Always Good Reminders

12 Life Lessons by Marc Hack

1. Everyone has the same basic wants and needs.
2. What you do every day is what’s most important.
3. You can’t always be agreeable.
4. You’re not perfect, but you’re great at being you.
5. You DON’T want perfect people in your life.
6. Life is change. You must embrace it.
7. Your scars are symbols of your growth.
8. The truth is always the best choice.
9. It’s the small, free things that matter most in life.
10. Everyone’s story is more complicated than it seems.
11. Giving up and moving on are two different things.
12. You are not alone in being alone.

I need to remember #2, #3, #4, #8, #11 and #12.

eMeals for Realz

You wouldn't know it by the junk in the trunk, but this bootylicious puma doesn't know the first thing about the ins and outs of the most domestic area of the home. I can't cook, I don't know how, I don't like it, I am not organized enough, I don't get it. But I looooove to eat! My sister, the former dietary manager, who is more with it than me, is a wife and a mom, so she inherently knows this kind of stuff, and I noticed the last time I was nephewsitting, that her cupboards were full of ingredients and seemingly menu items. I got nosey, and discovered that by some magical way, she gets meal plans and grocery lists on a weekly basis. Someone tells her how to be the domestic diva that she is. So, in addition to my Big Friendly year of 2012, it is also my year of health, fitness and happiness. So I signed up for eMeals.

It is a meal plan customized to you. You can select a normal meal plan for singles or families; you can select a low-carb, low-fat or gluten free diet; you can select your preferred grocery store with ingredients with the lowest prices. The meal plans are easy and even though I've made only three, there was enough for two to three meals. And it actually tastes good! So, if you click the icon below, you can give me a referral credit, but if not, just go to emeals.com and check it out!

I recommend it for the single folks, the busy folks, the I-hate-the-kitchen folks, and those who need a little direction.

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My Puma Card Has Been Revoked

I tried to pull off the puma as best I could. I feel I failed miserably. I have this thing called a conscience. I can't live it down. Another weekend of stupidityness which leaves me embarrassed, ashamed, and hoping that friends and the angel on my shoulder will forgive me for such indiscretions. I'm not really a puma, I just talk a big game. When the rubber meets the road, I like doing the right thing. There was nothing right about my weekend, and it's like that guilty feeling after eating McD's, it never ever goes away. The excitement and fun is diminished by inexcusable behavior. I found my puma rut and now I have to find my way out of it again - I was doing so well! Or so my conscience said!

Wing Girl

Am I a slutface? So, one of my BFF's, soon to be un-BFF'd, just let me humilate myself, being a faithful servant in the form of a WING-GIRL. Yes, it happens. We are pre-gaming, er uh, pre-flighting, our "vacation" (which isn't so much a vacation for me as it is for my "BFF"). We are hangin'. At her bar of choice (aka her place of employment) and we're pre-gaming/pre-flighting, 4-6 hours before our 6 a.m. departure to Norfolk to visit MeRy (Meghan and Ryan). Historically, Cokes and I do not have a solid record of making our departure flights, so we decide it is best NOT to sleep before we are to arrive to el aiporto en el Minneapolis. It starts with with a flite of beer samples, which turns into din, which turns into seven other full strength "b*$%&" beers, for yours truly. We noticed, the bar is full of DUDES! You'd uh thought we be psyched. Until a friendly, uber-friendly-narcisstic-former-marine-seal, comes to make conversation. In the typical Christine-way, she's not having it. But in the typical Burger-way, I'm polite and I engage in friendly conversation. Cokes departs, leaving me with G.I. Joe. GI's friends join, we have friendly rounds of shots of So-Co and Lime and then night progresses. Progresses. And progresses. We're asked to leave, it's now 2:35. Our taxi arrives on 0 200 hours. Cokes makes a friend. Friend of the narcissist. Narcissist becomes o-so-friendly. I realize that the friend is a seemingly good catch and I encourage the make-out that happens after the smoke break back yonder on the snowy patio. I try to take pictures for Facebook blackmail. Plan is spoiled by incessant giggling. I realize that in order for Cokes to "get it in", I need to be the Wing Girl. WG's commences. Insanity ensues. 20 feet apart, she's moved from the A-frame hug to the all-out pelvis smashing in the parking lot. I'm dying. I'm entertaining the Narcissist. I can only hold out so long. I can only stick my hands in my pockets and dip and dodge and dive until it becomes painstakingly obvious this WG'ing isn't going to come to a quick conclusion. I concede. I'll leave it to your imagination. FINALLY, she's had enough, we're 0100 hours to taxi ride to the airport. She says farewell, as do I, in good spirits. I enter the car, tears in my eyes. She effing BLAMES ME for allowing it to happen, TOTALLY underestimated the lengths at which I JUST wing-girled her and criticizes MY behavior over the last half hour at which I allowed our slutface to get her face-smash on! Then, we have to make a necessary pit-stop at the ol' SA across the street. The effers are IN THE EFFING STORE!!! GI Joe uses his melon and puts two and two together, realizing if she's inside, I'm outside, and comes to my window. And it commences once again. WTF. Go away. Wing Girling is OVER!!! She joins me in the Maz, and laughs at me the entire ride home, all the while, tears in my eyes. Humiliation, defunct pride, embarrassment, all for the whim and while of my dear BFF, CHRISTINE. Love you Cokes, I'd do it all again! Muuuuaaahhhh!!

A Sabbatical From Men

It was on a beautiful spring afternoon in New York that a close friend introduced me to someone she thought would be the perfect man for me. He was creative, successful, soulful, sensual, and single, and he was into me.

I had lived in the city before, with my mother and sister, but now, because I was on my own, I felt like it was a different country. Without the haven of my family, I felt very exposed and unprotected. It was as if I were standing in a house in which the floors had not yet been laid.

A part of me was longing to be embraced by a loving, warm man so that I could feel safe and cherished. I thought that the presence of a man in my life was the only way to feel truly secure. I deeply desired the intimacy, connection, and joy of a relationship, as well as the solid foundation, and I anticipated that within the stable framework of "us," I could start to lay the planks for my new life.

I believed that this man and I could have all that I had dreamed of. Being with him gave me a lot of the things I was looking for, and we began to build what I thought was real intimacy. He was attentive and interesting, strong and seemingly very present, and the warmth of his presence felt like the family I missed. He loved the arts and theater, as well as music, dance, and food. He had an inner depth that called to me powerfully. In his eyes, I felt accepted and beautiful, free to be myself. I felt that he knew me -- really saw me -- and that was the greatest aphrodisiac of all. I started to open my heart and take him in.

One night, I called my mother from his apartment, telling her how happy I was. I said, "Mom, I think he is the one!" I wanted him to be the one -- for me, for her, and for my whole family, who so wanted me to marry. I was pinning a lot of hopes on this man, expecting him to fill the void in me, the part that felt incomplete and feared to be alone. I was already projecting the happily-ever-after. And, my, was I happy! Was I moving in with him in my mind? Yes. Was I decorating our imaginary home? Yes. All of which is to say that I was going about our relationship too fast, and in the wrong way. I kept looking to him to fill the emptiness. I wanted the experience of being significant to a man, so I could feel valued and whole. My fantasies were headed for a collision with reality. Little did I know that this man was deeply wounded from a childhood with a domineering mother and from a bitter divorce, after which he'd directed all his affections toward his young son. Emotionally, he wasn't available at all.

Six months into our relationship, he had a health scare that required surgery. He told me about it one night as we were lying in bed. He suddenly felt vulnerable, out of control, and very frightened. I, of course, wanted to comfort and nurture him.

He had specifically asked me not to go to the hospital with him, so instead I went to his house the day after, bringing food, games, DVDs, and me. We lay together on his bed eating and talking, and he eventually fell asleep in my arms. My heart was wide open, and the feeling was tender, calm, and sweet. That was the moment when, if words had been spoken, I would have said, "I love you." But something stopped me. It was the fear that if I said it, I would scare him and he would leave me.

What happened after he woke up was a classic example of mismatched expectations. He was anticipating a visit from his family, and I knew it was better for him to be alone with them. So I went back to my apartment, where I waited for him to call and ask me to return and spend the night. Instead, he called and said it was better for him to rest by himself. "Of course," I said. "I understand." But the truth was I didn't understand. What went wrong? I asked myself. Why doesn't he want me to be with him?

It took a long time before I realized that I had come up against this man's own closed heart. Perhaps seeing his domineering mother had triggered old fears and hurts. Whatever the reason, when he didn't ask me to come back, I took it personally and felt rejected. If I were to write his script, these are the words he would say to make me understand: I see your love, I feel your love, but truly, darling, right now there is no place in me to receive it.

That was the beginning of the end. I had lost my trust in the relationship. I never talked about my feelings; instead, I chose to withdraw. When I saw him again, something had changed. The connection seemed different, and neither of us knew how to restore it.

In this man, I saw my father and other men I had known who were shut down to love. Was it fear of being controlled? Was it feeling of unworthy or undeserving? Or simply the reluctance to risk feeling pain? It takes a lot of courage to make ourselves vulnerable to love, to keep opening up when every part of us wants to shut down. It takes mutual commitment and a willingness to sacrifice our world as we know it. We had reached a point where we were each unwilling to sacrifice and unable to let the other in.

I had to course-correct. I realized that if I wanted to have a healthy, happy relationship with a man, I had to have more of me intact. I knew how to merge -- that wasn't a problem -- but I didn't really know how to stand on my own solid foundation.

The transformation that took place after that realization was quite amazing. I decided I was going to take a sabbatical from men and pull my energy back to me. Whatever part of me believed that I couldn't feel happy and complete without a man's love was going to come under my care and receive my full attention now.

He and I had one more conversation, in which we both admitted that things had shifted, and we agreed to put some distance between us. After that, with no more distractions, no man, my family far away on the West Coast, I had the space to focus on my life by myself. Having been a caretaker all my life, it was a little strange at the beginning: There was no one to take care of but me.

Have you ever seen one of those Advent calendars that children are given before Christmas? Every day you open a little window that has a picture behind it. It can be magical as you wait to see what will come next. That's how I felt‚ as if I were opening little windows into myself, gaining strength and confidence with each opening. My windows were hiding so many inner riches!

One day I discovered that I could really enjoy being by myself if I had an environment around me that was nurturing and uplifting -- so I began to keep my favorite music playing, music that made me happy. Around the same time, I was looking for an assistant to help me with my work, and I realized I needed to choose someone who was joyful and caring and understood my sensibility. I found a young Argentinean man who made even filing fun. And I found my own rhythm and respected it, so that in the middle of a writing session in my apartment, if my body needed move, I would take myself out for a walk or a spin class. I learned to listen.

Writing my book became my way to top those inner riches. Through the goddesses, I was beginning to see my own gifts: my wisdom, my creativity, my love. I realized I had not said no to having a relationship with a man -- I had said a big YES to myself, and the windows were popping open.

In one of his dialogues, Plato talks about the "divine design" for each of us -- the idea that every person is destined for a task that no one else can accomplish, a path that no one else can take. Writing my first book became, for me, part of that divine design, an it marked the beginning of my new life as a caretaker of my gifts, filling my own cup first so that I could share with others. I copied a quote from Saint Catherine of Siena and kept it on my desk to remind me of the importance of being fully myself: "Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire."

Excerpt from Agapi Stassinopoulos's book "Unbinding the Heart" released by Hay House February 1, 2012.

We Want a Do-Over

"2011 sucked big hairy massively disgusting old balls." -C.H. 2012

Answering a Woman's Unknown Need

Am I alone when I admit that I have unfounded expectations of a friend, a male in this case, to answer a need, a need I might not know I have, a need that when prompted for fulfillment, feels all that more warm and fuzzy. Evidently, I’m told, the inquiry into needs and or wants is only gifted to women (in this case) who are dependent on the other who is responsible for answering those needs. In other words, I am not co-dependent enough to warrant a kind and considerate “do you need anything?”. Evidently, I’m told, being the independent woman that I am, if I need something in which I am incapable or unable to do on my own accord, then I will ask for help, I do not need to be asked, as I will just tell. Wow. How insulting. I am merely not lazy enough to let someone do everything for me? Somewhere I picked the wrong fork in the road. I take care of what I need to take care of and, evidently, if there is nothing left, there are no other needs. Aside from lifting heavy objects, reaching into a tall cabinet, occasionally twisting the top off the pickle jar, aside from those things that require strength or height, I can reasonably be expected to do everything else for myself. So if this is the case, am I alone when I admit that sometimes it just feels nice to be asked the question? It would feel nice for someone to express their willingness to recognize the possibility of a need (no matter how great or how small) and to offer themselves? This may seem taboo, but what about a man answering a need all by himself? Have men forgot what it’s like to take care of a woman, even when that woman can certainly take care of herself? I refer to Christy’s post, Q&A, about what a woman wants in a man. I really don’t expect a lot, at least I don’t think I do, but that could be an erroneous belief. I expect to be treated as I treat another. When I’ve experienced a temporary disability, I expect to have help washing the dishes, putting things away, assistance staying organized. Laundry. Perhaps men have a hard time recognizing the things, the little things, which would make a woman smile with gratitude. It isn’t always those things that are traditionally “male”. It isn't just a ride to the grocery store, it's also the redundant day-to-day needs.

If only men would know what goes through a woman’s head when they intentionally or unintentionally ignore and/or avoid the needs a woman may have. In my head, I feel a negligent man is insensitive, inconsiderate, lazy, unhelpful and selfish. I feel disappointed, I feel like he doesn’t care, and I feel like he doesn’t know me. I want a man that knows me better that I know myself. I want a man that knows my needs even when I don’t and answers those needs before I do, without even being asked, or told.

Am I alone when I admit I don’t believe that is so much to want? Or need?