March 28, 2012

Finding Your Happy Place

By Brooke Rothman

Now that I’m clear that it is impossible to find sustainable happiness outside of ourselves, I’ve been revisiting what I can do to make myself happy. Essentially, this means doing the things I love to do. So, I started singing again—for myself. And dancing, also for myself, though the occasional night out dancing with friends hasn’t been bad either. I joined a gym where I take yoga and Pilates classes to center myself and get those endorphins going. I have made a habit of grocery shopping at Whole Foods at least once a week and get a kick out of exploring the aisles and picking out great food to eat. I’m also developing a project, soon to be announced, which allows me to chat up with my friends while I ask for their advice and support.

My living room, the gym, the grocery store, anywhere with my friends—these are all my happy places. They are places I go to do the things that make me feel like me.  And when I’m fully myself, I’m happy.

It’s not all that difficult to find your happy place. Just think of things you used to do that made you happy and places you used to go to do them. Then go to those places and do those things.

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February 20, 2012

Backsliding

By Brooke Rothman

When we’ve lost something, like a job or a relationship, it’s tempting to take the first replacement that comes our way in an attempt to fill a void. Instant gratification often gets us through tough times and provides a sense of easy satisfaction—for a moment. And then, one day, probably not too far off from the time we’ve accepting a less than stellar offer, we wake up and realize we’ve been in this sub-optimal situation before, and we wonder how we got here—yet again.

What can we do to stop ourselves from taking steps backwards in life?

We can simply say—no.

No, I do not accept your offer. I’ve done this before, and it didn’t work for me. And so I choose to have faith in and respect for myself and simply wait until something comes along that moves me forward.

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January 15, 2012

Coming Around Again

By Brooke Rothman

Recently, someone questioned my ambition, or more accurately my ability to act on said ambition. This bothered me as I’ve always thought of myself as pretty damn driven.  And so, I needed to speak to people who have known me for longer than a quick season or two. People that could comment on what I’ve done on a long-term basis. People who knew a bit more about the life I’ve led. I needed to go back to the beginning.

Last month, I spent some time with girlfriends from high school and my early college days. The reason for spending time with my old friends became quite clear to me as the weeks went on. I hadn’t really been recognizing myself, and I’d wondered if the person I am at the core had somehow gotten lost.

There’s something to be said for being around friends who knew you when you were younger. It’s like they can see through any façade you may be currently putting on. When you start to self-deprecate, they can call bullshit. It’s quite comforting actually.

“Aren’t you the girl who moved across the country by herself to chase your dream in Los Angeles?” (Check)

“Didn’t you move away from all your friends last year to go to that planning program and then work non-stop  for three months because you wanted to change the direction of your career? Seriously, if that’s not ambition, I don’t know what is.”  (Apparently, I’m not a complete slacker.)

“I admire you. You’ve done things I would have never done. You are very brave.” (This last one was my mom.)

At some point during these conversations, I realized I can be whatever I want to be because nothing anyone thinks about me is the truth anyway. How is it possible that who I am can be so completely different from one person to the next? Because no one is right and no one is wrong. People believe what they want to, when the want to. The only thing that matters, and is ultimately “true,”  is what we think about ourselves.

And so I started looking within. I reread every blog post I’ve written since the inception of “Tattered and Complete.” And then it hit me. This is exactly why I created this blog in the first place. So I could remind myself of who I really am. And remind you of who you are.

The fact is, I know better. I’m not confused—someone thinks something about me that I don’t agree with—therefore I’m upset.

And all the fear, and self-doubt, and back tracking made sense. I’ve been here before, and I’m pissed at myself for feeling shitty.

I don’t have the right to feel shitty. I’ve already learned these lessons! I should not be letting other people make me feel like crap.

But I started to realize, it’s all OK. It’s OK to screw up more than once. It’s really OK to make mistakes. The only person keeping the ultimate score card is me. So, do I want to torture myself for not getting it right or just move on and try again?

As my friend Jessica likes to say in reference to torturing ourselves, “There’s no cheese down that tunnel.” There is nothing to be gained from beating ourselves up, though I too have gone down that lovely tunnel many times. We hurt ourselves more than anyone else possibly can.

And so, I said, fuck it. Time for another go around.

I wanted to find something that could take my attention off me. I wanted something to do that would allow me to give to someone else. I’ve found the times I am most content are when I’m helping someone else feel good about themselves.  They say it’s cyclical. Give and you shall receive. Bestow on another that which you are wanting for yourself.

If there is anything I have ever wanted in life, it is for someone to mentor me, to help guide me, to help me figure out what it is that I want and how to get it—and then to not give up on me, even when I’m ready to give up on myself or I’m just being a pain in the ass.

I’m going to be doing a good amount of coaching over the next few months. I’m going to help other people realize their goals and dreams, and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be easy. When I did the program I’ll be coaching last year, I wanted to quit a million times. If it wasn’t for the coaches talking me out of it, I’m sure I would have. But if I can give something back, if I can inspire people, or make them feel even the slightest bit better about themselves and support them on their own journeys—the way my friends have faithfully supported me these past few months—I have to do it.

It’s 2012. I’m committed to this year being nothing but extraordinary for me and for everyone I care about. Time for all of us to start kicking some self-depricating ass.

I love the following quote. It inspires and moves me whenever I hear or read it, because when we cut through all the crap, when we are able to truly be with each other, and love and support one another, there is nothing more powerful or special or real.

“This is the true joy in life … being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one … being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy … I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die.” -George Bernard Shaw

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December 31, 2011

Enchanted

By Brooke Rothman

I’ve had a magical couple of weeks. I visited two people in Chicago who are not connected at all (except through me) that just happen to live in the same building. I was introduced to someone at a party the night before we’d end up sitting next to each other on a plane home to Florida. And I met another person who’s inspired me to start creating all sorts of plans and projects. The past few weeks were exactly what I needed.

It’s strange how people come into our lives, isn’t it? One minute someone is a stranger and the next minute a friend.

We were meant to be here at this exact time.

I love that in an instant another person can become a part of my life. I hope I’ll never stop meeting interesting people who get me to take action, to smile, to wonder.

I don’t think there are coincidences. I believe we meet people for a reason, even if we can’t quite determine what that reason is right away. Later, we can look back and figure it out. But in the meantime, all we need to actually do is to remain open and aware. And more importantly, trust the universe—and ourselves. I believe that if we create a clearing for great things to come our way, when we are truly ready, they will.

Happy New Year. May you do whatever it is YOU want to do this year. May you surround yourself with good and amazing people who support you and love you for you. May you remember your dreams, create new ones, and work to make them all come true.

1 comment | posted in Personal Essays

December 6, 2011

A Take on Promises

By Brooke Rothman

“A promise is all about faith. A promise is only as strong as your faith in your own self, in your own god. So when you swear, in light of your strengths and in spite of your weaknesses, to struggle and to follow through, you are doing a beautiful thing.”

-Mark D. Sanders and Tia Sillers

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November 22, 2011

Displaced

By Brooke Rothman

I’ve been away for a little while. Not only away from this blog, but away from myself. I took a little trip back to what other people think about me actually matters land. While there, I spent lots of time listening to the expectations other people placed on me rather than focusing to my own expectations—or really, my own needs. It even turned out that in many cases, I got what I thought I wanted, but didn’t get what I needed at all.

I’m the kind of person who takes others at their word, so I’ve been assuming what others have thought about me was the truth, rather than just their own opinion. I forgot that other people have their own baggage to deal with, and that their issues are easily transferred on to others. And so, I’ve taken on a great deal of heartache that may not have been necessary at all.

Someone once told me, “To be alive is to be faced with some unpleasantness. We can’t avoid it completely, but we can choose what we want to do about it.” While this stuck with me, and I know it’s essentially true, it’s still difficult to deal with things when they are not going my way. I’m still very much a little girl in this respect. My propensity to want to throw temper tantrums has not disappeared.

But recently, I made a choice to reconnect to myself. I promised myself that I would be there for me, even when no one else was. I promised myself I would lean in to problems, rather than walk around them. I promised myself I would do my best to accept that which is so. This, of course, is easier said then done. Because to be in complete acceptance means you must be completely in reality—in now—not in the past and not in the future. And that’s pretty tough for most people. That’s pretty tough for me.

I’ve recommitted to writing because it’s the thing that helps me best connect to my life and my emotions. It helps me to connect to others. It’s something no one can take away from me—though some have tried. There is a strange safety for me in words …

I also started doing something else.

I have tried to practice Buddisim three times in my life. Once, a year after I moved to Los Angeles, once when I first moved back to New York six years ago, and now. The first two times I admittedly quit. They say when you chant, the flood gates open and you may have to deal with some big, big changes. They say this is because a clearing out of your life is in progress. Each time this happened I couldn’t take it. Everything I thought was making me happy at the time was slowly or sometimes abruptly removed. As I hate loss, this never really worked for me.

And yet, there’s something that makes me want to stick with it this time.  There’s something that makes me believe if I can just get past the clearing out of all the crap stage, good things—real things—will come my way.

It’s good to clear out the crap. It’s good to take a look at the things in your life that keep you down, or don’t fit, or just take up space, and make a conscious choice to get rid of them. It makes you feel lighter, and it keeps you from feeling trapped. We just need to make sure we know how to differentiate between useful and crappy—between that which helps us grow, and that which steals our vitality.

1 comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in Personal Essays

September 28, 2011

A Sorta Fairytale

By Brooke Rothman

“You look back. You look back because that is where the answers lie. You look back to understand the present. From your vantage point the present is unstable, a confusing clamor of competing voices. It is only by casting your mind back to an earlier time, a time when the plans were being drawn up, that the present regains its stability. The earlier time was a simpler time. It was a time of blueprints. As you look back, you begin to see these blueprints emerge. You realize what the initial intentions were.”   -Tom Rath

I had a plan.  I had a plan but things did not go the way I expected. I fell in love with one thing and out of love with another. I forgot the reason I loved the second in the first place.

I lost my balance.

As if he’d known I was waiting, the boy rode up on his white horse. However, he did not carry me away. He asked me to learn how to ride. I could not accept.

And so the queen and her servants took me to court and asked me to dance. I had danced splendidly as a young girl, but as I tried to remember the steps, I moved out of sync and the court became displeased.

Once again the boy pulled me aside to show me his steed. He told me there were secrets to uncovering the souls of animals. He shared with me a few, but he would not tell me all.

And so I yelled at the boy. I told him he did not understand. I told him my heart was breaking, and I wanted it to stop. I told him if he would carry me away on his horse, I could start a new life. The new land would welcome me and all would be as it was before I forgot how to dance.

And still he refused. He told me we could ride together, but I would have to be the guide. He told me not to be afraid anymore. He said I already had all the answers I needed. It was then that I realized what love meant.



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August 22, 2011

Behind the Curtain

By Brooke Rothman

I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is ‘Who in the world am I?’

-Excerpt from Lewis Caroll’s Alice in Wonderland

My boyfriend recently asked me how I can be two completely different people online and off. I was a bit startled by this question at first. Was it an attack? Was he saying I’m insincere? I thought about it for a second and realized he was right—sort of.

We all have different facets to our personality and most of us choose to show each one of these sides to people at carefully selected times. With him, I’m usually giggly and playful. Sometimes I think about what I’m going to say, but most of the time I don’t. He’s a safe place for me to be silly and fun, and so I am.

This blog, my writing, is a different story. It’s a platform for my most personal thoughts. Here, I ask questions and search for answers. It’s a safe place for me to be introspective, to breath, and to dream.

But it’s not that all the pieces of me are not the real me, and it’s not that they never collide. As human beings, we long for safety. We want to be protected. So we show what we show to the world when we feel comfortable doing so.

And then, one day the curtain is drawn, and the people in our lives realize there’s so much more to us then they knew.

 

3 comments   |  tags: | posted in Personal Essays

August 5, 2011

Digging Deeper

By Brooke Rothman

An acting coach in LA once taught me an exercise that’s meant to get to the root of why we want what we do in life. It’s a simple exercise, but it takes a great deal of thought and introspect. Here’s how you do it:

Write down what you want. (Like in my case back then, I want to be an actor.) Then ask yourself why. When you come up with the answer, ask yourself why again, and then just keep asking yourself why until you can no longer do so.

For example—Why do I want to be an actor? So I can create. Why do I want to create? Because I feel most alive when I’m making something. Why do I feel alive when I’m making something? Because what I make is a representation of my thoughts and ideas … And so on and so forth.

I remember a few of my classmates quit acting after completing this exercise. They found that the reason they wanted to act wasn’t the reason they’d thought it had been at all. So they went on to do something that might make more sense for reaching their real goal—their sole purpose in life. I eventually did too.

I believe we all have distinct talents, views, and abilities, and we are all meant to share our uniqueness with the world. But sometimes finding clarity on how to do this is tricky. I need to do the exercise I just shared with you again, and this time I need to apply it to all areas of my life. Because, recently, when people have asked me what I want, I have not been able to answer them clearly. On a shallow level, I know what I want: a great relationship, awesome friends, a fabulous job, … and I even have some of those things right now. But I don’t have everything I want, so I need to dig deeper. If we are not able to articulate the things we want, we cannot start taking action to make them happen.

So I challenge you to apply the exercise to your own life and then maybe even share any insights you glean from it. Good luck! I can’t wait to hear what you discover.

1 comment   |  tags: , , | posted in Personal Essays, Words Of Wisdom

July 13, 2011

Grateful You’re Here

By Brooke Rothman

A few weeks ago, I went to hear David Cunningham, a particularly spectacular speaker and Landmark Forum leader, give a talk. I was awestruck by how much he moved me. People around me were sobbing pretty much the whole way through and my best friend and I were sitting next to each other trying not to do the same.

Quick side note: I’ve mentioned Landmark Education in my writing before, but I’ve been careful not to push the education in this blog. The truth is, much of what I question and then write about stems from my training and work through the organization, but the fact that I am a Landmark Forum graduate does not define me, nor what I create. However, I don’t think this post would make much sense if I didn’t give you at least a little background about it. So I’ll say this—a little over a year ago, before I took the forum and a few additional courses, my world was very different then it is right now. The education I’ve received has absolutely transformed my life. Someday, I’ll write a post in greater depth about this, but for now, just know it’s something that has really helped me and that’s why I continue to go to see Forum leaders like David speak.

David tells stories with such enthusiasm and grace, it’s impossible not to connect with the man. He talked about creating a new relationship with his father after years of five minutes phone conversations every three months about the weather and golf. He talked about losing his partner to AIDS in the 80’s, and how he’d somehow found the courage to ask his father to help him take care of his partner before he died.

Then, he specifically addressed the Landmark Forum graduates in the room and told us that he knew our lives had gotten better through the work we’d done and that they would continue to get better. At this point, I choked up, but my composure was still intact. Everything he had to say was profound and emotional and heartfelt, but what really made me lose it was something so simple.

At the beginning of the night, David thanked everyone for coming and mentioned that he was grateful we were there. Honestly, I barely heard him say that. But, his last words at the end of the night went something like this:

“You can tell I had a great night right? That I had fun and really enjoyed our time together? (We all nodded.) Well, it would not have been great if you all were not here. In fact, it would have been pretty stupid if I’d stood here and talked to nobody. My stories, what I have to say, mean nothing if there is no one to listen. So when I told you all earlier that I was grateful you were here—that’s why. I had the night I had because of you.” 

That was it. I lost it. Here’s why:

I have no idea how many people are currently reading my blog. I know some of you are faithful readers and some of you may just be starting to read it. My hope is that my writing will inspire my readers, and effect change, and be shared with others. Whether that will happen through this blog or through another platform, remains to be seen. But my thoughts, my stories, mean nothing without you.

I’ve spoken before about my love for writing this blog, but I’m not sure I’ve been crystal clear about why I write it in the past. I write it for you and I write it for me. I write it with the hope that it some small way it will help others realize their greatest life. I write it because it reminds me that I can make a difference in other people’s lives. I write it because it reminds me to have humility and to be myself. I write it because of the nights I have because of it.

Thank you, dear readers. I’m so grateful you’re here.

1 comment   |  tags: , , | posted in Love, Personal Essays

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