Posted by Ilana Angel
Happy Thanksgiving. This holiday is a time to give thanks and gratitude for the blessings in our lives. I try to be grateful everyday, but Thanksgiving is special because we are all being grateful together. Since this is my 47th Thanksgiving, I am going to share 47 things I am grateful for, in no particular order, except for #1, because he is always #1.
1. My magnificent son
2. Fiddles the cat
8. Keeping the Faith
9. Keeping it Real
10. Premier League Football
14. BiteSize TV
15. Modern Family
16. False eyelashes
23. The Troops
24. Matzo ball soup
25. Silkie chickens
30. Red wine
33. Memories of my Dad
34. My mom visiting
39. Hugs from my child
40. Gel manicures
42. A good blow out
47. English Breakfast tea
Thanksgiving is a wonderful day and I’m looking forward to spending the afternoon with friends, and being grateful for the blessings in my life. My son is with his Dad and I shall miss him, but be thankful for the large family he has on his Dad’s side as they love him so much. Special thoughts and prayers go out to our troops who sacrifice so much for us to have this day. God Bless them all and their families.
I hope those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving have a holiday full of family, friends, and delicious food. Be kind to a stranger, help someone in need, hug your kids, get someone else to do the dishes, and remember life is a blessing. I am thankful for my life, excited about my future, and grateful for my past. I do not believe that everything happens for a reason, but I believe we can learn something from everything that happens.
Coach told me about an inspiration of his, Jim Valvano, a coach and broadcaster who delivered a moving speech in 1993, shortly before he passed away. He said in part:
To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special. - Jim Valvano
I have been watching this speech a lot this week. I am certain I think everyday, positive I cry everyday, and grateful that I laugh everyday. The truth is I probably think too much, cry more than once a day, and only laugh when I mean it. I am going to start paying attention to all of it and at the end of each day be thankful I have done all three, then remind myself it was a heck of a day and I have something really special.
I am thankful to be my son’s mother. Thankful to have met Coach. Thankful for the love I am shown by my readers, and grateful for the hate because it makes me stronger. I am thankful for my family, friends, and for strangers who through my work have been inspired to laugh, cry, and think. Have a Happy Thanksgiving. No matter how long your life is, it is never going to be long enough, so be happy, and keep the faith.
12.21.13 at 9:03 am |
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service.
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (392)
7.25.11 at 5:38 pm | We need more Jews! (290)
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service. (258)
November 26, 2013 | 7:06 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I think about love often. I am blessed to know love in my family, child, friends, and faith. I have been held hostage by the way love is presented by Hollywood, and bought into the romance sold to me by writers of great love stories. I have dreams and fantasies about how I want love to look in my own life, but in wondering how that looks, I realized love can be seen where we are not necessarily looking. Love need not be complicated.
I got to thinking about love last night and decided I was going to write down five ways I felt love in my life over the past 24 hours. In the interest of full disclosure, and not to brag, I could have listed more, but for some reason the number five has been selected. We have an obligation to ourselves to see the love in our lives. Love makes us feel happy and secure. At least it does for me. I am one that is embraces the feeling of love with hope.
#1. My mother called me at 9:30 last night, which is 12:30 am in Montreal here she lives. She could not sleep and decided she would call and tell me she loved me. That was the only reason for her call. She did not want to talk about anything, she simply wanted me to know that she loved me. The call lasted about a minute as she pointed out this is nothing new because she has loved me for my entire life. That is what loves looks like to me.
#2. My son has been working on a student film for a couple of days and I have not seen him as they were shooting long days and he slept at a friends. We texted a lot during the shoot so I knew where he was and how it was going. Yesterday afternoon I wrote to tell him I loved him. He texted back that he hoped I didn’t hurt myself when I fell from heaven. It was made me laugh from deep in my heart. That is what love looks like to me.
#3. I wrote a rather personal blog yesterday and about ten minutes after I posted it, I got an email from a man in New Jersey who told me his sister had been the victim of a violent crime when she was 27 and passed away. He told me my writing showed courage and that if I am able to find happiness in my life, I am allowing his sister to have happiness also, and that my bravery was impressive. That is what love looks like to me.
#4. When I woke up this morning there was a cat sitting on my head. My son’s cat likes to sit very close and seems to have no sense of personal space. She was staring at me, like she does most mornings, and when I said good morning she put her paw out and placed it on my face. I told her she was pretty, she got a little bit closer and went back to sleep. When I went to get up she winked at me. Literally. That is what love looks like to me.
#5. My son will be with his dad for Thanksgiving. He has a large family and it makes sense for him to be with all of them. I sometimes go to friends, or occasionally stay in on my own. I was unsure what I would do this year but was leaning toward nothing. I got a call yesterday from a friend that was so lovely I said I would join him at his Thanksgiving. He extended a hand with kindness that saw through me. That is what love looks like to me.
As a single woman who wants to share her life with someone, I often wonder what love will look like when I find it. The truth is that I already have it. I have love in my life in many ways. We all do. The trick is to be kind to ourselves and see love in the places God puts it, even if those places are not obvious. I have lots of love in my life and if I am blessed to also have a man in my life, it will be wonderful, so I continue to believe, and keep the faith.
November 25, 2013 | 5:27 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I did something today that I knew was wrong as I was doing it, but I did it anyway. I Googled my own name, then looked at my Twitter timeline from a friend’s Twitter feed, so I could see all the things written about me but I don’t see because I have most haters blocked. Wow. At first I was in shock, then I laughed, then I cried, then I threw my hands up in the air and allowed myself to put aside my hurt and fear to focus on compassion.
It truly was overwhelming to see how much crap is written about me. Not just crap, but true and deep hatred that is sent my way. I have had death wished upon me, called all kinds of horrible names, been criticized for my writing, height, weight, hair, freckles, teeth, you name it, people hate on it. The lengths they will go to in order to hurt me is really rather fascinating. What kind of pain and hurt are these people in to do this?
My bi line photo for The Jewish Journal has me smiling with a closed mouth, so people write that I have no teeth. I recently cut my hair and donated it to Locks of Love in honor of my dad’s birthday, but apparently it was so ugly, they wouldn’t take it. I am a bad writer, too fat to have anyone love me, a bad date, a bad lay, my freckles are hideous, and the best one of all, I am a bad mother who should have my child taken away from me.
There are people on Twitter who are hell bent on causing a “blogger war” of some kind. It is like comparing apples and oranges to compare my work to that of other bloggers. I write for a publication, not myself. I do not ask for money, have a donate button, secure my own advertisers, buy Twitter followers, or work for myself. I am employed as a writer, yet constantly compared to hobby bloggers, which is not a fair comparison.
I answer to an editor, a boss, a board of directors, and frankly my faith. I represent the Jewish Journal, and on a different but as important scale, I represent Jews. I am often referred to as “the Jewish blogger”, and occasionally the “dirty Jewish Blogger”. I take it all with a grain of salt but today, seeing the insane amount of hate, I cannot find a way to not take it personally. These people don’t know me, but openly hate me.
I don’t really get hate when I write about myself, but rather when I write about reality television. I suppose there is comfort in that, but when I don’t write about reality TV, the haters turn to my personal blog to sling arrows. The lesson here is that it really does not matter what I write because they are going to find something to not like about what I say. People don’t have to agree with me, but a little common decency would be appreciated.
99% of the hate comes from people who use made up names and have no picture posted. Funny how brave someone can be when hiding in the shadows. These are lonely and sad people who have found friends online and in those friendships, have bonded in their opinions. They know my name, see my face, watch my reality recap show, read the blogs I write about my own life and worldview, and they think they know me. I suppose they do a bit.
Rather than let these snakes tell the world about me, I will. I was born in Israel, moved to England at 2, and then Canada at 3. I moved a lot as a kid because my father was a salesman. I was a class clown, popular in school, always had great hair, lost my virginity on my 20th birthday, survived a violent kidnapping and rape at 22, spent a lot of time in the hospital and court, got married at 25, and had a baby at 30 after years of infertility treatments.
I was divorced at 30 with a new baby, dated my divorce lawyer, got cheated on 6 weeks before I was to get married again, got broken up with on Facebook, been lied to by people I trusted, and no mater how many times me heart is broken I will patch it up and try again. I believe in love and am currently praying that the man I am interested in is able to take a leap of faith and try to find our way together because he is magnificent and I adore him.
I have been both lucky and unlucky in love, and believe I will be lucky again. I am a brilliant cook, love to clean, am insanely organized, have beautiful handwriting when I try, can iron slacks and a shirt with military precision, don’t sleep well, laugh from a place deep in my soul, don’t remember what my attacker looks like, but remember his voice, and I have survived much greater things than a bunch of bitches attacking me on Twitter.
I have written about every aspect of my life for The Jewish Journal and so there are no surprises here. My son knows about my history and he is fine. The man who will one day love me will know, and he will be fine. I am not defined by my past, I am certainly shaped by it, but not defined. I am a mother and my only obligation is to my child, my God, and myself. Do I care what these people write about me? Yes. Will they destroy me? No.
I think reality television is fabulous, and celebrities are complicated. I think Judaism makes sense, most sports would be better if played on skates, Canada is heaven, Los Angeles is home, my son makes my heart beat, my fear propels me forward, my heart keeps me safe, and my love runs deep. I am not afraid to share my opinions, and have many. To the people who feel empowered by shitting all over me, God bless. I hope it helps you.
I live my quiet life out loud and there are a lot of benefits to that. I have a lot of fears of course, and some days are harder than others, but in the end I have faith. Faith in myself, and knowledge that things will get better. I am a devoted and loyal friend, a supportive and giving partner, a wonderful and loving mother. So now you all know who I am. Say what you want because it won’t matter. I am fine, and you’ll be fine too. Just keep the faith.
November 25, 2013 | 7:56 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
This is a typical conversation with my child:
Me: Hi. How was your day?
Me: What happened at school?
Me: Anything exciting going on?
Me: What did you learn today?
Me: Great. Tell me about it.
Him: Nothing to tell Mom. I'm going to my room.
The conversation is always the same, unless I push for one more question, in which case I am met with, "God Mom. Nothing is going on. You need to relax." That is quickly followed by some laughing, a tilt of the head implying he is looking at someone pathetic, occassionaly a sympathy hug, and then his going to his room. Not sure if it is his age, that he is a senior, about to turn 18, or perhaps because he is a boy, but I am not digging it.
I am a very lucky woman when it comes to my job as a mother. I have a great kid. He does not drink or smoke, has not done drugs, is respectful of women, is a great driver, and I don't have to worry about a lot of things other mother's need to worry about. Even knowing I am blessed and that things could be way more difficult, his lack of communication is pissing me off. By pissing me off of course I mean he is hurting my feelings. I sound 12.
I have raised this child by myself and I am proud of my work. I managed to put him through 10 years of private school on my own, encourageed him to believe in himself so he could boldly charge into his future by getting into one of the best high schools in the country, and he is applying to a dream list of colleges, any one of which will be lucky to have him. I have done a lot for him, and sacrificed endlessly, yet I can't seem to get a converation?
If we talk about college, which is all I think about these days, he tells me, "I got it Mom". That annoys the hell out of me. Important to note however, that if I want to talk about his car, gas, money, shopping, Monty Python, movies, or music, he will happily talk to me forever. It is only school, college, homework, and his future that gets shut down. Apparently there is nothing to talk about on those fronts because "he's got it covered".
I cry everyday. Not because of the lack of communication, but because I am scared. What if he doesn't get into a school? What if he does? How will I pay for it? Will he hate me if I move where he is and get a job in the cafeteria so I can catch a glimpse of him everyday? I mostly cry because I cannot understand how my baby, my one and only child, managed to grow up so fast. I do not know how we got here so quickly. I am proud, but also sad.
The sadness is for me not him. I am sad I didn't do more with him. When you are a single mother life becomes about work and providing for your child because there is no back up. My child has had a blessed life, but could I have done more? Should we have gone on more vacations? Should I have taken more pictures? Should I have worked less? Will he look at his childhood and think it was great? Will he remember it as I do? Was he happy?
He will turn 18 in a few weeks and time is flashing before my eyes. He plans to go on a big trip after graduation, then college will start, and my oppotunities to have time with him will be down to holidays and breaks from school. It will not be enough. I know right now that it will not be enough. I want more. I am not ready for this part to be over. Is it the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning? What is going on? What do I do now?
At the end of the day I love him. Really, really love him. I know the world is waiting for him and I want to share him, but I just wish I had a little more time just him and me. Time for me to ask questions and be ignored, time for him to go to his room laughing at me, time for me to sleep well knowing he is the room next to mine. I just want more time. Maybe today will be the day I hear about what is going on. Doubtful, but I am keeping the faith.
November 22, 2013 | 8:28 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
Today would have been my father’s 75th birthday. I miss him so much there is a physical ache in my heart. He was my biggest cheerleader, the shoulder I cried on, my inspiration to do well, and my in case of emergency person. No matter what obstacle I faced, he knew exactly what to say and how to say it to enable me to jump over it and get back on track. He was wonderful.
He believed in me when I couldn’t, shone a light when I was in the dark, made me laugh through tears, and loved my son in a way that made my heart sing. I have not written here all week because I needed to take a break, but I am writing today in honor of my dad. The fog has lifted and I am able to move forward because once again my beloved father has managed to help me.
My father used to always tell me I was going to be fine. I actually say it about myself a lot now. I am always fine. It occured to me this week however, that fine is not good enough. Life is a blessing and while getting through days just being fine is sometimes enough, we must strive for more than just fine. I want to be fine, fabulous, connected, satisfied, joyful, wise, and happy.
What I want most is to be happy. When I was little and my father would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I woud always say I wanted to be happy. I have not been happy lately but that is going to change. I am in charge of my happiness. I can choose to be happy or I can choose to simply be fine. I will have down times of course, but happiness trumps it all.
Yesterday I managed to muster up some bravery and reached out to someone who matters to me, but I had pushed away. I extended a hand and it was accepted. We spent some time together and it great. Really, really, really great. Risk requires bravery, and bravery can bring rewards. Last night I felt really happy and it was a truly wonderful thing.
I woke up this morning and Googled the word HAPPY to find a quote of some kind to dedicate to my Dad for his birthday. My son suggested a video and it is so special I had to share. You may or may not have heard the song, or be familiar with the video, so sharing it makes me happy. Every single second of this song makes me happy.
I encourage you to visit http://24hoursofhappy.com because it will make you happy. Artist Pharrell Williams, who I have long thought was a genius, has created a 24 hour video. You read that right, 24 hours of random Los Angeles residents lipsyncing the catchy, groovy, and uplifting "Happy" from the Despicable Me Soundtrrack. It really is perfect.
Click through different times of the video, or simply watch when you can, but get through the 24 hours because there are some delicious people who will simply make you happy. If you start at midnight of the 24 hour version, the first person is Pharrell himself. On what is a melancoly day spent missing my Dad, it is now a day of happiness and joyful memories.
I am sad that my father is no longer living, but I am happy for the time we had together and that he was able to know my son. I am sad I wasted time allowing my past to effect my actions, but happy that I came through to a new day. I posted the official video below and I cannot imagine anyone will listen to it and not smile. Pharrell has made me happy.
The best way for me to honor the memory of my Dad is to be happy. It is lovely to donate my hair in his name, it is lovely to keep him in my prayers, it is lovely to teach my son all about him so he is not forgotten. What truly is required of me however, is to be happy because in doing so his dreams for me come true. That is a lovely gift I can still give to my Dad.
Happy Birthday to my wonderful father Robert Angel. Dad, I want you to know not only am I fine, but I am happy. I was quiet this week and found you in the silence. You came to save me like you always do. I feel you in my heart and see you in my son's eyes. Thank you for reminding me to be brave and teaching me to not settle for fine. Your lessons remind me to keep the faith.
November 17, 2013 | 10:35 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I have not slept in two days. It is bad. I am exhausted. No physically, but mentally. When one doesn’t sleep the only thing to do is think and no good can come of that. I am at a crossroads in my life and I feel like there is a fork in the road with decisions to be made. I am fighting my demons and for the first time in a long time they are winning and I am struggling.
I am blessed in many ways, but there are times when being able to see blessings and give them power over your choices becomes difficult. I am a great mother, but feel like I am not being a good mom at the moment. I am a great friend, but isolating myself. I am a great writer, but not focused. I am a woman who leans on God, but not feeling connected to faith.
I share everything here, maybe more than I should, and yet there is much more to be said. I am embraced and supported by my readers, but attacked and humiliated by those who don’t agree with my writing. It is exhausting, confusing, and in the end I need a break. Not because I don’t want to write about my life anymore, but because I feel a need to be quiet.
The stress is taking a toll on me. I am not being my best self because I am always worried about what other people think, and in doing so I have lost focus on what I think. I have always been someone who didn’t really care what other people thought about me, but deep down wanted people to be kind. I realized while not sleeping that many people are unkind.
I am not being kind to myself, or people I care about. The demons I battle are guiding my actions and it has got to stop. I work hard to not allow my past experiences or relationships to define me, but for the past few weeks I have become the person I fight not to be. It makes me sad, angry, scared, and reckless in how I handle myself with people I care about.
I think the best thing I can do for myself is take a break. I have been writing every day for four years and I need to rethink how I live my life, rather than write about it. I don’t know if this is fueled by the thought of my son going away to university, or because I allowed my history to embarrass myself with a man I care about, but either way, I am tired.
The simple truth is that in sharing myself I have allowed myself to be vulnerable, which is something I am not comfortable with. I like to think I am a tough broad but in the end I am sensitive and people are hurting my feelings. I am not as resilient as I usually am, probably because I am so tired. I am going to take a few days to rest, pray, and refocus.
It all sounds silly I suppose, and dramatic to be sure, but the truth is that when you give of yourself, sometimes you need to refuel your soul in order to continue giving. I will get over being hurt by a hateful few, I will survive the humiliation of being crazy in front of a man, and I will find my way back to faith because it is God who holds my hand through this life.
To the people who write to say my words help them, thank you. To the people who write to tell me I am going to hell, thank you. To my friends who are being patient, thank you. To my family who hug me from afar, thank you. To my son for everything, thank you. A couple days of prayer and quiet will get me back on track and I’ll be stronger and better than ever.
By better than ever of course I mean a few crazy people on Twitter, demons from a history that no longer matters, and a lack of sleep will not break me. I have survived greater things and this too shall pass. Life really is a blessing and even when you live to be very old, it is never long enough, so count your blessings, put a smile on your face, and keep the faith.
November 15, 2013 | 6:00 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
November 22 marks what would have been my father’s 75th birthday. He passed away from cancer and as the date approaches I find myself getting sad and angry. Sad he is not here, and angry cancer is such a vicious bitch. I am going through a transition of some kind and while not sure exactly what I am feeling, his birthday is making me want to find a way to start fresh.
I have been going through old pictures and the last time my entire family was together and all dolled up, was at my brother’s wedding about 12 years ago. I found a beautiful photograph of my parents, sisters, brother, and me. I had a shoulder length bob and am standing next to my Dad with his arm around me. I decided then I was going to cut my hair back to a short bob.
My father’s name is Robert, so a "Bob" made sense. I could tuck my hair into my pants it was so long and the thought of cutting it was scary. I decided to donate my hair to Locks of Love in honor of my dad. I made an appointment and tweeted about it so it was out there and I couldn't change my mind. Thursday was the day. I was nervous.
I called my stylist ahead of time and told her what I was doing and that she should not talk me out of it. I have spent years going in and insisting she just trim it, so I needed her to know I was really doing it and she needed to just cut it without talking about it. I walked in, she hugged me, and got to chopping without questions, but with encouragement and a smile.
When she did the first cut I started to cry. Not because my long hair was gone, but for other reasons. I cried for my dad, for cancer, for my son going to college, for the confusion of dating and pushing away a man I care about, and maybe just a little bit for my hair. Over the years I had somehow decided my hair had Samson strength, which is silly.
When I woke up today and remembered what I had done, I was in a bit of shock. I went to brush my hair and the long stroke I was used to now took a second, so I panicked. I took the picture from my brother’s wedding and put it next to the mirror, and as I brushed my hair and looked at my dad I cried again. Not because I was sad, but because I was blessed.
I will look at that picture everyday and remember the haircut I have now is the style my father last saw me with. As his birthday approaches I will remember everything about my dad, and as he looks down to make sure I am okay, he will see my short hair and remember when we were all together. In going back I am able to start fresh, and be reminded to keep the faith.
November 13, 2013 | 6:32 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I recently got a tweet from matchmaker and relationship expert Siggy Flicker telling me she was a fan of this blog and thought I was a brave and honest writer. It was lovely, and a big deal because I think Siggy is great and am a fan of hers. I first became aware of her through The Wendy Williams Show, and once I discovered her, I read her articles and thought she had an interesting perspective on dating and relationships. It was sweet of her to speak so kindly about my work and not point out the obvious, that my recent relationships have not ended well.
I reached out to Siggy and asked her if she would be up for an interview. Partly because she is fascinating and I thought you would enjoy meeting her, but also because I figured I could get some advice and guidance. She is a no holds barred woman and manages to be brutally honest without being mean. Unlike a certain matchmaker on Bravo, Siggy is classy, enlightened, experienced, and has a history that makes her an expert. I learned things about Siggy I did not know, and just loved her.
Siggy and I actually have a lot in common. We were both born in Israel, both of our fathers fought in the Six Day War, and both of our families immigrated to North America after the war. We are close to the same age, have the same boldness gene, both speak our minds, and are both quite funny. The big difference, and the one I am interested in, is that when is comes to relationships and finding someone worthy of you, Siggy not only has the answers, she has a way of speaking that makes you understand.
Siggy was raised to respect herself and not compare herself to anyone else. She didn’t need to worry about what other girls wore, or how they did their hair, or who they dated. She needed to be the best Siggy she could be, and that would be enough. She went through her own trials Andy tribulations as a young adult, and even when things were difficult, she reminded herself there were others who were struggling more than her, and the key was to see her blessings and know that she was in charge of her life and opportunities.
Siggy met her first husband at a Jewish singles event. They were married, lived in Florida, and had two beautiful children. She was unhappy and it took her three years to walk away from her marriage, and how she managed her divorce is truly remarkable. Siggy describes her first husband Mark as the perfect ex-husband. They put the needs and feelings of their children first and have managed to do what very few couples are able to do, and that is raise their children as parents, even though they are no longer married.
Siggy wanted to be her true, opinionated, open, brazen, bold, uninhibited, and fabulous self. Leaving her marriage was a necessity in terms of her personal happiness, but she loved who her husband was as a dad and no matter how sad and difficult the divorce was, she remembered who he was to her, what he meant to her, and his role as a father. Not only did she maintain a good relationship with her ex, when she remarried years later, first husband Mark was best man for her second husband Michael.
Yes. You read that right. Her first husband was best man at her second wedding. Can you imagine? Can you even wrap your head around the message that sends to their children? She is my hero. I not only adore her, but I respect and admire these two remarkable men. It is her personal path and experience that make Siggy so great, and even though I am unable to relate to her divorce, I relate to her as a woman. Not only the woman that I want to be, but the woman I know I am. Siggy had some sage advice.
Siggy says that when dating, go out with married or unavailable friends. You wouldn’t take a bunch of other candidates with you on a job interview, so don’t take other singles with you to prowl. Never thought of it that way. Brilliant. Have a cheering section with you that builds you up and reminds you are worthy. When you meet a man, you not only want him to step up to the plate, you want him to go to bat and make a real effort to hit it out of the park. That hit home with me in a rather profound way.
When I spoke of my past couple of relationships, Siggy let me have it. She was firm and clear that I was not with the right men and that "rejection is God’s protection". Love that. She told me I need to be selfish and do things just for me. Get out there and enjoy something I love and it would open my heart and mind. I’m not sure what that thing will be, but I will find it. She reminded me I need to be aware because I could go somewhere and perhaps not meet the man of my dreams, but I could meet his sister. We must broaden our perspective.
Siggy told me we need to look up and pay attention. People tend to look down and avoid eye contact, but eye contact is important. It is when we look that we will see possibilities, so we owe it to ourselves to look up and see what we are meant to see. Amen. When it comes to sex, Siggy used a fantastic analogy. When you read a book you don’t start on chapter 8, so when dating, don’t start with sex because you are skipping a lot of chapters. Take your time and let someone earn the privilege of being with you.
I spoke with Ms. Flicker for an hour and could have chatted all day. She was kind and smart and allowed me to look at my recent disappointments with a new perspective. Dating is hard and love is difficult to find, but the only way I will meet the right someone is if I don’t give up. By the end of our talk she was trying to fix me up with someone, and even though I cried when I got off the phone with her, mostly from emotional exhaustion, I made a date for this weekend because she won’t let me give up on myself or love, reminding me to keep the faith.