In Response to my post about Nick Harrell

I've received many emails in response to my blog about Nick. I posted a link to my Facebook page and from there, it went viral. Friends he knew from high school, college, Chicago and even some in LA, like me, who barely knew Nick have written to express their grief and gratitude. I never imagined anyone would read my post. I was just so heartsick that I had to write something in honor of a man who taught me how to live better. It's beautiful to see what an impact he made on so many people's lives. Clearly, he was a blessed man to have known such good friends. And, from what people have told me, he was an extraordinary presence.

Losing someone we care about brings up so many emotions - love, gratitude, regret, grief, guilt, anger, confusion, disbelief and sadness. What are we supposed to say? How should we console, show our support and express our sympathy? How can WORDS ever convey all we are feeling? From our hearts, we try but it just never seems to feel right.

One of my spiritual mentors taught me a lot about words. In one single year she lost her husband, father and two sons. I can't even imagine. How is someone ever emotionally capable for such immense loss? Her social obligations alone were nearly unbearable. It's not that she wasn't appreciative for the support; she just didn't know what to say to anyone. And, how was she supposed to BE? She felt conflicted because, despite wanting to hide under the covers and cry forever, she had to be brave. One by one, she would listen to people share their grief and sorrow as they tried to comfort her. She knew everyone meant well but she felt so fragmented that she couldn't take their words in. She felt alone. Utterly alone.

Shortly after the death of her second son and the last of four of her loved ones in a year, a dear friend came to visit. He sat down next to her on the living room floor, took a deep long breath, looked into her sad eyes and said, "I don't know what to say." She burst into tears. They sat together in silence for hours. Half a day went by and they never said a word to each other. Finally, they peeled themselves off the floor and went about their evening. She told me that hearing the words, "I don't know what to say" was profoundly healing because it finally gave her the freedom not to know either.

For all who loved Nick, I am truly sorry for your loss.

Nicholas Harrell

I just got back from the gym where I learned my favorite spin instructor Nicholas Harrell died in his sleep Sunday night. He was 32 years old. No one knows why yet but think it was congenital. I found this picture of him on Facebook ... God, I feel heartsick. I didn't know him outside of the gym but I loved his class. He played the best music, had an awesome positive attitude and inspired me to work hard. His class was the only one where I rode front row and center because I knew his energy would push me to new heights when I "locked in" to his rhythm; he was my Seabisquit. Today was an emotional spin. Amy, Equinox's fitness manager and today's instructor, was moved to tears as she shared the news. The class felt heavy and united. I spun from my heart, from my soul, in honor of a young man who died too soon but whose life lives on in me. I wish I would've told him how much his class meant to me. I wish he knew that when I thought I couldn't push any harder I would, because he did. I wish he knew the strength and power I felt in class that I'd carry with me throughout my day. I wish he knew the gratitude I felt knowing I could count on him to be there, every time. More importantly, I wish I would've told him these things when I could have. Today, I learned not to hold back my appreciation just because I barely know someone. Everyone wants to know their significance despite the fact they'd never admit it. Thank you Nicholas for being a beautiful teacher in my life.

Missed Call

What's up with a Missed Call? I don't call people back that don't leave a message (with one exception: my sister). She's a notorious "missed caller," but I call her back because, well I guess it's a sister thing. Seriously though, are people so busy they can't even leave a message? The best is when a Missed Call is from an ex. I saw one on my phone Thursday night. What, did he change his mind, get interrupted or worse, mis-dial? Honestly, who cares. I didn't call him back. The way I see it, if someone wants to get in touch they will. Still, I know plenty of women who will call their ex back. It's another way of saying, "Hi, it's me. I saw that you called and even though we're broken up and you didn't leave a message I'm calling you back because I'm (secretly) interpreting your missed call as you must still care and well, I still care and if you want to call me back, I'm here ... call me!" Why do women use every little crumb as their excuse to get back in touch with someone who was probably difficult to get over? Of course I know WHY but it's like a crack addict looking for a fix. Once the temporary high comes down, all you're left with is depression. A missed call from an ex is a missed call from an ex. Nothing to read in to. If a man has something to say, he will.

A Carrie Bradshaw moment

By the way, best part of my Dads wedding was during their vows, I looked down and noticed I was wearing two different shoes!

Now, more than ever

I promised my friend Steve Shull, a brilliant real estate coach, that I would post something anything tonight, so here I am. Again. Hello! Where've I been? (Not that anyone's wondering) but honestly, I've been finding myself. I know, it sounds so trite but I'm for real. The past year has been life altering. Through brave honesty, I've been growing up and somehow managed to find my voice. When I first quit my job in real estate I was fired up and thought things would just magically happen according to my plan. Ha. Yes, many good things have happened. Professionally, I created a TV show that's been in and out of production twice, got the best broadcasting agent in town (no small feat I might add), interviewed at ABC's The View, been to two different networks for two new talk shows as a lead host, and (hold your breath) actually booked work as a host. Personally, I've dated, had my heart broken, felt the depth of despair, learned a lot about who I am, definitely and measureably grown, traveled many places, had lots of time off, found an amazing spiritual teacher, slept long hours, donated time to a worthy charity, been blessed by an awesome social network and STILL believe in dreams.

So, why blog? I'm passionate about women - especially my friends. I'm convinced that women of the 21st Century (single, dating and married) need a relatable touchstone other than Oprah (no offense, I love her). My wish is for women (me included) to truly be inspired to be who they say they are while secretly waiting to be rescued (by a man, job or size), or worse, before the Oxytocin hits! I'm not a life coach or a relationship expert. I'm just a woman who's worked really hard to (almost always) like myself as I am. And, seriously - who can we turn to these days to get it straight? I'm talking from an honest (not Dr. Phil's "latest") kinda girl who will speak the truth about what it's like to actually be one of us. We are a generation of Sex and the City meets Oprah. We're smarter and sexier than ever and earned the right to have what we want. So why aren't we? Why are we still operating out of a "strategy" that will never work because it's inauthentic? I'm talking about a deep "if I do this, I'll get their approval" method that no longer serves us. We're not getting it because despite all the dating and self help books we've memorized, we aren't owning the message. It's Theory vs. Application. My teacher says, "Wisdom is knowledge experienced." And since I'm fresh out of a "Hi, I have boundaries.com - click on!" 12 month bootcamp (thank you Mary), I figure why not use MY voice and share some insight. Ladies, you're beautiful ... so magical ... but it's time to stop sugar coating the truth. We've got to put our big girl boots on and get real. Now, more than ever.

Much more soon, xo