A couple of days ago, I was contacted by a potential client who mentioned that she’d looked me up on the web and found my blog.

I was shocked at my reaction.

This blog?  You mean, Lisa-Unmasked?  OMG. 

I was mortified.

And then, I had to laugh at myself.

As you know, I don’t keep this blog for business reasons nor do I expect anyone to actually read it.  I am flattered that people do and I love the feedback.

But I write this blog to honor myself.  For far too long, I have lived in fear of what others thought.  While that didn’t stop me from opening my mouth, the fear made me question my worth and even my right, to speak candidly and express how a situation appeared to me or made me feel.

I write this this blog to honor the part of me that refused to die, even when I and so many others, tried to kill her.

So, my reaction to this woman “finding” me was surprising.  And then, pretty damned funny.

In some way, I am still hiding.  Still afraid of what others will think or how they’ll react by seeing me–raw and naked.  Lisa-Unmasked isn’t meant to be “pretty” or “perfect.”  It’s meant to be ALL me.

And there I was, frightened that someone I didn’t know had found me.   Seen me.

HA!

After I stopped laughing at my reaction, I stopped for a minute and honored that part of me that is still afraid of being out here.  I spoke to her like a little girl who is afraid of the dark or of monsters in her closet.   And together, we turned on the lights and discovered, there is nothing to fear when we are true to ourselves.  When we let the world see us- when we see ourselves - perfect in our imperfections, then we no longer show up “less than” in order to make someone else feel better in our presence.  When we like “us”, it stops mattering if “they” like us.

Loving yourself, anyway, is the greatest gift you can give yourself…and the world.  For when we can love ourselves completely, we can allow others to be who they are and love them..anyway..just as they are.

And do you think that might contribute to peace on earth?? 

Oh, by the way….she hired me.

I’m absolutely scattered this morning.

I woke up tired, intending to go see my sister in the hospital, but realized that I was too tired to drive 5 hours, much less drive back.  I feel like a loser.

I haven’t heard from my husband yet today after he worked 12 hours and then drove to Green Bay, arriving some time after 1am and I’ m worried.

So, I’ve piddled around this morning, watching TV, drinking coffee, trying to write, talking to my daughter in hopes that I’ll somehow “get it together” and be productive today.

Then my reminder message came up, “What do you need?”

I set this reminder message up months ago as a way for me to check in with myself.  Most days, I ignore it.  I’m too busy.

And that would explain the results or lack thereof I am experiencing in my life.

Asking yourself that question and listening allows you to see where your thoughts are.  And where your thoughts go,  your attention and actions follow.  And since most people are often thinking about what’s NOT working in their lives or what they DON’T want, it’s no surprise why many of us are so unhappy.

So, what do you need?

When I paid attention to the message today, I came to the blog to write.  I NEED this blog.  It isn’t for YOU, per se.  I have this blog for ME.  

I have something to say.   It no longer matters if anyone agrees or even cares.  I had to start listening to ME.  And the voice has said to me, over and over and over again to write.  So I am.

What do you need?

I need to sit in silence for a few minutes and honor the moment.  I need to remind myself that I am worthy and lovable.  I need to do something loving for ME. 

What do you need?

What you give yourself is what you give to others.  How you treat yourself shows others how you want to be treated.

Are you getting what you need? 

If not, start NOW by giving it to yourself.

Eight years ago this morning, one of my best friends, my mother, moved on to another dimension.  I was present at her bedside, watching the heart monitor countdown to zero, like a new year’s eve event.  When the clock struck “12″, if you will, there was a celebration, just not in that hospital room.  “Mom” had returned to the non-physical world and her spirit friends were throwing one hell of a party.

In honor of my mother, Vera Miles, I return to my blog with a love letter.

Lou,

I know that time has no meaning where you are.  But for us, eight difficult years have passed.   I must admit that it doesn’t seem that long most times.  Your sickness was so much a part of my life that the events of your last 6 months remain quite vivid.

I find it funny that even from the other side, you have no patience for my tears.  “Tears don’t bring back the dead and they don’t move me,” rings loud and clear in my ears every time I’ve wanted to (as T would say), “boo-hoo bubble-snot cry.”  How the hell do you have less patience as a spirit??  Silly woman.

But that was one of your many gifts.  You taught me from an early age that one day I’d have to get along without you.  I never wanted to face the probability that I might outlive you or Daddy.  But you always found a way to make me laugh while thinking about your death.   Even at your bedside and during the funeral preparations, you were pointing out things that were funny to you, trying to get me to look beyond my own pain and see that even in death, there is something beautiful and even funny to behold.

Thank you, Mom, for helping me remember to laugh at myself.  For pushing me out of the nest and believing that I would remember I could fly.  Thank you for the memories of snowball fights and driving lessons.  For always asking if I wanted to lick the bowl of cake mix and for never asking why the frozen peaches and cherries had mysterious holes in them.  Most of all Mom, thanks for picking me to be your daughter.  I was and stiill am humbled and ever so grateful to be Vera’s youngest.

G’night.

Love, Sue

I just got off the phone with my best friend who told me about the new Will Smith movie.  He apparently finds himself as the last man on earth.  She asked me if I could survive in such a scenario because she wasn’t sure she could for the long term.

The idea was pretty intriguing to me.  On some level, I had already lived that experience, albeit in my head.  (that story is for another post).  What surprised her was that I wasn’t freaked out by the thought of being all alone in the world.  However, my only criteria was that I was able to write. 

So then, like any best friend would, she says, “why don’t you write more on your blog or even better, why don’t you write a book?”

Well damn.  I could freakin’ be the last person on earth but froze when she asked me that question.

Truth is, I write alot.  I have a stack of journals that my family has orders to destroy when I die.  Writing has indeed, saved my life. 

So why don’t I do more of it publicly?

Fear. Judgment.  The usual junk that stops most of us all from pursuing our passions full out. 

So, I thought, why not share something I’ve written in my journal?  Talk about being vunerable, huh?  So here goes..

I’ve spent my whole life trying to be safe.  Safe from being abandon, rejected because my biological mother gave me up.  I grew up being afraid of not being good enough for my adoptive parents and spent years worrying that they might send me away if they thought I was a bad girl.

I put stock and trust in friendships, looking for safety and security in them.  Especially with Paul.

I thought if I worked hard and did the right things, my career progression would be secure.

But I was never safe from rejection and abandonment.  My parents died at vunerable times in my life.  Friends betrayed me.  Paul walked away.  And then I found myself with the worst bosses imaginable, who only focused on my shortcomings.

Every person and every thing that I’ve tried to wrap myself in for security is gone (or about to be).  I’m alone, feeling naked and broken in front of the whole world, with no life line.

None.

But myself.

The only real security and safety available to me is ME.  I’m all I have.  My wisdom,  my source, my intuition, my instincts.  I do know the answers and if not, they will be made available to me.

Nothing outside me–no parent, no amount of money, no spouse or lover, no child or sibling, no house, car or other material possession equals SECURITY.

I am safe.

Not because of what I have or who loves me.

But because I am.

This was a huge ephiphany for me.  As this journal entry unfolded, I came to understand what my life lesson has been.  It makes perfect sense that learning “I am safe” would be the lesson of a person who started their life’s journey being abandoned by their own mother.

I get it now.

I see now that we humans have gotten it all wrong.  Ever notice how the tulip doesn’t worry about blooming next spring? Or the migratory bird stressing about whether it will be warm enough down south?

No.  They trust.  Instinctively.

In nature, every things seems to “know” that no matter what, they are safe. 

How did we miss that?  Why do we still choose to believe the illusion?

We have created a fear-based culture that is destroying us.  We’ve allowed our rights to be eroded, even suspended thinking, in exchange for the illusion of safety.

The truth of who we are can be nothing but safe and secure. 

Today, I am choosing to believe in my power.  I am safe.  Always have been.  Always will be.

You are too. 

And I’m going to keep writing about it.