This is why Juliet is dead.

After W and I broke up my news feed was flooded with motivational sayings that made me want to punch someone. I'm going to share some of my favorites with you.

As a newly broken hearted girl when I saw these if I didn’t already feel like walking in front of traffic the many pictures of happy couples saying “Love is being there when you’re angry” or “Love is worth fighting for” I was ready to afterwards. Well, pardon my language, but no shit Sherlock. Love is sunshine and rainbows, and happy things sometimes, and love also sucks sometimes. But more importantly, you know what else love is? Mutual. If you aren’t both on the same page about your relationship whining about it on Facebook isn’t going to make it better. In fact I would say it probably hurts your case. See the Run-Chase rule.

I am fairly certain that no one has ever looked at one of those pretty pictures with the words on it and been like, “OMG! Light bulb! Maybe I shouldn’t be a jerk that sleeps around and disrespects my significant other. All this time I thought I was supposed to be doing that. Gee. Thank you random high school friend. Thank you. Now I know. God, public service announcement received. They should put that on the radio. Who knew?”

Now, I am certain that a great deal of my angst comes from the fact that my feelings were raw when I first saw these, and I have a phobia about showing weakness and being needy. So, I might be a bit harsh. Regardless, let me share my current favorites:



Okay. To a point. Fight like hell to preserve a good relationship. I get that. But don't use love as an excuse to stay in an unhealthy one. You have to love yourself too. You know who else people can't stop thinking about? Their rapists. I bet no one made a freaking motivational poster about trying to remember that shit. I think there is an industry based around letting past people and past pain go. It must be a thing Facebook. It must be a thing.



Excuse me, but since when do you know more about someone when you are first interested in them? Not only is the grammar abyssmal, but I am sorry Facebook this is backwards. It should read: "When you have a pheromone high and think they're amazing all of the time, it is a crush. When you have a relationship built on time, mutual respect, appreciation, trust, and want to punch them for being morons and hug them because you can't imagine life without them at the same time it is real love."

What are you wanting from this? To make Captain Jackass feel guilty? Because chances are that one won't work. I have been the Jackass before. Trust me. They have already justified their feelings away. So is it to be lifted up and get sympathy from your friends? What am I supposed to do this this Facebook? We have all been there. Grief freakin' blows. Break ups hurt like a bitch. I can fix this though, "And I always will, because I loved you asshole. But you're a jerk so I am moving on and letting go. Peace." Own that shit, yo.

I think this one is my favorite though. Really. Really, Facebook friends? Talk about your #firstworldproblems. Not getting a damned text is the worst feeling in the world? What about watching your parents or children die? What about reading about all the people struggling to you know, eat, in the middle east. What about missing your dead grandma? She isn't gonna text you either you know. Is that better? Are you that selfish that the only thing that gets through your thick skull is something that makes you know that you aren't the center of the universe? Heavens I hope not. Missing someone is horrible yes, but sweet lord. Maybe if it said "Missing someone + No text from them = Sucks Ass, but I'm gonna get through it because they could very well be legitimately busy; and even if they are just ignoring me it still isn't the worst thing in the world."

And that is almost enough to make me move to G+.

Why does drunk me hate sober me?

Well, I did it. Or rather drunk me did it. She once again screwed over my sober self. 

How so? Well, she decided to tell the good Captain that she wanted to lose weight before he proposed… so she would look good in the engagement pictures. Thank you. Thank you drunk Lauren for telling him that you are actually that freaking vain. Joy. The last year of convincing him that you aren’t really that into looks just flushed down the drain. 

Ugh. Frankly it is the truth, but he didn’t need to know that. And he sure as hell didn’t need to know the goal for that. I’m talking the *actual* goal. Not the obtainable one that I tell myself and my girlfriends. Not the obtainable goal that I have a snowball’s chance in hell of accomplishing. 

Nope. Bust out the gym shoes ladies, because I told my boyfriend that I wanted to lose 60lbs before he proposed. 

Oh, on a side note he hinted on our one year anniversary that he would start thinking about it in September. So that is like 60lbs in FIVE months. FML. I had better start running marathons, and avoid carbs and booze like the plague. 

Not just because of the calories. God knows what drunk me will do to screw over sober me next!

Bitch will probably admit that I want a boob job...

Ruminations on Religion, part 1

File this one under religion and spirituality, and stop reading now if you aren’t into exploring that kind of thing.

Okay. I warned you. I have been going to some religious lectures with my grandpa, and I have had a few things stick out to me.

A synonym for incurable, is resistant to change, which sounds more like a thought pattern than a physical ailment. Which makes a lot of sense with the concept of our thinking determining our experience; and is backed up by medical facts of the life expectancies of people who face the same challenges with different outlooks. That we should pray from the standpoint of our innocence as God’s loved children and not from our guilt (Romans 8:1,2 “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.”). The word SOZO is in the Greek Bible has two translations, one which is commonly used is to save, and the other is to heal. Salvation comes with healing. Greek is an awesome language. Also, that God is speaking to us now even as he was in Biblical times. He is all good and that we need to “tune” ourselves into the messages that God is sending us, because they are happening every day. All of this got me to thinking about what separates us from God. What causes us to tune out?

In Genesis God creates all aspects of our world and he sees that they are all good. Not mostly good. Not good except for that little bit over there. No. Just GOOD. That stands to reason since one of the descriptors of God is that he is good, it is right up there with omnipotent and omnipresent. God is everywhere, all knowing, all loving, and all GOOD.

So where do we get this idea of a power to rival God’s power, a Satan or a devil, perhaps a sin? If everything that God created was good, and God is literally everywhere, where did that damn slimy evil snake that separated us come from? Did God create something as an antithesis to himself? Was he sitting in Heaven somewhere and decided that for the human story to be a really good one he needed to have a FOIL a bad guy that stood for everything he did not? Well, sort of. He did give us free will. The choice to either listen and grow spiritually or try to ignore our higher selves and be beaten upside the head with life lessons.

You know what I’m talking about. That slimy snake that still talks to us all. The one that tells us we will only be happy if we have what someone else has. The one that says that the next big thing will make me successful. After the next promotion I will be secure. After the next ten pounds come off I will be pretty. After I get knowledge I will be happy. Yeah, I know that cool calculating self justification all too well. Hello ego, it is nice to hear from you again. Jerk.

Think on this for a moment please. What separates us from God, or Godly thoughts, or spiritual growth, or plain ol’ being a good person? The devil? Satan? Mortal mind? The snake? Are you sure that those names aren’t all talking about the ego? The part of you that is all selfish desires and self justification? The part that says, ”Those people are lesser than me in some way, so I can look down on them.” The part that screams, “No. I deserve this! I love *him/her/it*. I will just die without them. I can do anything in pursuit of this goal and it doesn’t matter who or what stands in my way because once I get it I will be happy! And happiness and love are good things. So this can’t be wrong.” Even as the logical side of you and probably half of your friends facepalm?

The ego is the part of us that can justify just about whatever material desire we want. It isn’t some outside evil force that causes us to be cruel. It is an inside one that we have to stand firm against every day because it is insidious as all get out.

For example, and I am not proud of these: I went to see my best friend last weekend. I love this woman, and I am so happy for her and her new husband that I could dance. They just bought a beautiful home together in a lovely neighborhood. It is their dream home, and in a few years it will ring with children’s laughter and they steady clack of a dog’s nails on the hardwood floors. They have worked their butts off for this house, and this life together. I have been there through their entire courtship. I know many of the ups and downs of it all. Yet as I toured this home I was filled with jealousy. I found myself having thoughts like, “Crap. I’m going to have to step up my game to compete with this.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa Lauren Jo. WTF? Compete? Really? I was wracked with guilt over it, but that didn’t stop me from fixating on how to have as nice of a home, just to keep up. She is my best friend and I felt horrible for being jealous of what she has. I felt like a horrible person, a horrible friend. The really disgusting part is that I don’t even want a big house! My dream is a cozy farmhouse somewhere surrounded by animals and trees, not a big house in the ‘burbs.

So why did I even feel jealous? I was falling into an egotistical trap with no end. I wasn’t wanting what she had out of any higher calling, it was purely my ego baiting me. I can liken it to two children playing and one of them squalling over the other having a better toy when ten minutes ago the child was completely happy with the toy they had. I just had the grown up version of that, and God do I feel like a heel. Even though I have spent a considerable amount of time thinking on it and realizing that it was just my ego talking I’m still not quite done smacking my head into the figurative wall. I am so sorry for being jealous of your closets, J. I will not build a house with bigger closets just to satisfy my ego. I swear.

Have you ever had anything like that? I suppose I need to fess to some of my other frequent ego traps too. I am really good at justifying why I’m mean to boys. And my mom. I can justify like a f-ing boss. I have been jealous of a friend that has a great body, never mind the fact that she exercises six days a week and monitors her diet closely. I want that, but I don’t want to work for it. So I find myself getting high and mighty about what she is missing out on –which is almost as bad as when I get all ego happy about not being ego happy.

Because that snake is a slithery little sucker and even when I’m on a spiritual, find my path, happy with life kick he comes in and is like. “You are such a good person. Look at you forsaking material things and donating to food pantries. You’re like Mother Teresa with your random act of kindness a day pledge. They should give you a God-damned medal. You are so much better than other people. So. Much. Better.” See what happened there? I’m on a constant crusade against this critter, yet I still get turned around.

God, why are we wired this way? Seriously? A sign? A textbook? Anything? I hypothesize that our ego is what divides us from the divine. Call it Satan, or a snake, or mortal mind; the semantics don’t matter. The only way to achieve joy here is to tune out the static selfish thoughts and tune into the good, the God-like ones (principled, loving, blessing for all, honorable, etc.). Our ego, our sense of self, is what dies when we leave our bodies and the lack of that is what allows us to commune with the Oneness.

Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong, but the rumination has been AMAZING.

PS: If I suddenly get a textbook I will definitely let you know.

The Responsibility Rant

I was raised a Christian Scientist, and while I am not a strong adherent to the principles it has really affected my worldview. I always recall my grandma saying was, “See the good in people.” and “You’re thinking determines your experience.” She was saying this from the standpoint of her religious belief. Essentially that all of us are children of God, and are therefore good. But I think this transcends religion. By choosing to see the good qualities that someone has we are changing our experience to be a more positive one. By expecting a certain outcome we are setting ourselves up to reflect that outcome.

I read a story yesterday about a teacher whose first impression of a student was that of a slovenly child that didn’t apply himself. She decided that he was lazy, and that she didn’t like him. Months passed and she eventually read his past history from other teachers. She found that this child’s mother had passed away two years before and that his father did not actively participate in his child’s life. Right then the teacher changed her perception of the student and he began to flourish. He came out of his shell and applied himself. That student would write to her several times over the course of his life and thank her for being there for him and tell her that she was the reason his life had turned around. Her perception shift so changed this boy’s reality that he became a very successful doctor. But where would he have been if she, and everyone else around him, had continued to hold him in the light of being a slovenly unwilling child? Would he have become successful? Would he have caved to other’s expectations of himself?

How many stories like that do you hear or read? I know that I can think of several off the top of my head.

But I’m not a teacher. I’m not even a parent. I don’t interact with kids. How does a story like this even apply to me?

Because our perceptions don’t just impact kids. They impact our friends, our families, and the stranger in the grocery store parking lot; they impact everyone that we deal with, every day.

I have a friend whose significant other was diagnosed with diabetes. As I was talking to her she explained to me that even though it was really hard for her she was refusing to nag him about testing, or eating the right things. In short she was refusing to take responsibility for him, because the minute that she did she knew that his illness would no longer be his responsibility. It would be her responsibility. This action blew my mind. My first impulse was to say, “But he’s a guy he can’t be trusted to take care of himself.” Wow. Way to be sexist, Lauren. Just because he is a man he can’t make decisions that are best for his health? He couldn’t be trusted to eat right or take care of himself? She had to take on his illness as her burden? If I had a significant other in the same situation, would I have to do it too? Even while my first impulse shouted, “Well of course you would!” My brain started working.

Does my dad not pick up soda cans because he is incapable, or because my mom has made such a big deal out of “having to pick up after him” that he no longer feels like he needs to? Is it her expectation of ineptitude that holds him back? I know he picks them up when she isn’t home. I’ve seen it. My grandpa has a similar issue with his wife, which is what got me ruminating on this again.

My grandfather is a staunch Christian Scientist, which is why I started this blog by talking about my grandma (who passed away 13 years ago). Grandpa’s wife is not of the same faith. He has been praying for several years now to see her in a better light, to picture her as a perfect child of God. Kay? But then at breakfast the other day he started explaining away her hounding at him as being not her fault because her family stressed her out and she wasn’t capable of handling it. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa, grandpa. She is either a child of God with the same capabilities as anyone else, or she is a child who has to be taken care of and made excuses for because she can’t control herself. Say what? How does that work? Is she, or is she not capable? I have had the same discussion with her about her children, and I have come to the conclusion that she is just as capable as anyone else, as are her kids; but there is no way in the seven hells of myth that any of them are going to take responsibility if no one is expecting them to do so.

How many times do we do that to each other? How many times do our expectations, good or bad, flavor our experiences? Was it that the guy at the store was grumpy, or was I thinking he would be and scowling at him first? How many times do we take responsibility for someone else’s actions without even giving them the courtesy of expecting that they can make their own informed decisions? How many kids don’t clean up their rooms because their parents expect that they wouldn’t do it right? How many partners feel like their mate is taking unfair advantage of them because they can’t expect them to do the dishes or the laundry, and then they don’t? How many people don’t ever discover just what they are capable of because no one ever gives them the courtesy of expecting them to be capable of anything?

Seriously. We are all guilty of slacking on some things when someone else is willing to take responsibility for it. For example, when my parents are gone I suddenly morph into a highly capable woman who can fix a tractor with baling wire and dose out dog meds like a pharmacy trainee. But when you put my parents back into the equation suddenly dad is fixing the tractor and I won’t go near my mom’s geriatric dog ward with a ten foot pole and a hazmat suit.

Why? Because they don’t expect me to. It isn’t that I am more capable when they are gone. It is that when they are gone I feel the responsibility and I don’t have anyone else around telling me that I don’t, or expecting me to mess it up and preemptively doing it for me. To a certain extent we are all as lazy as those around us will let us be. The only way we ever reflect a behavior is if it is expected of us; by ourselves, or by an outside individual. You have to expect it to reflect it.

As a society we need to stop expecting that our fellows and our progeny aren’t capable of finding work, or cleaning up after themselves, or doing what is best. We need to start expecting that others are doing their highest sense of right too; and maybe when we stop being so caught up in doing it for them, we will see that they are reflecting their own highest sense of right. We would all be much less stressed, and I would guess happier, if we took a note from my friend and let our loved ones own their responsibilities whether those responsibilities are soda cans, medical decisions, or finding a way to make a tractor work. I think we would all be surprised of how much more fulfilling our lives could be if we start expecting and reflecting.

Again I ask, “How many times do we take responsibility for someone else’s actions without even giving them the courtesy of expecting that they can make their own informed decisions? How many people don’t ever discover just what they are capable of because no one ever gives them the courtesy of expecting them to be capable of anything?” How is that right? How is that doing anyone a favor? It seems to be that it is not only stressing out the person taking responsibility, it is doing everyone else a huge disservice. What, are we so narcissistic that we think we are the only competent person we know? Sure, no one wants to watch someone they love struggle. I admit that I have a the impulse to beat several of my friends and family sometimes because solutions to their financial or romantic or whatever else plight are so clear to me, and they just don’t see it. But even if I could somehow do it for them, which I have to admit to myself that I can’t, I shouldn’t. The struggle is part of it.

We need that challenge to truly find ourselves. That is what we need to grow and to help others grow. I need to trust that my family member will figure it out, and be there to bounce ideas off of, not just do it for her. Just like that teacher needed to not write off the student, but to expect him to be capable. We need to expect that our partner can step up and do their share. We need to expect that others can pull their own too.

Maybe when we do that not only will we find that there are more capable, confident people around; but we will also have empowered a group of people that may not have ever had the shot at encouragement over entitlement before. Expect it to reflect it.

Judge not, lest ye fall into a self-hate spiral

In my little bubble of friends I can be me. They don’t judge me for drinking and telling them not to judge me. They accept my dorky sense of humor. They believe I am witty, even when I am just ridiculous, or so they say. They cheer me on when I lose weight and they tell me I am gorgeous even when I feel fat. I’m lucky. I’m blessed. I have a network of wonderful friends that builds me up every damn chance they get. They are so great at being supportive that I even believe them.

I feel pretty, witty, competent, intelligent, and most of all, worthy. I say this, because I want one thing clear, I have decent self-esteem.

So why then, am I a big ball of anxiety about having to meet Captain America’s friend’s wives? Not friends mind you, I am not worried about them, but friend’s wives. Seriously, I have been on the verge of tears all week because I am going to meet these girls on Friday. I wanted to bawl in the middle of Kohl’s because I couldn’t find any clothes that made me look great without looking like I was trying to look great. I spent a good fifteen minutes staring at my butt and the backs of my legs willing them to change before my very eyes.

Unsuccessfully mind you.

I bought a pair of shorts with the thought of, “If I tan enough maybe my cellulite won’t show.” How is it that a girl with decent self esteem can be completely overwhelmed by the thought of meeting other women? You note that it isn’t me, or my friends, or my guy, or even my guy’s friend’s opinions that I am  ready to cry over; but a group of unknown women. Women whom Captain America has assured me multiple times that their opinions don’t matter one lick to him. I am completely primed to cry over the thought of being judged imperfect by people who actually don’t affect me in any way.

Me. The girl who can pick up an entire bar full of guys without a problem. Me. The girl that doesn’t believe in appearance enough to even wear make up to work most days. Me. The girl that has this wonderful support network. Me. The girl ready to break down in the dressing room because I will never have thin calves or cellulite free thighs (maybe I could, but even in undergrad when you could see every rib and my thighs were fantastically toned I still had it, so I seriously doubt it).

I read an article today, http://www.rolereboot.org/life/details/2013-06-when-your-mother-says-shes-fat, the writer makes a very good point talking about those that have passed away. “I sometimes think about what these friends—and the people who love them—wouldn’t give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body’s thighs or the lines on its face wouldn’t matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.” Talk about perspective.

So, why exactly am I tanning myself into an early grave over a few bumps? Why am I worried over what strangers may think when I know that my loved ones would rather have me pale and bumpy than not at all? In short, where in the F has my head been at?

A few weeks ago I went to a concert and in an attempt to make conversation I joined in with the girls I was with during the hardcore judging of those around us. It was toxic. I have never been one to judge on appearance, but after finding flaws in others for about two hours all I can see in myself are my own flaws.

I don’t have the legs for shorts…

                I don’t have the calves for boots…

                                I don’t have the arms for tank tops…

                                                I don’t do my hair or make-up well…

                                                                My friends would let me out of the house wearing that too…

What in the seven hells is wrong with me? How can two hours hurt my psyche so much? I guess there was something else to that whole, “judge not lest ye be judged” thing. Who knew it applied here too? The worst part is, it isn't even being judged by others, my judging others led to me judging myself. In short, the more judge-y I got about others the lower my own self worth fell.

I do have a great smile.

                I do have good legs.

                                I do have good arms.

WTF is that internal voice talking about? Where does that voice even come from? It’s a liar. Tell that voice to sit and spin.

I am attractive, both mentally and physically.

                I am worthy of conversation and attention.

                                I am a fantastic freaking human being.

                     

    And so are you.

Look up and smile. Shine your light into the world. We all want to see it.

"Grown Up"

Periodically I do something that makes me feel particularly adult. Like calmly walking into Sears and buying a dryer, or spending my tax return on a vacuum cleaner. Seriously, I get so responsible and “nesty” that I almost panic and stare down strangers wondering if they realize I am some sort of an adult imposter that secretly eats macaroni and cheese and ice cream for supper. I make awkward eye contact with them and try to smile and look serene. Adults look serene, right? I am probably the creepy woman at the store glaring at the other patrons, imposing my mastery of maturity on them to cover up the fact that I want to skip out of the store and giggle like a middle schooler.

All I know is that a real adult probably doesn’t sit in her car and scream “I bought a dryer!” over and over to herself in the parking lot. She probably doesn’t call up her bff to tell her that she bought a dryer and whisper, “I feel so grown up. It’s incredible.” to her like someone talking about their first kiss.

Nor does a grown up lady stop vacuuming her floor at nine o’clock in the evening and say, “Self, you’re doing an awfully adult thing. Go you, with your responsibility and accomplishments! Wait, wait. Holy hell. I am a grown up. I don’t feel like a grown up. Do I want to be a grown up? Do I have a choice? Am I just caving to societal pressure to fit a certain gender mold? Do other grown ups periodically stop and panic about being gender molded grown up? Is this normal? Will I ever stop feeling like I am being a fake grown up? Am I going to be ninety calling J and whispering to her that I feel so grown up now that I broke a hip? Screw buying a dryer, this is where it is at! Probably. What about my conversation with V talking about buying grown up things. I am 27 should I really be amused when I can buy whatever I want anymore? Shouldn’t I have grown out of this by now? How responsible is it really to buy groceries and cleaning supplies. This is like when I reorganized my cabinets. I wonder if my mom ever had thoughts like this? Did my grandma? I can’t picture my grandma having thoughts like this because she was a REAL lady. Not like the imposter lady that I am. Crap it is almost ten I still have to mend those pants. F. I hate being a grown up.”

Upon much reflection this is what I think about being grown up: F this noise, I wanna play Barbie’s and eat chips.

Okay, okay, fine. Legal booze consumption and home ownership do have their advantages. But I have to wonder, will I ever feel like an adult or will this sense of playing house/dress up continue to pervade?

A Terrible Secret

I have a dangerous addiction that I am not proud of. I felt the need to share it with you in the hopes that the interwebz will show me a vast outpouring of love and support, but knowing that I am most likely just going to get judged and mocked.

But I don’t care. Because if anyone else struggles with this, If anyone else has this problem, well, they need to know that they aren’t alone.

Hello. My name is Lauren, and I am addicted to cereal.

I’m sure all of you know cereal, and it can be used recreationally with little to no harm. In fact cereal addiction is such a misunderstood problem that many companies don’t even warn you of the hazard. There is no warning on the boxes that it can become a problem. That is why I am here today, to bring this issue to light.

Are you like me? Incapable at stopping at a serving? At a bowl? Until you finish the box?

Do you eat cereal for breakfast, and pretend to eat healthy meals the rest of the day only to go home to that cardboard carton of delight? Maybe you try to say it is dinner. Maybe you try to call it dessert. The words you use to justify it don’t matter. We have a problem, and it is time that someone started talking about it.

So, how do you cope with your cereal addiction? Do you avoid the brightly colored aisle at the store? Buy only Grape Nuts or plain Total? You’re in a supportive and loving environment. Please feel free to share. I am thinking we should have a meeting with some sort of drum circle, and refreshments.

But if anybody brings a box of Honey Nut Oh’s to our support group please be warned I will have to confiscate them for your own safety. Actually, Lucky Charms too. And Honey Nut Shredded Wheat! Actually, if it has honey in it you should probably just hand it over. That stuff is like boxed crack.