An Angry Rant

"It's 2025, and we don't talk about people's bodies." This is my go-to line. Whether it's to remind my in-laws to nix the commentary about an actress while we're watching the Oscars, or to tell someone to fuck off in a roundabout way, if they're inquiring about my own weight loss- this is a belief that's very important to me, and I consider it my sacred duty to impart this wisdom to my children. This is not the 90s, and we don't need to dissect other people's appearances. Mind your own business.

I had a friend who lost a lot of weight because she was extremely sick. Doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with her beyond some combination of IBS and pelvic floor issues. Throw some food allergies and inflammation issues into the mix, and she was struggling to both eat, and use the toilet. She was utterly miserable, and super anxious. And the more anxious she became, the worse her issues got. It was like a snake eating its tail. She told me one day that she was in so much pain, she had a sudden impulse to drive her car into a tree. It was a terrible time, so I tried to be supportive and spend time with her, however I could. One day we were at Costco together, and we ran into a mutual friend. That friend hadn't seen her and was like- "Oh my god! You look amazing. What are you doing?" Soooo awkward- cuz... "Actually, I've been really sick." (Not that it's any of your business.) Can you imagine putting your foot in your mouth like that!? "Well, it's the cancer, turns out it's great for the diet!"

Welcome to the Gay Parade

Once upon a time, I was on a girls trip in LA, with my friend, Kathleen. We were hanging out with her cousin, an actor, (cuz obviously,) and I told him this story; and he was adamant that we turn it into a romcom. It must've been a lot funnier in the telling, because it just seems sad written down here. But he assured me that in Hollywood- all it takes is one great, original idea! So, as promised, it's the post explaining my dry spell during college. Here's the parade of gay guys I "dated," (or just crushed upon) and the tragic tale of how they destroyed my self-esteem bit by bit (ouch.) However- if this screenplay DOES ever get made- I want to state for the record that I choose Awkwafina to play me.

Growth vs Fixed Mindset

I mentioned that I would write a post about "the weight of other's expectations." But what I really meant was that I would write a post about the fate of GT (gifted and talented program) kids from the 90s- and why we're all depressed, have anxiety (or late diagnosed ADHD, or whatever your particular constellation of mental disorders happen to be.) I often joke that as a child I was a regular Doogie Howser, M.D. There's a meme that says- going as Former Gifted Child for Halloween, and the whole costume is just gonna be people asking- "What are you supposed to be?" And me saying- "I was supposed to be a lot of things..."

So the real question is- what happened to all of us!? Well, we're either doctors or burned-out disappointments, there's no in-between. When did things go awry? (Not that there's anything wrong with a career as a flight attendant- it's a perfectly respectable job that merely requires a high school diploma.) But when exactly did my big brain just shrivel up and die- never to accomplish any of the great tasks expected of me? My third grade teacher told my mom I was going to graduate as valedictorian (and that didn't happen- so this shit was already going awry by high school, clearly.) My friends who signed my high school yearbook expected to "see me performing on Broadway."

The Ick

So when did Christianity first give me "the ick?" And why am I such a hater that if I hear you say something about- "our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," I start to cringe inwardly? I can probably track the exact moment, if I squint hard enough. As I mentioned before, Catholicism was always a struggle for me, and they were the original Christians. But Catholics aren't "Christians," if you catch my drift. Not the weird ones. Not the ones who made me pray around the flag pole my sophomore year of high school. Let me set that scene for you. I was innocently trying to make my way to my 0-hour typing class, (at the very UNgodly hour of 7am,) when I was accosted.

"Hey Colleen! HEY! Stand here with us. Something really cool is about to happen." (Observe how they wouldn't just TELL me what was going to happen, they had to spring it on me, like a trap. It was giving Hun-trying-to-sneak-a-pyramid-scheme-past-me-energy.)

I 100% would've blown them off, too, and told them I had to get to class (cuz what cool thing could possibly be happening around a flag pole at 7am?) BUT they had weaponized my crush against me. This was my first gay crush (he was gay, not me) in a series of five, truly debilitating gay crushes that would carry on throughout my college career. (Obviously another topic for another blog post.) The first, (and definitely the most obvious.) However, as a sixteen year old in the 90s, he was neither out, nor had I yet to develop my razor sharp "gay-dar' which was going to need a LOT of honing apparently, but after all that I've been through, trust me, it is now finely HONED.

A Real Pain

Unsurprisingly, we never went to shul. That could be the name of our collective, family biography. Truly, it sums up the entirety of the Schwartz Jewish experience over the course of my married life. We just didn't quite manage to get our shit together. It was a crazy, busy June. There was Max's family reunion mid-month, and Lyra's dance trip to Disney World at the end of the month, which meant we were on vacation for nearly half of the month. (Can't complain about that!)

However, Max's family reunion DID provide some great Jewish learning opportunities for the family, as we were interfacing with the more devout side of Max's family- the East Coast Jews. We met a rabbi- who happened to be a long-lost cousin of Max's father, who we only discovered recently through ancestry.com. (There was an entire branch of the family unbeknownst to Ralph because apparently his mom just ran away from home and created an entirely new identity, then died without ever telling anyone her true background story...) So anyway, he's recently reunited with these cousins, and we got to meet the New Jersey contingent.

Outer Voice

This entire blog was originally (supposed to be) about "inner voice," so here's a post specifically about my outer voice. My voice teacher (the high school one with the good advice, not the abusive college one) gave me the opportunity to write this excerpt for her upcoming book, (am I a real writer, y'all?!) and I couldn't be more honored, so I'm posting what I wrote here as well- because it just ties in so perfectly with my blog. The prompt is about how voice lessons taught me to develop my actual voice (like, out in the world,) and how minority (women's) voices are often suppressed (or something like that.) I'm just going to write about some of my experiences honestly, and see what comes out.

Growing up, I loved to sing. Even better, I knew I COULD sing, because I got a lot of external validation. "You have a beautiful voice," they told me. (Ahh, external validation, that double-edged sword. I'm going to have to do a blog post just about that.) The problem with being told that- is all of a sudden, you start to pay attention to the voices around you- and you start to compare. You notice the beautiful ones, and you want your voice to sound like that. Because now you have expectations to fill, and you don't want to let anyone down! And you start to crave another hit of that sweet nectar- those compliments, that applause.

Attachment Theory

Let me first start out by saying that I love attachment theory! I believe that learning about this (somewhat) new science, and understanding my attachment style (and my husband's) has been a complete game changer. It also provided me with insight as to why my previous relationships didn't work out, why I wasn't compatible with certain partners, and what I could've done better. If you, like me, happen to not be the "ideal type" (aka secure,) it's okay! You can change your type! I went from being anxiously attached to securely attached, just by being with the right partner (a partner that was secure, and patient with me, and helped to move me in that direction.) Will I always have some anxious tendencies that can be triggered? Probably- as these are ingrained in us from childhood; how we were raised, and aren't our fault. BUT through awareness and diligent work, you CAN change your attachment style (which generally takes an average of four years to do.)

Colleen's League of Seven Evil Exes

I hope we all know this is a joke title- and a Scott Pilgrim reference. All of my exes are wonderful, lovely human beings; that taught me some hard lessons, without which, I would not be where I am today. And I take full responsibility for all of our break-ups, as the flawed human being that I am. Okay- enough of that bullshit- here's the tea. (No names, identities will be protected.)

Evil Ex #1- He was my first kiss! And my big entrance into high school society. The deed was done at "the super party," (a party determined to top all others?) It was a somewhat memorable affair, as it took place outside, in front of an audience. It gave the illusion of privacy, but there WAS, in fact, a large window where many partygoers had gathered to watch, (unbeknownst to me, anyway,) and they erupted into cheers when the kiss was complete. It makes sense that the whole thing was public from the start- since it was plotted by the collective. "Colleen likes you, do you like her? You should ask her out at the super party!" This relationship was "so high school" in all of the ways- including that it only lasted two weeks, and it's demise came about when one of my frenemies decided to break us up by telling him she still liked him, (although she had no intention of actually getting back together with him.) I was, understandably, devastated. Ramona also dated Matthew Patel, the first evil ex on her list, for just under two weeks, (and they also only kissed- ha ha) so it works.

How To Be Delulu

I briefly mentioned that I've been exploring a different modality every week. "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." You caught me! I don't actually know the definition of modality. But it's a fancy word, so I just keep saying it. I think it means an alternative healing method or technique? Regardless, the "modality" we're going to discover today is called "thought work."

Originated by Brooke Castillo, and The Life Coach School, (and inspired by what Byron Katie called "the work" in her 2003 book,"Loving What Is,") many coaches will charge you an arm and a leg for "the self coaching model," but luckily for you, my coach gives away tons of free content on her podcast! The model is based around the idea that all circumstances are neutral; but it's our thoughts about said circumstances that creates our feelings, which determines our actions, which creates the results we're seeing in our life. In short- if you don't like your life, or the way you feel about your life; change your thoughts about it. You have control over them.

Glimmers!

Y'all have heard of this concept of "glimmers," right? Honestly, it's kind-of new to me. (Have I been living under a rock?) Apparently, they've been around since 2018, (well, they've always been around, but the term was coined then, and the concept widely adopted.) They're the opposite of triggers. They're small moments that spark joy, which can help cue our nervous system to feel safe or calm. Experts say this mindset shift can make a positive impact on our mental health. The whole point of them is that they're tiny, micro moments of peace, instead of large, delight-filled productions. Because sometimes finding your bliss can be daunting. There are days when it's hard to be happy.

But if you train your brain to notice the mini moments; the beauty of the stars on a clear night, the position of your head as you bite into a taco, the way your kids have started to chase bunnies out of the garden beds to please your husband, the moment when you can't turn the car off until that awesome song finishes playing... (You catch my drift.) Once you start to notice them, it begets even more noticing... And if you really want to challenge yourself, you can try to make a point of not just noticing them, but remembering them throughout the day to record in a journal when you get home, and watch as your progress grows. Watch as your happiness, your observation skills, and your ability to slow down and smell the roses, grows.