ellenoutloud's Blog: Perserverence

As a motivational coummunicator -- speaker, writer, -- skywriter, when I need to be -- I’m always looking for ways to lift folks up and always asking how best to do that. I wonder sometimes, in this track event of a life we’re in, do folks need more help starting the race, finishing it, or staying in it?

As a professional starter, not-quite-finisher, I know how trying it can be slogging it out in the middle of a big project. After the newness wears off and the thrill of victorious completion is a long way off.

I think often about those that are running right in the middle of the really tough races -- relationship separations, cancer treatment, unemployment, care-taking elderly parents, raising teenagers.

Sometimes we can't even see the finish line!

To be sure, life offers us a myriad of “give up” opportunities!

Staying the course, fighting the good fight – that’s where the rubber meets the road, in track shoes or stilettos, flipflops or bedroom slippers.

I suggest we need to be extra gentle with each other – our fellow entrants in this contest. The whistle’s blown, the finish line is way up ahead, and we’re all looking for a way around the course.

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I love to hear what laps you’re running these days – Can you see your finish line yet?

Yesterday, I finished unpacking and reorganizing the hastily collected garments and what-nots I threw in a suitcase when spousal unit and I decided to evacuate ahead of Hurricane Alex.

There haven’t been many occasions where I have had to gather my stuff and get out quite so quickly. I remember one time, when I very little, a fire came threateningly close to our house. I grabbed my favorite stuffed animal and ran.

When I left my first husband, I grabbed everything in reach, car keys, a strand of pearls, and a Waterford ashtray. (Don’t ask)

This time, while we had a modicum of notice, there still wasn’t time to plan and cull and sort. We just kinda grabbed. A couple of pair of shorts and couple of tank tops, my makeup bag, and my best lingerie. (Don’t ask) Two photographs, my mother’s diamond ring, and three stuffed animals. (I said…)

Sometimes life throws something at you that you didn’t see coming and really hadn’t prepared for. That’s when you grab what you love and get out of harm’s way.

-- I’d love to hear what you’d take along?

The Fourth of July has been, and remains still, one of my most favorite of holidays -- all of it -- the smells, sounds, wonders and delights. My father, in his own way, loved it too. He liked to light snakes best of all. I never understood that -- where was the fun in setting tiny tablets of black charcoal ablaze only to observe them roil, coil, curl, swirl, just to dissolve and burnout into ashes. Ick.

I, on the other hand, loved sparklers!!! The colors -- the magic. You could hold them in your hand and they could light up the night sky and you could write whatever you wanted to in that darkness and see it for just a second before the writing went away.

Daddy would always say, "put it down, Ellen, it's out", and I'd respond, "no, Daddy, no! It still has some sparkle left." I never put it down until all the very last bit of sparkle was gone.

My life analogy is that I still love to light up the darkness -- despite the fact that it seems there are so many humans hellbent on putting my sparkler out.

I used to try to analyze all that, why people would want to dampen, stomp on, sparkle. I've spent a lot of time trying to find an answer to a question that has no answer and I've invested a lot of energy trying to light up dark places that don't like light at all.

This, though, I know. I am my best when I light my sparklers. While holidays are a natural opportunity for me to spurt great magic., even in the day to day, I try to spark a little -- to the check out clerk, the waitress, the toll booth guy, the hurt, wounded, disenfrachised, widowed, ophaned, lonely, lost, overlooked, ignored, irritable, and depressed.

I used to suffer great dissappointment when I lit my sparkler and it was quenched by buckets of frigid water from frigid people. For a while, I tried to navigate the whether or when I should let the magic shine.

But I do get it. I really do. Whether there's a response or not, accepted or rejected, it does not change the fact that I can still light up the darkness, and all that matters is the sparkle!

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Shine On, Brave Hearts, Shine On!

I’m on my 4th day away from home following my hasty departure ahead of Hurricane Alex. And I’ve learned how well I can get along with just a few garments and a lot of friendship.

See, we know moderation is not my long suit. And since I tend to over-everything, when I travel, I over-pack. I don’t know what eventuality I’m preparing for, but I always want to be ready for anything.

I think it all goes back to that fateful trip to Oklahoma City when my suitcase was lost and I spent a week wearing the same black dress I traveled in, but I digress.

What I’ve learned this week is that it’s okay to pack light. Life is so full of twists and turns we’ll never be able to prepare for them all. Sometimes you just have to get up and show up, be as presentable as possible, and see what happens!

It’s not what you wear but where you are that really matters!

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I'd love to hear what you are willing to leave out of your soul suitcase as you journey on...

Ever since I was little I realized that I had many, shall we say, "facets" to my personality. That is to say, I knew that I wasn't completely alone.

In response to a household where there were no norms and everyday was crazy day, I somehow started to manifest a slew of protectors in various forms and fashions. Now some folks have what they call good sides and dark sides, my life called for more complicated measures. In self-defense I learned to develop and change persona as fast as Imelda Marcos bought shoes.

It wasn't until my late teens that I started fleshing out these various "aspects" of me, and give them names -- though they'd been with me since my earliest memory. Don’t be frightened! I’m not saying I have multiple personality disorder! I think we all have different sides to us, I’ve just gotten really good at getting to know them !

There's Clarice, who's never met a stranger, and was as southern a southern belle as a kid from Southern California could be. She was the ingratiator. When she couldn't get the job done, there was always Sheila. A sharp-tongued, tough as steel, New York Yankee, an impenetrable warrior woman. If all else failed, there was Spike -- my boy child me. Tough as a boot. Redheaded, snaggle-toothed, baseball cap on backwards-wearing, Spike. He kicked, bit, flailed, but he did everything in his power to protect me. Spike remains to this day my hero. My defender.

Now that I've had years of Corporate America behind me I realize these were my original Board of Directors. My posse -- they had my back from the beginning. I was never alone. Having grown accustomed to their various strengths I learned to utilize them -- Sheila and Clarice always went on my job interviews, Spike helped me leave an abusive relationship, little el let's me sing to her and comfort her when that’s exactly what I need.

My committee, my "Board" remain with me today. We're fairly integrated, and I realize it takes all of ‘team Ellen’ to keep me up and functioning. And they all were designed for a specific purpose, to defend, protect, lead, guide, direct, or comfort. Spike, Clarice, Little el, Sheila and Me. It doesn't take a village to raise a child, sometimes, just a committee. And they’ve always got my back!

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I'd be interested in hearing about your committees!

Are you absolutely certain you are on the right track? Is the road you are on going to take you where you want to go?

What if that last fork in the road you took was the WRONG road?!? Yikes! What catastrophes await you as a result of your last WRONG turn? How do you even know when you are heading the wrong way?

Man, don’t we so want a supernatural GPS – a Map quest to show us which way to go? And doesn’t it seem that the longer we are on the planet the more we wrestle with options, choices, and their possible consequences? Ever have that sense of abject paralysis – you can’t decide which way to go lest you go the wrong way? Where’s that burning bush when you need it, huh?

Of all the memories of my own momentous moments, I best remember those where I stood at a clear crossroads – the neon lights were blazing, the orchestra was tuning up, the skywriters were out, “This is a critical decision”. Have you been there? It seems the longer we weigh our options and choices the more we magnify what we think the outcome will be if we take the wrong path.

When I was a child, I was fearless. I used to grab my Daddy’s hand and run – I never had a clue where I was going and I didn’t care. “C’mon”, I’d holler, dragging him behind me, Let’s just go-o-o-o-o-o!” Somewhere along the line, like most of us, I lost my wide-eyed wonder – I woke up one day and it was gone.

The point I share with you today is this – it may be time to reclaim your fearless joy and exuberance! Go. Go somewhere. Go forward. Step out. There is no cosmic gameshow buzzer about to declare you WRONG – Bzzzzzzzzzzt! Wrong turn. Wrong choice. Wrong way.

The possibilities of the universe allow for many paths – if you are seeking a good future, with noble intent and a courageous heart? The road will open before you. The Universal construction crews will pave the way for you. Fear not.

C’mon, C’mon take my hand – let’s see what’s next. Let’s go-o-o-o!


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I'd love to hear where you're going next!

There’s a spiritual principle, or wives’ tale, depending, that suggests we should be careful what we ask for as we just might get it. So true. Seems like the minute we ask for a little universal help with a defect in character then we’ll be given ample people, tests, and opportunity to work on it!

Since my conception I’ve been asking for patience, something totally left out of my genetic code. I don’t have it, don’t think I ever have had it, and I want some now, and I mean now!

I came face to face with just how little patience I do have when I attempted to forage for nourishment yesterday. Is it just me, or shouldn’t we come up with a better term for motor access service than “Drive-Thru"???

You know what I mean, those convenient but glacial-moving lines we use to procure food, cash, and dry-cleaning? Couldn’t we just be honest and call them “Crawl-Thrus”? Or change the signs to “Stay a While”. How about: “Rest a Spell”. “Please, Park”.

A friend’s teenager suggests I “Chill-ax”. Apparently something cosmic that would occur if I would just calm down instead of screeching to the ethers and the car immediately ahead of me: “MOO-O-O-VAH" (Yes, MOVE has four syllables).

Okay, maybe I’m a tad tightly wrapped, but I think we should be able to order, pay for, and pick up lunch before, say, the next President’s elected! Pick up our dry cleaning before our clothes go out of style! Get cash at the bank before currency converts to gold bars! (Yes, I have more).

As you can tell, my pleas for patience have merely thrown the universal gremlins into over-drive thinking of new ways to make me wait. Which reminds me, I need to pick up a prescription at my drive-thru pharmacy. Tee-hee. Hope they have it ready. Tee-hee. Hope there’s not a line. Tee-hee. I’m out of estrogen.

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I'm sure there'll be more posts as I cultivate patience and calm. I'd love to hear what you are working on!

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Winsome plan-alterer that she is, Life has me living in a home that faces the first fairway of a nine-hole golf course in a retirement community near the Mexico border in deep south Texas.

From my writing room I can look out and take in a view of the course, replete with requisite water hazard, fountain, palm trees and neighboring houses. It is a quiet, calm, peaceful place to live – one I had not planned on in my wildest imaginings – especially since I am not retired, quiet, or calm.

I am a noisy woman. I am loud and busy and active and at my best engaged in twelve things at once – I am not just a human being, I am a human doing.

Yesterday I learned that a friend’s daughter-in-law had taken her own life. That kind of news of such sudden, senseless tragedy does have a way of shaking your very core.

I spent some time with the great Cosmic Collaborator I call on for answers to all of life’s mysteries. The “why” behind something so sad compelled me to check in as a litany of questions poured out -- Dear, Lord, Why? What drives someone to that? Who cared? Who else is hurting? And, the big one I imagine we all ask at times like these – What am I doing with the blink of the eye I am granted on this orb? What should I be doing?

See, I get the whole we-are-only-here-for-a-second-thing. I suppose that’s why if I’m not running in a million directions at once, checking off a few dozens “to-dos”, I don’t feel like I’m living up to this great opportunity we’ve been given called ‘another day’.

But not all days are good – or productive, or happy, or particularly well lived. In the day-after-day-after-day of things, sometimes we don’t do a lot, we just abide. In the sow your seeds and harvest cycles of life there are a lot of days where seeds just germinate. Roots take shape and hold. Days pass. Not all days are zenith moments. And some days we have no answers.

Some days we don’t drive forward or move backward we just stay the course – golf, or otherwise.

Some days just pass – beside green pastures and still waters, and we wait.

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This morning I got up not-so-bright, but early to take my two-mile walk. But, since I live in the Rio Grande Valley in deep South Texas, and Mother Nature is a comedienne, I stepped out into suffocating humidity and swarms of mosquitoes, a bumper crop spawned by last week’s torrential rains. Eeewww!

I already had collected thirty-two (at last count) venom samples yesterday, so instead I availed myself of the community workout room and tried some of the equipment there. I won’t bore you with the details, other than we’re still making friends and getting to know one another. Suffice to say the stair-stepper and I got acquainted for a full fifty-five seconds, an achievement I am certain to improve on by next year.

My point is, and I do have one, is as I struggled for breath, I had the opportunity to consider how powerful the word “instead” can be, if we so choose.

Recalcitrant brat that I am, I’m not the best company when things do not go my way. My tendency, when my best-laid plans go awry, is to abort the mission entirely and pout.

So, typically, I would’ve given up on sweat-breaking as soon as the first biter drew blood. Instead, I sought another venue for exercise, and the desired result of cardio-vascular work out was achieved – in a new, novel, and amusing fashion.

So – my plans to head north next week have been suddenly and unexpectedly scuttled, leaving me hugely disappointed and pout-ready. I know I can either pout or exercise my new found 'instead-option'. Instead of going to my favorite place and seeing my favorite folks, I will ___________________________ fill-in-the-blank. I’m not sure what to put in there. Stay-tuned, this is new to me as well.

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I’d love to hear what your instead turns out to be today.

After 16 moves to as many cities, 29 jobs, a couple of marriages, and a myriad of relationships, I've lost and found my inner-child, discovered the power within me, dropped my Cinderella complex, loved too much, enabled, disabled, and self-helped until I'm smooth worn out!

I've been reborn, remade, changed, and rebranded so often I'm the human equivalent of a box of Wheaties. I don't need a new and improved me, I just need to fall in love with the one I am.

I know, I know. I am a very complicated being. I guess my own complexity has kept me running lo these many decades. I just never have felt comfortable in my own skin and someone thought I could reinvent my way into one that fit better.

Like my search for that perfect pair of jeans (a fruitless quest) no matter how many I try I on I am destined to compromise between the ones that hide my thighs, but gap in the waist, or suffocate my abdomen but lift my rear -- it's nigh unto impossible to find one single swath of denim that's flattering on all counts.

Perhaps I need to invest in a really good pair that does the best with what they have to work with. I guess I need to invest in me and do the very best with what I have to work with. It seems I can't overcome all the flaws but I have some real assets I can accentuate. I have a wicked sense of humor and a wonderful ability to make others laugh. I can listen longer and empathize deeper than most. I have great Irish blue eyes that see past the worst and into the best. I love quite deeply. If I can accept my figure flaws, surely I can accept my defects of human-ness -- and if not embrace them, at least wear a stunning pair of strappy, red patent stilettos to show them to their best advantage.

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What will you do today to show yourself off to your best advantage?? In clothes, thoughts, or attitude?

Good day Brave heart sisters -- There's a reason I adopted ellenoutloud as my professional persona, website, and user name.

I found that nothing has ever been resolved by keeping my mouth closed. Oh, it has stirred up more than it's share of trouble, to be sure. But even trouble-stirred is better than elephants ignored -- I cannot fathom the notion that not addressing a problem will somehow make it go away. If I've learned anything my brief tenure on the planet, it's that unattended troubles don't get better, they get bigger!

Look to your own life and see if I'm right. Does that unpaid bill get paid if overlooked? No, they tack on penalties and late charges. Does that nagging pain in the stomach go away if you ignore it? Nope. What about unspoken hurts and disappointments? They grow on you, don't they? And not ever in a good way.

It was of tremendous importance in my own life to discover that speaking up and airing a "matter" did not single-handedly cause the planet to implode. Oceans have not dried up, tsunamis didn't rise up, quakes didn't split the continents. I have lost days of my life pondering and worrying over a prospective outcome rather than confronting the issue at hand. And nothing has ever transpired that was nearly as awful as the reality I cowered from.

So, I encourage you to step out and speak up. Eat the live frog first. Unstick whatever’s stuck in your craw. Live out loud.

Pay attention to your elephants – unless you tend to them and invite them to move on they sure can be ferocious!

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And yes, I'd love to hear about the frogs, elephants, and bears you're wrestling with today

I have been continually amazed how I have been guided through the greatest challenges and difficulties of my life. Whenever I have faced a daunting seachange, the Creator of the sea has led someone to my side to help me through it. It’s never failed. Part of the reason I weather change so willingly is I am excited to see to whom I shall be introduced.

It was the summer camp counseling gig in Colorado, a spontaneous trip I took my second year in college that led me to meet the dearest friend of my lifetime. In pulling anchor and moving to another state and opportunity I found my husband. In transiting from city girl to country mouse I discovered an array of fascinating people I never would have/chould have met on the trajectory of my life plan.

Now, I’m on the border of two countries, with one business ending and another taking off, midway through another exciting ride. And again, I’ve found a wise, supportive buddy to hold my hand on the roller coaster of life as it makes it way through the inevitable ups and downs.

Life has not gone according to plan – at least not to the plans of my creation and devotion. But I have found the fates always provide other, better, decidedly more necessary routes than the ones I would have chosen for myself. Best of all? I’ve always been given a companion for the next phase of the journey.

In my willingness to step out I’ve found others waiting and willing to step in. In the letting go you find the reaching for. I am grateful that so many gifted, caring, loving, teaching folks would reach back.

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I encourage you to step out today. I bet there are several folks willing and waiting for you to, and ready to step in to help you.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about choices – how we make them and whether we really have them. You know, having those ‘deep thought’ conversations with myself. As I struggle with the paralysis that often accompanies decision-making, I am wrestling with right choices. I haven’t always made them in my past.

In fact, I have made a lot of poor choices, and I’ve certainly suffered the consequences of them. Sometimes I chose poorly not understanding the consequences involved, sometimes despite them.

Choice-making was easier, I think, early on. I was either more courageous or more naive, but I didn’t go ten rounds with options like I do now. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to “what if?” myself right off the deep end. Usually, when I struggle THAT hard with a decision, either I don’t have enough information to make one, or I know what the decision must be and I don’t want to do it.

I miss the days when I could jump off the high dive of decision-making without first check to see if there’s water in the pool.

Maybe the difference is that in our early years our choices are teaching us and later on we choose based on what we’ve learned? Or, not.

Guess I wouldn’t make a very good contestant on Let’s Make a Deal. After all, it’s only a 30-minute show. Maybe, just maybe, I’m over thinking things, and the only real decision I need to make is where to take my nap!

I wish you all a happy weekend. May your decisions come easily and your nap opportunities often!

I wonder how we would behave if we REALLY knew how many people were watching us? My dear friend and writing partner is getting ready to move across the country. (AAACK! Is she crazy??)

I am absolutely in awe of her focus, organizational skills and stamina since “Move”, at this particular juncture of my life, has taken on the mantle of swearword. I have found that moving, in terms of physical relocation of one's belongings, is a practice best left to those with the chronological age of about twelve, with the emotional and physical stamina to match. Yep. Moving is best left to a super, strong twelve-year old.

I’m still recovering from my last move two years ago. I find the whole, "where is my bra?" adventure tremendously unsettling. There’s a perfectly good reason most of my packing boxes now double as end tables. I didn’t think I could survive one more day as the answer-woman. How did I get appointed “The One Who Knows Where EVERYTHING IS.” Clairvoyant, clairaudient, I can see through moving boxes! They speak to me. By the time we were done I thought "couldja,didja,what-didja-do-with" was my new Indian name.

Back to topic, my friend is practically whistling through this seachange of life! She’s powering through all the tough stuff with nary a whine on her lips. (I said whine – with an H. It took me a pantry full of the red grape variety to get me moved.) I watch her attack each task with gusto and grace and frankly I want to slap her! C’mon, be a grouch. Bitch. Moan. Carry on about how hard this is.

Nope. She’s going to show me how to tackle the hardest tasks with a positive attitude and spirit. She’s going to demonstrate exactly how you do the tough stuff. You make it fun. You dive in. You laugh. You dance. Funny thing is? She doesn’t even know she’s setting a good example or how high she’s raising the bar – or even that she’s being watched --

she’s too busy dancing.

-- I'd love to hear how you are Tango-ing through the tough stuff...

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I was barreling down the freeway last week when I saw a highway alert sign that read: Rough Road Ahead. Thanks for the heads up, I thought.

Wouldn’t it be great if life came with flashing roadside alerts? “Warning: tough patch coming”. “Fasten Your Seatbelt, It’s Going to Get Bumpy”. Or, for those of us in the midst of relationship angst: “Use Extreme Caution When Exiting.”

I know, I know. We should always be prepared for life’s big emergencies. Still, we’re humans, and we tend to get pretty comfortable driving down the road, minding our own business, or at least somebody else’s. Then WHAM… screech…. Out jumps the unexpected ___________________ (fill in the blank) illness, layoff, break-up.

A little warning before we have to slam on the brakes and take corrective action would be appreciated.

It’s funny, I used to be so fearful of what lay ahead I was overly cautious – like one of those driver’s you honk at going 35 mph in the fast lane. I was always braking as I got to the on-ramp. Now I’ve probably over-corrected, and anxious to cover a lot of ground I go careening down the expressway.

I guess we can’t prepare for every eventuality, but it does help to keep our emergency kits packed and at the ready. I suppose it’s the near miss of the hurricane that’s got me thinking. Bottled water, check. First aid kit, check. Phone number of best buddies on speed dial, check.

What’s in your kit?

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I wish you a happy, productive, enlightened, bump-free week!

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