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Life’s mood swings: Learning to ride the rollercoaster

12 Saturday Nov 2016

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Bettering Myself, Life Lessons

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emotion, gratitude, inspiration, life, yin yang

Last week was a rollercoaster. No, I’m not talking about the election. (And I’m sure many of you will thank me when I say, I have no plans to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole here.) I keep looking back on the week before, amazed that I managed to feel about every emotion imaginable in the span of just a few days.

On Thursday, my family said goodbye to my great aunt. Auntie A never had kids of her own, so her numerous nieces and nephews were like her children and grandchildren. She was the center of my dad’s side of the family, and I meant it when I told my relatives that she was the kindest and most selfless person I have ever known. Auntie was a person who knew how to make anyone feel special, like you mattered deeply to her and to the world. Our family gathered at her home every Christmas Eve, Easter morning and Fourth of July since long before I was born, and she filled each day with such a tangible, loving energy that was contagious.

aunties

My sister and I with our dear great aunts a few Christmases ago. (Auntie A is on the right).

She died exactly two weeks after suffering a massive stroke, and I was thankful I got the chance to tell her how much she meant to me, and for her to tell me she loved me once more before her condition declined. Our family spent many hours by her side in those weeks, holding her hand, praying, crying, and reminiscing.

The day of my aunt’s funeral I was filled with emotion. It was a beautiful day, and every word that was said that day felt like the perfect tribute to her kind heart. I shed many tears, grieving the loss of such a special person, feeling like a deep void had been left behind. Yet at the same time, I was grateful. I felt thankful to have had such a wonderful person in my life for so many years, and for the lessons in love and kindness she taught my family. I felt thankful to be part of such a great family. I felt thankful for my aunt’s long life and that she didn’t suffer much in her final days. That day alone was enough of a rollercoaster, but I had more in store.

The very next morning, my spirits were lifted, when my boyfriend, a few of my coworkers and I decided to check out the Cubs World Series victory parade that was taking over the Chicago Loop (steps outside of where we work). The city was flooded with Cubs fans (some believe it was one of the largest gatherings in human history), and everyone appeared to be overjoyed.

paradegroup

Joining millions of other Cubs fans for the victory parade. (Nov. 4, 2016)

Besides being energized by the fact that my team had won its first World Series in 108 years, I also felt unified with the people of my city, like we were all coming together to celebrate at least one thing we could all believe in. It was refreshing, given the division in the political season this year that made me feel like no one was ever going to get along. (Okay, that’s the only election reference; I promise!) That feeling of pride and unity continued when my friends and I popped into a bar to watch the Cubs rally in Grant Park, singing “Go Cubs Go” with a few hundred of our newest friends.

Later that day, I was sitting at a kitchen table with my closest friends from high school, drinking wine and sharing our favorite memories. We had planned a Chicago-themed going away party for our dear friend Lynn, in honor of her upcoming move to France. I’m always a sucker for those warm and fuzzy moments of people-who-known-me-best girlfriend bonding sessions. But this one was tinged with a little sadness, sending off someone I care for so far away. Lynn had been living in San Francisco over the last few years, so our get-togethers were already fewer and farther between than our group would like. But France! It’s an ocean away. At the same time, I found myself feeling just so fiercely proud of my friend, fulfilling one of her longtime goals.

lynnparty2

My favorite childhood friends, showing off our Portillo’s chocolate cake as we sent off Lynn (far right) to Paris!

Maybe it was the mix of wine and nostalgia, but before the night was over, my dear friends and I were blasting 90’s music and had formed a kick line in the middle of my friend’s living room. We held hands and danced in a circle, singing “No Scrubs” to my friend Jess’s 3 year old, Logan, as he continued asking for “one more song” before his bed time. (Logan and my friends’ other kids are also some of the little people in my life who make my heart feel like it’s overflowing.) So there I was, one day removed from one of the saddest days I’ve had in a long time, belting out the Backstreet Boys and trying to soak up every second with some of the best people in my life.

The next morning, I was celebrating another milestone moment for another old friend of mine. My friend Maggie was one of my first college friends at the University of Illinois, and after we fell a little out of touch for a few years, life brought her and her husband David down to Austin while my boyfriend and I were living there, and thankfully, back into my life. Saturday, they were back in town in the Chicago suburbs for their baby shower, expecting their little boy right around Christmas this year.

maggieshower

Celebrating my friend Maggie and her baby Noah last weekend.

Maggie is a friend who has always been an inspiration to me. Shortly after we met, she suddenly lost her mother, a loss that was obviously very painful. Yet she has more faith in God and in the future than most people I know. She and David have built up a successful business over the past few years, and have managed to find the time and money to travel all over the world. And like my Auntie A, Maggie is filled with love, kindness and humility, always more concerned about others than herself. Seeing her joy in expecting her first child was very special, and again last week, I found myself filled with gratitude, that I would be counted among the friends and family she wanted to share this with.

Like the sadness I felt saying goodbye to Lynn, Maggie and David’s baby shower also made me miss our time together in Austin, feeling sad that it would probably be quite a while until I got to meet baby Noah. But I chose to focus on the pride I felt for my friends doing great things, and achieving their goals in life.

Saturday night, I slept deeply and for a very long time. I truly felt like the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster. In just three days, I had experienced grief, relief, joy, sadness, pride, nostalgia, unity, anticipation, celebration, gratitude, and deep love. A younger me would have felt paralyzed and overwhelmed. But I’ve come to learn that these are the moments that define our lives, that life is just one twist and turn after another and the best way to experience it is to soak up every emotion–good or bad–and the lessons you can learn from it.

I was reminded by this photo that I saved off the internet a number of months ago:

yinyang

It reminded me of the joy and gratitude I felt for the memories with my Auntie A, even as I felt a pervading sorrow to know she is gone from this world. It reminded me of the sadness I felt to be far from some of my close friends, even as I watched them fulfill their highest goals and we enjoyed our moments together. This is the best description of life I’ve found so far, and I’ve resolved to honor every moment as I experience it, for every moment is an important part of life.

Lessons learned from the Cubs’ World Series run

08 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Life Lessons, What Inspires Me

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cubs, inspiration, lessons, life, reflecting, sports

I was born into a family with a serious addiction to Chicago sports. As a kid, I was often startled during Sunday dinners at my grandma’s house when the room erupted for a Bears touchdown. My dad has spent every fall for as long as I can remember fielding constant phone calls from his fantasy football partner. And when he was watching TV, you could bet he was probably taking in a football, basketball or baseball game.

My fandom was decidedly more lukewarm. I wouldn’t go so far as to label myself “fair weather,” but while I wholeheartedly supported every Chicago team–and later, the teams of my alma maters–I rarely watched games, and probably couldn’t list more than a player or two.

That’s why I was surprised by how swept up I got in the Cubs’ post season this year.

Being from the northern suburbs (and my dad’s family from the north side of the city), I always preferred the Cubs to the White Sox. And when I got into college, I started going to Cubs games, probably checking out about one each year.

cubsgames

Some of the Cubs games I’ve been to over the past few years.

When I moved back to Chicago to work at a news station last year, it became my job to know more about the team. But it was the fan in me whose hopes soared and then deflated when they were eliminated in the NLCS last year.

Covering the team’s playoff push this year, previewing and recapping every World Series game, was a lot of hard work for my coworkers and me. If they had been eliminated at any point, it would have soon been back to business as usual. But I found myself willing them to win every series, surprised at how strong my lukewarm attachment had become.

Despite the extra stress at work, I noticed over the past few weeks that I was in an exceptional mood. It really wasn’t until now–as I nurse the emotional hangover left in the place of a Cubs-less void–that I realized it was baseball that was keeping me upbeat that whole time. So this is what sports can do to a person, huh?

Of course, it was more than that.

Last Wednesday night, like Cubs fans around the world, I giddily clapped as the Cubs took a four-run lead in Game Seven. I grew silent as their lead grew narrower. I clutched a pillow and felt physically sick to my stomach as the Indians tied things up, and I tried to hold out hope that a World Series win was still in the cards. I clenched my fists through a rain delay and a tenth inning, and when Kris Bryant threw that final out to Anthony Rizzo, I hooted and cheered. I could hear fireworks going off outside, my neighbors screaming with me, passing cars hammering on their horns.

We did it, I thought.

It’s that collective we that’s made the past few weeks so special. I would smile when I saw “W” flags hanging from street lights and front porches. I would wear my Jake Arrieta T-shirt with pride. I would sing along when I heard “Go Cubs Go” on the radio, or even in my own newscast.

At a time in our history when everyone feels so divided and different, the Cubs brought millions of people together. It was easy to feel love for the people around me when it felt like we were all behind this one thing. We had hoped and suffered together for over a hundred years, and finally the thing we believed in had happened. Even me, the lukewarm fan from a sports-loving family.

It struck me as being a lot like life. We all want to succeed, to prove ourselves. Sometimes it takes a really long time, but we push and we persevere, believing our dreams are possible. If you’re lucky, you have a team of fans behind you, believing in you too. You know it’s a universal feeling when even White Sox fans–even Cardinals fans–can be heard saying, “I’m excited for the Cubs.”

cubsparade

My view of thousands of fans lining Michigan Ave. for the Cubs victory parade; Nov. 4, 2016.

I felt that energy as I stood in a crowd of millions Friday, waiting for the Cubs parade to breeze by and give us a glimpse of the team that made it all happen. I started to see this energy going beyond the love for a team and resonating as love for this city. Chicago is usually making headlines for rampant crime and corrupt politicians, so to see all of these people who share a piece of my identity–and embrace it with love–was really moving.

That feeling grew deeper as my boyfriend and I decided to make an impromptu trip to Wrigley Field over the weekend. Days after the Cubs’ World Series win, the streets outside the stadium were as crowded as the hour before a home game. The brick walls around the friendly confines had become a makeshift memorial for all the Cubs fans who passed away before they could see the team take the title, every inch chalked over in names.

cubswall

The makeshift memorial wall at Wrigley Field; Nov. 6, 2016.

I had seen photos and video of the walls on Facebook and in our news coverage, but seeing it in person was something else. I’m sure part of it was knowing there was a brick there with my great aunt’s name on it, thanks to one of my cousins; she was a Cubs fan, and we lost her just two days before that Game Seven win. But beyond that, it was the sense that the excitement and fandom I had seen this year was truly the tip of the iceberg; there was a long history that went deeper than I could imagine. This team, this sport, had been the glue for many friendships and families, passing down that sense of pride and identity, and, if nothing else, creating cherished memories.

I’ve already got a few favorites of my own. And this lukewarm fan can hardly wait for spring training.

worldserieschamps

Celebrating the World Series champs! Nov. 6, 2016

 

Another Checkpoint: The Year I Took Control

04 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Bettering Myself, Overthinking Things

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challenges, goals, life, life changes, reflecting

It’s funny how we choose to use certain checkpoints to take stock of our lives. Birthdays, graduations, anniversaries. Moments in time where we stop to look back at the path behind us, with all its obstacles; where we look within, if we dare to ask whether we’re satisfied with who we’ve become; or where we look ahead, mapping out the route to success or satisfaction and hoping we have the wherewithal to follow through.

Turning the page to a new year has turn into one of those checkpoints, if for no other reason than everyone else seems to be doing it. I’ve written before about how, to me, the New Year’s holiday in January always feels like an arbitrary time to change your life. But if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a sucker for self-reflection and a clean slate… and I usually end up buying in.

Over the past couple of weeks, as I reflected on what changes I’d like to make in the New Year, I found myself looking back–not on 2015, but on the year before. On New Year’s Eve 2014, as I sat in the Minneapolis airport on a layover, I typed out a post that I titled, “Good Riddance 2014, But Thanks (Lessons From The Worst Year of My Life.” It had been a year full of loss, heartache, failure, and disappointment, and suffice it to say, I was ready to put it to bed. The post was one of the most popular pieces on this site in all of 2015.

I realize that dwelling on the worst year of my life over a year after it ended is not very forward-thinking of me. But as I look back at where I was a year ago, I’m seeing that the lessons I wrote about really did stick with me, and changed the way I approached my life in 2015.

nye2014

My sister and me on New Year’s Eve 2014. Beneath the smile, I was tired from a long year and wondering what the future held.

Where 2014 was the year that things happened to me, 2015 was the year I made things happen.

While it felt like a year of major upheaval, in reality there were only a few big changes. But those changes coupled with being true to myself and my values made me feel like a new person.

The changes started early, when I interviewed for and accepted a job at at a TV station in my hometown, Chicago. I moved a thousand miles in a snowstorm with my dad and my dog. I lived with my grandma for a week while I adjusted to a midnight wakeup call that would get me to work at 2 a.m. I rented an apartment in the city, which felt like an entirely new way of life, since growing up I always lived in the suburbs. Thankfully, after a few months, my boyfriend took a leap of faith and joined me here; together, we worked hard to make our relationship the strongest it’s ever been.

And in between the adjustments to this new life, I lived. I held a best friend’s sweet baby boy the day after he was born. I went to her house after work and fed her 2 year old french fries. I sat on the couch and drank wine with another best friend. I ran 5Ks with my dad. I brought my sister lunch and she trimmed my dogs’ nails. I got brunch and manicures with my mom. I went to birthday dinners. I met new friends and went to my first “Friendsgiving.” I biked along the lakeshore. I baked cookies with my parents. My boyfriend and I hosted our first holiday on Christmas Eve, then drove down to St. Louis to enjoy a long weekend with his family.

At no point at the end of 2014 did I make a grand statement of a resolution. I was too tired. It took me until now to realize that the trials of that year made me prioritize what values mattered most to me. I chose family. I chose love.

2015 didn’t come without its own ups and downs. And yet, I can’t think of a moment where I regretted the choices that brought me where I am today. This was the year when I recognized my personal power to change my situation, and to handle the obstacles life throws at me. In fact, there were moments when problems arose, and I almost chuckled to myself, thinking, “So this is life, isn’t it? One thing after another.”

This post isn’t meant to be a humble brag, and in no way am I saying I am done growing. I just found it worth sharing that sometimes the best way to find your best self is to live through your worst moments. If you’re finding yourself at a low point, unsure if you can handle anything else, just remember: you might come out changed on the other side. Try not to lose sight of that.

 

What a difference a decade makes (Lessons to my younger self, ten years after graduation)

30 Tuesday Jun 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Life Lessons, What Inspires Me

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challenges, expectations, graduation, humanity, life

It’s graduation season, and seeing others turn the page to a new chapter in life always makes me a little nostalgic. It struck me recently that it has been an entire decade since I donned my cap and gown for my high school graduation. I look back at that 18 year old, headed for college, feeling simultaneously like a grownup and an infant, and there’s so much I want to tell her.

So in honor of marking ten years since high school, I came up with a list of ten things I wish I could tell myself on the eve of “adulthood.”

  1. “Learn to tell the difference between what you can and cannot change”

The sooner you learn this, the better off you will be. There’s something so disheartening about spending all your energy furiously pushing against something that’s never going to budge. Your boyfriend’s parents are upset you’re not Jewish? You’ll never be Jewish! Your short pinkie makes it harder to play violin? You can’t grow a new one!

As a general rule, you can’t change how someone else feels, thinks, or behaves. (Physical attributes—like pinkies—are also very difficult, or at least expensive, to change as well, I’m told.) You can change how you react to how someone else feels, thinks, or behaves. If you know you’ve done everything you can to make a job, project, or relationship work, but it’s still being affected by forces beyond your control, you have two choices: accept it as it is, or move on. (This, like the rest of what I am going to tell you, is easier said than done.)

Why-Worry

  1. “Be kind—to everyone”

You might think this isn’t a problem for you. That’s because you are good at being nice. You are cordial and polite. You say hi to your neighbors and smile politely. It’s a great quality of yours. But it’s not the same as being kind.

Over the years you will start to read about the teachings of Buddhism, and they will tell you that everyone is inherently good and deserving of love. You believe this, but it will take time to truly put it into practice in your heart. It’s a lesson you’re still working to grasp, ten years later.

Being kind means when you have a friendly conversation with someone—or even a heated argument—you don’t turn around and criticize them behind their back. It means even when you disagree, you try to cultivate empathy to understand what motivates somebody, or to recognize that they have their own problems to deal with. And when that’s not possible, it means at least accepting that we won’t always agree.

And being kind to everyone should also include you. Which brings me to…

  1. “Take care of yourself”

Everyone you care about will let you down at least once. It will hurt, and it’s up to you to decide how much you’re willing to put up with. At the end of the day, you’re stuck with you. It’s your choice whether you will be your biggest ally or your worst enemy. So far, you’ve leaned more toward the latter. Don’t.

You’ll start to learn there are many people who turn to others for happiness and fulfillment—boyfriends, best friends, family. You tend to be one of those people. Your devotion to the people you love and your giving nature are some of your best qualities. Just don’t base your self-worth on whether your friends want to spend time with you or your family has critical things to say. Don’t wait for the people in your life to tell you that you’re awesome. Tell yourself you’re awesome—and believe it.

Take care of yourself at the most basic levels, too. Eat good food. Exercise. Get enough sleep. Read good books. Write. Treat yourself to an ice cream sundae or a massage, just because. Laugh. Push yourself out of your comfort zone. Allow yourself to stay in it.

  1. “Don’t be afraid to say no”

You’ll hear so many women talk about this that it’s basically become a cliché. But it’s worth a reminder. In high school, you wanted so much to belong, to fit in. You pushed to take part in every extracurricular and go to every party. You pushed back against your parents when they gave you this same piece of advice. You won’t really learn it very well in college either.

phoebecanthelp

Now, at the ripe old age of (almost) 28, you don’t have much of a problem saying no. You’ll turn people down if you’re tired, or if the weather’s bad, or (a new phenomenon you will soon get used to) if you need to tighten your spending until your next paycheck. The saying no isn’t the hard part; it’s the after part you need to learn to get over.

When you’ve decided, for one reason or another, that you can’t do something, learn to quiet that little voice in the back of your head. It’s the one that tells you, “They’re going to be mad at you,” or “That’s the last thing you’ll be invited to.” There will be more get-togethers, and if your friends are worth keeping, they’ll keep inviting you.

  1. “Follow your own path” (Or “Don’t keep score”)

You’ve always been a high achiever, and with that comes a natural competitiveness. You can’t help but want to know how your performance—and really, your life—stacks up against everyone around you. But once you’re out of the academic scene, you need to let that go. In the real world, it’s not only impractical; it’s impossible.

How do you measure who’s on top in life? The person with the most money? The most kids? The coolest job? (And who decides what job is the “coolest” anyway?)

Here’s what I can tell you: You’ll pursue an unusual career path. You’ll work weird hours. You’ll move away, and it will feel right. You’ll come home, and it will feel right. Your friends will start getting married and planning their families. You will feel a pressure from everywhere and nowhere in particular to settle down. As you approach your self-imposed deadline, you’ll get cold feet and think maybe you should do some more traveling. You’ll be jealous of your friends with kids. You’ll be jealous of your friends with money. You’ll be jealous of your friends who always seem to be catching a flight somewhere. One day you’ll step back and realize you like your life the way it is. You’ll realize you’ve liked it every step of the way. You’ll wonder why you didn’t appreciate it all at the time, before you find something else to be jealous about.

Focus your vision forward as you follow your own path. If it’s leading you in the wrong direction, change it. If you can’t change it, revisit Item #1.

  1. “Forgive everything”

One day, while lamenting over a cheating ex, a friend’s mom will tell you something that will stick with you: “Forgiveness is for you.” Years later, you will be reminded of the conversation when you read a quote by the Buddha: “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

Resentment and bitterness have no productive purpose, aside from fueling your anxiety. Often the person you’re angry at couldn’t care less that they’re making you stew, if you’ve even made them aware of how you feel at all.

The bottom line is, if you are angry with someone who’s filled with regret and wants to make it up to you, they probably deserve your forgiveness. And if they don’t care, they’re not worth your energy anyway.

  1. “Just do it”

The last minute has always been your golden hour. You figure, why spend a couple of weeks working on a paper when you can stay up all night before it’s due and still do well? Not to mention, in the meantime, there are things to do. Like watching movies you’ve already seen, painting your nails, or The Internet.

Ten years later, and you haven’t really changed your ways. Senior year of college, you will actually leave a paper partially completed to go on a bar crawl, then come home and finish it before bed. Two years ago, you spent a week banging out two chapters of your first novel, and haven’t touched it since. And you probably won’t be getting back to it any time soon, since you just started watching “Gilmore Girls” from the beginning on Netflix.

homerjustdoit

What I’m finally starting to learn, though, is that if you listen to Nike and “Just do it,” it’s easier on your anxiety and your productivity. It’s easier to be prepared for whatever life (or school, or work, or whatever) throws at you if you don’t have 100 tasks left on your to-do list and you’re running out of time to do them.

  1. “Embrace your lows as much as your highs” (Or “Feel your feelings,” or “It doesn’t always have to be okay”)

You know what’s worse than feeling sad? Hating yourself for feeling sad. Wishing you weren’t sad. And wondering how long it will be before you’re not sad anymore.

Unfortunately and luckily for you, you know exactly what that’s like. And unfortunately and luckily for you, your struggles with depression and anxiety aren’t over. When you feel a bout of depression creeping up on you, it feels like standing in a rising pool of water, knowing you can’t swim. The panic of wondering how long it will be before you can’t breathe, and how long you’ll have to hold your breath is worse than just surrendering and allowing yourself to float.

In a couple of years, you will work with a counselor and learn that you avoid feeling your emotions so much that you don’t even know how to identify them. As you learn to cope with the changes in your life, the best you can do is tell her that you feel “bad.” After she sends you home with a list that literally defines the basic human emotions, eventually you will realize you feel sad that your relationships from high school are changing, angry that your parents aren’t giving you the freedom you want, ashamed at your inability to cope. It’s a lesson you’ll need to return to many times.

In the years ahead, you will experience deep love, blissful happiness, betrayal, and inexplicable loss. At the highest moments, you will feel complete and connected with the world; at the lowest, you will feel painfully alone. The key is to realize that everyone experiences pain and sadness, and the only way to let it pass through you is to really feel it. You can’t appreciate the joy life brings if you don’t remember its potential for darkness. Besides, the hardest moments in your life are the ones with the greatest potential for growth.

The good news is…

  1. “The world has more good than bad”

Besides your personal struggles, you’re about to enter an industry that constantly bombards you with the worst humanity has to offer. You will read and write about a man who walks into an elementary school and kills 20 young children. You will watch and re-watch devastating video of natural disasters that leave people who had nothing with even less. You will ask a mother to talk about her teenage son who was just gunned down in the streets of Chicago. Some days, you will go home and cry. Others, you will make jokes with the people around you in an effort to forget. This lesson will often be the toughest.

But you will see a lot of good in the world. In the wake of their most painful moments, you will see people drag themselves up and put their arms around each other, giving what little they have to someone else.

When your former colleague is diagnosed with leukemia, you will see a community come together to raise thousands of dollars to help with her expenses, and thousands more to research the disease. When your friend loses her young son, you will be amazed by the network of people who show up to take care of her, to cook her family meals and share their fondest memories of his precious life.

You can find light in the simplest things, too—internet videos of talking dogs or waving bears, random text messages from friends you haven’t seen in ages, or the moment when you’re about to flip over a bad day, until you see your coworker left a chocolate chip cookie on your desk.

You will see that there is more good than bad in this life. And in the moments when you can’t, it’s essential that you believe it.

  1. “You’ll never really feel like an adult”

You’re almost 28 years old now, and there are still many moments when you feel like a kid in grownup clothes. You’ll find yourself walking the aisles of the grocery store, simultaneously giddy that you can buy whatever you want, and grouchy that you’re now responsible for figuring out what the hell to make for dinner every night this week. You’ll feel a little naughty when you decide to have cake or ice cream for breakfast, before stubbornly reminding yourself, “I’m an adult, dammit!” And you’ll still hear your mother’s voice in the back of your head, telling you it’s really about time you straightened up this apartment, because it looks like a pigsty!

grownupclothes

Let adulthood be a novelty. Don’t let it start to feel routine and familiar. Learn enough to take care of yourself, but let things like cooking and walking the dogs feel like an everyday adventure. Don’t forget how you feel right now, with the possibilities before you and all of the little steps along the way that will make life feel like new.

Everyone is doing the best they can

20 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Life Lessons, Overthinking Things

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challenges, expectations, gratitude, life

There’s an unfortunate side effect to being born a human: Everyone is part of their own universe, and everything in it revolves around them. Things don’t just happen; they happen “to me.” And sometimes every action someone else takes can feel like a targeted personal affront.

But the reality is, nine times out of ten, the actions and behavior of others have absolutely nothing to do with you. And the ways those actions might affect your life is usually the afterthought of an afterthought.

On a conscious level, we understand that our lives are not the only ones that are chaotic or boring, overwhelming or depressing. We recognize that we’re not the only people facing challenges, even acknowledge that many others have challenges that outrank our own. Yet when conflict arises, the benefit of the doubt goes out the window.

Here’s a crazy thought: Everyone is doing the best they can.

The guy who cuts you off when he’s about to miss his exit is doing the best he can. The woman who takes forever wrangling her kids in the checkout line and makes you wait an extra 30 seconds to buy your Heath bar is doing the best she can. The barista who takes ten minutes making your Frappuccino because some other asshole is yelling about her nonfat double-stuffed skinny cow cinnamon latte is doing the best he can. (Yes, even the asshole yelling about the latte is doing the best she can.)

Your boss who gets frustrated and snaps at you is doing the best she can. The mother who dishes out unsolicited advice because she thinks it’s what’s best for you is doing the best she can. The friend who couldn’t show up less than ten minutes late to save his life… is doing the best he can.

Maybe you see yourself in their shoes and soften a bit. Sometimes I don’t return phone calls. Sometimes I interrupt people. Sometimes I get a little too sarcastic. But I know I’m doing the best I can too.

tryingmybest

Here’s the M. Night Shyamalan twist to this whole story–Everyone is not actually doing the best they can. Your boss might be a jerk, your mom might be bossy, and the asshole at Starbucks might just be an asshole.

But that doesn’t even matter. Imagine how our everyday lives could be different if we just treated everyone like they were doing the best they can (and honestly, most of them actually are). We’d treat the people around us with much more kindness, and patience. We’d believe in their efforts to treat us kindly in return. Maybe we’d take a second to look around our personal universe, and see we’re not the only one in it.

The easy life lesson in the most overplayed song of the decade

06 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Life Lessons, What Inspires Me

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

challenges, inspiration, life, mantra, music

At this point, you don’t have to be a parent to say another Elsa sighting is one too many, or that you might lose it the next time you see a “Frozen” lip sync on YouTube.

I can definitely understand the sentiment, but now that Frozen fever is dying down just a tad, I can finally appreciate the message. So instead of swearing off that song, I made it my mantra.

letitgoSure, there are a lot of lyrics in the song that I like–something about testing limits, and that whole part about how distance makes it all seem small. But it’s really the title that gets it done, with three simple words: Let. It. Go.

I encourage everyone to try this for just a couple of days. You know that old adage about how life is 20 percent what happens to you and 80 percent how you react to it? I’ve learned it’s absolutely true.

You see, I am a “stewer.” When challenges pop up in my life, I like to go home and sit on it all day, chew it up in my head, play it and replay it, decide what I should have said, and just generally waste hours of my life making myself miserable. A combination of a mild dose of anxiety and an analytical personality don’t do me any favors. (One I get from my mom and the other from my dad–thanks, guys.)

So a few months ago, I decided to try something. Every time I found myself frustrated, discouraged, or upset, I would pause, and think to myself, “Let it go.” Sometimes I’d even picture the anxiety dissolving off the top of my head like a puff of steam. I’d unclench my jaw and my fists and release. I started to see that once you face a problem or a confrontation, or even someone unfairly taking out their own frustrations on you, there is no sense carrying it around with you all day. Stewing serves no one and solves nothing.

It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, by the Buddha: “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” If you have a problem with someone, take it up with them. If you can’t or are unwilling to, let it go.

Another way to think of it is with what I like to call “The One-Year Test.”

A few years ago, at my first job out of grad school, I wrote a heated journal entry about one of my supervisors. I was so angry, and I wrote all about how I couldn’t believe that he did that. About a year or so later, I went back and read that journal. The emotion was tangible, but I only felt amused; for the life of me, I could not remember what it was that had made me so incensed.

It sounds so cliche, but it was an obvious reminder not to sweat the small stuff. After that, sometimes when I’d get frustrated or angry, I’d try to ask myself, “Will I remember why I’m mad in a year?” How about a month? Next week? If the answer is no, then let it go.

If you are morally opposed to modeling your mantra after a Walt Disney earworm, there is another song that I sometimes use as inspiration. But I’m not sure that you’ll like this one any better…

shakeitoff

Music Monday: Learning to Fly

27 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Music Monday

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

challenges, inspiration, life, music

I’m not a zealous Tom Petty fan. In fact, usually when I hear his name now, the first thing I think of is the scene in “This Is 40” where Leslie Mann tells her daughter’s friend that he looks like “a miniature Tom Petty.” My Petty repertoire basically consists of this song and “Free Fallin’.” But I heard this song in a movie about a decade ago, and I often go back to it to feel more centered, or sometimes when I need a bite of humble pie.

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/6DRNqyHyHySMMS1GkXt1Jy]

One of the things I like about “Learning to Fly” is that it doesn’t strike me as being over-the-top positive, or particularly negative. It just is. Kind of like life.

My favorite part is the last verse:

Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I’ve started out for God knows where
I guess I’ll know when I get there

I feel like it’s the story of someone just trying the best he can, in the face of discouragement. He may not know where he’s going, but really, who does?

Sometimes even you don’t know what you want (or need)

16 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Life Lessons, Overthinking Things

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Tags

comfort zone, expectations, life, life changes

When I was a teenager, I went through a phase for like three years where I adamantly insisted that I hated hot dogs. Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, this was probably frustrating for my family, as hot dogs are kind of a “thing” here–and a staple option for dining out. But as teenagers tend to do, I got a little bratty when that option was ever brought up.

In fact, the smell of a hot dog did make me want to yack a little. But the funny thing is, I couldn’t tell you why one day, out of the blue, this random food became suddenly unappealing to me. I hadn’t had any bad experience with hotdogs, or gotten sick. I just hated them. Then, just as suddenly, I finally ate a frank, and everything was back to normal. Now, I even have moments where I crave them.

Proof that I like hot dogs again--from a trip to Superdawg with my dad.

Proof that I like hot dogs again–from a trip to Superdawg with my dad.

Bear with me while I switch gears for a second.

I’ve worked in television news now for more than five years, and for a time I swore that I would never work on a morning show. You see, in TV, working “mornings” really means working overnight (hey, it takes time to put a show together that starts at 4:30!). And as a girl who’s always valued her sleep, it didn’t seem like a shift that would work for me.

For the past two-and-a-half years, I enjoyed working 1-10 p.m. in Austin, and sleeping in like a college kid home on spring break. And when I was offered a morning show producer job at my current station in Chicago, changing shifts was what intimidated me the most. I asked other morning show friends what to expect, and prepared for a weeks-long adjustment period from hell.

Some days, working overnights make me feel like my dog and I are glued to the couch.

Some days, working overnights make me feel like my dog and I are glued to the couch.

Then a funny thing happened. I found that I was able to fall asleep at 3 in the afternoon a lot easier than I expected–and stay asleep (for the most part) until my 11 p.m. wakeup call. I’ve been coming home with hours ahead of me to use however I want! I’ve got time to cook (I haven’t), to exercise (I’m working on it), or to catch up on so many TV shows (no comment). Sure, the nature of my schedule means I’m getting a little less sleep (Goodbye, 10 hours a night…). But I’ve discovered how much I can do when I have more hours in the day. I came to a painful realization that–gasp!–I actually kind of like my new shift.

Are you starting to make a connection here?

I know claiming to hate hot dogs, when you actually don’t… and claiming to hate working overnight, when you actually don’t… are not exactly the same thing. Except, they kind of are.

The thing is, we human beings are stubborn. And we also sometimes think we know more than we actually do. Put those two things together, and you’ve got a lot of people missing out on a lot of things simply because they think they don’t like them.

Part of the problem is, very few things in life are all good or all bad. Food preferences may not be the best example here. But if you look at making life choices–like whether to take a job with an unusual shift–there’s a balancing act of pros and cons. So yes, there are nights when I wake up at 11 p.m. and wish with every ounce of me I could roll over and sleep until the sun’s out. There are afternoons when I hide under a pillow, trying to be tired, and hate myself for hating the kids laughing and shouting their way home from school. And there are moments when I question whether it is acceptable to eat beef jerky at 3 in the morning. (Answer: Beef jerky is always acceptable.)

Enjoying my new freedom in the daytime hours with a walk to Lake Michigan with my dog, Mack.

Enjoying my new freedom in the daytime hours with a walk to Lake Michigan with my dog, Mack.

But on the flip side, I miss out on rush hour, my weekend starts at 10 a.m. on Fridays, and I have hours of glorious daytime to enjoy when I get home. (Not to mention, it’s a job that’s afforded me a big step up and a move to my hometown.) If I had focused only on the things I thought I would hate about this schedule, I would have never taken the job. Instead, I got much more than an opportunity; by setting aside my expectations and being open minded, I’ve been able to go beyond tolerating my new lifestyle, and actually enjoy it.

Maybe I’ll celebrate with a Chicago dog.

Music Monday: The Heart of Life

13 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Music Monday

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

gratitude, inspiration, life, music

Over the weekend I wrote about losing my friend’s young son last year. There was one song that comes to mind that helped me get through that first surreal day and the months that followed.

After I answered the phone call from my friend, telling me Scotty had passed away, I left work early and went home. I needed something to fill the silence, and to give me some form of comfort. So I listened to this song over and over:

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/1piQgn19rviQgJF3kDrtpT]

I turn to John Mayer’s “The Heart of Life” when I’m feeling pessimistic or sad, or like in that case last year, when I’m unable to make sense of why things happen. The lyrics are comforting, and they cut down to what I really believe, underneath it all.

I don’t really have a favorite lyric in this one, because it’s just all great, beginning to end. But the chorus really gets to the heart of the message:

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won’t all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good

I hope this song speaks to you the way it speaks to me, and that it helps you see the heart of life is good.

When finally coming home means leaving home behind

06 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by kristinmaiorano in Emotions, Life Lessons

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

emotion, family, friends, home, life, life changes

This year, Easter had a special energy in the air. I don’t know if anyone else felt it but me. It may have been the near-perfect, sunny spring weather, or the adorable antics of my cousin’s kids. But for me, what really made the day stand out was this: Every time I hugged or kissed my cousins, aunts and uncles, and wished them a Happy Easter, they each warmly responded with, “Welcome home.”

Home.

I didn’t realize until recently what a big word that can be. This Easter, it resonated deeply. I haven’t been home to celebrate the holiday in six years. Those warm greetings spoke to my deepest and simplest definition of the word–the place I grew up, the memories I grew up with. It’s amazing how those familiar smells and sounds, the pictures on the walls, can put you back in the shoes of a younger you.

This was the first Easter I celebrated with family in six years.

This was the first Easter I celebrated with family in six years.

The younger me at age 16 decided one day that my best career would be broadcast journalism; I envisioned a career at one of the Chicago news stations I watched growing up. 19-year-old me was told in order to achieve that goal, I’d have to fly the coop first. 22-year-old me did just that, packing up my newly-gifted furniture from mom and dad and driving three hours to Lafayette, Indiana. And my 24-year-old self got really crazy, chasing adventure, my boyfriend, and a producer job down to Austin, Texas, without ever having stepped foot there before.

I never lost sight of that vision I had when I was 16, even though I’ve since become an entirely different person. A few months ago, a sudden inclination coincided with opportunity, and before I knew it, I was offered a TV producing job in my hometown.

Then a funny thing happened. I had realized a goal that was more than a decade in the making, and I was so proud of myself. But as I packed up my things and started what I dubbed my “Austin Farewell Tour,” the emotion I felt the most was sadness.

On the one hand, my heart couldn’t wait to be reunited with my dear friends and family whom I missed terribly. And in fact, after being home now for nearly two months, I can say the benefits of living near my loved ones are stronger than I imagined. But I realized as I prepared to move home, that I was also leaving a home behind.

Waiting in line for barbecue with some of our friends as part of my "Austin Farewell Tour."

Waiting in line for barbecue with some of our friends as part of my “Austin Farewell Tour.”

During the weeks I was in limbo, not yet leaving Austin but having no idea what my new life would look like, most of my friends and family had one of two reactions: “I can’t wait for you to move here!” or “I can’t believe you’re leaving us!” It was kind of funny the way the people in my life perfectly mirrored my conflicting inner voices.

But one day, one of my best friends called me to see how I was doing. She told me, “I am so excited for you to get here. But at the same time, I am sad for you. Sad for all that you are leaving behind.” It takes a good friend and a particularly thoughtful person to recognize the state I was in. When she spoke what I was feeling out loud, I realized I was never going to have everything that I wanted. And that’s what life is about–choosing the set of options that fits you best.

Seven weeks after arriving in Chicago, it’s starting to feel like home again. But sometimes I still pine for the homes I’ve left behind. It hits me when I feel a pang of longing for our favorite Indian restaurant, or nostalgia wishing I was sitting at the coffee shop on the lake. Sometimes it’s as simple as the doubt I felt when it was NEGATIVE FIVE DEGREES on my first day of work, as I checked the weather in Austin, which is still on my weather app. Or moments when I almost blurt out an inside joke with former coworkers that I know no one here will get.

And it’s not just Austin that makes me feel this way. Just the other day, I got a little sentimental when I told someone about how my boyfriend and I used to walk across the street from my Indiana apartment to rent DVDs from the library. I had a flood of memories when my old address from my quarter in Washington, D.C. popped up during my apartment rental process. And a recent conversation about martini bars reminded me of the one I used to frequent with my good friends during my time in Champaign.

As I embark on this new chapter, I’m already seeing that there are moments when I will feel like I’m back in a home that never really left me and I never really left. But there are as many or more, where I’m once again carving out a new place in the world until it feels like mine.

Just a few weeks after I arrived in Chicago, an old friend shared a post on Instagram that really spoke to me:

home

I know now that part of my heart has been left behind in so many places, with so many people. And never for an instant will I regret the path I have taken, or the homes it has given me.

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