What kind of dinner companion are you?

I'm having dinner tonight with my "client turned friend", Vickie.  I've looked forward to this all day. 

I don't look forward to all of my meetings.  It has me thinking.  What is about meeting with Vickie.....

Vickie will breeze in with a smile on her face no matter what kind of day she's had.  She may even be complaining about her day but she does it with a smile and an attitude that you know she'll find a way to turn that frown upside down.

Vickie knows that this world is powered by something way bigger than Facebook, or corporate America and she's not afraid to talk about it. Vickie prays for me. (Feel free to join her, I'll take all the help I can get.)

Vickie cares about me.  She started out as my client and she always cares about it being a win win relationship. I call her my friend because she's now invested in me and my family and she cares.

Vickie will ask me questions and then really listen to my responses. Not the fake listening kind.  She'll listen and respond and engage to truly understand what's on my heart and mind.

Vickie is kind.  Even when she's frustrated by someone or something, she doesn't let that shake her values to turn her into some freak on a mission.  She finds a way to fix it or get away from what's 'ick'. And she does it with herself intact.

Vickie makes me laugh.  She's not Seinfeld or anything, but she's just got a great view of the world that is light and great to be around.

So enough about Vickie.  What kind of a dinner companion am I?  What kind are you? 

I don't bother writing a post on the whiner, complainer, 'woe is me' types. I don't dare schedule dinner with them either!

I realize that I was kind of a whiner a couple of times today but I'm cleaning up my act before Vickie gets here because that's not cool.  Let's all work to be more like Vickie.

More Vick and Less Ick - Bumper stickers being printed now.

Warning: The following post contains a rant

Rant warning: This post has been brewing for a bit and is likely to contain frustration, sarcasm, and a healthy dose of disgust.

I've become flat out disgusted with the term, "I'm not happy." What a self serving bunch of crap.  Now, if you happen to be in a situation where you are not able to find enough food for you and your family, or you are being abused, or your hair suddenly catches fire at random each week, I'm sorry.  You have every right not to be happy.  For the rest of you, what a bunch of crap.
 
Has our culture really become entirely about a quest for our own happiness? Are you naive enough to think that you not being happy in this relationship or situation is really about the other person or the situation? Do you think the next person you encounter will be "the one" that makes the sun shine brighter and the cream cheese on your bagel creamier? Maybe for a little while, until the shiny newness wears off that one and you become 'unhappy' again.

If you're not happy, please take a few steps to the nearest reflective surface and take a long stare at the person staring back at you and consider this to be the source of your unhappiness.  And by they way, who promised you a life of happiness anyway?

Have we all gotten so accustomed to our cushy lifestyles that we have forgotten that most of the privileges we enjoy today came from someone sacrificing and suffering for the greater good?  Let's call my high school classmate, Brad, who's on his way home from Iraq and ask him if he was 'happy' the entire time he was fighting for the freedom of our country.  Do you think your parents were 'happy' throughout your teenage years as they dealt with your shenanigans, eye rolling and body odor? I guarantee that the moment I pushed out both my little gifts from God, I wasn't thinking about how "happy" I was in that moment.


As I look back over my short 44 years, I know the biggest lessons didn't come from those happy moments on the beach with a "marg" in one hand and an US Weekly in the other. My life is being shaped by the moments I've spent in a fetal position on the floor of my closet sobbing in pain and frustration. Those are the moments I've learned to stand up, blow my nose, look in the mirror and face it. I get stronger, I get more understanding. Let's get to work learning how to listen, how to be patient, how to forgive, how to persevere.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go about figuring out how to pay my mortgage, keep my kids out of therapy, and improve my marriage.

If you're still on a single quest for happiness and self satisfaction, please un-follow, de-friend, and delete my email, you're bugging me.

"True happiness is not attained through self-gratification, but through fidelity to a worthy purpose." - Helen Keller

P.S.- There are over 700 results in Amazon from my happiness link above.  Go and buy a book on how to get happy and I'll make some money from it and that will make me happy.

Yeller's Anonymous Here I Come

I did a really scary thing today.  Really. Scary.

No, I didn't skydive, or ride a bull, or get a tattoo.

I sent a request to my very own Dude to fill out part of my 360 survey feedback for work.  The feedback is about overall effectiveness.  Where do I really need to improve my overall effectiveness?  Yea, at home.

I've sent them to my husband several times before, bringing Dude into the mix, that's new.  That's scary, because he has no reason to put filters on his opinion.

I must admit, I did look over his shoulder a couple of times as he filled it out, but I never commented, coughed or rolled my eyes. I didn't even flinch when one of his improvement comments was something to do with yelling too much. Ouch.

So, the scary part isn't asking for the feedback, or getting the feedback.  The really scary part is the accountability I now have to make the changes.  There's nothing worse than giving someone feedback and having them ignore it.

Maybe I'll join a "Yellers Anonymous Group".  I'll stand up in the back of the dark room with my coffee, "Hi, My name is Rebecca and I have a vein in my neck that likely will rupture some morning when my son is looking for his other shoe and the bus is pulling down the road."  Then the other moms will respond, "Hi, Rebecca, we're glad you're here" in unison.

Maybe I'll take a class.  How to keep your kids out of therapy in 7 steps. I'll pay $99 and go to the downtown Marriott and sit in the front row and take notes.

Yep, I haven't even received the final report yet but I'm preparing for my, "Be a Better Mom Plan".  I think that was the reason I gave him the survey. Ugh, what was I thinking!