Thursday, May 19, 2016

Mama, I'm Coming Home!

At the turn of the century, I was a bright-eyed, curious 17-year old who had never left the confines of New England.  All I knew was that the Patriots were everything, Dunkin Donuts was an essential daily fix, and that you needed a good pair of Bean Boots if you were going to make it through any New England winter.  I was the first Doustou to utter these four words: I’m going to college!  And an even bolder statement was that I planned to do so out-of-state.  In late August, I found myself sitting alone in a dorm room at BU after my parents unloaded the Subaru of all my worldly possessions and turned around to head back to Maine.  As I unpacked, I found a letter that my mom had left behind along with my new extra-long dorm sheets and bed risers.  The electric blue iMac across the room indicated that my roommate had already moved in, but she must have been getting her new social life underway, so I sat there alone and read my mother’s letter in tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I had decided to do.  That day was the beginning of a life that any earlier version of me would have never comprehended.

I quickly made friends, and my inner circle soon resembled a United Nations poster—very unfamiliar territory for a girl from white, Catholic, French-Canadian Maine.  Before the school year was over, I decided that I wanted to stay in Boston for the summer, and I haven’t lived in Maine since.  I had a burning desire to study abroad, travel, and see all that I could see while I was still young and crazy enough to do it.  I traveled around the U.S., visiting places I had only seen on TV and in books: New York City, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Washington, Oregon, North Carolina, California, and more!  I even crossed the border and ventured into Mexico.  During my junior year I decided to brush up on my French and head for Paris.  I lived there for a semester and studied French politics, economics and the arts “en Français.”  There, I had experiences a younger me hardly could have imagined!  I lived a stone’s throw away from the Eiffel Tower, got to put on a fancy gown and attend the Césars (i.e. the French Oscars), and for less than 100€, traveled on puddle jumpers that probably couldn’t pass an FAA inspection to Prague, Dublin, Brussels, Mont St. Michel, and other beautiful European destinations. 

At the end of my senior year, I agreed to move to New York City with my then-boyfriend, who would be attending medical school at Mt. Sinai.  I landed a decent-paying job and joined the ranks of the Manhattan twenty-somethings who spend all their money on rent, metrocards, happy hour and shoes.  When my relationship didn’t work out, I rented a $1400 room in a luxury apartment across from Alvin Ailey (to this day, I insist it was worth it, as my bedroom window had a direct view into one of the practice studios) while I looked for a permanent spot.  Soon after that, I did another shocking thing: I fell in love with a black man and moved to Roosevelt Island.  I’ll save the hilarious details of his first trip to Maine for another time, but let’s just say the first thing my grandfather ever said to the guy was “I love Condoleezza Rice!” He was a travel agent, and we made good use of the accompanying perks in our 7 years of marriage.  More travel, more stamps in my passport, and a much better tan—it seemed I was living the life.

I’ve spent the last 12 years working my way up the corporate ladder in Manhattan.  I have since become numb to things like paying $1800 for a studio apartment, navigating sidewalk subway gates in stilettos, and standing in a fat man’s armpit all the way to work because it’s the lesser of two evils when it’s that, or wait for the next train and be 20 minutes late for work.  Nobody can tell me I haven’t lived!  I’m sure many people follow my social media pages and even this blog and think “Wow, what a life she is living!”   And they aren’t wrong, but there’s a whole other side of me that has been hovering under the stiletto-wearing, kick-ass-and-take-names Manhattan professional and fitness buff you see on the surface…and she misses her family (and wants to watch the Patriots play every Sunday without paying Time Warner a small fortune).

I guess you can take the girl out of New England, but you can’t take New England out of the girl.  Despite the undeniable fabulousness of the life I’ve been blessed to live thus far, I’ve often struggled with the deep and hollow feeling that something was missing.  It took me awhile, but I’ve finally figured out what it was: my family.  Nothing is more important to me than my family, and the thought of spending one more year away from them has become nearly unbearable.  I reminisce fondly about Sunday dinners with the family, playing board games and cards with my cousins (which was rarely as innocent as it sounds…Profane Pictionary or Violent Phase 10, anyone?), and eating breakfast for dinner with my mom whenever we found ourselves home alone.  There are some things that all the money in the world can’t buy and all the passport stamps I can amass would never measure up to.  In addition, I went to culinary school with the dream of opening my own bakery one day.  While that dream has shifted slightly to another business model, the fact remains that I’m unable to pursue it here.  The cost of living is too high, and being a single mom with no support system is too difficult.  I’m tired of going through the motions, doing work I’m not passionate about just because I ain’t mad at the paycheck, dragging my daughter from one event or activity to the next, and never just being still and enjoying the simple things in life.  Finally, I’ve always wanted Jordin to have a sibling, but I could never bring myself to imagine having another baby and raising him/her so far from my family, knowing how hard it was the first time.

So, as many have done before me and many more will do, I’m walking away from the fine art-laden walls of my glamorous Fifth Avenue office, the six-figure salary, the celebrity sightings, and the possibility of getting international cuisine at 3:00 a.m. and clubbing until dawn.  It all sounds great, but I’m over it.  I’m excited to give up all the excess in exchange for that which truly feeds my soul and to give my daughter a life full of family and love.  I’m mildly concerned about the culture shock that may occur, but I’m sure it will pass.  Just promise me that one of you will intervene if I stop pronouncing my Rs and wearing Hunter Orange on the regular.     

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

BIG Goals

I’m an extremely goal-oriented person.  I do better in all aspects of life when I am pushing toward a goal that I know I can and will smash.  Admittedly, I don’t deal so well with failure.  Sure, I repost all of those Instagram quotes that say things like “the only true failure is when you stop trying,” “we learn more from our failures than our successes,” or “failure is the key to success,” but I realized that I don’t truly live my life by these standards.  Instead, I allow the fear of falling short convince me to set the bar lower than I truly want to because it’s safer that way.  Here’s the problem with that: if I always aim lower than I really want to, I will constantly live some watered-down version of the life I could (and SHOULD) have.  That sounds positively mediocre…and the only thing I hate more than failure is mediocrity.

In reflecting on my past and reading some old journals, it occurred to me that I’ve spent a great deal of my adult life simply tolerating my circumstances rather than creating a life I truly enjoy.  I’ve held jobs that paid healthy salaries and offered many enticing perks, but they came at a price, whether it was mistreatment by bosses/coworkers, lack of professional growth, or simply not feeling passionate about what I was doing.  I’ve committed to men who had no idea how to treat a woman and who certainly weren’t on the same page as I was when it came to overall life goals.  I’ve erroneously given the title “friend” to people who were just fans but never truly had my back.  In many cases, I’ve adjusted to anything that didn’t quite feel “right” because I told myself, “this will do.” 

It’s a new season for me.  Mediocrity, setting the bar low, and settling are not allowed.  It’s like I’ve had a revelation and I can’t go back.  I’ve got this verse on repeat:

That says nothing about constraints, safeness, your desires being “within reason,” or anything like that.  It places no restriction on the things God will bless you with when you delight yourself in him.  So why should I place limits on the things I want? 

I want a family.  I want to spend every single day in mutual, head-over-heels, crazy love with a man who treats me like a queen and my daughter like a princess.  I want to be an awesome mom to awesome kids who love their lives and aren’t afraid to dream.  I want to minister to people.  I want to wake up every day and feel excited about going to do what I love.  I want to relax without feeling guilty.  I want to travel.  I want to spend more time with my parents, my sister, and my nieces.  I want to be surrounded by friends who are supportive and loyal and love me unconditionally, which is just how I will love them.  I want to listen to music I enjoy, learn how to dance my butt off, watch movies that entertain me and read books that awaken my intellectual mind.  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  You may think I’m crazy.  You may think I’m setting myself up for some serious disappointment in the future.  In fact, some of you are rolling your eyes and shaking your head right now (if you’re even still reading)!  Well no offense, but I just gave y’all the biggest Kanye shrug I could muster after teaching BodyPump and CXWORX last night.   Because in a world full of negativity, judgment, fear and discouragement, I dare to believe Psalm 37:4.  Stay tuned…you’ll see :-)

Thursday, April 14, 2016


I’ve been listening to a sermon series by Joyce Meyer on the subject of managing stress and establishing boundaries—two things I’m notoriously bad at—and it has really changed my attitude.  One of the things I’ve realized is that as much as I would love to blame others for my frenzy, most of the stress is my life is self-created.  Like many generations of Fortiers (that’s Mama Bear’s maiden name) who came before me, I have that hardworking, eager-to-please gene that doesn’t know how to sit still or say no.  My last post focused on minimizing distractions, which sort of goes hand-in-hand with what I want to say today: 
Don’t be afraid to walk away from something (or someone) that is not feeding you or, even worse, is stealing your joy.

I’ve had this post vaguely on my heart for a while but couldn’t quite pull it together…until this morning.  This morning as I squeezed groggily onto the PATH train between a middle-aged man in a suit and a young hipster who appeared to be taking a walk of shame, Joyce’s words resonated like church bells in my wireless Beats and shocked me right out of my commuter’s stupor.  She said:

“Life gets rough when God gets finished and you’re not finished yet.”

A handful of situations and relationships immediately flashed into my mind, reminding me of too many times that I tried to white-knuckle something that just wasn’t meant for me anymore.  Now before you read that as regret, let me explain.  I don’t believe in regret.  I think that we can learn something from every single situation we find ourselves in, and that the only regrettable thing would be to miss those lessons completely and wallow in self-pity every time something doesn’t go the way we hoped it would.  Nonetheless, that’s not my style, so I’m not here to talk about regret.  Instead I want to focus on what causes the belief that walking away from something or saying no equals failure.  Maybe it’s pride or insecurity…I honestly don’t know for sure.  But what I do know is that I like to please everyone.  I like to be liked.  I like for people to say things like “Jenalee is such a hard worker.  Jenalee is so selfless.  Jenalee is a great helper.  We can always count on Jenalee!”  This desire has led me to be in charge of things I had no business running and also to do all the work on one too many group projects in life.  While I may have appreciated the title or the glory that came along with those things, one thing I was unable to appreciate was the process.  And now I’m left wondering: if I wasn’t enjoying it, why on earth did I keep doing it?      

I also have a bit of a savior complex.  Somehow, somewhere in life, I developed the notion that I can take a broken, imperfect person and love them into greatness if I simply refuse to give up on them.  When I reread that sentence, it sounds so nice.  I mean, who wouldn’t support the idea of unconditional love?  Here’s the issue: unconditional love DOES NOT MEAN standing by someone who doesn’t know how to treat you.  I can think of several times that I overlooked bad behavior or mistreatment simply because it was dished out by someone I loved and I didn’t consider walking away to be an option.  I think of myself as a pretty strong person, so I would often think, “I’ll be okay.  I can handle it” and I would keep hanging on despite feeling stressed, worried, hurt, sad, offended, invisible or unloved.  The bible says that God wants us to have ABUNDANT life (John 10:10), and none of those emotions are even remotely abundant.  Just because I CAN stick it out while feeling any of those emotions doesn’t mean that I should!  I had to learn that it is possible to love someone from a distance.  In other words, I can still care deeply for a person without giving them carte blanche to treat me however they want to.  Just like Joyce said, life got pretty rough each time God tried to show me that those seasons or relationships were over, yet I kept hanging on for dear life.

It takes a measure of strength and faith to be able to assess a situation and discern that its season has come to an end.  Letting go and embracing change is a difficult thing for many of us to do, particularly when we feel that others may not understand or support our choice.  However, hanging onto a relationship or assignment that has run its course just because it feels safe and familiar only gets in the way of accepting the new blessings that God wants to give us. Now, instead of biting my nails and wondering whether God is testing me by keeping me in some joy-stealing situation, I’ve learned to recognize when He is showing me that a season in my life has reached its end.  And to confirm, I just take it to Him in prayer and always receive an answer.  This step is the most important one because without it, I may move on from something yet always wonder “what if…”  But when I receive that spiritual confirmation, it doesn’t matter who disagrees with me.  I can move on boldly without even glancing over my shoulder to see who in this world is behind me.  This has allowed me to spend a lot less time grumbling through situations out of obligation and a lot more time doing what feeds my soul and puts a smile on my face.  I highly recommend it.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016


I remember how overwhelmed I felt when I first learned to drive.  Other cars were driving next to me, toward me, and maneuvering around me.  There were pedestrians, cyclists, and garbage trucks to look out for while obeying signs and traffic lights and keeping command over the gearshift, gas pedal, brake, windshield wipers, headlights, seatbelts and radio.  Thank God it was 1998 and there was no such thing as a backup camera, iPod connection, cell phone or built-in navigation back then…I’d probably still be in the fetal position without a license.  When I was a brand new driver, my parents and driver’s ed teachers encouraged me to limit the number of distractions so I could focus on the main objective: to get where I was going, and to get there safely.  Back then, I would shush my passengers (if I even had any), turn off the radio, go the speed limit, stop at yellow lights, and never even consider changing lanes without signaling.  Over time, I got more comfortable behind the wheel of my little green Dodge Neon until eventually I was jamming to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and sipping Fruitopia while zooming through the curviest snow-crusted streets in central Maine to go visit my boyfriend in Buckfield.  It was as if I had become so accustomed to the distractions that I actually forgot to consider the enormous detrimental effect they could have on my main objective.

Lately I’ve been likening my life to that little Dodge Neon and giving some serious thought to the number of distractions I’ve entertained while navigating the streets of life.  As many other independent women, working moms and feminists have done, I managed to convince myself over the years that I can do it all and that I don’t need anyone’s help.  But here’s the thing: we may feel like we can do it all and we may even succeed for a little while, but over time, NO ONE—not even Wonder Woman herself—can, in fact, do it all.  If we continue to entertain every task and distraction without boundaries, our car will eventually get totaled. 

I totaled mine a few years ago.  When I was married, I took pride in the fact that I worked full time, kept a clean house, fed my family well day in and day out, did all the food shopping, clothes-washing, errand-running and the like.  I was that woman who you would see proudly schlepping 20 bags of groceries up the stairs because it didn’t even occur to me to call my husband and ask for help.  It worked for a while, but then I got horribly burned out.  I was grumpy and tired, and all of a sudden, the things I used to do happily caused a burning resentment to grow inside of me.  I had allowed life’s everyday tasks to distract me from my main objective: my family.  At the same time, I allowed myself to be overworked and underappreciated at a job that didn’t challenge me or fulfill me, but it paid well.  Once again, I was way too busy for no good reason.  I had traded in my dreams and goals for a distraction that came in the form of a paycheck.  I also held on to unhealthy friendships that were based solely on having fun rather than surrounding myself with people who would build me up and encourage me as I pursued my goals.  With these folks, I wasted time gossiping and creating drama that we would later spend even more time trying to quell.  All of this was a big distraction from creating the kind of life of life I really wanted to live.  I was overweight, overtired, underappreciated, unfulfilled, angry and eventually divorced and able to count my friends on one hand.  In other words, I had totaled my Dodge Neon.  

But don’t worry…my story doesn’t end there!  Fortunately, I serve a God of renewal and restoration.  Not only did He get my car out of the junkyard, but He upgraded me to a Bentley!  In other words, I’m enjoying my life more than ever (editor’s note to self: and making it look good.  Yasss you go girl!).  I still have to fight the tendency to spread myself too thin, but I’m blessed to have experienced a radical shift in my outlook.  I no longer feel the need to focus on a long list of people and commitments or to worry about satisfying as many as I can.  Instead I focus on the things that matter most to me: my personal growth and development, my family, and ministry.  If someone or something distracts me from investing in these objectives, then I’ve got to pass it by without hesitation.  It’s still difficult at times not to get caught up in drama or wallow in disappointment, but it takes discipline and a discerning spirit to recognize and reject these distractions…and these are things anyone can develop in prayer and in practice.  I’ll be honest, not everyone is a fan of the “new me.”  I’ve lost a handful of friends and upset a bunch of other folks because I’m no longer the “yes woman” I used to be, and that’s hard for them to understand and accept.  But one of the greatest benefits of my newfound focus and aversion to distractions is the peace that accompanies each of my decisions.  If I have to say no, I say it without guilt or regret, even if it goes over like a fart in church.

Distractions are everywhere.  Just like we can’t get rid of the other cars on the road, we can’t completely eliminate distractions from our lives.  But what we can do is learn to focus on operating our own vehicle with an awareness of these distractions and the potential danger they could cause if we entertain them.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Can We Stop Laughing at OCD Now?

Not long ago, I saw a Facebook quiz entitled “how OCD are you?”  Many of my FB friends posted their results with reactions like “HAHA! SO not surprising!” I got upset at people making light of a serious mental illness, but I told myself to calm down because I don’t want to be one of those people who are offended by every little thing these days.  THOSE people drive me nuts, and I certainly didn’t want to be one of them…so I went on with my life and never said a word.  But I realized since then that some things are worth speaking up about.  Some things are worth bringing to the light because nobody talks about them.  Some things remain a mystery simply because nobody shares the truth or bothers to educate those who operate under constant misperceptions.  So instead of being upset with the people who joke about OCD, I decided to write this piece in the hopes of educating them.  OCD isn’t funny.  It’s not a cute, quirky little thing that makes me a neat freak or causes what’s-his-face to carry hand sanitizer everywhere he goes.  OCD is a prison for those who are afflicted, and I want to share a glimpse into my personal prison to show you how very serious this illness can be. 

I was diagnosed with OCD shortly after my daughter was born, though my doctor believed I had struggled with the illness long before being diagnosed.  I also suffered from postpartum depression at the time, and it was very difficult for me to cope with even the simplest everyday tasks.  I was living in a new city where I knew no one, I had just been laid off from my job, and I was raising my first child while my then-husband worked 50+ hours a week and my entire family lived over 300 miles away.  It was a desperate situation, but with the help of therapy, a regiment of mediation and the support of my family and friends, I was able to cope with life for the next several years.  In 2013 I found my church and gave my life to the lord.  Shortly thereafter, I felt a breakthrough in my mental state.  Everything just felt better, and I learned to pray through anything and release my worries to God.  I read Philippians 4:6-7 daily and eventually I was delivered.  My anxiety and OCD behaviors and thoughts melted away.  I was still meticulous and organized, but I had control over it.  I was able to stop taking medication and function “normally.”  I praised God for the miracle he worked in my life.

Fast forward to 2015.  Earlier this year I began to notice that my thoughts and behaviors suddenly felt beyond my control.  I found myself scrubbing the same tile on my kitchen floor for 25 minutes.  I realized that I had wiped the same counter 8 times, yet I felt compelled to go back over it once more.  I sat at my vanity applying mascara and was unable to leave until each eyelash was separated from the ones next to it.  I wiped it off and started over four times.  My thoughts were consumed with fears of people not loving me, taking advantage of me or betraying my trust.  I questioned the motives of my friends and family when they tried to do nice things for me.  When my thoughts became obsessive, my behaviors would turn compulsive as a coping mechanism.  The counter-wiping or eyelash-separating would begin because the behavior would help refocus my mind and give me the illusion of having some kind of control…but the minute I stopped wiping or separating, the thoughts would come back.  As my illness worsened, I isolated myself for two reasons.  First, I trusted no one and I considered the chances of betrayal to be slim if I spent more time alone.  Second, I knew my OCD was back and didn’t want to burden anyone I loved.  It’s really difficult to understand and cope with my own mental illness, so I constantly wonder how I can expect anyone else to understand it or want to deal with it.  I made the mistake of isolating myself before and I said I would never do it again, yet there I was.

Another unfortunate manifestation of my OCD is an eating disorder.  For someone who is paid to get on a stage and motivate others to live a healthy and active life, this is a very difficult thing for me to admit publicly.  At first I would count obsessively.  I tracked my macros daily and went to bed feeling like a complete failure if I missed my target.  I would promise to make up for it the next day, and then I would restrict myself until I felt adequately “punished.”  I would be extremely particular about the foods I would allow myself to eat and the times at which I could eat them.  If something was considered “bad,”
 I would eat it secretly so no one else would know and I wouldn’t feel the shame.  I increased the frequency and intensity of my workouts to the point of injury, and then being sidelined just made me feel worse and caused the cycle repeat itself.  I lost too much weight, then gained it all back (and then some) because I started to binge.  Once again, my outward behavior gave the illusion of having supreme control and enviable willpower, but the reality is that I was completely out of control.  I felt depressed, ashamed and lonely because I had intentionally pushed people away so they wouldn’t know what was happening.  I hated myself and my “weakness” and would stop at nothing to hide it.  I considered myself a fraud for encouraging others to be healthy when I was being anything but kind to my own body.  I berated myself for having weak faith and said that if I truly trusted God, I wouldn’t even consider going back on my medication.  Then one day I got in the car and every time I needed to hit the brake at a stop sign or red light, I wanted to slam my foot on the gas pedal.  That’s the day I knew that I needed to get help before it was too late.  I decided to confide in a very small group of people who were as reassuring, understanding and positive as I prayed that they would be.  They encouraged me to get help and they didn’t judge me.  They checked in and offered to keep me accountable.  These people helped save my life.   

I’m not “fixed” or even “normal.”  You see, it’s not that simple with a mental illness.  I am in recovery, and I know that my recovery will be an ongoing process that will require me to be honest and lean on my loved ones and stop hiding in shame.  If there is anything you take away from my story, please let it be that.  You cannot do it alone, nor should you have to.  Recovery requires transparency, support, determination and planning.  Every day before I even get up, I have to consciously think a positive thought such as “I will trust people today,” or “I will not be overwhelmed by my thoughts today.”  I read specific scriptures that help me surrender this burden to God and enjoy the freedom that comes with doing so.  Here are a couple of my favorites:

I hope that in sharing this very personal piece of my life, I have given a face to the disorder that is so often the subject of jokes, Facebook quizzes and Instagram memes.  I hope I have helped you see that there is a difference between liking things neat and being unable to control your obsessive thoughts and compulsive actions.  Most of all, I hope that someone else who is struggling with OCD or any mental illness knows that he or she is not alone, is not crazy, is not weak, and WILL get through this.  If I can help by listening, talking, trading stories or praying for you, I invite you to share as little or as much as you feel comfortable doing.  My personal e-mail address is   

Tuesday, May 12, 2015


By now you probably know that I’m a certified BodyPump and CXWORX instructor, that I went to school for baking and that my faith, family and fitness are the most important things in my life.  But did you know that I have a degree in economics?  Yup, a very expensive one, at that…still paying for it more than a decade later 😩😢 Back in college, we spent a lot of time talking about expectations and how they can impact the economy.  I think that was when I first realized the impact our expectations can have in the grand scheme of things.  

 In economics, low consumer expectations lead to a decrease in consumer spending.  That is, when we feel that the economic future is uncertain, we tend to save more and spend less, leading to a drop in demand.  Rule #1 of economics is basically that supply and demand will always find equilibrium, so when demand drops, supply will also decrease until the new steady state is found.  When suppliers decrease production, they don’t need as many workers, so the unemployment rate will rise and GDP (the total value of all goods and services produced) will also drop.  When consumers hear things like “higher unemployment” and “lower GDP,” it just reinforces their negative expectations, and the cycle continues. 

You’re wondering why on earth I just bored you with an economics lesson, aren’t you?  Well, I used this very factual and academic lesson to demonstrate this:

Our Expectations Influence Our Outcomes

This statement is applicable in countless areas.  If you take medicine with the expectation that it will work, it often will…even if it’s just placebo.  If you wake up feeling like today is going to be a terrible day, it probably will be.  If you are an atheist, you will live a life based on science and explanation, never daring to take a leap of faith and thus never experiencing God’s miracles or grace.  No matter what the situation, our expectations will have an impact on the outcome. 

I have lost track of the number of times I’ve heard people say that they lower their expectations in order to avoid being disappointed.  In fact, I’ve even done this myself.  It seems logical.  If we set the bar low, it seems that anyone could meet our expectations, right?  Wrong.  The problem with this thinking is that our expectations influence our own behavior, which will in turn influence the behavior of others.  If you expect the worst from people, you will treat them accordingly, which will never inspire anyone to give you their best.  Have you ever been treated like you’ll never be good enough?  Maybe your mom always told you that your sister was prettier or that your brother was smarter.  Perhaps your boss points out everything you do wrong instead of praising you for the things you do right.  How does that make you feel?  If you’re competitive like me, maybe your first instinct is to prove them wrong.  Perhaps you’ll really step up your game to try to show them your value.  While that sounds like a solid plan, there is a problem with it: no matter how good you are and no matter how hard you try, it is very difficult to please someone with negative expectations.  Even if you start out strong and are determined to change their mind, eventually their negativity will break you down and you’ll wonder why you even bother.  Once in a while this may work and you may get a “wow, I sure was wrong about you!”  But if your girlfriend is convinced that all men are cheaters, you can basically be Prince Charming and still stand accused.  

How are you letting negative expectations influence your life?  Did you fall off the wagon the last time you tried to lose weight and now you’re letting my most hated phrase (“I can’t”) live inside your head?  Are you letting your negative expectations sabotage a current relationship because someone broke your heart or let you down in the past?  Are you spending frivolously because you operate under the assumption that you’ll never get out of debt and you’ll certainly never be wealthy, so you might as well spend what you’ve got?  Are you going to the DMV with a stank face because you assume that no visit to the DMV can ever be anything but unpleasant?  Where did I come up with these examples?  My own life.  I’ve done all of these things, and guess what the outcomes were?  CRAPPY.  And I have no one to blame but myself.  

Expecting the best is much easier said than done.  It takes balls, guts, faith.  You have to be willing to expose yourself a bit (emotionally, not physically…please don’t do that), and there is always that risk of disappointment.  It’s easy to be guarded and play it safe, but if you take the easy approach you will get mediocre results at best.  If you want your life to be great and you want to inspire greatness in others, you have to dare to have positive expectations and a positive attitude to go along with them.  If you strive to believe the best in every person and every situation, I guarantee that you will not only get better outcomes in your own life, but also inspire better outcomes in the lives of others.  Positivity is contagious…go spread some around and watch what happens!

Tuesday, May 5, 2015


I used to be bold.  For the first 20+ years of my life, I took not once ounce of crap from anyone.  I knew what I wanted and I knew how to get it.  I was confident in voicing my opinions and ideas, even if they weren’t the best ones.  I had high expectations for myself and others, and in the event that someone fell short of those expectations, I did not hesitate to dismiss them from my circle.  I expected nothing less than excellence and for things to always go my way.  I was as bold as can be!  The problem was that I was young and naïve.  I didn’t know anything, and my excessive boldness bordered on bullying and did not allow me to learn or grow.  My chutzpah basically turned me into a steamroller who never had to answer to anyone…but then I met a man who wouldn’t put up with one ounce of MY crap.  At first it was a good thing because it forced me to evaluate myself and make some changes.  I learned to be more open and considerate toward other people, and I was a lot less selfish and more giving.  Unfortunately I overcorrected.  My relationship with the take-no-crap man turned out to be quite dysfunctional and eventually I barely had any boldness left.  I became indecisive and started second-guessing everything I did and every choice I made.  I stopped thinking about what I wanted and what made me happy because I was trying so hard to keep him happy so the relationship would survive.  Basically, I became a doormat.

As I think about my history of boldness, I realize that there is a happy medium between steamroller and doormat.  My current mission is to find that balance every day.  There are three main areas where I feel like I could use some nice, balanced boldness:

1.  Using my voice – I don’t think anyone likes a nagging woman.  I have friends who nag their husbands or kids incessantly, and I just never found it to be an effective method of inspiring action.  I go out of my way NOT to be a nag.  In the spirit of always trying to be agreeable, I don’t speak up…even about the things that really matter to me.   Whoever I’m dealing with, whether it’s my boyfriend or my friends, has no idea that this is even going on because I never said a word.  They think things are fine because I act like things are fine, but resentment starts to build as I keep things bottled up inside.  This is obviously unhealthy and won’t lead to any kind of lasting relationship.  Any worthwhile relationship requires boldness.  We have to be true to ourselves and be able to disagree.  We need to be able to say the hard things, to challenge each other and to help one another grow.  That doesn’t happen when you only tell someone what they want to hear and always act agreeably.  Real love and real friendships call for boldness. 

2. Loving without expectation – Love requires a great deal of boldness.  It takes boldness to trust someone with the most private parts of your heart and soul and to allow yourself to be vulnerable.  It takes boldness to love someone even when they don’t make it clear that they appreciate it and return the sentiment.  It takes boldness to love someone through sickness, financial strain, loss, tragedy, and numerous other unpleasant and unexpected curveballs that life often throws us.  Fear is the biggest crusher of boldness and saboteur of relationships in many lives, mine included.  I love boldly.  I’m loyal to a fault and I love to spoil those who are dear to me, but the minute I become fearful that someone doesn’t appreciate me or is taking advantage of my nurturing nature, I pull back fast.  I stop giving and become suspicious or resentful, leaving the other person feeling unloved and wondering what happened.  Once again, this is no recipe for success.  I need to make sure that my boldness exceeds my fear if I am ever going to do what the bible instructs me to do:

“Jesus replied, ‘love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”    Matthew 22:37-40 (NIV)

      3. Having discipline – we have to be bold in order to accomplish goals, because it seems that there is always something or someone waiting to derail us.  Even our closest friends and family can throw us off our game without even realizing it.  A friend may ask me to skip church to go to the beach one Sunday or to cancel a personal training session to go to happy hour on a weeknight.  It could be something as simple as a friend picking up an extra croissant because he was trying to be thoughtful and doesn’t know that you’re trying to stay away from sweets.  Maybe a friend invites you to go shopping regularly because she doesn’t know you’re trying to save money to buy a house.  We have to be disciplined to achieve any goal, and that’s much easier to do when the people around us are on board.  The best way to get others on board is to declare our goals boldly so that the people in our inner circles will understand the importance of our aspirations.  There will also be people who choose not to be supportive due to disagreement with your goals, jealousy, anger or plain old hateration (yes it’s a word.  Thank you, Mary J!).  That’s just one more reason to be bold.
It only took me 32.5 years, but I’ve finally realized that there is a right way to be bold.  It is possible to advocate for myself and set healthy boundaries without browbeating others in the process.  It is okay to speak up about the things that matter to me and take a bold approach in making things happen.   And here’s the big one:


The only approval I’m seeking at this point in life is from God and myself.  If I’m happy and God’s happy, He’ll make sure I have exactly the right people in my life.  No more, no less.