Intersections, Accidents, & Forgiveness

           Photo by Katie Newcomb

 

Did you know more motorcycle accidents happen at intersections than anywhere else? Not to say accidents involving motorcycles don't occur in other places, but, more often than not, intersections play a key role. And how do I know this? Well, I learned a lot of motorcycle facts after my accident last week. And yes. I was riding.

I wasn't at an intersection, but it happened nonetheless. Although my speed was only 15 miles an hour, I was catapulted halfway off the bike, backwards; hit the back of my helmeted-head on the pavement so hard that paint chips went flying; and managed to pry my right leg out from under the Harley that fell on me. And how did this happen you may ask? Well...I remembered not to brake in a curve a half a second too late and twisted the throttle to make up for it. Yes. It was dumb on top of dumber.

And man, did it smart. Seriously. Seriously. Smarted. My knees and shins looked like I was beat up with a two by four; my left elbow blew up with bursitis; I bruised my ribs and lung on the upper right side of my chest to the point of it being painful to breathe, cough, laugh, and sneeze. (Oh, and the whiplash the next morning was a treat!) But as soon as I fell, I picked up the bike and kept going. I had to. My type-A wouldn't let me quit. I'm pretty stubborn that way. I hate quitting. I'll beat myself (and in this case literally) to the ground before I give up. Plus...I was the only woman in a motorcycle class with eight men. I felt I needed to do right and represent the xx chromosome as tough as any xy.

Me with my instructors in 2008

This was my second go around taking the class. I learned to ride and got my endorsement back in 2008, but discovered I was pregnant with my second kiddo immediately afterward. Not exactly the definition of  "Born to Ride." So...I had to put all my newly acquired bike-riding skills on the backburner. Fast forward seven years and I found myself taking a refresher class to remind my brain how to ride.

But back to intersections...

When learning more accidents happen with motorcycles at intersections, I couldn't help but think of where I am right now in my life: at an intersection. Stopped. Looking all around for the best path to take. Pick the wrong way and it could be an accident waiting to happen.

So many messages have flooded my head and heart in the past year (heck, in the last three months), that I find myself paralyzed in the middle of the intersection; afraid to move. My choices need to be what's best for me. I have kiddos to consider in these choices as well, so it's even more imperative that I (do what Indiana Jones did with the Holy Grail and) choose wisely. Ultimately, I am looking for the direction I need to go to be happy.

And right now I'll be honest. I don't know which way is best because all directions have the potential for serious accidents.

Straight. Continuing in the direction I was already going. But going straight has been a very bumpy ride for a long time. It's why I pulled over in the first place...because I couldn't take it anymore. I've been on this road twice. And each time, the ride started out smooth. But over time, the bumps started to come out of nowhere. No warning signs. Just bump after bump. I began to anticipate bumps more than recognizing the smooth. When I tried to get out in front of and avoid or fix the bumps, they seemed to multiply. I'm now numb and can't feel the difference between a speed bump, a sinkhole, and a smooth road. And on the road of life, I don't want to be numb. I want to drive on a relatively smooth road with the windows down, the wind in my hair, and a smile on my face.

Currently, Straight is working through the reality of me pulling over. Straight is working hard to smooth the road and assures me several repair shops are along the way to provide good shocks for any hidden potholes and breakdowns. I'm listening, but Straight has a bumpy track record I can't ignore. Plus, Straight honestly needs to come to terms with how its road got so bumpy in the first place so it doesn't happen in the future...and not just for me.

All the bumps represent some sort of fear Straight has and I can never smooth them away. Only Straight can do that. Those bumps have been there for so long that Straight has to be not only ready to smooth away those bumps, Straight also needs to understand every road deserves to be smooth rather than riddled with bumps. All the fearful bumps don't have to be there. Straight needs to understand the only one keeping the bumps there is Straight. These are concepts that aren't going to be embraced and realized overnight. Straight needs to make time to process these answers before making any promises to me. I can't be the reason Straight smoothes the bumps because that isn't getting to the root of why the bumps exist. I can be there to support Straight, but Straight will only be bump-free if Straight finds and conquers his own fears. I believe Straight can do this...Straight just needs to believe in Straight.

Left. I'll be honest, I have traveled Left once before. Back in the day, Left was great...up until the end. That's when I encountered the hidden cliff and fell off. It was a drug-like, smooth ride with a vicious, withdrawal fall. It took years to recover, but I got through it. Through the years, I always hoped Left would find what it was looking for and figure out how to fix that cliff in order to find direction and happiness. So when Left reached out, years later, to share its newly installed road signs, I have to admit my interests were piqued. With the door open, Left lured me into thinking there might now be a bridge to safely cross to the other side where the road continues to be light and free. And being light and free is at the core of what I want my journey to be. So I decided to veer in its direction to see if all the signs were true.

This time I did, indeed, find a bridge...but it's not fully constructed. Issues hinder it's completion. The ride to the bridge is wrapped in tragedy because while it's familiarly smooth, Left unconsciously cuts itself short from completing its bridge; from discovering how far it can go because of its deeply entrenched, and secret fear. Left would rather folks fall off its cliff than realize it has a cliff at all. I have no idea what Left is so afraid of, but I know Left has to face it and tackle it in their own way and in their own time before anyone, not just me, can cross. Understanding all of this, I did the best (only) thing I could do and turned around. Don't get me wrong, I was angry to learn the signs weren't true. I was quick to let Left know of my sadness and disappointment. But then Left surprised me by sharing a part of his broken-bridge reasoning; a small glimpse into the fear...which was more than anything Left had ever shared before. Recognizing this was different, and having learned through my travels that everyone carries something and we need to be kinder to one another, I decided I needed to try to let go of my anger. Anger is the fear that keeps you from the things you need to see. And I've already wasted too much of my life on anger. Staying angry won't help Left and it won't help me...it just makes things worse.

And here's the thing I need to see...it turns out my vehicle isn't exactly road-worthy at the moment. It runs, but I need to take it in to make all the necessary repairs in order to move forward and carry me anywhere. Maybe Straight will figure out why bumps keep popping up. That would be a major gift for Straight and I'm hoping these answers will be uncovered so Straight can start living a life free from fear. Maybe Left's bridge will be completed some day so Left may discover the thing on the other side that has been waiting to be found. Maybe then, those of us who have confronted the incomplete bridge will be invited to cross to share in Left's hard work and discovery. But until then, I am driving some precious cargo and can't be numb from bumps or falling of cliffs in a less-than-safe vehicle.

Right. I have no idea what awaits on the right. It's been awhile since I went to the right, but each time I did it was different. Sometimes curvy. Sometimes bumpy. Sometimes smooth. Sometimes right has side paths that lead to more adventures and opportunities for the wind to hit my hair. But going right is risky because it's full of unknowns. Right is where I thought I was going before taking that left detour with the incomplete signs. Going right is the path less taken; the path with so much potential; the path I can make up as I go along. Numb from going straight, saddened from finding an incomplete bridge on the left, my hope is right will make all the difference.

But guess what? I am frozen with fear at the moment. Yep. The chick that beat up her body falling off a motorcycle, and then got back on in order to not look weak in front of eight men, is afraid. I'm just as afraid to go right and get hurt as I did going straight and going left. But I can't stay in the middle of the intersection forever. I can't just sit here while the rest of the world drives around me. My stubborn type-A self refuses to let me end up being one of those folks with a sign that reads: "Couldn't handle it. I gave up."

So this is what I'm going to do: First I'm going to forgive Straight for being bumpy and forgive Left for not having that bridge ready. I forgive because life has taught me that holding on to anger just keeps you stuck in that intersection. Without forgiveness, you can't get anywhere. Then I'm going to off-road it for a bit. I'm going tell my impatient self that while I don't need to make any decisions before I'm ready, I don't have to sit still either. The answers I need aren't going to come to me as I sit in that intersection...I have to break free from thinking I will see the answer in a road sign others have made. The answer is going to come from me.

No one told me I had to get back on the bike after I fell: I decided to do it.
No one told me to pull over from the bumpy Straight road: I decided to do it.
No one told me to turn Left again after falling off once: I decided to do it.
No one told me to sit in the middle of the intersection: I decided to do it.

And now I'm deciding enough is enough. I want that breeze in my hair and smile on my face. I want to be light and free. I'm going to remind myself of who I was before I came to this intersection and focus on the things and experiences that make me tick. I liked that girl who always found the positive during the negative; I liked that girl who stood up for herself; I liked that girl who took risks for the things that made her feel alive. I am deciding to get her back before I decide anything else. I've been missing her and by God, I'm getting her back.

Here's to getting back on the bike, getting back to basics, off-roading, and forgiveness. As always, punch through the noise the best you can and enjoy your own soundtracks along the way.

Here is this week's Punching Through The Noise Soundtrack. As a reminder, you may listen for free on Spotify, but need an account to listen. Enjoy...

Break Free, Ariana Grande
Ain't It Fun, Paramore
My Sliver Lining, First Aid Kit
Running Up That Hill (Deal with God), Kate Bush (not on Spotify, but here's a link to the video)
One Thing Leads To Another, Fixx
No More Words, Berlin
Eye Of The Hurricane, David Wilcox
I'm Coming Out, Diana Ross

Dear Universe

Photo by Katie Newcomb                                          

Dear Universe,                                                                                                                  

About ten days ago, I stood outside my car door, smiled to the sky, and said, “I’m ready for the good stuff to flood my life. I’m in a good place to receive it and honor it.” And I meant it.

But what I didn’t realize is I probably needed to be more specific about what I wanted, needed, and was ready for. Because what did you do, Universe? Well, you know what you did. You sent a TON of heavy duty stuff my way. And you sent it quickly.

This wasn’t what I was expecting, Universe. I’m believing you have a good reason for it, but right now, this doesn’t feel like good stuff flooding my life. It feels like I’m being pushed backwards.

Okay, okay…I can definitely see where I fell into old patterns with this one, Universe. Seriously, I can. But this time I truly thought I was taking ownership of my needs. Taking charge. Fully aware of what I was getting into and where I wanted to go. Because you know as well as I do what I needed and still need.

But in your wise, twisted way, you made sure to tell me I was just doing the same old thing, didn’t you, Universe? The same old thing of trying to fill my sense of worth and happiness with someone other than myself. You knew how much I would hate discovering that, too, didn’t you? That’s why you sent the answer the way you did.

Ah, funny, wise Universe. You like to get right to the point, don’t you?

But did you have to send the message in such a crummy, crummy package? Seriously…did you? You know all the heaviness I’ve dealt with and worked on for the last year. You know how far I’ve come. But I suppose if I take a good look in the mirror, I know why. Karma and all…

I’d like to think there was a reason I was in this scenario, again. One that was more than just a lesson for me to learn. Maybe others? Is that your plan, Universe? This thought only leads me to think there are more crummy answers for people to experience. Man, that’s tough to take, because I know I am a part of that crumminess.

But if I make my bed, I better be prepared to lie in it…right, Universe?

So that’s what I’m going to do, Universe. I will continue to move forward. Move my best through the feelings of going backward, of worthlessness, of emptiness, of hurt, of disappointment and confusion, and go forward. You made it clear backward isn’t an option; standing still isn’t an option. Only forward.

Despite this crossroad of messages, lessons, and crumminess you’ve sent to me to process, my goals of living a life with more joy, creativity, and purpose are still strong. I will rely on that foundation I created to propel me to the good stuff I know you have waiting for me, Universe. I can feel it.

I’ll do my best to be more specific and clear when we chat in the future, as well as truly listen to what you are sending my way. I only ask if you could please try to go easy on your delivery, Universe? I know you think I’m strong (thank you for that, BTW), but I’m seriously in a teeter-totter place of self-worth at the moment and need more gentleness. I’ll trust you if you trust I have limits. Okay?

So glad we could come to this understanding, Universe. Keep on sending the messages I need to hear. I’ll punch through the noise as best I can in order to listen and make the changes I need to make in order to move forward.

Here is a list of the songs for this week's Punching Through The Noise soundtrack on Spotify. As a reminder, listening is free, but you will need to create an account on Spotify to listen.

Barracuda, Heart

Numb, Linkin Park

King of Pain, Police
Kyrie, Mr. Mister
Underneath, Alanis Morrisette
Taking It All Too Hard, Genesis

Who Are You Waiting For?



Rolling Stones, 6.23.15, photo by K. Newcomb

I'm going to punch through this the best I can.

 

Since my last post I have been fortunate enough to feed my soul through live concerts (Tedeschi Trucks Band, Rolling Stones, and Melissa Etheridge), art galleries (Milwaukee Art Museum), exhibits (Discovery World, Milwaukee) and baseball games (pro & pee wee). Confession: I love arts and entertainment. Sure, I have my favorites, but I truly enjoy the whole act of going to a show, exhibition, or a game. 


Melissa Etheridge, 6.29.15, photo by K. Newcomb   

The anticipation.
Entering the theatre, gallery, or stadium.
Scanning the catwalks/ceilings for lights.
Finding the sound board.
Reading text.
People watching.
Strolling.
Practicing my approach/avoidance techniques
by getting up close, then walking away from art pieces.
Lingering in front of my favorite pieces in the
hopes I can breathe them in. (I could spend hours, days, weeks, months, years at the Met.)


I should probably admit that I am an arts-addict; taught at an early age the importance of the arts, I now actively need to feed my fix on a regular basis otherwise I get depressed. Seriously. I do. My parents made sure my younger sister and I had a full dose of art museums, history museums, theatres, concerts, sports, and corresponding lessons to grow our imaginative minds. I thought all kids grew up this way, but now know how lucky I was. Now it's my turn to pay it forward and teach the same values to my kiddos.
 


Milwaukee Art Museum, 6.23.15,

Photo by K. Newcomb

Jumping at the chance to enlighten my boys, we went to the Milwaukee Art Museum's exhibit: Van Gogh to Pollock: Modern Rebels. Keeping in mind my boys are seven and five years-old, this could be a tricky endeavor. Boys at this age love to explore their minds through active engagement. This means figuring out ways to touch everything they aren't supposed to and making it their own. So when the docent gave both my boys a family activity book and a pencil to take into the exhibit, I thought, "Don't they know what happens when they give boys writing utensils?" 

 

So yes...there were some Obi-wan Kenobi and Darth Vader reenactments from episode IV (my boys are on a super big Star Wars kick at the moment). But as soon as we entered the exhibit, my five year-old looked at the Van Gogh and said, "Cool! Maybe I can draw that, too!" and got into his mad-serious art mode and began putting that pencil and activity book to work (you can't bother him with conversation when he is concentrating on creating; he's in another world). And my seven year-old loved telling me what he saw when we would look at Jackson Pollock's work up close, then far away. This. This is why I take chances to buck the norm and bring my very active boys to experience art. Sure. I could keep my boys at home. It certainly would be easier. But then my boys and I wouldn't have the joy of the arts experience; individually or together. So when I find myself in a quandary over what is easier verses what I would really like, I have started to ask myself one simple question:

"Who are you waiting for?"

This is a question that oozes permission. And these days I'm going to be honest....I fucking hate permission-mentality.



Jellyfish. Discovery World, 6.26.15, photo by K. Newcomb

I hate it because it's passive, limiting. It gives control over the things you really want to someone else. And by God, life is too short to keep asking others for what you want. If you want something, go out and get it; go out and make it happen; go out on a limb and make yourself vulnerable; go out and work your butt off; go out and take those chances that lead you towards what you want; go out and take your boys to some culture, damnit, because...

Who are you waiting for?


That person to tell you, "You can't!"? That you're not good enough? That you're not smart enough? That you're not attractive enough? That you don't have what it takes to succeed? That you are a terrible parent? That you're selfish to want what you want and do what you do? That you're a fool? That you're not quite "it"? That you're not worth it?

Here's a little hint of what to say to those people, from me to you. It's free to use any and every time you start to feel yourself bogged down with those naysaying, self-doubting people and questions. And it's liberating...I promise! Ready? Here you go:

1. Think of the last thing that made you giggle; think along the lines of an inside joke.
2. Get your best, smirky-like grin on your face.
3. Inhale as much as you can.
4. Say, out loud, "Fuck you!"
5. And...exhale (with a huge relief smile on your face).

Seriously. Try it. Right now. Here, I'll do it with you:

1. Okay, there was that one time I pretended to be...
2. Oh, yeah, ah-ha, that was a good one...
3. Breathe...
4. "Fuck you!"
5. Ah.....whew.....

Didn't that feel great?!
Yeah, I thought so.

By now you may be asking, "Why the hell is she asking herself who she is waiting for, if all she does is tell people to fuck off?" You should know that I don't always say it out loud. Sometimes I do steps 1-3, skip 4, and go right to 5. In some cases it's better to keep 4 to yourself because some folks won't get the nuances of it. And some just aren't worth it. But other times, I decide to change the verbiage of number 4 to fit the situation better. This works just as well. My answer as to why I do these steps is because it fires me up. Because when I stop and ask myself this question, I start caring less about what others think and move towards what I want and need. It calls me into action rather than waiting for the stamp of approval from others or waiting for perfection.

So many of us have self-doubts from time-to-time because our society is so ready to sell the idea of what perfect looks like. And if you aren't living within those perfect lines, you're somehow wrong; undesirable; unwanted; unworthy. Fuck. This. Thinking. Because who the hell is perfect? Is perfect what you're striving for? Be honest. Do you really want to be perfect? I have news for you...

Perfect is boring.
Yes. Perfect is boring. And also careless. What? Hear me out...

Perfect is predictable. Complacent. Perfect gets up in the morning and knows exactly what is waiting for them and how to handle it. How utterly dull. Think about it. If you knew every moment of every day that everything was going to perfect, how would you ever enjoy anything? Where's the thrill or excitement? Since everything is perfect, nothing can be new. But here's the thing...there is no perfect without chaos. Stay with me here and think about it. There is no good without bad. There is no right without wrong. There is no sweet without sour. There is no strong without weak. To know one is to know the other. Without that knowledge, how could you compare anything? So to know what perfection is, you must also know what chaos is. While perfection might be what the world wants to strive for (and sell to you), it's only because it understands what chaos is and is spending all its energy on avoiding chaos...does perfect still sound perfect?

Here's my two cents:

Why not incorporate time for new, and even mistakes in your plans, rather than perfection? Why not leave some wiggle room for the unexpected? Think of it as a perpetual "get out of jail free card" mentality, or finding that long-forgotten $20 in your coat pocket from last season, or never-ending hope for a cancer cure. Making room for the new, surprises, and mistakes is a bonus filled with mystery, with unknowns. Some good, and yes, some bad, but that's the natural balance...and that beats perfection. Every. Stinkin'. Time.

I know I teased about a new name for my Sunday Boyfriends in my last post, but I'm still working on just the right term. If you have any suggestions, and are willing to share your ideas, please throw them my way.

And as promised, here is the Punching Through The Noise Soundtrack for this week, 7.1.15, on Spotify. Listening is free, but you will need an account if you don't have one already. Here is a list of the songs:

Midnight In Harlem, Tedeschi Trucks Band
Waiting On A Friend, The Rolling Stones
Ain't It Heavy, Melissa Etheridge
Catch & Release, Matt Simons
Try, Colbie Caillat
Mother's Talk, Tears For Fears

Here's to the arts, celebrating imperfections, and balance. As always, punch through the noise in your world the best you can and make time to enjoy your own soundtracks.

 

My Cure For Twitchy

I have always been twitchy to write. I've had the writing bug as long as I can remember. Journals chronicling my high school angst, college heartbreaks, and should-have-known-better moments are in boxes I've carried from move to move for the last 25 years. They are a connection to different parts of me and are among my prized possessions.

Whenever I get that nostalgic feeling, I go back to check-in with my memory. I usually find myself transported to the past with ease. Although I sometimes surprise myself with reading moments I have long forgotten, I am grateful for each and every event I made the conscience effort to capture. The good. The less-than-stellar. The now-comical. The tragic. Every episode helped get me to the here and now. While your memory is one thing, being able to read, in detail, what you were thinking and feeling in the past is a gift.

Here's the thing...I'm at a point where I don't shy away or grimace at myself when reading my teenage loneliness, my 20-something escapades, or all my 30-something what-the-hell-was-I-thinkings. Because I view them more as a rite of passage; an education, rather than chronicles of regret. My 40-somethings is a great place to be; knowing myself well enough to cut myself some slack, finding the value in not taking myself too seriously, and realizing my future is all about continued learning. These are products of the work that came from all those moments...and their value is priceless. Plus let's get real for a minute...if you haven't figured out by now that we are all carrying a set of demons and need to be kinder to one another (and ourselves), then you're either a narcissist who is afraid of letting others get too close to you to see the real you, or you've been living a sheltered life. Either way, I hope you learn to fully open yourself up to the world to experience everything you can with this one shot you've been given.

But man, oh man; lately I've been extra twitchy. Unsettled. Full of hostility towards the writer's block, ok...emotional block, that had its vice-like grip on my creativity. When I ended my last blog, Sunday Boyfriend, nearly two years ago (I had to end it under less-than-desirable circumstances), I had to set aside the freedom-voice I had for three years without another outlet to replace it. I missed, craved, obsessed finding a new way to express that which had been calling me for so long. So what did I do? Did I jump into what I wanted to do? Did I get started on a replacement project? No. I succumbed to the very easy slippery-slope of busy modern life to keep me occupied, distracted; to keep me from the things that would feed my soul. I chose being busy over doing what I needed to do and it manifested as "twitchy."

Don't get me wrong...I wrote here and there, but not with the same gusto or necessary dedication one needs to put thought to paper (or screens). This is hard for a type-A personality to admit, but it was scud work. Honestly it was. And I knew it. Every night I went to bed and I would think, "Damnit! I didn't write anything I wanted to today. What the hell, Katie?" Frustrating doesn't even begin to cover how this feeling germinates. But throw in a dash of self-doubt on top, and it was easy to find something, anything else to keep my mind off of it. Twitchy. Twitchy. Twitchy.

And then something happened to cause a shift. More than just another moment to capture in the journals; way more than that. It was a life shift that made me see I was more than just frustrated with my inability to write.

Here goes the first part...

Last August I heard the phrase, "We need to rule out cancer." Twice in the matter of two weeks. Yep. Twice. I was cut. Sculpted. Poked. Chipped. Squeezed. Twisted. Huddled over. Bruised and bandaged. All in the name of ruling out that six-letter word. But that wasn't the part that was scary. The scary part was all the noise that hit me after hearing that little word: cancer.

So.
Much.
Noise.

Now I don't mean the deafening kind of noise...like finding yourself in front of 25-foot tall speakers at the exact moment an *NSYNC concert sound check starts. What? That hasn't happened to you? Well, that moment is in my journals...and I will tell you about it later. Just know I was lifted off the ground and heard ringing for weeks. No, the noise I'm talking about is the mad-crazy rush of internal noise that floods your head with so many questions, you quickly learn what it means to drown in thought: 

"What the hell did you just say?"
"No, I heard you, but what the hell did you just say?"
"Cancer?"
"Don't you know I have two kiddos I need to shepherd?"
"Two boys that are so little and have so much ahead of them that I want to see and share?"
"I am only 42 fucking years-old. I eat healthy, work out, and have lived my life (for the most part) by the book...this has to be a joke, right?"
"What if I never get to see everything I want to see?"
"What if I never get to do everything I want to do?"
"What if I never get the chance to do right by my mistakes?"
"Have I jumped into the meaning of living my life?"
"Have I said everything I need to say?"
"What if I don't get the chance to truly live the way I want?"
"Why did I make all those wrong choices?"
"What do I have to do to make this not real?"
"I have too much to do."
"I don't have time for this cancer bullshit..."

Noise.
Fear.
Noise.
Anxiety.
Noise.
Anger.
Noise.
Denial.
Noise.
Bargaining.
Noise.
Noise.
Too.
Much.
Fucking.
Noise.

Here's part two...

While I was swimming in questions, in noise, my significant other broke down. I'll admit he can do many things well, but he has a history of running away from conflict; from the hard stuff, and leaving me to pick up the pieces and figure things out. To be brutally honest, I wasn't surprised he crumbled under the weight of this scary stuff. I used to find myself waiting for his disappearing act at moments of stress. But this time was different. This time I shifted my energy away from waiting for his shoe to drop; away from what he would do. Instead, I took matters into my own hands to focus on taking care of me. When he finally "showed up," I didn't respond with my familiar, grateful tone. No. This time I broke our dysfunctional pattern and frankly, couldn't care less. I rediscovered my confidence and discovered I was strong enough to take of myself....thankyouverymuch. His issues didn't factor into my care giving. I don't mean for this to sound harsh. I'm just being factual. I shifted.

Now let me share a tidbit...this isn't my first time on the cancer-stress rodeo. Twenty-two years earlier I was strapped on the cancer ride with my father's diagnosis and death from prostate cancer. And I can tell you that when you go through an illness once, no matter what side of the illness you are on, the experience never leaves you. It imprints a permanent mark on your perspective. So when the noise hits you, no matter who you are or what situation you are facing, every little thing you had on your plate suddenly doesn't matter. It was true 22 years ago, and today. By the little things I mean:

You were late to a meeting.
The dry cleaners ruined your favorite dress.
Your boss just read you the riot act.
Your dog thought your Jimmy Choos were a chew toy (Although if you love shoes like I do, this is a borderline big deal.)
Your Sunday Boyfriend keeps rescheduling your date.
Your smart phone calendar suddenly disappears.
The restaurant got your order wrong.
It's raining for your planned picnic.
The police officer didn't accept your donut peace offering. (This really happened and is another story for another post.)
Your grocery bag fell apart two steps from your front door.

Yep. All these things, while inconvenient, are little. So when the big stuff and its noise come barreling through your world, all that little stuff, all those inconveniences, vanish. The big stuff overwhelmingly takes over the little stuff and says, "None of you are more important that I am." We tell ourselves all sorts of things to cope with the everyday little stuff when it's really just a mechanism to justify our lack of attention to the big stuff. We let the everyday little stuff rule our lives. Does any of this sound familiar?

"I'm too busy."
"I have too much work to do."
"I have so many emails, voice mails, and texts that I don't have time to deal with anything else."
"There will be time for the big stuff later."
"I was only going to search Instagram for five minutes...I swear!" (We are all guilty of this one!)
"I'm sure the big stuff will happen around the little stuff."
"I'll get to it eventually."

I bet it does.

When you hear that noise, that six-letter word, all bets are off. It doesn't matter who you are; your plate is eventually wiped clean to make room for all the big stuff:

"Am I living the life I want?"
"Am I happy?"
"Why was I so afraid to do the things I always wanted to; to say all the things I wanted to say; to be me?"
"Will I be able to make any of this right?"

Picking up the pieces and figuring out how I would manage all the procedures, let alone all the noise, by myself, was surprisingly cathartic. Seriously, it was. Because I shifted my thinking from, "Why isn't my significant other stepping up to help?" to "I need to focus on what's best for me and my boys." When my plate was holding just the big stuff, it became simple and clear that I needed all my energy to tackle what was head of me.

That's because the big stuff consequences are really cut and dry. You either make the most of it, or you don't. You either jump in and take ownership of your life, or you don't. You realize everything you do (or don't do) starts with making a choice, or you continue to flood your life with the little things. Consequently, my shift made clear my significant other's reasons for not stepping up and helping didn't matter. They were his reasons. Reasons I couldn't control. Reasons that were telling. Reasons, in comparison, that were little. Reasons that would have gotten in the way of me moving forward with the necessary things I needed to face.

And when this shift happened, instead of noise, I became still. I can't explain it any better than that. Once I let go and jumped into the scary big stuff, the answers became crystal clear. By no means am I saying the answers were great. But the answers brought me to a complete understanding of what I needed to do. And it turns out that jump wasn't as scary as I led myself to believe.

By listening more to my stillness, I created a new life goal. I now want to live, everyday, with more joy, creativity, and purpose. To get started on this new path, I forgave my significant other for not being the person I needed and I forgave myself for not being strong enough to do what I need to do for me in the past. A shift. I needed to let go of all the resentment and disappointment I felt during all the times my significant other disappeared, and all the times I didn't speak up, because it had no place in my new life goal. There is no joy when you hold on to anger. There is no creativity when you hold on to fear. There is no purpose if you can't jump in and let go.

No one is perfect. No one. And in my stillness, I realized nothing good comes from a place of holding on to so much anger. It might very well be familiar, and easy, to hold on to anger, but understand anger is really fear. And it was this fear that held me back from realizing what I needed to do for myself in order to get to the place I truly wanted to be; to the life I want to be living; to be happy. Luckily for me, after six months of evaluations and testing, I was given the "all clear" from the six-letter word. I realize not everyone is this lucky and I am grateful beyond measure. Grateful because I do get the chance to answer all the big questions that I need to tackle. I do get the chance to realize what those answers will produce. I do get more chances to make it right.

Simply...I used to let all the little stuff noise take over my being because it was too scary to think about the big stuff. But thanks to the threat of this six-letter word, I was thrust into facing the big-stuff and found stillness. I found answers. I found the cure to much more than just my writing twitchiness. "We have to rule out cancer," became the phrase that saved my life. And I know I am on my way because after sharing where I am on this journey with one of my greatest friends, she said to me, "You seem lighter and I'm proud of you." I'm not sure she realizes just how much I treasure her and what her words mean to me. So to her I say, "Thank you. You are one of the strongest women I know and I love you."

Punching Through The Noise is going to honestly chronicle the conversations and situations that come my way to see if they fit with my goal of living a life with more joy, creativity, and purpose. I've already had some shifting moments that I look forward to sharing and am open and excited for the future. For those of you who remember my Sunday Boyfriend blog, you'll be happy to know that most of the guys (I had to cut a few of them loose...which will be covered in future posts), including some surprise reappearances, are still in my world and will undoubtedly be heard from in this new writing endeavor from time to time.

If you miss hearing about any of my SBs, or have no idea what I'm talking about, here is a link to some of the old Sunday Boyfriend posts on Milwaukee Magazine. Please be aware I will be calling the guys something different than Sunday Boyfriends (part of that whole less-than-desirable circumstances). My East Coast SB comically suggested a huge list of new names like: "Man Candy," "Boys on the Slide," and "Tasty Cakes." He's such a salacious, good sport! Stay tuned for what the new name will be...

Since music is such a big influence for me, I've decided to add a soundtrack to each of my posts. Theses are the songs that inhabited my world during the days/weeks of writing a post. You may be able to sense a theme to what I write when you hear the songs. Plus, what other blog has a soundtrack? Let's make history together! Here is the link to listen to the first Punching Through The Noise soundtrack, 6/21/15: My Cure For Twitchy, on Spotify (listening is free, but you'll have to sign up if you don't already have an account) and here are the songs this week:

Do I Look Worried, Tedeschi Trucks Band
I'm Like A Bird, Nelly Furtado
Dreaming, Blondie
The Warrior, Scandal
Extraordinary, Liz Phair
Dig, Incubus

Here's to six-letter words, noise, shifts, "Boys on the Slide," and taking care of yourself. As always, punch through the noise in your world the best you can and make time to enjoy your own soundtracks.