Mistakes and Redirection

We spend a lot of time making decisions. Figuring out what’s best for our lives, be it jobs relationships, locations or lifestyles. So what happens when you realize that a decision you’ve made in your past, one of those life altering decisions that you believed would be an increase to your personal happiness and progress, doesn’t live up to the idea? You have that gut feeling that you’ve made a mistake, that maybe you were even happier before this decision?

What is a mistake and does it even exist?

We live in a ‘no regrets’ culture, where it’s frowned upon to actually admit something might’ve not been the best direction for us. And, hey, this is not me saying we should walk around shamed by our choices whispering ‘I should’ve, could’ve done this or that..”

 

What is a mistake or a regret, if nothing but a learning experience. We can learn how to take the negativity away from these commonly used feelings and learn how to process emotions of dissatisfaction into a more useful future.

 

How do we move on from a wrong move with clarity, ease and no judgement toward ourselves and that decision?

 

I have spent so many of my moments in life analysing and reliving the past. I have allowed myself to replay particular memories or life altering moments in my head on repeat, wondering what if I had made a different decision. But the deep truth to these wonderings always comes back to the same awakening.

 

There are no mistakes. Life runs in a rushing course of lessons, development and growth. Some lessons may feel like setbacks, or fuck ups, but they are always just lessons, albeit maybe destructive, frustratingly and disappointing lessons.  But always, this leads to growth within ourselves. A mistake, although we can admit was a wrong move for us, is always this.

 

There is a certain amount of rebellion when it comes to admitting you’ve made a mistake. I toss and turn inside not wanting to submit to the idea that I did something ‘wrong.’ Because regret is such a negative word in our society. NO REGRETS EVER.

So we hold on to it. We grasp at our decisions with an eagles talons, justifying to ourselves and trying to convince our brains and guts that we didn’t make the ugly “M” word.

 

But what if, we take a minute to breath.
What if, this is how correct our path.
It’s human. It’s natural. To see different paths of our lives and realize what’s for us and what isn’t. It’s not an offensive feeling to notice this and want to make a change.

 

There is no judgement in making a mistake, if we never admit the mistake we can’t redirect our paths. Admit that the choice isn’t whats holding us back, is really just ourselves. We can never analyze and re-direct. It’s about self compassion. Understanding that it does no good to blame and degrade, only acceptance and determination to shift the issue will help. That’s where the real healing begins. Loving responsibility toward our actions and lives. I include loving because we have to take it easy on ourselves, guys. Even the most permanent of moves within our physical and emotional state can be gently shifted back to an authentic, loving path.

 This is our first human body experience after all. It’s only natural we need a little time off course to figure out what that even means.

Be kind.

Be authentic.

 

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Inside Lisp and Wet blankets -or- sharing energy

It never ceases to amaze me how much distraction people need in their lives. Working as a Flight Attendant, I once had a guest grow red in the face spitting curses at me like dodgeballs because I couldn’t get his seatback TV to work properly for him during the eternity which was his 45 minute flight from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. “This is fucking ridiculous, this piece of shit!” he bellowed toward me. And as much as I love being screamed at like a bad internet connection, I can’t help but crack a small chuckle every now and again, which, to be honest, probably sends some of them into an even deeper rage. But how can a person become so irate at 45 minutes of alone time? He can’t possibly be that disturbed at the sounds of his own thoughts, can he? Who knows today, maybe the voice in his head has an annoying lisp that spits while talking, making it completely unbearably annoying to listen to for more than 5 minutes.

I wouldn’t doubt it, and I usually like to imagine that during the throws of complaints.

Something to pass the time through complaints, ya know?

 

One of the main issues with being a flight attendant isn’t far off that of being in the general service industry – the people.

Or, more specifically, the entitled jerk faced crank bottoms that seem to have a constant wedgie of dissatisfaction for every minor detail of their existence.
Yea, those guys.

And I’m not one of those people that go around spouting things like “I hate everyone” I genuinely don’t. I think for the most part, people are good. Albeit a little unaware of their emotions and temperament. But I don’t think people are malicious by nature, call me an doe-eyed optimist. But it comes to a point, where I’ve had to literally ask myself, outloud, why do airplanes bring out the worst in people?

 

Maybe alone time is undervalued. Well, I know it is. We have too many distractions that make it easy to float by, content but possibly not fulfilled. I love the distractions as much as the next person. In fact I can assure you I’ve looked at my phone at least five different times since I sat down to right this entry. It’s completely unintentional. Which is the more frightening aspect of doing it, in my millennial opinion.

 

But once upon a time, I had the wonderful pleasure of announcing that, against all odds and Mother Nature, we were actually early to our destination! Holy moly and some guacamole, guys. We finally got to deliver some *good* news to our guests. A small but pretty awesome affair. Smiling as I sat in my jumpseat, I swear I actually heard a guest roll her eyes. Then an exasperated exhale, that didn’t sound too unlike a car engine finally giving up escaped her “Great,” she sighed. “ now I’ll have to wait at the damn airport for my car to arrive, good going.”

 

Well, alrighty, then.

 

I’ve become increasingly aware of the fact that we live in a culture where being “busy” is all the trend. Doesn’t even seem to matter what you’re busy doing honestly, as long as you are busy, you seem important. You have things to do, people to see, work and the weather to complain about it. And taking three hours out of your preciously penciled in day to travel in an actual flying tube to another location on the other side of the country or possibly another continent in under one measly day. Where if we’re being honest, you’ve probably spent more time in your life binge watching House of Cards on any given Sunday.

 

Maybe people aren’t used to being told what to do. So, when I, tell you – no, you cannot stand up to go to the restroom young man, because I’m literally levitating off my jumpseat due to turbulence right now and at this point I’m not so concerned with your well being, given the fact that you’ve been as pleasant toward me as poison ivy rash in my butthole. But to be quite honest, it’s the fact that you will literally impale yourself on the roof of this plane. It’s very expensive and that’s oh, so much paper work for me. 

Quite honestly sometimes I have no more fucks to give because you’ll blame me either way, just because I exist and I’m forced to wear a name tag.

This isn’t a PSA to be nice to your fellow flight attendant next time you’re in the air. I’m well aware of what I got myself into with this job, just like any other person who’s taken up paycheck in the service industry. We get it. What I’m saying is maybe we can take a few moments of breath to realize the best things happen when were aware and conscious of our behavior. That rushing through life doesn’t mean we’re busy and important, that it usually accounts for us being stressed and lashing out at others. Taking time to be actually happy to just be with ourselves sometimes. And, honestly, if you can’t handle being alone with yourself just for an hour or so..you probably have some work to do on your life, your purpose and personality.

When we take our time, notice our effect on other people, maybe life would in turn be a little nicer for everyone? Because energy is a reality. Ever walked into a room and just sensed all the heavy grossness a bad vibe can grant you? Any room you walk into, YOU have the power. You can make it a little lighter and brighter or you and your attitude can contribute to the feeling of wet blanket being thrown on you first thing in the morning. 

So when a woman shouts at me that I’m  “the worst person she’d ever met in her life” all because I told her I didn’t Speedy Gonzalez my little tush over to her seat fast enough to take her dirty tissue from her, I’m just saying things are heading down a bad path. Because if I’m the worst thing that’s you truly believe has ever happened to you…really? the worst?

You’ve actually lived an amazing sunshine filled rainbow-infused life so far.

because I’m a fuckin delight.

…On most days, promise.

 

 

Candles & Revolutions – or- on relationships

Back in 2011, my sister, her boyfriend and I had been backpacking around Europe. We had made it to Dublin and on our first day we decided to stop in at one of the local grundgy looking pubs around town for a pint because, well obviously we were tourists, and that just sort of the thing you do when you’re in Ireland. One in particular that we came across, looked like a hidden gem near an alley, as cliché and amazing as an Irish pub can get. Thinking it was 3pm on a Tuesday and we could have a drink in peace while looking over our maps and internet connections we decided to try it out. We heaved the creaky door open only to find the entire darkened pub was filled to the brim with every single bearded, cap wearing man in Dublin, all of which, were not quite expecting nor liking the door being slung open revealing every crack and hangover in the old bar into the afternoon sunlight.

We stood in the doorway for what felt like an eternity, backlit with a delicious sunny day and the glares of every Irishman in the pub cast upon us. Have you ever walked into a room where people were obviously just talking a magnificent amount of shit about you seconds prior? Well, I am positive someway, somehow, even never have meeting us before, those Irishmen had just been talking shit about the three of us. The oh, so clearly, American tourists with our torso sized backpacks and sightseeing maps frozen open in my hands. Maybe just add to the imagery the facial distortions of that of a gaggle of high school girls when someone farts in a crowded room…and that’s maybe the best way to describe the glances we were getting from the doorway. My sister and I froze, apparently thinking the best solution was to just stare back at them. But eventually, and miraculously, my now brother in law had the wonderful idea of shutting the door again, taking us out of that deer in the headlights conundrum. It was a very simple move, something that my sister and I would’ve done… eventually, promise.

I hope.

Ryan has always had the refreshing sense of survival not always found in our Matthews’ family. Our family tends to sometimes just freeze and maybe laugh awkwardly in anxiety ridden situations. An essential move I still utilize to this day.

Smile, nod, fake laugh.

It’s a Kendall Classic.

Let’s take my Grandparents house for instance. It’s pristine. It looks and feels the exact same today as it did when I was a kid. The furniture, the carpet, everything. If there is at all any consistency in life, it is I know, in my heart of hearts, that when I enter my grandparents house and take a right into the living room there will be those tiny little Swedish figurines in the exact same stance and order as they were when I was 8 years old and salivating over the thought of playing with them.

In this house there was this candle, see. To my sister and myself as little girls, it was the most beautiful candle in the world. It had delicately, thin twisted ribbons of wax that cascaded down the sides of it in all sorts of shades of blue and green. I mean this was a fucking magic fairy style candle and it stood, never lit and totally untouched, in the center of my Grandmother’s coffee table.

Always.
Perfect.

I think my sister and I stared at it growing up over a million times. Because a pretty candle is just the place your eyes go to as a child when adults are talking boring things, and quite honestly even when you’re one of the adults talking the boring things. Every lull in the conversation or that moment of silence that fills a room before the next topic is brought up, our eyes would land on that candle. My sister, brother, our cousins and I might exchange some sort of one sided I wonder how they make a candle like that shrug type questions and things would move on.

Years later, when we were all teenagers, Valerie brought her then boyfriend Ryan to our Grandparents house for the first time. I remember sitting in the living room, and after the appropriate amount of small talk, the adults ventured into the other room, talking politics or taxes or retirement or honestly I wasn’t listening so I have no clue, but that’s what adults talk about right? After the momentary silence broke over the room as they left, all of us ‘kids’ just sat there, eyes, like always, going straight to that candle.

I made a comment, like all the comments, “I wonder how they put all those different colors in one candle”

My sister shrugged her shoulders. My brother made a “I don’t know” noise.

The usual.

Then all the sudden, Ryan reaches over the table, hand outreached and picks up the candle.

I think I froze mid-yawn. My eyes were as round as orbes, staring at the poor unknowing Ryan, who didn’t know you can’t just go around touching consistent Grandparent candles that always stay put. You’re touching the fairy magic perfect never even lit candle that we’ve never seen anyone touch?

I glanced at Valerie who was looking toward Ryan like he just lifted our actual Grandmother up and basketball spinned her around the living room. My always laid back brother was looking at him and then the candle like he just touched the holy grail. Pretty sure my cousins were staring at my sister like she brought an alien into the household.

The universe was an inch away from splitting, y’all.

He was inspecting the bottom of it to showing all the layers of color underneath “yea, looks like they just layer it one color at a time.”

So casual for just unraveling the dynamic of our granparents house, bro.

All our lives we’ve all been staring at that perfect ass candle and making comments about how it’s made and not one of us ever thought to just pick the damn thing up and look at it. It was kinda a revolutionary moment, guys. Obviously, we had a very difficult and trying childhood.

But that’s always been Ryan. He’s not a talker, he’s a doer. He figures stuff out. If he wants to know how something works, he just ups and goes and finds out how. He doesn’t just talk and shrug about it. He’s a hands on the candle, type o’ guy. Figure it out.

I think it’s been a good influence on our brand of Matthews’ ‘maybe tomorrow’ attitude we used to have as kids. Especially towards my sister, who ten years later and two Bolster kids down, I swear she’s gone from our classic childhood Matthews’ signature of nervous laughter in the face of awkward to a kind of Mega Mom Chief. No more, staring at the candle kind of talk for that one.

She just handles things now.

I once walked in on her with dinner on the stove, laundry going, vacuuming the living room, all while on hold with the phone company, and whislt her young smiling baby was stradling her leg, happy as a fresh clam. Probably out of sheer amazement of all the things her momma could do at once, cause honestly, for me, just the vacuuming part is like a whole weeks worth of effort. To be honest, I don’t even know where my roommate keeps the vacuum in the apartment. I don’t even have an apartment as of right now, I sleep on a couch, and in hotels while traveling for a living… That should give you a small clue to the last time I accomplished that task right there.

I think that’s why people are brought into our lives though. To show us a different way, maybe a better way, of going about things. I’m not saying we wouldn’t have ever picked up that candle and learned for ourselves how it was made. I think we would have, eventually.  And I definitely believe Valerie would’ve been a badass mother either way. Something in her DNA that just clicks with her as a Mom, whereas maybe I got crooked teeth and reddish hair. To be an optimist though, I do like my hair.

But that little bit of candle pickin sass did influence, and as I didn’t know my brother in law before he was with my sister, but I’m hella sure she’s influenced the butt off him in a thousand different ways only he knows.

Those seem to be the best types of relationships, the ones that help you grow and morph into even better Supernova awesome stars of people you already are.

Those are the types of relationships I see and just go, woah.  

Ya just have this wonderful feeling that they are constantly becoming better people for being around each other, the both of them, equally. And that’s always just plain inspiring for humanity, I think.

Back in Ireland, as soon Ryan had tightly sealed the pub again from the monstrosity of the outside world, all the Irishman, beard to beard in solidarity, raised their glass and actually cheered. Valerie and I had gone from frozen messes of awkward to gulping our Guinness’s happily. Relieved that they all seemed to only hate the daylight and not American tourists.
Thanks for the smooth door move, Ryan.

Even if we’re not realizing what we’re learning from others, we constantly are. Even if it’s those minuscule moments of action so small we don’t even realize it.

So pick up the damn candle, folks.
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Jumangi & Ducking

I’ve always had depression.
It’s a part of myself I have had to deal with on a daily basis for as long as I can remember.
I’m writing this because I’m allowing 2018 to be my year of kind honesty. And I think that might be something we’re all craving these days. To be open minded and honest with each other- to maybe not fully understand each other, but put forth the effort to try.
Knowing that whatever your going through,
You are not alone in those feelings.

And with that, maybe we can even begin to notice how trendy negativity has become in our society. How all these memes, shows and reality shows have warped some parts of our brain to think it’s funnier and better to just grab a bottle and say something sassy than to deal with our lives with vulnerability and empowerment? How maybe we can use our words to inspire and empathize with each other to becoming the best versions of ourselves.

All I know is from my own experiences. My depression is thick, sticky, heavy vines in my mind. If I don’t keep them at bay when there are just a few sprouts, it grows out of control like fucking Jumanji and crushes my whole damn sparkly self down, pulling it into that shitty nothing-is-ever-going-to-be-good-again- forest like that damn police offers car in the film.
You can’t just duck and avoid yourself with a Margarita and a back talk sass attack into being a happier human, I should know. I have looooved me some Margs. Plus I duck from people I don’t want to deal with all the time.
Avid duck-er here.
🙋🏻‍♀️
It’s not trendy, but in order to not be Jumanjied I need physical, mental and emotional release. I need to give those vines somewhere to grow.

We’re on this earth together, dealing with the human experience. It’s a roller coaster of a shit storm and, thankfully, endless joy. Maybe if we can talk about the storm and how to handle the massive amounts of nasty shit blowing into our eyes more effectively, we can learn how to adjust our eyes to see the joyous parts more often and together.
💛

Also, all metaphors aside, you should all really go watch the original Jumanji again…just because, well, Mr. Williams will always be number one.

Minty Fresh 2018

Fresh year, Fresh start.

Honestly, I believe any day of any month can be the start of something new, but we like those nice round numbers and starting points, so let go along with it for the sake of january’ s ego, it likes to be number one and resolution central.  

So I meditate with this app called Headspace. It’s a lovely app with adorable illustrations and a relaxing voice to guide you. I highly recommend to anyone, whether seasoned meditator or newbie.

I meditated this morning. As I always have the intent to do because it makes me feel fresh, relaxed, ready for my day. But life tends to derail intentions, doesn’t it? So I hadn’t done it in a while. So, thinking it’s January and it’s time to get back on track, this morning I woke up, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down with myself.

And my, my, my.

My monkey brain was wrapped so tightly, I couldn’t even focus on focusing on being focused. And then I started thinking about that phrase and how it wasn’t quite right make and maybe I was just not being focused on focusing..or maybe just trying to focus on the focal point.

And then, because I had sillily poured my coffee pre-meditation, I started to hope it would still be hot in ten minutes, and I shouldn’t have poured it til after I did my super awesome great meditation that I will totally do every morning until I die, cause, ya know resolutions work like that. Ya know what, I should stretch too! THAT would make my day extra super yogi special. Like a kale shot directly into my arm, kinda like Popeye but without the gross pipe. Why did he have a pipe anyway? Why not just a cigarette, was he smoking weed in that thing? Maybe he was more chill than I thought. Especially since he only ate spinach and was just smoking pot all day long. Woah. Popeye was actually a chill, fairly healthy dude.

SHIT.

FOCUS ON THE FOCUSING.

This continued for a lovely ten minutes.

I write this because I’ve noticed that when I’ve told people I meditate they tend to think that I’m somehow glowingly, yogi perfect at it and I can shut my brain off like a light switch and only think about unseasoned kale and world peace or something…and erm, i don’t even like kale, guys. And this is certainly not how I’ve found it to go.

I realize that meditation is like brushing your teeth. Just once isn’t really going to help you with overall health. Although it still freshens you up a bit. And doing it all the time will make a huge difference, but you might not even notice until you stop and realize how crusty it gets in there…

So I try to Colgate my sparkly minty fresh mind, every now and then, even if I think about Popeye for a majority of it.

Here’s again to 2018. A nice round number that, if we allow it, will be minty fresh with experience.