Chapter Fifteen of Making Lemonade A Spiritual Journey Through Pain and Divorce

Alone and Processing

“I love you, but I cannot stand you” were some of the hurtful words spoken into my heart from my ex-husband. He told me that every time we fought, his heart grew colder toward me. When I asked why he took me with him to Florida, he said it was because he knew I wanted to leave Spokane, and he took pity on me, not because he wanted to be with me.

Why did I prefer emotionally abusing comments over being alone? Was I that insecure? I hated myself for being that desperate for love. When I was younger I used to think I would never allow myself to be mistreated because I had too much respect for myself. The young Angela never would have put up with cheating. She would have left Steve there on the spot before he could even finish his sentence. What happened to me?

I hated being alone. Alone was scary, but thoughts of ending up like my dad scared me more. He’s been unable to move on with his life since my mom left him thirty years ago. Was I to become someone who replayed the past or could I find the strength to overcome, get up in the morning, hold down a job and reinvent my life?

I spent a lot of time at the church to escape myself, but I eventually caught up. In the time I spent alone, I was forced to get to know myself. Slowly, I worked on fixing those parts I didn’t like. But the important question I had to ask myself was, did I not like myself based on someone else’s opinion of me? The longer I was away from the influences of my ex-husband, I began to change back to the person I was before I met him and morph into what God wanted me to be like.

God also revealed how unhealthy my marriage was and the damage that was left to fix. During the divorce I kept probing for answers to things that I missed or purposely ignored. When I questioned Steve, I always received conflicting stories. I needed to know the truth, no matter how painful, about how long he’d been involved with her and when he decided to officially leave me.

Several times in the past I had a feeling that he was hiding something from me, and I did searches to see if he had a separate e-mail account. Finally, I discovered his account and had my proof through the e-mails they were sending each other. He knew before he came to Lake Havasu that he was leaving me. Reading their correspondence gave me a form of closure.

Over time, I learned how to separate myself from my ex-husband and establish my own life. I even started making my duplex my home. The neighborhood around me was a nightmare, but with some care, inside became my haven. I was no longer required to put up with someone else’s demands and expectations to have a place to live.

I fixed up the front porch with plants and a fountain, bought new bedroom furniture and scattered my stuffed animals on the love seat to make the living room seem less empty. Watching “our” television shows even became less painful as I learned to make them my own. My dogs were a great help. They comforted me through my many lonely days and nights and made me feel loved and accepted.

I learned how to be so comfortable with myself, I still treasure my alone time.

Every season, no matter how painful or seemingly pointless it is, has a reason. In this season I would discover who I really was and what I was to become.

Fly Butterfly!

Poem from
The Confident Butterfly story.

Dreams are Precious Gifts

Let the sun of your spirit warm your dreams. May the pink buds of hope blossom in everlasting spring. Have the courage to follow your heart. Your dreams are precious gifts; unwrap them today.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma—which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

~Steve Jobs

Notice in Steven’s quote the two words heart and intuition. Take the first letter of each word, H + I = HI. Your heart and soul are crying out HI! Listen to me. I know who you are and what you want!

Stop living the life other people are telling you to live.

Derek Jeter is the famous shortstop on the New York Yankees. Stephen Spielberg is one of the world's greatest film directors. What would their lives be like if they chose to not honor their talents and did something else? What would our lives be like?

What will your life be like when you honor your gifts and talents? How different will the world become when you do?

Remember this:

We were all born for a certain assignment. A 'position' in life that our unique talents and skills can serve the greatest amount of people and reap us incredible prosperity.

The Death of a Dream

I loved art as a young child. While my classmates were scribbling pictures, I was coloring in one direction and in the lines creating masterpieces that drove my peers to jealousy.


I recall one picture I did for my grandmother when I was about 5 or 6 years old that was probably one of more creative pieces. I removed the plastic insert that held the chocolate in place from a box we’d just finished. I cut out two connecting holes, pasted them on a piece of paper and drew an owl using the chocolate container holes as eyes. My grandmother thought it was so ingenious she had it up on her refrigerator until she died.

No matter the art project, I had displayed great talent. In the sixth grade, I won first place for a swan I created out of ceramics. It is the only first place I’ve ever received. It now has a chipped wing and a line on its neck where it once lost its head when it got in the way of a flyswatter vs. fly battle, but it sits on my bookshelf today in reminder of that moment.

My talent was natural born since both my sides of the family draw and paint. I figured I’d be an artist when I grew up. I thought that until I entered the eighth-grade and Ms. Smith’s class.

I was excited to take a real art class and develop my talent. Our first project was constructing a decorative maze shadow box. I had a heart in the middle with a diagonal line on each side representing the entrance and exit. After the box was constructed, I covered the walls with construction paper and designs—colors and designs that were supposed to be my choice.

Well, it should have been my choice as it was my project. From the start, we had to get “approval” for everything we did from Ms. Smith. You couldn’t progress to the next stages without it. First it was the maze layout, then the color choices and designs. When I was done, it became her project. I was just the fingers that cut and pasted it together. My creativity wasn’t important to her, it was all about her and what she thought I should make.

Creativity and fun were abolished in her class. I found myself sniffing the rubber-cement glue just to get through the agonizing 50 minutes of each daily class. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

One day she reassigned our seats. I moved from the front corner to the very back of the room. When she explained her seating assignment choice, I couldn’t stop crying.

“All the people that are in the front sitting around me show great talent and are real artists. Those in the middle are just that, middle talent. And for those of you in the back, you’re D and F quality.”

OUCH! I’d never considered myself a D or F artist. Who grades art anyway! Isn’t’ it supposed to be a fun expression of ourselves?

Our next project was a prisma-color picture. Prisma-color is a fancy colored pencil at a fancy price. I chose a unicorn and was impressed with how well I was doing. Ms. Kill-Joy on the other hand didn’t like it.

After the pictures were done, she hung them in the hallway for the whole school to view. At grading time, she took us out individually into the hallway and discussed the “great-aspiring artists” adorning the wall and then brought us over to ours. She was comparing what others had done with what we had done.

By now ¾ of the school year was done and I was deflated. I had to listen to her drone on about Chad’s eagle and some other pieces. She asked me, “What grade do you think you deserve?”

What I wanted to say was, an A because that unicorn was my personal best. I learned so much and I was proud of what I accomplished.

With my self-confidence under the floor tiles, I ended up telling her, “I think its C work.”

I ended up taking the picture home hating it. It got buried over the years in drawers and boxes, forgotten. It got scuffed and dirty.

I took another art class in High School and walked away with an amazing watercolor for my mom and for my grandmother. But my enthusiasm wasn’t there any more. I never took another art class. I even quit drawing and painting.

I’m looking at that unicorn picture now on my desk and think, what an amazing job for a fourteen year old! Just think if she would have instructed me and helped me develop my talent instead of telling me I wasn’t good enough.

I allowed one bad teacher to poison my passion for art and convince me that I’m not an artist.

Are you following your dreams, or have you let someone like Ms. Smith influence your dreams and passions? Don't let other people influence your dreams. They're your dreams. Live them to the fullest!

A Trip Around Your Imagination

When was the last time you wandered through your imagination stretching the boundary into ridiculousness and had fun?


Have you been told

 

• Get your head out of the clouds
• Focus on reality
• You can’t do that
• That idea will never work

 

I had a wonderful Masterminds meeting today as we talked about perceptions last week and imagination this week. Imagination is so important not only in creating a successful business, but in enriching our lives through practical necessity and entertainment.

 

When was the last time you looked at a sunset and thought about what it represented? Did you just see pretty colors? Or did you see: The wild colors of sunset romanced the dark colors of night. Tangy pink taffy melted into orange sherbert that drizzled across chocolate mountains. Then the wild stain vanished into a canvas of blinking stars. Excerpt from my book, The Confident Butterfly.

Did you even notice the sunset at all as you raced home?

I had one gentleman at the meeting ask a teenager, who happened to be attending the meeting with his mother, “What makes your imagination so different from ours [adults?] Why is it easier for you to daydream and imagine where adults have difficulty?”

That’s a good question. What do you think? Are you as imaginative as you used to be as a kid? If not, why?

 

I believe it all comes down to programming. Do you listen to what other people are telling you or do you listen to your own heart’s desires and intuition? Has something someone said to you hindered you, discouraged you into giving up on a goal?

 

During the meeting the teen stated he wanted to grow up financially independent and retire young. I thought it was a great goal to strive for. An older gentleman at the table just laughed openly and muttered, “Good luck with that.” What a dream squasher!

Is his dream impossible? No. Is it full of challenges and strategic planning to get there? Yes. I hope this kid listens to his own heart and not to the cynical adults around him. He has a real chance provided he works hard.

I stood up in the group and stated, “I’m 39 years old and I still have the same imagination as I did when I was 12. I never let people discourage me from dreaming.”

I actually had people tell me that I would never become a writer because I got C’s in English. Another one I heard was you need a Master’s Degree in English. I used to think that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard of! All writer’s have editors and it’s the editor’s job to point out and fix those annoying comma splices and dangling participles—what the heck is that anyway?

Writers put together passionate thoughts and imagery that evoke emotion within readers. Editors dot the i’s and cross the t’s. Every writer in those bookstores has an editor, even the ones who got a Master’s in English! Guess, what? Stephen King's first editor believes I am a great writer.

If someone says to you imagination is a waste of time, tell them to go turn on a light. That little wonder started with a thought that turned into a reality. Imagination is the beginning of all inventions. It has a great purpose. You never know what inventions won’t be thought of if you tell someone to be “realistic.”

Our imagination is the only limit to what we can hope to have in the future.

Charles F. Kettering

 

Do you need to dream again? Spend 15 minutes everyday imaging and playing in your mind. You never know where a little fun will take you when dealing with day-to-day stress and complications.

This is what my little book The Confident Butterfly is all about. Following your heart and living your dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen of Making Lemonade A Spiritual Journey Through Pain and Divorce

“I’m a Pit Bull”

Saturday morning I woke and readied myself for a new experience called Adopt-A-Block. The only thing I had heard about the outreach was people went to neighborhoods and gave food and clothes. God put it on my heart that I join, so I was ready for recruitment.

Arriving at the church, I saw people gathering around boxes of food and clothing and had no idea where to go. It was difficult to find someone to ask as they hurriedly gathered their supplies. Finally someone saw the “deer in the headlights” look and asked if I needed help.

“I’m new and have no idea where to go.”

“Go inside.” He pointed to the building in front of me. “Someone there will adopt you.”

Just as he said that, a voice belonging to a tall, semi-hyper man shouted, “I’ll adopt her!”

From that point, I considered myself adopted. His name was Kirk, and he led me inside and told me to sit and wait for him. With everyone seated, a pastor came to the front full of energy that mirrored Kirk’s and delivered a quick, motivating sermon.

I cannot tell you what section of the Bible he preached from, but all I remember to this day is how he said we had to have a pit bull attitude when it came to saving people, how Jesus didn’t give us the spirit of fear and to reach out with our hearts at our blocks.

A young man came up to me and told me he would be happy to take me and pointed out the mandatory background check forms we had to fill out.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I shook his hand. “I’ve already been adopted by a group.” I pointed to Kirk.

“No problem. Glad you found someone.” Smiling, he left with his group.

Darn. He was cute. Too young for me, but cute all the same. I felt my loyalty was more important and knew there was a reason that God chose this block for me.

Kirk introduced me to a large black man who made me a little nervous. “This is Nathan, and I’m going to pair you up with him. He’s going to show you the block and what we do.” Instantly Nathan smiled and spoke to me. The intimidation factor left. He was a giant teddy bear!

We loaded up, and I caught a ride with another member to the block since I was unsure of how to get around the north side.

“Welcome to Sunnyslope,” he said as he pointed to the war zone I was about to enter.

Departing from the car, I rejoined Nathan, and we began walking the streets. I discovered he was only a few weeks old to Adopt-A-Block and told me about his first time. Taking me over to an apartment building, he pointed out the blood stain on the sidewalk.

“See this blood? This is from a guy who lived in this apartment. I came around the corner and he asked, ‘Do you speak English?’ I said, of course. Then he took his hand off his neck, and there was this gash where someone had cut his throat. I went to call Kirk, and he was standing right behind me with the same expression I had on my face. His brother was still inside the apartment, dead. Kirk told me, ‘Welcome to the block’!” If Nathan expected me to run back to the safety of my car and never come back, I’m happy to say the story didn’t deter me.

I found Sunnyslope to be nothing like its name. It’s a forgotten little corner behind a mountain ornamented with wealthy houses. On the opposite side lay middle class suburbia. Broken glass lay like shattered hope and carpeted the ground. It was as thick as the lies the enemy fed the inhabitants. A small cluster of apartment buildings flanked the sad street. Plastic windows, like blind eyes, stared out into the world. With each step the hot asphalt sucked out a little more happiness from my spirit.

“I want to go over here,” Nathan pointed across the street. “Now,” he began as he put his hand on my back and looked down on me like he was speaking to a small child, “There’s a crack house over there in that complex. If you don’t want to come, I understand.”

Drugs? Here in Sunnyslope? I had no idea. Biting back my sarcastic response, I simply answered, “I’ll come with you.”

Surprised, Nathan smiled and led me to the worst set of apartments on that street. Entering the U shaped complex, I was greeted by a parking lot covered in smashed beer bottles and condoms. Empty parking spaces were thick with black oil while others housed barely functional cars. I persevered.

Walking to the second story, Nathan kept on about how fragile I seemed and that he hoped that this experience wasn’t going to scare me away from the block. Finally, I had enough.

“Let me tell you something about me, Nathan.” I pointed to him. “The enemy doesn’t scare me. I’m not afraid of anything. I’m a Pit Bull.” Visions of ripping off the enemy’s horns danced through my head as I remembered the morning’s lesson.

Recoiling from my comment, he saw the look in my eyes and nearly fell off the balcony. At first he was angry that I would talk to him like that, but later, he respected this tiny, 5’1” woman who walked into Sunnyslope like she owned the place.

Never judge a book by its cover. Just as Nathan appeared scary to me, to him I looked like a nineteen-year-old who had never seen anything other than a silver spoon. What I told Nathan was true. I had seen the enemy. He had given me his worst for 35 years, and he was out of ideas on how to stop me from succeeding with the plans God had for me. He stripped away all that I loved, and now I was angry, and it was time I step up and fight back on his turf. Bring it on! Yes, Sunnyslope was now my block, my family.

Returning the following week, Nathan stated how much he and Kirk were amazed by me and said that this was the perfect block for me.

Nathan gave me a new name. “I have a new name for you—Ultimate Warrior. Because, Angela, you have no fear. You’re so awesome.” The following week, he changed my name to Pit Bull.

Slowly, I began forming relationships with our regular attendees in The Slope and continued searching for the hurting. Caring so much about the block, I would drive by at night by myself and pray for the people. Relaying this information to Kirk and Nathan, they had concerns for my safety. Again, I had no fear, and in some ways not a whole lot to live for.

To purchase a copy of the entire book:

http://www.amazon.com/Making-Lemonade-Spiritual-Journey-Through/dp/0595531148/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

I Have a Dream, Now What?

Have you ever had a dream or a goal and told someone about it only to find they say, “Well, how are you going to do that?” Only it’s not a question? Instead it’s a deep sarcastic, dream-squashing comment.

There are always going to be people who will be threatened or jealous when you have a passion to succeed. They will criticize and try to sabotage you. Why? Because their life is a mess and misery truly does love company.

Have you had a dream or goal, but didn’t know where to begin or know if it was even feasible to accomplish?

Keep this one thing in mind, if you envisioned it, you’re the one who can make it happen.

To get started with your dream you need to write it down. Brainstorm ideas around it to include the who, why, what, when and how. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but be as specific as you can be at this point. You’ll fill in the gaps as things go along or compensate for new changes. So don’t be discouraged if you have more blanks in your specifics category than you’d like to see. Don’t let it hinder you from going forward.

You may find you’re a great ideas person, but you need help getting the project started and the specifics generated. Seek out friends, family, a person who is actually doing what you want to do or a mentor to help you along the way.

Are you great at figuring out what other people should do, but when it comes to your own life you get stuck? I’m great at ideas for my own life, but the planning may get a bit murky at times. You just need someone with a different perspective to analyze the situation. It’s like an artist who is too close to his painting to see a small detail that still needs to be created to bring the whole thing together.

Don’t procrastinate! You’ll only let fear and you’re inner critic win. And stop with the what ifs. You know, the “What if this . . . happens?” You can’t worry about what will happen. Eighty to ninety percent of what we worry about never happens anyway. And when it does, then you can deal with it and, most likely, be able to deal with it with the knowledge you gained along your journey.

Roadblocks are a part of any new challenge. You need to be creative in how to get around them. This is where you may need several people around you to generate fresh, new ideas. No one can do something alone and without proper support.

You may get discouraged along the way, and having a support group or networking group of like-minded people can help lift you up and keep you moving.

People always tell their goals, dreams and desires. You need goals, but your "WHY" is a big reason that will keep you’ll going. Know your why and you’ll continue with your dream even though you come across roadblocks. You’ll find a way to make it happen.

Keep asking these questions to find or remember your why.

Where's your fire? What do you love? What do you hate? What is really important to you? What do you really want? What situation in life do you want to get out of so it never happens again? Why is my project needed?

Why are you on this planet? In one form or another, you're here to change lives, touch lives and help people. What are you meant to do?

Stay away from the dream killing personalities—they’re literal dream vampires who will suck all the ambition and momentum out of you.

Keep moving forward despite the setbacks. I don’t think anyone ever got their plans right the first time. After all, it took Thomas Edison over 10,000 tries to create a light bulb, and in that process, he burned down one of his labs. He looked at the burned shell as a new opportunity to create a bigger and more advanced lab.

You are worth your dream, and your dream IS worth developing. Finally, keep your family and friends in the loop if they’re positive and supportive. This is especially true for spouses. If your dream takes off, they may think you traded your marriage for the goal instead of being married to them. If they stay involved then they feel like it’s a part of them, too.

Some days I get scared, my confidence is shaken. My Inner Critic won’t stop reminding me of my failures as I pursue my own dreams—to be a famous writer and life coach. There are days I can’t write a single sentence worthy of keeping let alone try to write a story or novel or self-help book. So I figured, if I can’t write during the day I’ll write at night.

I think I write better at night because my Inner Critic goes to sleep (after all, he needs to rest after beating me up all day) and Angela gets to come out and play.


With reality engulfed in the darkness, my imagination can come alive because all I see are the possibilities for my life. During this time it is easier to rely on belief rather than sight.

Find a way to live your dreams, and develop your passion. Learn to break your own bizarre rules your brain holds you accountable to and be everything the world needs you to become. We need you and what you have to offer!