That just strengthens my pissed-off resolve to NOT satisfy them. Go ahead, waste your life like you’re wasting mine.
I don’t care if you’re the president. CALL FIRST. Is that so hard to do?
And then leave a message, because I won’t answer the phone. (see above for reason)
Better yet, text.
Because if I don’t hear from you before that doorbell rings, I’ve decided you’re a solicitor. And no, I’m not interested in joining your religious cult. BYYYYYEEEEE.
Admittedly, because of my shitty attitude toward unannounced visitors, I’ve had a few registered letters that I’ve had to pick up from the Post Office…. Oops. That’s the price I pay…
On rare, fleeting occasion, I’ll happen to be in a social mood and actually have showered before 2 pm…so if you can manage to catch me during that sweet spot, and you’re holding some candy bars, okay… I’ll be nice. 🙂
Another exception I’ll make is if you’re Wayne Brady carrying a huge check. Hell yeah, I’ll throw on some pants and sunglasses!
Secret Tip: If you’re holding a puppy, that’s my weakness… I’ll always open the door for that.
Other than that, unannounced visitor, fuck off and have a nice day.
Privacy is not something that I’m merely entitled to, it’s an absolute prerequisite.
In 1981, Faith Popcorn, a noted futurist, controversial public speaker, and best-selling author, coined the term “cocooning”. She defined this as, “The need to protect oneself from the harsh, unpredictable realities of the outside world.” In other words, taking some good alone time.
I’m currently cocooning. Not in an extreme sense (I don’t hermit myself 1000 miles away from civilization, although sometimes I’d love to), but in a practical sense—in an effort to separate myself from daily distractions and reflect on my own goals.
There’s a lot of noise going on in the entrepreneurial world, all around me. A plethora of talking heads all with the same smarketing (social-media-marketing) jargon regurgitated ad-nauseam: “Leverage”, Purpose-driven”, “Actionable”… And the cringe-worthiest term of them all, “Boss Babe”… Puke. Shut. UP.
I witness someone on the daily asking a simple question on a popular Facebook Women Entrepreneurs page, and five minutes later there are 348 responses, 98% of which are pushing their own sales and service agendas like hungry koi, clamoring for the same crumbs.
Isn’t anyone authentic anymore?
I can’t resonate with any of them. I know the vast majority will never succeed.
Say No to the Noise
The point I’m trying to make is that it’s perfectly okay to just say no in order to focus on your own specific goals. True friends and loved ones will understand.
A balanced life is living 50% selfishly, and 50% selflessly.
We can’t give of ourselves fully to others if we haven’t first met our own needs. So go forth, be selfish. Do you. Say out loud, “I need some alone time!” Then go do it.
In my attempt to focus I have pretty much been a semi-hermit during the day: researching, writing, brainstorming, course-taking; quietly building an empire. Sitting at my computer, 7 days a week, 8+ hours a day.
Staying 85% off social media, and not being sucked into the constant, daily drama.
Every now and then I put up a cute or funny post on my personal page, just to let everyone know I’m alive. So far, nobody is the wiser. Good… good.
I’m. So. Boring. Right. Now.
But this is my passion. My true friends and family know this is important to me. And, I have the absolute best boyfriend in the world who supports me 100%. Truth be told, 50% of the reason I do what I do is so someday he do whatever the sam fuck he wants. He deserves it.
Entrepreneurship is living a few years of your life like most people won’t, so you can spend the rest of your life like most people can’t. — Anonymous
Turn off the Clutterfuck
Sometimes it’s necessary to channel your thoughts elsewhere. Power walking has always been my alone-time escape of choice, but now, instead of jamming to 70’s classic rock while I workout (typical GenX here), I’ve started taking these “mini MBA” lessons from the greats in an attempt to form a stronger, wiser mindset.
So even if my workday has been a complete bust, just knowing I’m learning from the wealthiest entrepreneurs in the world gives me that warm fuzzy of accomplishment. I’m able to go on another day.
For super-intense times, I’ll switch gears—pull out my paints and paint brushes, and go full art-therapy. The canvas is my bitch.
A Channel of Passion
Finally, in an attempt to organize and chronicle my distorted musings, I started this blog. It’s been a pent-up passion I’ve had for quite some time — a way to connect with other driven, non-conforming mid-life women like myself. It’s exciting to watch this form into something I can use to help others find their passion.
‘Cuz this, my friends, is the best time of our lives. Onward!
Ugh, done writing. Now, where’s that paint brush….
When a loved one dies, I have a strange way of dealing with death. Unlike everyone else it seems, I don’t have an emotional reaction.
In other words, I can’t cry when someone I care about passes. The tear mechanism doesn’t work.
Don’t get me wrong; I feel immense sorrow, it just doesn’t manifest physically. Yet I can watch a sad movie and go through 10 Kleenexes. Go figure.
It all seems bizarre and admittedly I have, on more than one occasion, “faked” crying, just so I could fit in with the moment.
Missing My Stepdad
For example, back in 2014, my stepdad passed away. He was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer, just nine days before his death. It was tragic—one day I went to visit and everything was fine; and then the next week, life as we knew it changed forever.
I remember thinking how brave he was to accept it so well. When the entire family piled in to that tiny hospital room to pay our last respects (I believe there were at least 30 of us), there wasn’t a dry face in the room. Except mine. But I had tissue in hand, wiping my eyes.
My sister and I adored my stepdad. He was the closest thing to a caring father we ever had. He was loving, considerate, and supportive. Most of all, he was present—something we were never used to. Never an unkind or arrogant bone in his body. It was a shame he had to leave us so soon.
To this day, I still miss him terribly and wish we could hang out once again.
Remembering Paw Paw
A couple years ago, my grandpa passed. He was 96; he lived a long, full life, and we were all grateful to have him around as long as we did. He and my grandma (still alive, thank goodness!) practically raised me until I went to kindergarten. My parents had me very young and needed some help. Luckily, they loved having me around.
I have great memories of all the fun I had with them as a kid. Paw Paw and Maw Maw were our foundation – they formed stability in our often unstable life.
So seeing Paw Paw in his final days, lying in pain on his nursing home bed, wasn’t easy. I brought my daughter in with me to say goodbye, and she immediately burst into tears. I remember thinking, why can’t I deal with death by crying? But I remained stoic.
Having read through some online forums on the subject, I discovered there are many others like myself who don’t cry when a loved one dies. And that it’s not strange or unusual—everyone has their own way of dealing with death and grieving.
Some get it all out on the table, some grieve over a long period of time; and others never really grieve, but rather sprinkle in the memories from time to time, with sweet melancholy.
Your grief path is yours alone, and no one else can walk it, and no one else can understand it. —Terri Irwin