Three's a Crowd.

Sometimes I feel there are three very different and very distinct sides to my personality. Triplet alter-egos who each adapt and thrive in totally different environments.

There's the side of me that's dedicated to work. "Work hard and shine," is my philosophy in a nutshell. I like to work, and I'm competitive enough to always want to succeed at whatever it is I'm doing. I honestly love spending long hours at the office, partly because I love what I do, partly because it fulfills me, and partly because, I'll be honest, I like to be seen as a hard worker. I value tenacity and a strong work ethic in myself and my peers, so to be seen as such is one of my most fulfilling purposes.

Then there's my "mom" side, which provides me the single most happy moments in life. Being with my daughter makes me realize why being a mom is a job - and the one I want to succeed most in. I value everything about her and our relationship and take my responsibilities very seriously. I want to teach her everything, I want to help her grow into the best person she can be, and I always want her to feel secure and loved.

Then there's the side of my personality that seems at odds with these two personas: my "party girl" side that seems firmly, stubbornly, rooted in my 20s. The side of me that made my best friend declare: "When Mama parties, Mama parties."

The side of me who absolutely struts in sexy leather boots, who doesn't even have to be drinking to want to jump up on a bar and dance.... The one who convinces people to go topless while floating on a boat out at sea... Who practices at home to look like one of the go-go dancers I so admire. Vegas? Forget about it. I thrive more reveling in debauchery than the fated residents of Sodom and Gomorrah. I left my last trip about as guilty as the "What happens in Vegas" commercials (To the delight of my husband.) and find myself absent-mindedly fantasizing about our next trip.

For as withdrawn and introverted as I can be with people in professional situations, I am the complete opposite out on the town, which seems odd to me. Why can't a take a pinch of my outgoing self and give it to my other self? Be a little more well-rounded and social in professional situations, and quite a bit less shy? I question sometimes if this is a problem - these distinct and very strong sides, seemingly at odds with each other. Should I be more one than the other? Should I tone one down?

My major breakthrough was realizing that I'm always afraid in some way. I'm afraid of judgment. I'm afraid of not being successful. Or maybe what's more accurate; I'm afraid of not being perceived as successful or responsible by others. That allowing people to know the full me; strengths, faults, weaknesses, and full personality, will lead to pain somehow. That I'll somehow be taken advantage of.

Knowing that is probably half the battle, because the rational (and fearless) side says "So what if they don't like you? Let go and stop worrying so much."

But the harder part--the much harder part--is learning how to get over it.

And maybe growing up a little bit.

Getting off the Treadmill of Misery

"You're never going to be happy with someone if you can't be happy on your own," I told my friend. She was going through the approximately seventh (and supposedly final) break-up over the course of her two-year relationship and was, again, using me as a stand-in therapist.

I'd been listening to her wax philosophical about the reasons for the break-up, the traumas that prevent her from letting go and enjoying life; general "unresolved issues from childhood" with a daddy complex to boot. I may sound unsympathetic, but I'm not. I'm just kind of tired to listening to her complain because it's always the same: "I'm a victim, I'll always be a victim, and I'm never going to do anything to change it."

I know I've done the same annoying moaning and complaining when I've been through heartbreak, I've just never taken two tumultuous years and zero personal accountability to get over it. I lose my patience with people who aren't interested in improving themselves; the attitude that it's everyone else's fault and it's better to sit around feeling sorry for their selves than do something to change their lot in life.

It's not that I don't want to be there for my friend, and don't get me wrong, I have been. I've just been listening to the same old thing... over, and over, and over, and over, and nothing ever changes.

Sometimes I think people come in and out of our lives for a reason. Whether it's karma or fate or luck or destiny, there's always something to be learned from the situation, and always something better around the corner.

My optimism is deeply rooted in the fact that life has always continued to get better for me. Through the darkest, saddest, or scariest times in my life, I've always tried to keep the faith that I could get through it and come out stronger... Tougher... Smarter. And though there's been a battle to fight the fear of repeating past mistakes, I've finally realized that doesn't have to be the case for me. I can make my own life - and I can make it anything I want.

If I hadn't gotten rid of the negative people, negative situations, I never could have made way for better. Whether I knew it or not, something so much better was always coming my way - and fairly quickly. When I think about how scared I was to get divorced, to become a single mother, to change careers, to move across the ocean and start a new life... it's always been hard, and ultimately I've always come out ok. In fact, waaay more than ok.

Maybe I simply choose to live life thinking that way, I don't know. But in my friend's case, she's letting her past hurts disrupt her present and future - and is ready to bury herself in another guy just so she can ignore her loneliness, fears, and feelings of abandonment.

Yes, been there, done that. I know the feeling. But not having the self-identity to realize it shouldn't happen that way is another situation entirely.

"You shouldn't be afraid of being alone," I told my friend. "You shouldn't be afraid of anything." And it's true. But even I need a reminder to keep the faith from time to time.

Not my problem, but...

This morning I witnessed what may be the most depressing thing I've seen in a while.

Two people whom I know have already said their marriage is over, but are staying together for their child's sake, fighting a fight that was about nothing and everything. It deteriorated so quickly into an ugly scene of negativity and ominousness, I can't shake it. The saddest part to me, was when the wife said "Well at least you know the truth about this family."

No!! I just want to stick my head in the sand and pretend everything is fine! Like any argument, it wasn't about anything particularly important, but watching the dialogue digress into a mutual attack, followed by the assertion that they're only still together for one reason was just...sad doesn't begin to describe it for me.

I'm letting it affect me more than it should. I know that. It's not that I didn't know (secondhand) that they've got problems and whatever they decide to do doesn't affect me anyway. But witnessing it is an entirely different level, and, not something I ever wanted to see.

How do people get to this point? From "happy and in love" to living like two strangers who don't even seem to like each other?

I have enough fear of marriage tearing apart the insides of my brain, I don't want more. I don't want to see what can become when love dies. I don't want to think about it. I don't even want to know what that looks like.

I want to believe that it doesn't have to be this way: it's just that sometimes you never even see it coming. One day, sunshine and roses and the promise of tomorrow; the next, a bitter, abrupt end you never would have fathomed. No one foresees a bitter divorce on their wedding day...but if everyone starts out blissful in the beginning, how do so many end so badly?

I just want to cry, but it's not over them - it's for myself. For all the fears I can't shake and can't stop from taking hold. For the fact that I can't even give life a chance because I'm so paralyzed by the scenarios running through my imagination. For the fact that this isn't fair to my husband...and not knowing how to change it...

Tonight, the only thing I can do:
I'm saying a prayer and going to bed.

If I combined every love song on the radio...

It's a telling sign when a smile spontaneously springs to your lips. When thinking about someone so wonderful makes you break out into a grin you can't hide, can't put away. When you feel like you're living a Disney movie and it's only the middle of the day.

I couldn't have resisted any harder when my husband and I got together. I was adamant: "There's just no way I will ever be in a relationship again." I fought so hard not to fall in love with him, I commend him for having the heart to keep trying... and I'm forever grateful that he did.

I remember the first day I started to let myself begin to fall in love. I suddenly heard the birds chirping around me, felt the sun shining brighter, the flowers grow cheerier and the skies become bluer. I was living a technicolor rainbow of happiness that only grew more intense the more I felt myself relax into the arms of love.

For the longest time, every time I spoke about him, I would blush and break into a smile that I couldn't keep inside. I'd never had an experience like this - I didn't get giddy about guys, let alone the fact that I'd sworn them off indefinitely - and was certainly not used to people pointing out that I lit up like a Christmas tree at the mention of his name.

Whereas once upon a time, divorce had me worried that love could run out - as in, you're given only a certain amount of love and a certain amount of years with someone, and you'd better enjoy it while it lasts. But even after the years that have passed since we got together, I've been surprised and amazed to discover that's not the case at all.

How wondrous and amazing, in fact, that I've found love can grow in new ways every single day. That I can find something new to love him for, and somehow my heart grows that much bigger to fit it all in. The simplest things he does, or the sweet way he smiles, or the way he shows me his kind heart, makes me fall more in love. I didn't know it was possible--and I had no idea it would feel so good.

My friend recently told me that she could see a sparkle in my eyes when I thought about him. I love that, knowing that my love is so big, so all-consuming, it comes shining through. And for as much as I already love him, I can't wait to feel how much bigger it can become.

If this was a movie, there would be an awfully spooky soundtrack.

In what may have been the eeriest Sixth Sense-type moment I've had in a while, my 3yo started talking to me while lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. "I'm sad...."

"Why?"

I'm sad because my sister died.... She told me she died and she's in Heaven. With all the other people who died--they're ghosts."

"Who?" I asked incredulously.

"My sister; she died before I was alive. I miss her. She was in your tummy before I was," she said. "She said her mother's name was Lisa. That's your name too."

I was sort of dumbfounded by the situation. Was she pretending? Making this up? Is a three year old even capable of creating a scenario like that? Does she have an imaginary friend, and if so, where did she come up with this dialogue? Was it something she saw in a book or movie? Should I be alarmed by this? Uhh...?

On the other hand, I also totally believe in the idea of spirits, ghosts, and energies. Aren't kids supposed to be more receptive to that type of thing? I think anything's possible. If she is communicating with past spirits, good for her. 

Taking the "I'm kind of curious as to what she'll say next" route, I asked if her sister was happy in Heaven, and when she said yes, I told her that if her sister isn't sad, then she has nothing to be sad about.

She was quiet. Then she asked me when I would be getting another baby in my belly. I told her I wasn't sure.

As I watched her lying in bed, she said the sweetest words my heart could ever hear, "I'll pray for you," then after a moment, "Mommy, let's pray together."

In so many amazing ways, she is a blessing to me in every sense of the word.

So, let me guess, you were born in the Year of the Entitled Wench.

In what may be the most anti-cilmactic end to a friendship, I finally texted a friend whom shall hereafter be known as Colossal Drama Queen, or CDQ for short. "So do you want to be friends anymore?" With nary a response in well over two weeks, I'm taking it for what I assumed it would be, and cutting her loose.

Oddly, I don't regret losing this friendship. It was a convoluted, unending cycle of madness with this girl, one that I don't want or need. This is definitely a "better loved and lost" situation--emphasis on the loss.

Someone who needed constant validation and reassurance, her demands on a friendship became too much for me. If I couldn't join her for some random something-or-other that she casually invited me to over text message, it became a personal offense. If I said, "I have other plans but I'll let you know if I can make it," (which to the other 99% of the population means "If you don't hear from me, I can't come"), she would lord it over me with a guilt trip and unspoken accusations of abandonment. "I never heard from you!"
Meeting up with this person became a calisthenic endurance exercise. I would literally sweat, worrying about being late, knowing she'd throw a fit and/or throw another marathon silent treatment (to which I'd amuse myself by pretending not to notice). This meant disobeying traffic laws and cursing at the top of my lungs to be on time, as she holds people to a higher standard than a high school tardy bell attendance policy.

There was the time we were shopping for bridesmaid dresses for her wedding. She said we could all ride together and would leave at 1pm. Arrive even a minute late, she threatened, and she'd leave without us. Another bridesmaid and I were so worn out by her demands, we said we'd ride separately. We just didn't need to worry about busting our asses to get there and be chewed out if the clock said 1:01.

You'd think we took the smarter, drama-free route by meeting her there. You'd be wrong.

She told us we weren't real friends if we weren't riding with her. Said her fiance couldn't believe we were riding separately either. Then she berated us. Threatened us not to be late for her fitting. Was essentially ready to throw in the towel on our friendship because we had the nerve to take another car.

We drove well over the speed limit, checking Google maps' traffic to make sure we took the fastest route. We got there a good 10 minutes before her fitting was scheduled. She showed up... 20 minutes later. No apology, no remorse, just a weak excuse about traffic.

Had the tables been turned, we would have endured the fiery wrath of the Princess Bride. Instead, we're expected to blow it off because she feels entitled.
As angry as she makes me, there's a compassionate part of my nature that thinks this girl has been so cast out and rejected by others in her life, she's retaliating against the whole world for it. 'Reject them before they can reject you' out of self-preservation. But as a one-sided fair-weather friend, who did anything but act like one, I'd had enough of her. You can't give all the time.

Her actual wedding was the final straw for me. She berated me for my flight time (of which I was taking unpaid leave from work to fly out), not RSVPing for a bachelorette party I wasn't even invivted to, and a whole bunch of other nonsense such as, "You never responded to my text that your bridesmaid dress was ready for pick-up!" She had me so stressed out about attending every last, little thing she demanded, I was ready to skip it, nevermind the thousand-plus dollars I'd invested in the trip. Then, when she was not only late to her own rehearsal (which I went through hell and earth, a 6am wake-up call, and a whole bunch of public transit rides to arrive on time for), but also to her wedding (leaving me and the other on-timers out in the frigid weather for 90 minutes), no apology, of course, I was livid. There's a lot of words that come to mind, but insensitive and self-centered immediately spring to mind. Hypocritical bitch isn't far behind.

Post-wedding, she was giving her usual stony-silent treatment for whatever insignificant reason or other. She ignored me and wouldn't respond to my invites to hang out (nevermind that the reciprocate would be met with death threats) until the day she needed a favor. Then she bugged me (and my husband) all day long. At that point, I'd had it. "You can hang out with other friends for fun, but as soon as you need something, you call me? Uh-uh. Not anymore."
I called her to straighten out the situation--she ignored my calls. Then she texted back that she was hanging out with some other friends because she "hadn't heard from me." A line so typical, if she was a doll with a pull cord, that would be her catch phrase. At that final breaking point, I sent her the aforementioned "So do you want to be friends anymore?" text message and haven't spoken to her since.

Laying it all out, I ask myself what took so long to cut her loose. Sure, we used to have fun - drama aside, she's an entertaining, witty person with a big heart. But it's so taxing going through endless rotations of annoyance - I've gone through this with her. I know what happens. I know it won't be long until it happens again.

It's just not my duty or obligation to put up with a shell of a friendship. As I put a lock on that area of my life, I tell myself I'll save my time for someone better.

"Surely, she bathes! Let's buy body wash!"

If there's one thing I can't stand at Christmas, it's being forced to buy obligatory gifts for people I barely know and certainly know nothing about.

It's not the money that's an issue, it's the time investment. It's the fact that I'm dragging myself from store to store in a vain attempt to please someone whom I haven't called or hung out with since the previous Christmas. The fact that, really, I have no idea if they'll appreciate it beyond the gift-giving gesture, and the fact that I'm stressing myself unnecessarily when I have much better things to think about.

I find myself locked into an endless mental repertoire as the minutes tick by: What do they like? What do they wear? Is this too cheesy? Do they already have this? Am I the only one who thinks this is cute? Is this going to be relegated to the junk drawer or re-gifted to some unsuspecting recipient?

I suspect retailers like L'Occitane stay in business over quandaries like this. When was the last time you thought, "I really need some fruity-smelling lotion and coordinating body wash!" Chances are, never. Why? Because of the stockpile in your bathroom closet, a trove of sweet pea and lilac-scented gifts from Christmases past. Gifts from people who don't know anything about you, so they resort to the lowest common denominator - "Surely, she bathes! Let's buy body wash!"

If only gift-giving etiquette allowed for a ceasefire of sorts. "Don't get anything for me, I won't get anything for you." Time saved, stress saved, and a whole lot less lotion and bath products on the horizon.