Anti-Hero – Taylor Swift
I was talking to a friend on Saturday, and it turns out we both think that the movie Joe Versus the Volcano is one of the most underrated movies. Some spoiler alerts – so there is an awesome scene for anyone who has ever worked in an office under terrible, soul-sucking, fluorescent lights. There is another scene where Tom Hanks’ character plays the ukulele, which was probably just one of the handful of reasons I wanted to learn to play. Then, there is also this great scene where he asks the limo driver where he should go shopping for clothes, to which the driver takes umbrage, and pulls over the limo. Proceeds to explain how clothes make the man, and how he can’t tell him what clothes to buy, because that would be like him telling Joe who he is, and it has taken the limo driver his whole life just to find out who he was, and he’s tired.
So I’m tired too, but I do think I am closer than I have ever been to really knowing who I am. Problem is, I kind of suck. What’s that line from another great movie? “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Turns out I am not a good person. At least I haven’t been for the past month? Year? Years? The good news is that those who are self-aware always have the chance to turn things around, but still. It is never an easy day when you have to take stock of your life and realize all the wrong choices you have made along the way that have transformed you into the villain of your own story. That was how I woke up this weekend, suddenly recognizing that I have been following all the wrong signs and lost my sense of truth north. The past year has felt like a series of one-step forwards, and ten steps back. It is seriously getting old. Anyways, I was talking to someone else earlier today about how we are both in crisis mode, and she reminded me that one of the things we should be grateful for is the support system we have. When we lose sight of ourselves, true friends and family are sometimes the mirrors we need, reminding us of the best versions of ourselves we could be. Thank God I have those people, but man, it must really be exhausting for them sometimes to be in my corner and root for me as I repeat the same mistakes.
“It’s me, hi. I’m the problem, it’s me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”
Hold the Light – Dierks Bentley
I can’t find the words today…other than Heaven gained another angel.
“promise that you’ll dream with me, beyond the walls of time.
In the end we lay beside, just look up at the light.”
Quelqu’un m’a dit – Carla Bruni
Time is a son of a bitch. Sometimes there isn’t enough of it. Some days, you want to freeze moments in time or at least slow them down. Other days, there seems like there has been too much of it. Lately, I have been feeling more of the latter. Part of me wants to fast forward a few months from now, hoping that future me would have more of my shit together. Part of me is also hoping that the darkness of the last few days would be a distant memory for some loved ones going through some of the most messed up of things one could possibly experience in this life. I read this book once by Steve Martin, The Pleasure of My Company, where the main character talks about a coping mechanism he uses called Alternative Fixation. The concept of AF goes that if something is causing you needless worry or anxiety, think of something that stresses you out infinitely more. You might open Pandora’s box dealing with the bigger thing, but at least you stop stressing about the original thing. I have been using AF for almost 20 years now, and I can tell you it is pretty damn effective. So here we go –
So, it has been 6,057 days since I last heard my father’s voice. It was the day after New Years. He had a habit of calling and if you didn’t pick up, he would leave you this long-winded voicemail message. Then, he would call your work number and leave the same message. Call your work cell. Same crazy long message. After a while, I wouldn’t even listen to the messages. Seeing the missed call was enough reason to just call him back. Such was the case the day after New Years in ’09. We talked about what we did or didn’t do to reign in the New Year, and then he said he was sorry to hear about my recent breakup. He told me I was going to be okay. I deflected and we talked about family in Chicago. Then, we ended up fighting up something so dumb I can’t even remember what it was about, but he got frustrated and hung up on me. Two days later he had a heart attack. The next day I booked a flight to be with him, but while I was packing, I got the call he died. Four days later, I was getting ready for his memorial mass and I saw the pending voicemail message he left the week before. He wished me happy new year and brought up the breakup. As I started to rolled my eyes, annoyed that this time, I wouldn’t be able to deflect the conversation, he said these words – I just want you to be happy.
For anyone that knew my dad, you knew that towards the latter end of his life, he didn’t really believe happiness was in the cards. He believe it was more attainable to aim towards being content. The fact that this was his last message to me is so trippy. Hopefully, he is not too disappointed, since I am still figuring out what happiness to me looks like. In any case, it reminded me of a line in this French song from my favorite Joseph Gordon Levitt movie, 500 Days of Summer, that goes “I’m told that time that slips away is a bastard, that our sorrows are made into coats”. That is how time feels at the moment. It is a heavy ass freaking coat, and I cannot wait for when it is time to lay it down and enjoy lighter days. For those that want to hear and see in the original language, I included the French lyrics and English translation. Serait-ce possible alors?
I’m told our lives aren’t worth much
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose
They pass away in an instant like roses fade
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
I’m told that the time that slips away is a bastard
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
That our sorrows are made into coats
Que de nos chagrins, il s’en fait des manteaux
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
They tell me that destiny doesn’t care about us
On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
That he gives us nothing and promises us everything
Qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout
It seems that happiness is within reach
Paraît que le bonheur est à portée de main
So we reach out and find ourselves crazy
Alors, on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
But who told me that you still loved me?
Mais qui est-ce qui m’a dit que toujours, tu m’aimais?
I don’t remember, it was late at night
Je ne me souviens plus, c’était tard dans la nuit
I still hear the voice, but I no longer see the features
J’entends encore la voix, mais je ne vois plus les traits
He loves you, it’s secret, don’t tell him I told you
Il vous aime, c’est secret, lui dites pas que je vous l’ai dit
See, someone told me you still loved me
Tu vois, quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Was someone really telling me that you still loved me
Me l’a-t-on vraiment dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
I’m told our lives aren’t worth much
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose
They pass away in an instant like roses fade
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
I’m told that the time that slips away is a bastard
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
That our sadnesses are made into coats
Que de nos tristesses, il s’en fait des manteaux
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
Sympathy – Goo Goo Dolls
One of my favorite weeks of the year is going to this annual work conference hosted by the partner company I work with. They host it in a different city every July, so it ends up turning into a mini vacation for me. However, the first three conferences used to stress me out to a defcon 1 level, mostly because I am terrible remembering names AND faces. I KNOW. Not the kind of flaw you want to have when 80% of your job is relationship-driven. And so, there is always a handful of awkward interactions at these things, where I introduce myself and I am greeted with disappointing faces followed by the phrase that haunts me for weeks after, where they tell me, “Dianne, we have met three or four times before”. Doh. Anyways, so this year we were back in Boston and it’s towards the end of the second night, when I run into one of my favorite risk managers. He is warm, and unapologetically unique (I remembered his name after our first meeting). He introduced one of his coworkers along with her daughter, and I swear there must be something in the water in Oregon, because they are both just as warm and inviting as he is. They commented on my tattoo, and I noticed they were similarly adorned, and turns out they recently got matching ones. You could immediately tell how close they were. I smiled through the pain of that, hiding my jealousy. Elise has always been daddy’s little girl. My son, who used to be a mamma’s boy, is older now, and our dynamic has changed. His hugs are forced, and even though he says he loves me, these days, it is begrudgingly mumbled.
In any case, back to this woman – the next day, the actual conference started, and I am enjoying the session. Doug Flutie is talking about how short people overcome adversity, so I forgive the digs he makes towards New York teams. Shortly after, like any normal week, I get an urgent text from a broker to call, so I extricate. Turns out someone needs an urgent quote to go out, so there I am underwriting away, missing the guest speaker that apparently talked about the secret to happiness. Ironic, right? I must have had ten people come up to me later on that day who knows of my situation, telling me how good it was, and how they thought about me at some point wondering if anything resonated. Oh well, I think they gave us the person’s book, but it is in a bag of random swag we got that week that I have yet to unpack. Suddenly, the woman I met the previous night comes up to me. And yes, blame either the tiredness, the 4 days of alcohol, not enough food (unless you count the squares of Laderach chocolate I bought to snack away on and remember Zurich when coffee did not feel like enough), but I could not remember this woman’s name for the life of me. I apologized, and she graciously smiled. She talked about the secret to happiness speaker, which in turn morphed into this sweet conversation about daughters. Although they are close now, she explained how it was a long road. She reminded me that Elise was still young, but remarked that she was tough on her daughter in those early years to now, because she didn’t want her to grow up to be a princess. This struck a nerve. Elise wears her princess costume every chance she gets and it takes a lot of distraction to get her to change into normal clothes when I bring her to school. The woman explains it is because above all things she wanted her to grow up to be resilient. I told her mission accomplished she definitely seems that she is.
I am good with interacting with certain people on a one-on-one basis. I really love when I meet the right kind of people, that in a brief amount of time, you can have the kind of conversation that gets oddly deep and philosophical. I am introspective. I used to apologize for this, but as it turns out, I just may not have been interacting with the right kind of people. Maybe it is something about being older. I used to feel so sad when I could not connect with people, but now, I have realized that not everyone is worth my time and effort. Not everyone needs to see that part of me, so I save that effort for the people that are. I am not everyone’s cup of tea, so it is important to be more guarded, take my time, and get better at reading people.
The last day of the conference I walk into the first session. Hundreds of people, but I see the woman, and this time I DO remember her name. So we sit together and as we are chit chatting away, she remarks about how grateful she was for the week, to get away from home. Then she hits me with this bomb. It turns out her husband is dying, and already passed the doctor’s original timeframe expectations. She almost did not come, but she said felt God telling her that she and her daughter needed this temporary pause from the heaviness back home. I cried, but it was an emotional week, so those emotions were already pretty accessible. The session started, but I swear, who could concentrate on insurance at that point? I know everyone has got their crap to carry, but really its too much sometimes. It hurt even worse thinking about the previous night, about the warmth this family exuded. You would know have no idea that their world was falling apart. This woman was so worried about time they had left. So, I took one of the notepads in front of me and started scribbling away. It is not often, especially with my strained relationship with God, that I hear His voice, but I did or at least I think I did. I wrote this woman a letter that went something to the tune of this:
Dear __ ,
I know I am supposed to be paying attention to this speaker right now, but all I can think of is how sad I am that bad things always seem to happen to the nicest people. I am sitting here, praying for you, your husband and your daughter, and I hope you will forgive me, I just for some reason feel compelled to share this with you.
My dad died of a heart attack when I was 27, so around the same age as your daughter. There was very little warning and I was mad at God for a long time. My dad and I – we didn’t have enough time. He was probably the first, maybe only, man that truly loved me unconditionally, but he passed before I had my kids, and I just think something happens when you become a parent that brings the kind of clarity that really brings into focus all the decisions your parents made that as a child you resented, but it was just them trying they best they could without any kind of instruction manual.
I share this with you because it may not seem like it at this moment, but God has given you a gift, something I wish everyday He gave me. He is giving you the gift of time. Time to still make new memories, to say the things people agonize for years wishing they said, time to laugh, cry and everything in between. Time to still show that while life may fade, love endures.
I am glad that we met this week, and you made the decision to come here, as you stated you recognized that you needed to put on your oxygen mask before reaching out to help others. I will keep praying for your husband, for you and your daughter. Be well. -Dianne
Be kind to people. You never know what they are carrying.
This weekend I went to see Goo Goo Dolls, and he shared why he wrote this song, saying it’s about something we all need, but we should never ever have to ask for. This song is called Sympathy.
“It’s hard to lead the life you choose (All I wanted),
When all your luck’s run out on you (All I wanted)
You can’t see when all your dreams are coming true”
Vindicated – Dashboard Confessional
It is strange to look back at your life and find the things you neglected over the years that gave you peace. Don’t get me wrong. The last 15 years I accomplished a lot. I had two wonderful children, and they are my favorite people on the planet. I traveled and crossed a couple of new countries off my scratch-off map. I had three surgeries. Oh, and after spending ten years working in a place where I just felt like a cog in a massive corporate wheel, I made the move to another company where we built something from scratch. Pulled together a team comprised of people whose company I truly enjoy, both inside and outside of work. We built a book out of essentially nothing, supporting each other as we crawled through the perpetual trenches of an ever-changing underwriting world. They are all weird but loveable and super driven, teaching me the kind of manager and the kind of leader I want to be. However, somewhere in the middle of all that, pouring all my energy into taking care of all of the people in my life, I lost sight of something. I lost sight of me. Everything became about how I could make other people happy. I thought it was just normal anxiety, but over time something in me snapped, and everything just started to hurt. I would cry on my days off when I was alone in the house, wondering what was wrong with me and why I was starting to dream of a life that looked very different than the one I built – one that any other person would feel lucky and happy to have. I had to remind myself to breathe, but even that felt heavy and strained, when in reality, it should feel like the most effortless thing.
The last year has been a journey rediscovering the things in my life that made me feel happy versus what made other people happy. I started reading again, watching movies, and even started practicing my guitar and ukulele every day (even on random occasions the piano) again. I went back to school and I am halfway to getting my MBA with a concentration in Energy and Sustainability Studies. I finally got a tattoo. I even started journaling again. The particular journal I have been writing in has certain themes with daily questions. Last week on the plane ride out to a work trip to Boston, instead of flipping to the next sequential page, I let fate decide what it wanted me to focus on and opened to a random page. The prompted question was this – What is giving you energy recently? Here is what I wrote:
I have been afraid of so many different things in this life, but nothing scares me more than making mistakes. Plagued by this constant fear of failure, I built a life centered on perfection, only to have my worst fear come true. I failed…as a wife and as mother who once promised in a letter that I wrote to my unborn kids 13 years ago, that I would build a life for them that would not mimic the broken home of my own childhood.
I have spent a year grieving that failure. What is giving me energy now is that the kids and their father, at this point, are NOT irreparably broken. While I am still seeking redemption and navigating what feels will be a lifetime of guilt from having fucked up their lives, today, the future feels less scary. Dare I say, there is a slight glimmer of hope that while there are so many mistakes that I can still make or that I am currently making, the future pains that follow those mistakes will certainly pale in comparison to having already failed at the biggest thing I ever wanted from this life.
Also, when I really look back I don’t really feel like I failed completely as a mom. Is this the life that I wanted for them? Not even close. But the greater tragedy would have been to stay, and teach them all the wrong things about love. Christopher and Elise – you are all I have ever wanted, and all I ever truly needed in this life. If I put you and your happiness first, life will always be good, and I will be the mom I always wanted to be. I know that I do not deserve your love, and you will have so many questions later in life that I won’t ever have all the answers for, but I hope one day you will understand how much more present and healthy I want to be for you. You deserve more than a mom that puts on a fake smile, and cries behind closed doors when you are not looking. I hope you will understand like I did when I was a child and saw my dad cry, that your happiness cannot be fully complete, unless your parents are happy too.
Oh, so the other thing I rediscovered is how much I love music. This blog has been quiet, because the music, the soundtrack of my life, suddenly stopped. Like a needle stuck on a record and there was just ambient noise. This is me resetting. I have always loved live music. Last week, I was lucky enough to be able to schmooze my way into scoring free tickets to 3rd row center seats at PNC to see two bands I truly love – Dashboard Confessional and the Goo Goo Dolls. The soundtrack of my life started again.
Can I just say that 1) Chris Carrabba has aged quite nicely, 2) both him and John Rzeznik, after 26 and 40 years, respectively, still have the ability to captivate an audience and 3) we’re all hella old.
“I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well. I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself.” – Dashboard Confessional, Vindicated
If My Life Had a Soundtrack 