. So imagine my surprise when it opened to an entirely different book that happens to be a devotional that I am not reading, haven’t opened, and was just staring at a few minutes ago THINKING I should open it. I swear this is all true. And imagine my surprise when I start reading the page it opened to and it says, ASK FOR HELP. “All you need to do is ask for help…when the path before you looks easy and straightforward, you may be tempted to go it alone instead of relying on God. This is when you are in the greatest danger of stumbling.” It did NOT feel like a coincidence. So I went to bed and I asked for help. When I got up my site was back up.
I know it is not always easy like this. In fact, I said to myself, “SELF it is not always easy like this”.
Ten minutes later I opened my iPad and it automatically went to iBooks. Remember it opens to the exact place you left off–which in this case was the devotional from random October 3rd–and it opens to March 10th, NOT WHERE I LEFT OFF, and it says “This sounds easy but it requires a deep level of trust, based on the knowledge that God’s way is perfect.”
Well.
The devotional is Jesus Calling by Sarah Young. I’m just going to carry around the pocket version around with me now in lieu of the whole self-sabotage issue.
Love, Jen
by Jen | Oct 2, 2014 | Life Reflections, Popular
Hurricane Bret and Stephanie
Way way back many centuries ago, well, 1998, there was a hurricane coming straight towards Corpus Christi, Texas. Naturally, I was there. I was living on a Navy base, off of the Gulf of Mexico, with my husband. And, naturally, when a hurricane is expected all of the active duty service members are suppose to leave the women and children behind and evacuate with the aircraft.
So it’s midnight and there is a tank like truck with a mega phone and flashing lights driving around a pitch black base announcing a mandatory evacuation of all people. I knew like 3 people and my husband, who was one of them, was leaving at o-dark-thirty to fly to Dallas (where he would later eat steak while I stood in pouring rain in said hurricane boarding up a house with cedar.) (I so do NOT hold grudges and I have totally forgave him for his so called stomach flu in 1993 that required me to drive 500 miles while he puked out a window in a stick shift that I did not know how to drive up hill in a blinding blizzard for 8 hours that resulted in the closing of the Pennsylvania Turnpike and us being stranded for days.)
Back to the story.
It’s midnight and I’m in some sort of apocalypse of pre-hurricane hell with no where to go.
Ring, ring! Hi, you just met me. Can I come over? It’s Jennifer. J-E-N-N-I-F-E-R.
Thus, began my relationship with hurricanes and my friendship with Stephanie. Later, the following day, Stephanie and I would stand in horror in a Home Depot like store where hundreds of people were CLIMBING the 20 foot shelves as a short cut to get to the plywood. (They ran out of plywood so we bought cedar for $500 to board up her house.) We would then stand in line forever while, no kidding, cash registers were over heating from the long, long lines. This was followed by trying to affix said cedar to her brick house in the pouring rain with mud up to our calves. Husband would later call from steak house to ask how things were going.
Real cedar boarding up these windows!
I experienced a “hurricane” while closing on a house. I experienced a “hurricane” while moving into a house (awesome and so romantic to unpack by candlelight in 100 degree heat).
Which brings me to Chesapeake. Oh sweet Chesapeake. Every single Fall a “hurricane” would arrive and my husband would be gone. Gone, gone, gone. Kids, cats, pools, swamps, flooding, power outages, and Stephanie. Because 10 years later we were living a mile a part and going through this whole thing, again, only with 4 kids and 2 pets. It really was comical.
Ring, Ring! Hi, I’m going outside now to drain the pool a few inches while there is a break in the storm. I’ll call you when I come back inside so you know I didn’t get struck by lightening, drown, or slip and hit my head, ok?
Ring, Ring! Hi, yup, it’s time to go into the laundry room again, just wanted to make sure you heard the sirens. Oh, ok. Great. I didn’t hear them because I was vacuuming in case we lost power. Thanks.
One such “hurricane”, and I put it into quotes because unless the eye is going over your house we won’t call it a full-fledged hurricane, was predicted to be bad. Really bad. The prep was more serious. More involved. And I remember this because I found an old FB post:
Here is some of what I have done this week: Tuesday-bought 2 cases of water, C and D batteries, and food. Thursday-bought 3 bags of ice and then another bag of ice. Got gas. Took cat to vet. For $350 cat is perfectly healthy. Bought more water. Moved lots of outdoor furniture inside. Threw out back. Bought more ice. Bought more flashlights. Went to pool store to buy chemicals to keep pool NOT green. Put chemicals into pool and then drained water out of pool. Filled up tub. Got more ice. Made a list of what to take if there is a tree in my house. Put water in car. Put water and bucket with garbage bags in laundry room aka the safe house. Maybe ice will fit in washer? Should buy more ice. Hope we have enough food. No one eat the food! Save the food! Washed all my clothes in case no electricity. Washed all of the clothes with a diaper. Now need to wash all the clothes AGAIN about 4 more times since washed with diaper. Need to buy more clothes. Need to buy more ice for my head.
I’ve got nothing to close with…so I’ll just see you later.
Jen
by Jennifer Farlin | Oct 1, 2014 | Life Reflections
I’m all about avoiding negative energy.
As I write this my husband is cursing the tub.
People always tell me that God won’t give me more than I can handle but I disagree. He totally gives us more so that we don’t try to duke it out alone, so that we come to Him.
Husband just passed by again disgusted. Apparently, we have a tub issue.
I love that. The God part, not the tub. That means that when LIFE becomes way BIGGER and more out of control than I could have thought possible–I need to stop and remember that someone’s got my back.
So, big check in the box about God. But what about all our friends and family and in-between? Do the people we surround ourselves with have our backs? Do they have toxic energy that invades you whenever you are around them? Do you walk around on egg shells feeling like you are holding your breath and talking like you are constipated? Seriously, try it. Think about some embarrassing moment when you were a teenager, squint your eyes, and clench your buttocks. That my friend is you on negative energy. SO do NOT need that. In fact, you might just say– “ain’t nobody got time for that”. Which brings me to my next point.
Tag Lines. A positive friend asked me what my tag line would be. You know, a phrase that you say a lot, think a lot, associate with etc… Mine is totally, I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THAT. And THAT meaning squinty eye butt clenching energy slurping nonsense.
Oh Lord I know you’ve got my back so let THEM know YOU’ve got THEIRS so they get off mine! Just go ahead and say Amen. I know you get me on this.
What’s YOUR tag line?
By the way, the other day I overheard my 9 year old tell my screaming 7 year old, “Mom SO does NOT have time for THAT.” Love it.
by Jennifer Farlin | Sep 30, 2014 | Life Reflections, Popular
I’m in TJ Maxx and somehow I find myself talking to a stranger about the Navy and I become exasperated.
I’m so tired of hearing people say to me “I don’t know how you do it–I could NEVER do it”—referring to the fact that my husband is in the military. I can’t help but feel really annoyed. I know there is a complement in there but it still bugs me. To me, it’s saying “Wow I feel sorry for you because your life is so hard”. And, again, I know the intent is not to make me feel bad but it does. My family might have different challenges than you but we all have challenges.
Yes, I have experienced deployments with small children. This gave me the opportunity to flipping dig deep! Want to know what you are made of? Get rid of your safety net. That’s what deployments do. You are on your own and you have to figure it out. Sometimes you are in a brand new place too. And it’s hard. You don’t always have the luxury of someone to bail you out, relieve you, or back you up. What are you going to do? Fall apart? Maybe. But don’t we all from time to time? You pick yourself back up and keep trucking through. I got resiliency training from those deployments.
Yes, I have moved a fair amount. It has averaged every 3 years more or less. Dislike your neighbors? Awesome, you get to move soon. Don’t like your city? Ditto. Have too much stuff? Well moving is a great motivator to purge. Always wanted to try a new area of the country? Or even world? Want to make new friends? Want to start over? Want to create new habits? Want to try a new job? Well we get to do that.
No my parents don’t live down the street, nor do any relatives live nearby, or my childhood best friend. There are cars, planes, phones, new friends to make (and that doesn’t mean they replace the old ones), and now I get the opportunity to DIG DEEP (see above).
I have health insurance, my husband has job security, and I have friends EVERYWHERE. For real. I mean I really do have friends all over the country and the world.
Yes, I have to say good-bye to really good friends. I also get to say hello to really good friends when our paths cross again, and again, because they always do.
I don’t want to live forever in my hometown. I don’t want the same house for years and years. I like making new friends, seeing new places. No, I don’t like it when my husband leaves. But I bet you don’t like things you have to deal with too. It’s life.
I don’t want to pick on your life. So if you see me please don’t say “I don’t know how you do it” because I’ll have to say the same thing back to you.
If you like this post check out:
Downsizing Part 3, Downsizing Part 1, Hurricanes, 11-11
by Jen | Sep 22, 2014 | Life Reflections
Thanks Steph!
Cynics need not visit me today. I have no time or space for you. I have been on a journey. I have accepted a quest. I have spent the weekend with Oprah.
Part I. Anticipation.
In my life there have been moments where I have been low. I have been blue. I have been defeated, deflated, depleted and depressed. I have been alone and tired. And I have watched Oprah.
She has introduced me to Martha Beck, Elizabeth Gilbert, books, visionaries, big thoughts, deep thoughts, Deepak, TED talks, spiritual gurus, movies, and aha moments.
So when the call came asking if I wanted to go to Oprah’s The Life You Want Weekend in Washington, DC, the exact place I was moving to—I accepted the calling.
Part II. Disappointment.
I experienced altitude sickness while climbing the precipice to my seat at the Verizon Center. Oprah’s The Life You Want Weekend had begun for me 9 hours earlier. I had spent that time in O Town which was comprised of Olay, Toyota, Ikea, Tide, Pantene, Bounty, and yes, even O Magazine, luring me with promises of free gifts, seat upgrades, photo shoots, “fun” selfies, and even a scalp massage. All I had to do was be willing to wait in long lines and give out my email and mailing address (oh. the. junk. mail.) Much of the time I was slightly confused what the line was for, how long it would take, or why I was in it.
It was a bit like being in a cattle round-up. I was disappointed because this seemed beneath Oprah (as I would be an expert being that I watch her on TV) but in the end I realize that even Oprah has to pay bills and keep her sponsors happy. On the plus side, I was with good friends, fun women all around, and we had made plans to go out for incredible meals at phenomenal restaurants.
Full of chips, fresh guacamole, a margarita (or two) and my bag full of Tide pods, Oil of Olay and cinnamon (just go with it) I peered down in disappointment from the almost last row of a 20,000 person capacity arena for a seat that cost $$$$. This was not how I had expected it but bad attitude be damned!
Part III. Elation.
My friend Stephanie and I silently problem solved. We can not sit HERE. There are empty seats way down THERE. THEY need US in THOSE seats. Oprah and her trailblazers don’t want to SEE empty seats–they WANT to see US. Stephanie, a non tweeter, tweeted. She tweeted! She tweeted beautiful words. She tweeted to Oprah and her team we are GRATEFUL to be here but we would like to SEE you without needing the Hubble Space Telescope (I paraphrased the last part–alas sarcasm not really that helpful).
Oh what you put into the universe. We asked. WE RECEIVED!
Euphoric giddy joy does could not begin to describe the heart beating excitement we felt as we RACED down to the main floor.
We went from these seats:
To these:
It was a magical moment.
And then Oprah came out.
Part IV. Inspiration.
When people ask me what the weekend was like everything I say falls flat. It sounds kind of boring. On one hand, we sat in seats (really good ones) and listened to people talk. On the other hand, we were captivated by story tellers, comedians, and sages. Truth tellers reminding, explaining, and illustrating our human existence into concrete, forehead smacking, moment stopping stories.
Oprah Winfrey, Elizabeth Gilbert, Rob Bell, Mark Nepo, Iyanla Vanzant, Angela Davis (Soul Cycle) told our old selves:
What happens TO you, happens FOR you.
NO is a complete sentence.
Align yourself with people who share your values.
Do you feel your heart beating? That’s opportunity knocking.
God dreams a bigger dream than you can dream for yourself.
Misery is there to tell you that you are in the wrong spot.
It is better to live your own life imperfectly than to live a perfect imitation of someone else’s.
You are the hero in your own story–you can ignore the call, or answer it.
The intention determines the outcome.
If you say “yes” when you feel “no” you just end up mad.
You become what you believe.
Be responsible for the energy that you bring.
You have no power in someone else’s territory.
We have a finite amount of time here.
As long as you are breathing you get another chance.
Whatever follows “I am…” will always come looking for you.
If you made it through the past, you passed.
The life you want is on the other side of the labor pains it takes to birth it.
It’s all miracles and it all matters.
Be brave.
Don’t cherish your fear. Your fear is the most boring thing about you.
Be bold.
And then our new selves left and we went home.
Part V. Reality.
It’s Monday.
Iyanla Vanzant said it’s so easy to be all spiritual and zen and wise when you are all alone rubbing crystals on your head and everything is going great. Yup.
Today I’m trying to use positive “I am” statements. I am a lot of things that don’t sound all roses and sunshine. I will remind myself to be the hero in my own story (or the cover girl of my own magazine.)
Part VI. Gratitude. The most important part.
So that’s my mini quest. Thank you gentle reader for, well, reading. Thank you to my friends who made staring roles. And thank you Oprah for helping me remember how to write a better story.
by Jennifer Farlin | Sep 12, 2014 | Life Reflections
Tribute WTC Visitor Center and Memorial in NYC~www.Boston.com
I forget so many things about my life. I forget past memories, I forget to be grateful, I forget to put on deodorant, I forget where I put my car keys, I forget that my kids don’t have the same fully functioning brain as an adult so I forget to be patient.
I totally forgot about being screamed at by men in uniform with really big guns pointed at my feet. And I forgot about how we paid for part of our minivan in 2001.
And then I remembered. Yesterday was the anniversary of 9-11 and I forgot that too until last night. I watched a documentary about what enfolded that day and was mesmerized. I was completely 100% there again on that day 13 years ago. It was like a portal opened to my past and I remembered.
I remember that I was the Office Manager, Human Resources Manager, Executive Assistant and about 12 other things for a small construction company in South Texas. A lot of Texan Men and me. And if you don’t realize how crazy that is you don’t know me and you don’t know Texas. On the day of, when the planes were hitting and everyone was in shock, we were suppose to keep working. We weren’t to stop and drop like we wanted to. It was like working underwater–difficult, unnatural, void of sound, dark, cold. I was asked if I needed to go home because my husband was in the military. Part of me wanted to say yes, the other part felt that one had nothing to do with what was happening on the East Coast. Or did it? I had no idea. What was going to happen? What was happening?
My boss gave me an impossible list of errands to do that day–and when I finished I could go home. My husband was stationed at a military base in Corpus Christi and we had one car at the time. This meant I had to go pick him up when I was done working. I remember walking through a sports store looking for steel tipped work boots for my bosses. What was I doing? Who cared about all these things when it felt like the world was stopping. After 4 hours of this I was finally finished and able to go get my husband. It was 2:35. I remember. I waited for almost 3 hours to get onto the base that day. The line of cars stretched forever. Every single car had to be searched. Bomb dogs. Men with guns. And the screaming.
You see for the search to be effective, I guess, I had to open the trunk, I had to pop the hood, I had to slide the seats forward, I had to operate all the buttons and gizmos on my car in front of the armed guards to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything. Perhaps it was like drinking a cup with possible poison–if I drank it first than it must be ok? Perhaps also suicide bombers weren’t too common yet?However, in the 100 degree Texas heat on asphalt after 3 hours in the wake of the day’s events I became flustered when he started ordering me to do all these things. I couldn’t get the hood to pop. There were men surrounding me and my car, a large bomb dog, and lots of stress. The more I hesitated the more agitated the guard became and that’s when he started screaming at me with his gun pointed at the ground in front of me. And then it wasn’t just the East Coast anymore. The country had changed all the way down to the tip of Texas. We were all on high alert.
The military was grounded. No leave. No foreign travel. This was significant to us because on September 20th, 9 days later, my husband and I were taking our delayed honeymoon to Italy. We were leaving on a military flight out of Dover AFB. Dover became the morgue for the Twin Towers. We never made it to Italy. The money we saved for the trip went as a down payment for our new minivan. I joked later, much much later, that I should have bought an Italian Flag and draped it over the dashboard or something.
My life was indirectly affected as a result of the military changes that took place over the course of the next decade. And we still haven’t made it to Italy yet.
So today, a day after the anniversary, I remember to be grateful for my husband. He works at the Pentagon now. Time shifts quickly. Thirteen years ago he could have been there. He could have been on a plane. He could have been on a business trip in NYC, DC, or PA. He could have been one of the many who gave their lives fighting against this whole terrible mess which keeps manifesting into new names and faces. I watched the documentary last night in horror unable to comprehend all the firemen I saw suiting up to go into the towers–wondering if this was the last they would be seen. So many sacrifices.
Thirteen years and 1 day later I remember a lot more than I realized.
