ellenoutloud's Blog: change

Life turns on a dime... or, a phone call! A simple YES can make all the difference. I distinctly recall that freeze- frame moment when I knew I stood on the precipice of the rest of my life. I could not fathom nor imagine what my next steps might be.

Sensing my confused state, a colleague suggested I see a psychic she had worked with several times. While this was fairly out of character for me, I agreed to an appointment.

I remember the woman I met with was uncommonly kind and offered one specific piece of advice – “Say yes.” She elaborated, “within the next two days, the phone will ring. A stranger will offer you an unusual opportunity. Say yes.”

Despite my fears and trepidation, no predators with get-rich-schemes called me. No telemarketers, solicitors, scam artists or con men. Just a an independent consultant, like myself, asking if I was open to going to Dallas for two days to take on an assignment designing a policy and procedure manual – right up my alley.

While I’ll never know for certain, I can well imagine my response had I not visited with my prescient acquaintance. Most likely I would have declined any such last minute, hastily offered opportunity. A no would have been much easier to mouth than the yes. But as I was primed to agree, the yes won out. It turned out to be a propitious decision.

In this memory I am reminded, no matter what the future holds, the YES is always an option!

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I’d love to hear what you will say YES to!

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When you were little, did you make a lot of promises to yourself? Ah, yes, the “oaths of childhood”, those commitments uttered in our youth, whispered in the singsong of the six-year-old, “when I grow up, I will never (fill-in-the-blank) – make my child go to school, force them to eat lima beans, tell them they can’t keep the brown mouse they brought home. . .

Then, we grow a little older, and make more pacts, avowing to …never, ever, ever: …call Scott Larson again, ...go on a blind date, mix margaritas and peppermint schnapps!” Promises to ourselves.

We tuck those pledges away and starting making more to other people, “I swear, you and I are going to be best friends forever”, and we take that man, and we take than woman, and tell God it’s the real deal until death do us part.

And, others make promises to us as well. “You are the only one for me”, “I’d never look at another woman, promise,” “I’ll be right home after work, really, we’re just friends”. And we learn that promises, like fine china, break pretty easily.

So we learn to apologize and get good at forgiving and we promise to forget.

Then we come full circle and starting making vows all over again. “No one is ever going to hurt me again"," I won’t ever put myself in that position,” “I wouldn’t get married again if they put bamboo splints under my fingernails”. And, of course, we do, and find that sometimes the greatest remorse comes from the covenants we broke with ourselves. Sometimes, they are our saving grace.

Promises to forget, promises to keep. What promises are you holding on to today?

Ever talk about yourself in the past tense? Who you were, what you used to do, what you used to have?

My inner coach caught me doing that recently and called me on it, blew the whistle and hollered: “You there, Lambert, what goofball kind of move was that? ‘Back in the Day?’ “Used to? “Once was?” “Geesh, go run some laps”.

I had been telling my niece all these cool things I used to do.-- what I was like. I heard how admiring I am of who I was! Ick! I sounded like some has-been movie starlet remembering her heydey. Ick. Ick. Ick.

Like a good director, I called: "Cut!" I grabbed my yellow legal pad and furiously wrote every “I was and I used to love to” I could think of. "I was a stockbroker, I was organized, I used to love to bowl…” Then I whited-out every was and used to. I circled what I call “keepers”.

I kept a comedienne and encourager, bowling and tennis. Theater and travel.

I wrote at the top: I AM and I DO.

Hey, it’s my life story, I can write it anyway I want. Sometimes it just needs a little editing. We just need to keep the correction tape handy. “Thanks, coach”.
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I’d love to hear what you stopped doing that you’d like to start doing again. Who were you that you want to be again?

Good day, brave heart sisters! It’s Monday, which means for many of us we are heading out of the starting blocks on our 40-hour workweek races.

As I lace up my running shoes (a misnomer if ever there was one) to prepare to walk another two miles, at an hour way too early to be upright and mobile, I am reminded that discipline is never easy, and it sure as heck a’int pretty!

Getting up day after day much earlier than I’d like to, to do something I’m not especially adept at, that doesn’t have the slightest thing to do with chocolate? That’s not easy, but I do it because exercise is good for me – exercise is good medicine – it builds bones, both the physical ones and the emotional kind – it levels my moods, chases endorphins, channels my inner estrogen…

Still it is one of those “if it’s so good for me, why is it so hard” things.

As I finish fiddling with the laces that take forever, I consider how blessed I am to have legs to walk with, shoes to walk in, a safe place to walk about. Abundantly blessed.

And I know that the results of any positive endeavor are not found in the first try of it. It is in the staying with it part. The day after day after day after day of it. The hanging in, staying committed, toughing it out part of it.

So I encourage all of us today – whatever our endeavor and whatever discipline may be required, to commit, hang in, and tough it out. Keep your eye on the prize! Laces up! Let’s Roll!

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I would love to hear how you stay committed, hang in and tough it out! Happy Monday!

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...

Even though I've given up my title as Queen of the Universe and retired my sash and tiara, from time to time I still catch myself trying to run the place, and being way too concerned with other folks' business.

A woman much wiser than I once told me when I'd asked her what she thought about a rumor going around the office: "Not my pig, not my farm."

That phrase has stuck with me, and I was reminded of it recently when one person’s foibles became the fodder for many.

An alleged instance of impropriety arose and the gossip patrol went on full tilt alert, all but saying: “Stand by, we’ve got a big one, and it’s juicy, there’s clergy involved…”

Man, don’t folks love to see the heroes fall?

I used to love a good tale myself, before I slipped and fell off the straight and narrow a few dozen times. Well, way more than that, but I digress.

As one not particularly heroic, but decidedly flawed, I’ve made my share of mistakes and been the subject of malicious tale-telling a time or two. It’s ironic that the times I’ve been talked about the most there was nothing to the stories spread. If anyone were really curious I could offer up lots better grist for the rumor mill than that.

Guess I’ve come to appreciate the human-ness in humans, and we aren’t always going to get it right all the time. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to, but I don’t know that we need to be drawn and quartered for our missteps either.

It’s been my experience that the punishment casserole of guilt, shame, and self-recrimination is ample. Most ample. And, what’s circulated as “fact”, so often is not.

I’ve got plenty of animals in my own barnyard to watch, thank you very much. I think I’ll tend to those. And no second helpings on that casserole right now, either. I’ve had my fill.

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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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?

For those hoping I was going to talk about uncovering the secrets of the universe by contemplating your navel? Sorry to disappoint – this piece is all about control. Not self -control, out of control, or even losing control – Locus of Control.

It’s been a long time since I was introduced to the term – but it has to do with how we view the world – do you see yourself as someone the world happens to? Or, do you think you are responsible for shaping your world?

If you think that life is more about chance, fate, whimsy and happenstance, you probably fall in the outie camp – You have an outward Locus or center of control. When you win the Lotto it's because you got 'Lucky'.

If you think, yes, somehow you are responsible for the oil spill, the failure of your marriage, the stock market and Lindsey Lohan’s sobriety, I suspect you are an innie – you believe you have the reins in this horserace of life. When you win the Lotto it'll be because you picked the right time, place, and numbers.

I am decidedly an innie that really needs to get some of her outie going on. A friend likes to remind me: “It’s not all about you”. It’s not that I’m particularly selfish, but I do give myself more credit that I want or deserve with respect to managing the affairs of this planet of ours.

Remember the term I used last week? Chill-ax? I think I need to try to do some of that… Hand over the reins for a while. Rest a while. Sure. I could begin by contemplating my navel, Oooommmmmmm…

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So? Are you an innie or an outie? And what would you rather be?

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