I’m baaack!
Oh sweet mercies the roads I have traveled these last two years.
Ups and downs.
Joys and disappointments.
Life abundantly.
I will say this isn’t my usual kind of post. At least not of late. Not that I’ve posted much lately, but you know. I meant to. Being distracted by a side dish of crazy makes it really difficult to write anything that matters.
Yes, you read that right. I haven’t been writing because I got distracted by my own crazy. I can’t write that so and so will be upset. I can’t write about this because that will upset someone else. I can’t write about….
GAH!
Enough already.
I’m in a new writer’s group and it’s time to break this cycle, take off my water wings and swim again.
There are also some things you should know about me if you are new around here: I cuss some times, I’ve been known to drink whiskey on occasion and while I’m considered a bleeding heart liberal here in the bible belt, the truth is I’m really more of a moderate. I do love horses and cycling, I’m just banned from both until my broken leg finishes healing. I love rockin open comedy mics, I play banjo for fun and believe it or not, I am really happy you are here.
I’m not going to tell you how to get everyone to like you (you can’t) or how to be a better Lutheran, I left the Lutheran church three years ago, which is when this whole mess started so you know. I’m not even going to tell you how to be a better wife. As for gardening, well… that’s what nurseries are for so go find a master gardener and have a ball.
I want to have fun writing again. So this is just me raw, mildly edited and hopefully offering a side dish of humor.
I’ve been through a lot of changes over the last few years. Some great, some notsomuch, but changes all the same.
I am going to tell you the cold hard truth that some people won’t be happy with your changes, your choices, or even your hair. And I am here to tell you that you will not die from that. And I know that because I didn’t.
I’m writing this because there are several of us in my new writing group who have faced this same dilemma. They feel alone like I once did. Together we are sharing our stories in hopes they find their way to other women like us. The hope is to be an encouragement for those who are afraid they are too much. Too loud. Too smart. Too outside of the lines for humanity.
We aren’t lone rangers. We are women who care about other women. May our strength become yours.
My blog did great in 2012 and then something unthinkable happened. The very people I believed would be excited for me, weren’t and I got upset by that. Not just a little upset either. Think literally shake whenever I met someone new upset. Super sweet oh please be my new best friend, upset. Mad at you to the point I thought my skull would burst and still not say a word about it so that you will still like me upset. Obsess over every nuance, phrase or contact to see where I stand on everyone’s “HOW MUCH I LIKE DEANA TODAY” Chart upset.
We are talking full frontal crazy my friends.
There were those who told me I needed to repent of all this dreaming about writing a book and doing stand up comedy and just go back to being small so that they could be comfortable with their own choices. I hate to admit it, but I may very well have given in to the pressure at least for a little while. I lost my voice. I got scared. I almost let my blog die and clung instead to the tattered shreds of their garments hoping they’d like me again. It was nauseating.
I didn’t even realize it was jealousy. I started thinking that maybe I really did deserve being the one to bring cookies to funerals and nothing more. Maybe they were right. Maybe that was the only thing I really deserved. After all, I must be an awful person if they are reacting so violently.
I even considered releasing my first book under a pseudonym so that I wouldn’t lose any more friends. Or worse, not writing it at all.
I wish I could change those two years, but I can’t. All I can do is learn from it and move on.
It never occurred to me that jealousy was behind it all. Not once. Here’s the deal, there will be people who will be jealous of you. Impossible you say? Nope. Gonna happen so get ready.
Someone finally put it this way. You put a bunch of male lobsters in a pot of boiling water and they will help each other climb out. Put a bunch of female lobsters in a pot, they’ll pull each other back in. Don’t get pulled back in!
Yes we’re taught to play nice and be relational, but the truth is you can’t nice jealousy away. Allowing another person’s opinion of you to become your problem is no solution.
Let it go, trust your gut and follow your heart.
Do you remember that comedy judge who called bullshit on my set two years ago saying “if this is what you believe about yourself, someone lied to you.” and then told me to go find the real me and bring it next year? Yeah well — turns he was right. I did believe those things and someone DID lie.
The biggest lie I remember being told – It’s your fault if other women reject you.
Can I tell you a secret?
My Facebook friends list used to include women I know hate me. Crazy right? Do you know why? I thought if they got to know me — the “real” me (as if FB is ever real) and saw all the stuff my husband and I did, they might eventually like me.
You know what?
They didn’t.
What a colossal waste of my time.
If I knew then what I know now I’d tell you to hang in there. It gets better. I promise. I hung in there long enough to learn that not all women are petty and fearful and rejection isn’t always caused by anything I did or didn’t do. Being uber sweet and playing small won’t help. Let’s face it, I bet there are women out there that hate Maryann from Gilligan’s Island. Even Ginger was jealous of her – remember that? Now who hates Maryann? People do.
Sometimes rejection is 100% about the insecurity of the other woman. There are women who see someone they deem beautiful and the walls instantly go up and the teeth come out.
I remember being blindsided by a cat fight a many years ago while getting ready to sing in a local presentation of The Messiah. It was my first year, and I was afraid.
“Oh wow a leopard print dress in The Messiah, how appropriate.”
“It’s not leopard, it’s wood grain. My friend made it for me.”
Insert eye roll and huff as she walks away.
All I remember about her is she was a pastor’s wife and a friend of a friend. She’d been at the same retreats I had. I liked her right up until that moment.
This was right before we headed upstairs to start the program. I started hyperventilating and someone grabbed my hand and stood there with me until I caught my breath. Not that his fiance’ appreciated that either though. Even so, I didn’t care and I was thankful for the kindness.
See the problem is, I didn’t realize yet that I hadn’t done anything wrong.
It would be wonderful if I could tell you I was in high school when this happened. I wasn’t. I was 34 and miss indignant was in her 40’s.
So here’s the deal girlfriend. Being nice isn’t going to fix this.You can’t nice someone out of jealousy. I know because I’ve tried. It makes you look icky. Really it does. That plus it’s just pathetic.
Catty women know no age limit and I want you to remember something. The right women will like you no matter what so to hell with the catty and insecure ones who need you to play small.
I know that sounds harsh — and it sounds harsh because you are still hanging onto the false hope that the woman who gives you grief, who bullies you, lies about you, whatever will finally like you if you just try hard enough. I’m ripping that band aid of denial right off of your heart. I do know the more spiritual answer is to let them go with love and leave them to God. That’s great but I know you. I know me. If we sugar coat this, we’ll have the false hope that they’ll come to their senses.
No
They
Won’t.
It’s just not going to happen. Let’s accept that and move on.
Put this on your refrigerator if you have to.
Print this picture out and post it on your bathroom mirror. You are beautiful. Own it like you mean it. Be brave sweet girl.
14 months in a boot, sitting on a porch over looking a river = 60,000 words of life that now need to be sifted, sorted, and hopefully converted into something useful.
I learned a lot about myself, and my story during that recovery time. I looked at my trigger points for my temper, my joy, and false shame. I gave myself permission to get mad about things I under-reacted to in the past, to feel what I feel, think what I think, and to realize some things weren’t worth the time of day and it was time to let them go.
I usually started my stories with a them in mind and it took a few pages to get to the me part of it. That’s pretty normal for me, really. I’m glad I did it. I know more about who pulls my trigger and why, and I get to take ownership of that back.
I shared this meme today on Facebook and wow what a response. Several people wanted to correct this and say the truth will set others free, but it will piss them off — all eyes on everybody else.
We just love telling other people the truth about how we see them, don’t we? I hate to break it to you, but my truth about how I see you might not really be the actual facts of the situation. My truth is warped by perception and my past realities. So is yours.
I’ve learned something at the river, If I spot it, I got it. The need to point out other’s faults is becoming less and less these days. Not that I don’t notice them of course. Honestly, looking around and finding faults in others is like shooting fish in a barrel.
1. The overly controlling wife or husband. You know the type, they control the entire social circle, question your motives, know all of their spouse’s passwords and want immediate access to all social media on demand. Or they don’t let them use social media at all unless it’s a shared page. I know several folk, men and women alike who do this.
2. The woman who has a crush on my husband and tears up every time she’s around him. – I’m not going to lie that one alone makes me want to turn into woman #1. It also makes me remind myself that prison orange is not my color. He’s a grown man, he’s got this. He does not need me running constant interference or checking up to make sure he doesn’t talk to her. I don’t even know his passwords and after 25 years, I don’t need to know them. Honestly, if he’s going to chase after waterworks gal if I don’t stay on it, I don’t want him. And he’s not going to, so I’m not worried.
3. The friend who doesn’t have time to talk to her friends, but has all the time in the world to send plea letters from her non-profit-of-the-month making us all feel more like check books than friends.
4. The bitter alcoholic who blames the world for everything, but never themselves. The perpetual victim. “It’s not MY fault.” – or let’s be fair The Put Upon Alanon who super glues their wrist to their forehead and goes on and on about what all they put up with in the name of love.
5. The person who exaggerates their accomplishments ad nauseum in order to fit in or impress – hard not to roll my eyes when this happens. I know a few people who fall into this category.
6. The jealous over other people’s accomplishments gal – She’s not hard to spot, wears a martyrs hat and says “must be nice” an awful lot. Also likes to sigh heavily and roll her eyes.
Surely, I don’t do any of those things.
Smirk.
yeah right.
On my best day, maybe not. But not every day is my best day, you know?
It’s rather easy to feel good about myself when I compare my best attributes to the worst characteristics of others. A friend once told me that.
“Of course you feel good honey, you are comparing yourself to a low bottom drunk — kinda difficult not to come out on top compared to that now isn’t it? Now, let’s talk about you for a change.”
Talk about hurt feelings.
She was right — It’s easy to feel good about myself when I do that. I can be any one of those people I listed in a heartbeat if I want. Heck, I’ve been worse some days.
And so when something sets me off – like the water works gal, the controlling spouse of a friend, or another plea letter. I have the freedom to look at myself and decide what I’m going to do. I can tell waterworks to back off and then let it alone. I can do my best not to be that controlling spouse in my home and trust my husband, and as for plea letter I can ask to be removed from that list and look at my own lists of friends. While I may not send letters, I did have people on my FB list for the sole purpose of marketing to. I deleted them. Can’t very well get snarky with someone when I’m doing the same thing, you know?
They call that taking my own inventory – something I try to do on a daily basis. That doesn’t mean I can’t set boundaries in relationships. I do. I speak my truth when it impacts me directly — If it doesn’t impact me directly then it’s none of my business.
So just for today:
I can tell myself the truth
Clean up my side of the sidewalk
and be free.
And it doesn’t have to piss me off like it used to.
I’m a work in progress — a majestic creation designed by the hand of God. I’m just not finished yet and that is okay.
I performed in a comedy contest two years ago. One judge told me to never perform comedy again after my first night. I had two more sets to do after that. Honestly all he did was piss me off — I may or may not have semi-intentionally torched that bridge while I was still standing on it. I may receive the grace at some point to make that right and I may not. I don’t know yet.
A second judge watched all three sets and then called bullshit on 90% of my jokes.
“If who you are communicating on stage is who you really think you are, then someone lied to you. Go find out who you really are, she’s the woman I want to see in your comedy next year.”
I then went home and promptly broke my ankle, had two major surgeries on my leg and was left without my go to for approval places, giving me 14 months to think about what both comics told me.
Neither judge was wrong.
I let fear rule my choices in jokes.
I wanted everyone to like me.
That was my first “big” comedy deal and I played it safe and I played it weak. I played “cute” to win people over.
It’s no wonder they didn’t like me, I didn’t even like the woman I pretended to be on stage.
I spent 14 months taking more than my comedy set back to the studs, I took myself there and I ended 2014 with a lot of letting go.
My trash pile includes:
Friends on Facebook who were only there because I thought I had something to prove — They were there as a see, you should have believed in me – look at me now kind of thing. Some were people I used to know but am no longer friends with and others weren’t even people I actually like in real life.
Names I’ve been called, things I’ve been told. Words like “lazy”, “Slut”, “Bitch”, “unwanted”, “stupid”, “bossy”, “Controlling”, “Bastard”.
Filling that wound with applause and achievements.
My need to control people by being cute or overly submissive.
Mind reading. I suck at it anyway.
Places and friends that are not safe.
Tilting at windmills — wasting energy and trying to change what cannot be changed. Controlling others.
Purposefully giving people a reason not to like me if I think they already don’t. Burning bridges while standing on them.
The desire to be known being over run by the fear of being found out. — that’s a big one and I’ll write more about that as the year unfolds.
Now you’d think after 30 years in a recovery program, I’d have all of this down cold. Notsomuch. One of the worst tag lines that’s going to take work for me is being told,
“I can’t wait for the day when I can prove to the world what a bitch you really are.”
That sentence alone has been the root of so many choices. That’s the sentence that I’ve allowed to define my actions and word choices for so many years. It also defined my sets and choice of jokes.
That’s the fear both comics saw manifest itself in that small theater in Indiana.
I learned a lot at The Cove. I learned that I’m not a bitch and that seasons pass just fine without my interference. I’m not any of those other labels either.
I’ve learned that I can know that for myself without having to inappropriately lean on those who already knew that for me.
So, I call a do over not only in my approach to comedy, but my approach to relationships as well and 2015 is just the year to do that.
Happy New Years you guys.
Much love,
Deana
It’s reckoning time boys and girls.
My office is a nightmare.
No really.
I’m not exaggerating.
It is so jam-packed with stuff that I can barely walk in the room.
I’ve resorted to using my lap top on my back porch just to avoid the mess. Only problem is, it’s winter and baby it’s cold outside.
I have an excuse.
I’ve had a broken leg for 14 months and so I’ve spent the last 14 months just throwing things in my office and thinking, “I’ll deal with it later.”
That is a LONG time to stock pile crap.
Bills to be filed.
Boxes of I-don’t-have-a-place for-junk that I probably really don’t need.
Crafts that I thought I’d work on while convalescing and didn’t.
Books I never got around to reading but want to someday.
I even let other people store things they didn’t have room for in there like an old turn table, huge inflatable balls, stuffed animals, and broken things.
There are only two things that are motivating me right now.
If I’m being honest it turns out my office isn’t the only area of my life I’ve been putting off to deal with later. I’ve stock piled a lot of things in the last 14 months, anger, hurt feelings, insecurity, fear, you name it, I loaded it up. I’ve even gained 21 pounds since I broke my leg.
My physical weight is always a good indicator that I’m stuffing things. I stuffed a lot.
While my son and I removed over seven bags of physical trash from all three rooms, I thought it would be a good time to let go of the emotional garbage as well.
Touch it once, deal with it and move on. Make that phone call. Write that letter. Say that prayer. Let it go.
I want to end 2014 on a clean slate and start 2015 fresh.
How about you?
What things have you stock piled this year to deal with later?
Why not start today?
She’s lost it.
Did you hear she’s a Democrat?
She left our church!
I bet she left God too.
Nope…
I didn’t lose it.
I didn’t run away from home like you think. Truth is, I ran away a lot. Just not like you think.
I ran away in my dreams and to the lake where I could learn banjo undisturbed. I ran away from the noise to find my voice. I ran away to Nashville and to the stage. I ran away from old lies that were holding me back. I ran away from things whispered in the dark, “you aren’t enough.”
I ran away from people who would dare tell me I wasn’t a real Christian because I wasn’t raised in the church like were.
I can’t leave God. My name is written in His hand and nothing can snatch me away.
I have been on a journey and it’s been glorious.
I found authors who dare tell the truth.
Friends who see and know ME.
I found my best friend, or she found me. Either way.
I’m still married by the way and we love each other now, more than ever.
And now for something completely different.
“So, tell me about yourself”
doesn’t sound quite right
when the person speaking
is in the middle
of a pelvic exam.
My pelvic exam.
What am I supposed to say to that?
“Well doc, this time last year
you took my uterus
out through my hoo ha
and named it Fergus,
You know more
about me than I do.”
Would you have shot milk
from your nose
if I’d allowed myself to say
what I was thinking
instead of the tired
and rehearsed answer
that I always give
listing titles
Mom, Wife, Daughter,
safe things
and nothing else.
Years of training
Keep me from saying
what I really want.
The contrast between being
physically vulnerable
without knowing the freedom
of emotional vulnerability
does not escape me.
Music can dance if you let it
But it will be another four years
before I have the courage
to let it find me.
All rights reserved: CRC Publishing 2014
I’m not one for celebrity, so I have no idea why Robin’s death impacted me so hard. Maybe it’s because I’ve been depressed before, maybe it’s because I do comedy for a living. I don’t know. I just know that I grew up watching this man, loving every minute of it. He was part of my childhood, my young adulthood, and my kid’s lives (think Aladdin and Hook). He’s even part of me now as I find the courage to make people laugh. I would give anything for his spontaneity and talent.
My favorite memory involving Robin is when I was 13. We didn’t have cable so of course my mother had never seen his real stand up. We were at Sears N Robuck and I saw his album Reality What a Concept. I begged my mother to buy it for me for my birthday. She looked at it, though Oh It’s that Mork guy – sure you can have it.
HA!
We listened to it, I laughed at the funny voices, Mom laughed at all of the jokes that went over my head and she took it away from me until I was 18.
This is a beautiful tribute. It’s only just over a minute long — I love the words.
Confusing a redhead with a scratching post is a mistake people only make once. Just because we don’t start cat fights (secure women don’t need to) does not mean we are afraid to finish them.
I can remember when my husband bought me a diamond tennis bracelet for Christmas 15 years ago. I’ve never owned anything so pretty in my entire life. It’s not like we had a lot of money either. He just wanted to surprise me, and surprise me he did. I love that bracelet.
We were at a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s house and I showed it to someone. I wasn’t bragging about the bracelet I just wanted to brag on my husband for being so romantic.
Besides, she asked.
Her comment?
“I guess that’s why (her now husband) likes me. I’m not high maintenance. ”
I said, “You’re right. You aren’t high maintenance, but you sure have one hell of a manicure.”
That would be when the men separated us. Good thing too.
I do not for the life of me, understand cat fights.
And if you are going to ask a woman where she got something, don’t get all catty when you don’t like the answer.
We aren’t the competition y’all.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 