ellenoutloud's Blog: self esteem

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

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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Okay, Law of Attraction fans. This one’s for you! Just yesterday I posted a piece about ‘emergency preparedness’, and how we never know what’s waiting for us a little further down this road of life we’re on.

Right after that I blew a gasket. No, I don’t mean I blew a casket, my Buick did.

Now I’m not going to do a blog on Auto Mechanics 101, but I would like to stress that there’s really only one thing that’s super hard on the engine. Heat. Repeat after me: Heat bad, Tarzan, Cool good. So when the pretty little red thermometer symbol thingie turned bright red? That was the clue that the car was pretty hot.

Hot enough that said car decided the struggle wasn’t worth the effort so it decided to die mid rush-hour when apparently the flow of traffic likes to run about a gazillion miles an hour. Okay, maybe just fifty, it’s hard to tell when you’re stalled, they’re not, and all you hear is the whooshhhhhhh as everyone flashes past you.

Ever notice how good your hearing gets when your eyes are closed?

I opened mine just in time to see the sweet thing behind the wheel of the car rapidly approaching mine, who was really, really involved in that text message she was crafting. You know, I’m all about writers, but there is such a thing as right time, right place.

I’m not sure how effective honking the horn is to those in back of your vehicle but I leaned on that sucker with everything I had. She looked up, in time. I’m blessed.

So…

I don't really think that just because I wrote about roadside emergencies I had one. I like to believe my guardian angles were sending me a big metaphysical "heads up". Still...

Today I’d like to focus on prosperity. Abundance. Lots and lots of abundance. Abundant prosperity. Yes. The open source…I'm visualizing how winning the lottery would only enhance the warm, generous, loving, human that I already am… ah…
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May all of your wishes be happy ones, and may all of your wishes come true!

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Good day, Bravehearts! Just so you know? There’s very little I haven’t messed up, few mistakes I haven’t made. Seems I’ve misstepped, lock-stepped, twelve-stepped and quick-stepped through this life of mine – which means I’ve been stepped on, I’ve stepped upon, and often just stepped in it. The good news is, since most of my rough edges have been knocked off, I’ve learned a couple of things along the way.

The biggest mistake I ever made was selling myself short. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to morph in to somebody else – somebody approvable. I did a poor job of living up to the person other folks wanted me to be, or the one I thought they wanted.

I’ve tried to be quieter, thinner, softer, sweeter. I’ve put up, shut up, let up. No matter how hard I tried I still ended up the loud, sensitive, frizzy-haired chick with a big heart and thighs to match.

I would have been way ahead of the game early on if I’d put down my makeover list, worked with what I had, and developed my strengths – my humor, compassion, and ability to communicate. When I finally focused on that? My life turned around dramatically. I get it. I wasn’t real good at being some one else, but it turns out I’ve done a dandy job of just being me.

I highly recommend you enjoy today, and I encourage you to just be you! As Carly Simon sings: “Nobody Does it Better!”

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I’d love to hear if you are being you, yet?

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There is great serendipity in mistake-making! Sometimes, mistakes and accidents turn out much better than some of the things we do on purpose. Like a typo you hadn’t intended that actually makes more sense than what you’d planned.

I have a friend that misread one of my promotional pieces where I talk about being a motivational speaker, a natural born-encourager, and an exhorter. She read that as “extorter”. Kind of changes the whole meaning. Extort comes from the root word “torture”. Well, having reread some of my writing, perhaps she’s on to something…

My point is, sometimes what we say and what we see may not always be correct but it may still be just right!

My niece was raised to enunciate words very clearly – in doing so she often puts the emphasis on the wrong syllable. I remember when she said she found something in her refrigerator she hadn’t expected and she was startled, only she hit the first syllable really hard. It came out START-ulled not start-ULLed .

At first I was going to correct her, but then I thought, “huh, seeing her favorite food in the fridge surprised her, it gave her a start – she probably was START-led.” And if you were to take a peek in my Kenmore Side by Side? Trust me, you’d be startled too!

So hear this: Everything that happens today may not go the way you had planned.

The universe may have cooked up a whole mess of surprise casserole for you.

Whatever happens today?

o You are MORE than equipped to handle
o You will undoubtedly learn from
o You’ll never forget – IF You choose to make it
memorable!!

Have a blessed and memorable day -- Get Started, or Start-led!

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I'd love to hear what starltes you? What mistakes made turned out better than your plans?

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One of the features of the community I inhabit is “minimal maintenance”. That means most green, growing things, like grass, have been replaced by gravel. It’s everywhere. Our backyard is gravel on concrete.

Fortunately, gray goes with everything so we’ve brought in huge planters and stuffed them full of fuchsia oleanders and hot pink Roses of the Desert and Purple something-or-others that will thrive in their pots. Okay, maybe not thrive, how about stay alive.

In two years we've learned which plants have the temperament to withstand the incessant upwards-of-ninety degrees this climate provides. They do better than their gardener!

In these stifling climes “gardening” becomes an aerobic activity – you’ll break a sweat watering. You can’t let a day go by without tending to the flowers or the sun will burn them up in a day.

So last night, as I was moving the hose around the steamy cement, I marveled again at the revelation that the prettiest, lushest, most abundant flowers we have we never even planted.

You should see the periwinkles. Beautiful, purple, lavender, lilac vinca and they are everywhere – they grow in the gravel.

I should say, they FLOURISH in the gravel. Carried on the winds, nurtured by the rains, tenacious in the droughts - they were planted not by intention but by fate. No matter where they’d hoped to be, they landed where they were blown – adjusting to their circumstances and flowering like mad!
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I pray wherever you’ve been blown today you adjust, flourish, and flower like crazy!!

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