THIRTIES- "Southern Living At Home" And Network Marketing

“If you believe in failure, know this:

Failure is not about falling down a thousand times; it’s refusing to get up.” 

     Like many people, I would do the inner eye roll when I would see an independent consultant coming my way, selling me on their latest and greatest lipstick or kitchen appliance. I was yet to become aware of the fortitude it takes to take on such an opportunity and venture. Although I did my very controlling best, my thirties had not quite manifested as planned. I was married and lonely. My group of single friends began to do their own thing, probably “thinking” that I was loving married life out in the rolling hills of San Elijo. I so wanted them to be a part of my new experience in Stepfordville, “trying” to tell them that marriage did not equate to life on The Blue Lagoon. I missed our walks and time together. Like most addictive demands, it didn’t work. I felt like I was failing at life; so when I was invited to a a Southern Living At Home (SLAH) party from a patient of mine, I jumped at the chance. Within one week, I became a consultant. The Kaptain was by my side all the way, and we threw a successful startup party at our home. 

      My initial thought was that it would give me an opportunity to meet people and even make new friends. I would lug my basket of household decor from small apartments in San Marcos to one of the richest towns in America, Rancho Santa Fe. My dear bestie from Laguna Niguel would help me obtain parties in Laguna, often becoming my sidekick. I also became Tanja’s upline, and she successfully sold the decor up in SLO town. As my business began to grow, I created a confidence that I did not know I had. I began each party by telling the story of my lazy eye, using it as an opportunity to go through my insecurities and become strong. I remember standing in front of a group in someone’s living room, talking to strangers and telling them how being a consultant inspired me to break through my old pattern of hiding behind sunglasses. Many people would approach me afterwards, thanking me for my vulnerability while urging me to be a motivational speaker. I felt their sincerity and knew that I was on the right track. Little did I know how long that track would be. 

    Unlike the praise that I was receiving from strangers and earning a free trip to Florida, my father wouldn’t acknowledge my success. I  continued to create addiction to his good opinion. My mother told me that he threw a fit when finding out that I was doing something other than what he wanted me to be, a dental hygienist. Despite his lack of support, therapy had helped me see that I needed to let go of his desires. I also had a new precarious lesion in the back of my eye, and I needed to take care of myself. 

     The oncologist didn’t know whether it was cancer or not. Not wanting to take any chances, Dr Char lasered it. To this day, I still don’t know if it was or wasn’t. After the in office surgery, I was in extreme pain, but living in the “unknown,” has always been my greatest challenge. The best part about the whole experience was that I now had a husband to go through it with. I created the illusion that I was safe and secure because of the Kaptain. Again, addictively depending on the outside to be my ONLY source of comfort rather than trusting love. Sure, I prayed and thought about God, but trusting in my life’s contract was still not a part of my consciousness. Refusing to let the cancer scare have the best of me, I continued to market SLAH’s products. But after acquiring one too many Jamestown Trays, I began to daydream about having children. Or, maybe even a dog. It was time for a change, and I moved on. Thank you Cindy, where ever you are, for being the best sponsor a girl could have, you truly were a life savor.    

    Becoming an Independent Consultant for Southern Living At Home was a pivotal moment in my thirties. I humbly acknowledge that I was ignorant to the wide range of gifts that network marketing can bring. It has often had a negative stigma attached to it that could be replaced with passion and courage. Besides decorating my entire new home with gorgeous products which I continue to use to this day, I got to experience that I actually could make money without cleaning teeth. Being that I had often bought into my father’s misogynistic behaviors and had adopted his lack of abundance programming, this epiphany was HUGE for me. It also helped me to see that people valued my strengths despite the appearance of my lazy eye. To always get up, hold my head up high, and be me.  

THIRTIES-Childhood Friends

“We have three types of friends in life. 

Friends for a reason.
 Friends for a season. 
  Friends for a lifetime.”

-Unknown 

     Besides living in limbo land about my marriage, husband, and new life, I created struggles with a childhood friend who happened to my neighbor. We had both purchased homes out in San Elijo Hills; or what I like to call, “The Stepford Wife Community.” It was out in the middle of what seemed like nowhere. My childhood friend had been my “best friend” from 7th-9th grade, and ended up marrying her High School sweetheart. He was the one who I “felt” had replaced me while attending Catholic school our freshman year in high school. In that same year, my friend and her boyfriend became quite religious; often addicted to their good opinion, I felt like I could never measure up. 

     Many years later, we became close again. To put our friendship lightly, she was NOT meeting my models since moving to San Diego. I like to say, “MY models,” because we all have a right to our ways of seeing things. The suffering begins when we become addicted to our models. My “right versus wrong” mentality; and in my perception, her self righteousness, collided like going head to head with Tonya Harding in a boxing ring. During this time as their neighbor, I created the illusion of feeling stuck in the “friendship.” I was obsessed with what seemed to me as her lack of authenticity, distracting myself from taking responsibility for MY self righteousness and lack of authenticity. I had the “she did it first” and the “if you judge me then I will judge you back” programming which never works. Her husband and my husband were not getting along either, making our time together in hell one big disaster. The hardest part was that I bought into what seemed like her “dismissive” and “better than” behavior because I had subconsciously deemed myself as unloveable. When we consciously or subconsciously tell ourselves that we are not enough, the Universe will continually give us opportunities to prove our minds “right.” We then have the chance to move through and say yes to the pain, giving us the strength to create oneness, regardless of what anyone says or does. When we claim who we truly are, we can choose to move on in a more loving way. 

"Whether or not you are willing to say yes is not what makes you loveable. Being willing to say yes simply allows you to enjoy the truth that you are loveable."

     My hardest challenge (and addiction) was that we had known each other since elementary school and had similar friends (particularly, OUR bestie in Laguna Niguel). In those years, my bestie was my savior (or God), and the three of us never seemed to be a healthy trio, even in our high school days. I was determined that being in our thirties and “adults” would make a difference. Again, I was up for yet another lesson. Call me stubborn, I wanted to make these friendships WORK! 

     My bestie in Laguna Niguel became my everything. Tanja had become a mother and doing her “mom group” thing back on the Central Coast. I was married and in a place where people were raising their kids, drank wine on mom’s night out, and talked about which burping cloth to buy. I was NOT pregnant; and lucky for me, my friend from Laguna was way passed the baby stage. We would talk on the phone on my forty-five minute drive to work  and on my way home. Besides being my best friend, she became my counselor, decorator, party giver, and in a way...my mom. On the weekends, we would decorate our houses during the day and party with our husbands at night, tickling arms on Sunday as we recovered from our hangovers. I had an absolute blast. If she was a man, I would have married her. But...I became dependent. In looking back, I absolutely know that I was not given more than I could manage, and God gave me a dedicated soul. Healthy relationship or not, I will be eternally grateful to her for helping me through that time. Co-neediness, no matter how seemingly attractive, never works. Nothing outside of ourselves ever does. No matter how much I cared for these childhood friends, they could never give me what I needed. My spirit was just beginning to whisper that I needed to GO IN and take care of me.

THIRTIES- Welcome The Visitor

Depression, frustration, and illness come as visitors to remind us of our managerial strength. Challenge yourself to manage. 

The Guest House

“This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent 

as a guide from beyond.

-Jalal ad-Din Rumi

     When the Kaptain and I returned home from our beyond romantic honeymoon in Fiji, life went on as usual. I had been distracting myself for so long with the house and wedding that I created confusion as to why I was creating depression, asking my friend if I had made a mistake. At this point, I hadn’t learned that depression depends on how we decide to look at “the unexpected visitor” and some imbalances are more than others. We can call it anything we want, and our light is stronger than any imbalance. I was yet to learn to observe and welcome the visitor by breathing into it and trusting the process. The visitor seemed like a permanent resident in those years. Actually, when I come to think about it, I remember creating anxiety issues as a kid. My strongest memory was the fear of being poisoned. I thought if I touched any bottle under the kitchen sink, I was going to die. I would create paranoia and wash my hands a hundred times, reassuring myself that every last invisible speck was gone.

     During this time, the Kaptain and I lived for the weekends. We would travel up to Laguna Niguel and be with our friends whom we had since childhood. My husband would go surfing, and my bestie and I would hang on the couch all day talking and analyzing. I would plead with her to convince me that everything was going to be ok. Many times, I told her that I needed meds and NOW. She kindly coaxed me into seeing a therapist at Kaiser Permanente in Oceanside. Although, I had already seen my first psychologist back in my late twenties, I didn’t want to go. I remember my first therapist making an analogy, saying that my controlling father theoretically had a gun to my head for most of my life. My father never said, Do as I say, or else, but that is what I heard. I took my friend’s advise and made an appointment to see my now second therapist ... 

    "I think I need to be on anti-anxiety medication," I said. 

     He replied, “Let's wait. I want to see you every week.” My eyes brimmed, and thought, Is he trying to take advantage of me? That’s at least what my father would have told me; and up to this point in my life, his voice was louder than my own. 

     The therapist must have read my mind because he continued, "This is your life, Kathleen. How much is it worth?” 

    With every appointment, I began to say what I wanted to say without being reprimanded that I was wrong for my feelings. My father had rarely validated me unless I agreed with him on everything. Up to that point in my life, going to therapy was the most independently courageous thing I had ever done. I felt like I was going against my dad and that scared me. For he was my rock (before the Kaptain), my bread and butter; and without him, who or where would I be? Opening my heart to someone who I did not know and revealing my darkest thoughts, out loud, was like a chunk of concrete being lifted off my back. Therapy became easier, and I became braver by being willing to hear my own voice. I can now clearly see that I was paying someone to just listen and confirm what I knew to be true all along...my father was the psychological definition of a full fledged narcissist. I sometimes surprised myself with the psychologist’s reactions, validating my life and energetically saying, You have every reason to feel this way. You see, I thought I was a bad person for my thoughts. Throughout the years, I was shamed by many people who did not understand when I complained about my dad. They would say, “Kathleen, your father is so cool and gives you so much.” 

     So, why were they fooled? Because I was, too. My dad put on an amazing show in front of people and spoiled the family (including some of my friends) with vacations and money. I also thought that I "should" be over the top happy because I owned a house. 

     Meeting my therapist at the age of thirty-four was a breath of fresh air and just the beginning of my journey back home to my heart. One day, and to my surprise, he vanished. I never heard from him again. My friend said, “He gave you your wings; it is now time for you to fly.” Little did I know that I was going to fly to my next phase of growth. Learning to welcome my “terrible” thoughts and all the things I was resisting in life: the anxiety, the self rejection, the family and friends who did not meet my models, the marriage I was unsure of, and many of the choices that I had made thus far.  All angels in disguise helping me to see that love is the only truth. It was timely for me to call up my courage and take responsibility for my reactions to life.

     Being brave, saying what we want to say, and letting it all out is necessary if we want to truly live. Otherwise, you will allow the visitors to convince you that surviving is enough. Please give yourself and the world a gift...You are a loving spirit, creating the experience of being human.

      If you forget, I will remember for you.