Tag Archives: Personal Growth

Love through Vicodin Colored Glasses

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Hey there! Please let me beg your forgiveness today and possibly for the next few days. My wonderful doctor just performed surgery on my poor little arthritic foot so that one day I can get back into my Stilettos and Slingbacks. While I am comfortably recovering, that’s because I’m simply doped-up, my friends. God forbid this Vicodin wears off and I actually feel my mangled, rheumatic limb.

Yesterday afternoon in the recovery room, I had quite the Epiphany about love and my Prince Charming who I was lucky enough to find through Online Dating.

Having recently read Deanna Fry’s love-related-tales, a stunning lady with similar romantic challenges (and a new favorite blog) helped me to firm up my  analysis. As a result, I’m even more excited about the man who I chose to share my life with – my handsome, witty, and considerate Prince Charming.

The truth is, I was frightened about the looming surgical redesign of my slowly deforming foot. Not only was I freaking out about potentially crippling long-term complications from my Rheumatoid A.,I was also fixating on Hospital Acquired Infections (HAIs) from poor aseptic technique. (Fact: Over 50% of hospital related illnesses are preventable when a health care worker properly washes his or her hands the Right way – but that is a whole other blogging experience.)

Needless to say, taking care and keeping me calm was no picnic. My PC mastered it with graceful aplomb.

To explain, let me take you back to 2006. I spent the majority of my 30′s dating and eventually being engaged to The Wrong Man. We’ll call him Tom. Tom was a divorced dad who had both of his teenage girls living with him (and eventually with us).

He had established his beliefs, behaviors, and bad habits – I certainly wasn’t going to change him. His daughters were his princesses, and I, as their stepmother, did the work of Cinderella – backwards did you say? Where is that Fairy Godmother when you need her?

These girls got to stay home from school for 3 days a month when they had their periods, and he would stay home from work with them to bring them chicken soup. Sweet girls, but they clearly played their best Daddy-take-care-of-me Card when they didn’t want to take a test.

When I was 36, my loving doctors finally decided that I should stop suffering from one of my many ailments – my feminine curse. I’d had several surgeries over the years for cysts and for endometriosis – in short, my reproductive system was the Devil incarnate and Lucifer saw to it that I suffered regularly. In the worst of my monthly demonic sufferings, Tom would find me curled into the fetal position, perhaps weeping with a glass of red to ease the affliction.

When Tom saw me this way, he saw me only as a burden: He had to do the dishes and cook dinner. He couldn’t understand why I would cry while folding laundry when my feminine cramps or my Rheumatoid or other medical challenges acted up.

Momma always said I was a walking Medical Dictionary. I always said, “If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother <wink>.” Love ya, Ma!

I felt like a burden even asking for a glass of water. You can imagine, then, the trouble that brewed when my doctors advised me to undergo a total hysterectomy. Not only would I lose the works that the Good Lord gave me, but I would also be thrown into menopausal trauma far too early in my ongoing battle against sanity.

I was to be laid up for 6 – 8 weeks. I begged Tom to stay with me and my son, Cole (age 8 at the time), while his daughters stayed with their mother. He agreed but … only …after … a … lot … of … hesitation. He finally admitted that didn’t want the extra drive time to work – roughly 20 minutes more one way. And, he didn’t want to do “your housework.” He thought that if I was able to walk, well,  I should be just fine to carry the laundry up 2 flights of stairs.

What a burden you are, Heidi Lee, I told myself. But I was his burden, and he was going to marry this burden – and I carried a kingdom of guilt. My health has never been stellar, but I am ambitious, motivated, and active in spite of it. I don’t let my physical challenges own me. Occasionally, it would have been nice to feel supported by the man in my life, but something even better happened, dear reader. Tom did me the favor of dumping me for an Online Affair when I was 38. Talk about the other glass slipper dropping! Wow.

Yesterday, many of those old Tom-like feelings resurfaced as I waited with my Prince Charming in the hospital room. I was a basket case by the time the nurse wheeled me away to the OR, and I hesitantly looked to PC for an unfamiliar hint of moral support. He squeezed my hand and leaned in for a kiss.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” I managed to whisper.

“Of course, Dear. I’m right where I am supposed to be today.”

“I’m sorry that you have to go through this, PC.”

“Heidi Lee, will you get into that room and get your foot fixed already? I want to take
ballroom dancing.”

After I woke up, he was waiting in my post-op room to dress me and carry me home.He never left my side, and he’s still home with me today – helping me to shower and bringing me soup and cookies. His only complaint last night: “Heidi Lee, you’re not in your spot tonight. Hurry up and heal up so I can sleep with my arms around you again.”

Now that we’ve got a bit of background, it’s time to share my Relationship Epiphany. Is there only one person, a Soul-Mate for each of us? I think we need to break this
question down more accurately. Can we be happy with more than one man or woman
for the rest of our lives? I think some of us can. Does this mean that he or she is the person we are meant to be with? No – that’s  something more special, and we can’t know It unless we are lucky enough to find It.

I think I could have been happy with Tom for several reasons. Although I’ve described him as being an insensitive and unsupportive jerk, he did have many good qualities. We were friends. And we could have been relatively happy – but I would have been
settling for less than I deserved.

Do I think that many happy marriages /relationships exist without the head-over-heels love factor? You bet! Do I think it’s possible to marry your best friend and be content? Of course.

But … Do I think optimistically that there’s another level of love that transcends so many of us? Do I believe that we miss out on It because we lose patience or settle for what is quite clearly not in our best interest? Absolutely! Do I think that certain marriages are bad or doomed because of this? Not at all.

Picture by Sara Hendrix

I believe now, as I miss my “spot” curled up in the nook of PC’s arms feeling cherished and protected, that there is one perfect person. I am simply very lucky to have found mine. I witness PC’s parents as they grow old together – and they are perfect together. They laugh together, play football pools, and they sneak away to gamble at the Casinos nearby. They know each other’s best and worst, and they love each other more for their eccentricities. They are what I call Legacy Toad Kissers.

Flipping through the news channels, I see this same sort of love in the eyes of #MarkKelly as he watches the graceful and formidable #GabrielleGifford come back stronger than ever. I envy their love story, and I admire them both personally as well as a couple. She is not, and never will be, his burden. His love helped her through, and he was right where he was supposed to be – with her. When you are truly with the one you are meant to find, you know you are in your “spot.”

Wow, this Love-Drug retelling of yesterday makes me feel like I don’t need another Vicodin – well, almost. PC, Honey – will you please bring me my medication?

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me – oh look, a Vicodin. He loves me. Time to sleep.

Warm Regards,

Heidi Lee

Online Dating, Finding Love in a Catalog

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Friends, Good Saturday Afternoon to you.

I realized and I must apologize for dropping an assumptionin yesterday’s post, “I sometimes find it hard to believe that this typeof man exists – and that I literally picked him out of an Online Dating JCPenneys Catalog.” I suppose I get so cozy when writing to you that I assumed you already knew the beginning of my journey to Happily Ever After. Let me back track just a bit to explain…

PC (Prince Charming) is a critical element to completing my Fairy Tale, but more importantly I found that an inner knowledge and love of myself was essential. I realized after 35 years of life that I had no clue of who I was or who I intended to be. After one too many failed relationships, I hadn’trealized that I’d placed my own needs and self-discovery secondary to those of the men in my life. From boyfriends to husbands and even to my son, I defined myself by my role as it related to a man’s better half:  Jeff’s wife, Tom’s fiance, Cole’s mom – never Heidi Lee.

As I started realizing that I am not a secondary person and definitely not a backseat type of gal, I looked to the Internet to find someone who might complement me a bit better. I spent over a year on Online Dating sites, sampling a myriad of tasty (and, surprise, not so tasty) morsels that helped in the Designing of Me. Thus – the title of my blog, The Art of ToadKissing.

These experiences, along with navigating a successful professional career, are why I have self-appointed myself as a Master ToadKisser – I’ve found Happily Ever After in myself. While PC and I have a loving and strong relationship, he and I both are our own persons. We have many shared interests and goals, but we also have our independent strengths and paths.

My path took me into the world of Online Dating. Admittedly, I’d become curious about what type of person goes digital to find a date. I had listened to others talk about desperation, neediness, or the inability to be alone. And haven’t we all listened to acquaintances over Happy Hour talk about the Pervs and Molesters, or reference the latest news story about the missing person presumably abducted by the Internet Menace? That is the stigma of the Online Dater.

The trouble is, we seem to believe that the Stigma is Reality. And what we believe as Urban Legend – that a sincere, trustworthy romantic companion exists – is really what I found to be Actual Reality. The majority of Internet love-seekers joined for the same reason I did: We all want to connect.

And while, yes, these sites provide literally thousands of choices within their catalogs; a little care and attention to detail paired with a healthy sense of caution can provide for a very rich experience within the registries of #Match.com, #eHarmony, and the like.

So there I was, my friends. A divorced mother, a Project Manager, and a College Student who simply wanted to meet someone nice and who had similar interests. I had trouble finding the time, the energy, or the social outlets to meet these people. I appreciated the ability to meet anonymously and to meet on my own terms. And I learned many lessons that I am happy to share – life lessons, online dating tips, tactics to avoid dating disasters. But for today, I’ll just share the overview to my journey.

I literally opened the catalog and trial-purchased several varieties to find the perfect fit. And through this journey, I found that I am actually a pretty cool chick who appreciates good friends and who loves life and family. At 41, I am starting to appreciate quiet moment as much as exciting adventure, and I can love these moments alone or with somebody special.  I am content and excited to start the rest of my life.

And my hope in sharing with each of you would be that you recognize that you have some pretty spectacular qualities as well. Every one’s fingerprints are unique, and they leave that mark on everything they touch.

Questions about Online Dating?  Post here – or send me a private note.

Warm Regards

Heidi Lee

Lovin the mufas, Lovin my life

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Hello, my friends.

I must say that journaling my hurdles and successes is really helping me to appreciate little things around me that I may otherwise take for granted.

That being said, here is my accountability from yesterday. Damn – this is harder than Online Dating!

4 meals? Well, no. But at least I got in 3 quality meals – each with a Mufa and 400 calories. And by the end of the evening, I realized I had 400 calories that I could spend – Wine! 400 calories = 4 (5 oz) glasses of red wine. So I could have had 2 more glasses to meet my calorie count.

Wait – I don’t think that is really in the principles of the Flat Belly. But it sure did make the evening with PC a bit cozier ;)

I’ve mentioned yesterday’s blueberry heaven of a breakfast, and I made a healthy Run for the Border over lunch. Dinner was filled with rich flavors balanced by the crispness in the wine. Sound wonderful? Ok, I’ll share my recipe.

It happens that I collect cookbooks although I can’t follow a recipe to save my life. I use them for inspiration rather than instruction. Last night I was thumbing through #RachelRay’s Book of 10 for new twists to put on the every day boneless skinless. I happened across a yummy little number on Page 14 for Mediterranean chicken with Saffron CousCous and decided this was a great place to start. The challenge was the the recipe was too heavy in Mufas – you have to watch your intake because they really do lump on the calories if used in excess. Her version used 2 Mufas; olive oil and kalamata olives. I had to cut back.

In pie plate – mix together 1/2 C flour with a pinch of salt and a whole lot of pepper. Top it off with a sprinkle of Cayenne pepper and you’re all set. Lightly dredge your 4 breasts and give them a little shake. The recipe calls for 2 tbsps of heated olive oil, but I cut it back to 1 tbsp to allow for extra olives. Brown the breasts on each side until golden and crispy, then turn the heat down and cook thru (about 10 minutes). Remove and set aside. (If your guy seems to be sneaking a couple peeks into the kitchen, dab a little flour on your cheek. He’ll appreciate you a little later)

Now comes the fun! And here is how I avoided adding sodium rich powdered chicken broth and water. Deglaze your pan with 1 cup of water and get all that good, rich gunk up off the bottom of the pan. Pour off and set aside.

(Start Couscous – I use a Hodgkin Mill brand for time saving – basil and garlic flavored. I added 1 cup of frozen peas to the water before I followed the package directions. helps cut down on doing dishes)

Add a tad more oil to the pan, and saute 1 chopped red onion and 5 cloves of minced garlic. Sprinkle in 1 tbsp of dried thyme. Like Ms Ray, I also like to use fresh herbs – just didn’t have any.

Hopefully you notice a little bit of sticking to the pan, right? No worries – grab a bottle of white wine, and deglaze again using the wine (just over 1 cup). Wow – smell that? Add the broth back in, and toss in about 20 kalamata olives; halved. Throw in 1 cup of grape tomatoes and return the chicken to the gravy. Heat through (about 5 minutes for the perfect doneness in your tomatoes).

As I finished up dinner prep, I started to set the table. The sounds of Alex Trebec gave way to a light jazz – Huh? PC noticed all of the work I put into dinner, and he decided to set the mood for relaxation with the right background noise. I sometimes find it hard to believe that this type of man exists – and that I literally picked him out of an Online Dating JC Penneys Catalog. But here he is – over a year into our relationship and still bringing the romance and the thought. I truly am lucky.

As a family, PC, Cole and I sat around the table just a little longer than usual last night. Very nice. Then we all moved back into the dining room where the soft music was replaced by a Thursday night favorite – The #BigBangTheory. It seems both PC and Cole find me remarkably similar to Sheldon in my nerd-dom. Wow.

So how did I do yesterday in meeting my goals? I came close on the eating, and I completely missed the mark on the exercise. I did spend more quality time with my family and managed to turn work off for the evening. The good news is – PC decided to help me out with the vigorous activity a little later so I could even up my goals ;)

Cheers!

Heidi Lee

Ode to a Mufa and the Flat Belly in each of us

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Here I am, coming to the confessional again and I’m not even Catholic. Is that allowed?

I’ve not kept to my commitments towards better health – Yet. And the good news is that I am starting to understand why I haven’t put this personal goal first on my list – I’m too busy for me.

We can start out by defining the Mufa and why I’ve chosen to incorporate it into my eating rituals. Then I’ll dive into owning up to my mistakes as well as my little victories – sound good?

“MUFAs (pronounced moo-fah) are monounsaturated fatty acids, plant-based fats found in some of the world’s most delicious foods–avocado, nuts and seeds, oils, olives, and dark chocolate!” (Prevention Magazine) The Mufa is also a principle built into Prevention’s Flat Belly Diet – we will spend more time with these principles as the weeks progress, but the concept is to target the fat where it hurts us the most – The Belly. Not only does a flatter belly make us feel more confident in a tight pair of jeans, but it also helps in the battles against diabetes and other killers.

So here goes – my journal through the quest for good health

Last week in my Pot & Kettle declaration of guilt I made the commitment to:

  • Eat my 4 small meals per day – A Mufa in every meal
  • Do 2 miles of vigorous in-home walking
  • Have dinner with my family
  • Take care of me first

Let’s break this down a bit so I can celebrate any little success while also identifying Opportunities to be better.

I have successfully taken time out with my family – Prince Charming and my son, Cole. Last night we went out for Wings and Beer after Cole’s guitar lesson. Success! Dinner with the fam.

Oh crap – wings and beer? Nothing close to a Mufa in there – just a great big dish of high cholesterol and a little extra padding being added  around the middle. But it was fun, and we all had a moment to appreciate.

I’ve fit in my in-home walking twice this week, and PC (short for Prince Charming) and I took a brisk stroll through NYC. Hooray! Fitness and Activity!

Darn-It. Our brisk walk landed us right at an Italian wedding reception with the most delectable dishes I’ve experienced in ages – pastas, appetizers, filet mignon – and plenty of the liquid grape. But there is a light in there somewhere….<thinking…thinking> Yup – found it – my pasta salad had wonderfully salty kalamata olives. My Mufa, my friend. I had roughly two tablespoons of olives which is just the right amount for healthful eating. Unfortunately, I squeezed way too many calories around the Mufa so I probably diluted the benefits.

And goodness knows I did enough dancing to work off the second piece of cake I had to eat since PC seemed to opt for the Gin & Tonic instead of the sweet stuff.

So I’ve had a few successes, and I’ve seen where my social calendar has stepped in the way of my path to a healthy lifestyle. But let’s look for a moment at those other 168 hours or so since I made myself the promise – I still haven’t gotten myself on board and I’ve allowed:

  1. Work to occupy more than 11 hours per day – cramming pretzels in between conference calls to stop the hunger pains
  2. Professional deadlines to come before personal commitments
  3. Business-related stress to excuse adding in an extra glass of red wine in my evenings
  4. Colleagues and peers to consume my family time rather than cutting off my work day at 5:00 (well, ok, 7:00 until we get this proposal written).

As I look above, I’m proud of my little milestones, but I see I need to strengthen my back bone a little to master my own objectives. I need to crack down on my calendar and develop a little bit more will power. I can do this!

And as for my Mufa, I miss you, my friend. When you and I are together as nature intended, I have more energy. I feel better and I have a clear focus. When I invite you into my diet, my relationship with PC is better (he loves you as much as I do). When I allow you, my Mufa, to mingle with my first meal of the day – I sail through the rest of the hours with renewed commitment.

This morning’s first light is with you, and my chosed form is The Cashew. My breakfast – 1 whole grain organic waffle topped with 1 cup of warm blueberries and 2 tablespoons of chopped cashews. Delightful. Wash it down with a glass of Almond Milk for calcium, and I’m ready to conquer the world.

Thank you, #FlatBellyDiet, for introducing me to my new friend.

xoxo

Heidi Lee

Reference: http://www.prevention.com/flatbellymufaslideshow/

Hi Pot, I’m Kettle. You’re Black

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Dear Pot,

Right away I must beg forgiveness – it seems that we girls have our own versions of Boy Dumb. I’m quite guilty this morning.

Yesterday I shared the trials of my friend Jake, and of how Jake couldn’t ask Cindy to join him at the gym. Sounds pretty basic, right?

Let’s put a new twist on this story since my own personal prince charming also stresses the weight of physical fitness as a life priority. The difference is, he isn’t afraid to remind me often. While I have all of the best intentions, I also have many excuses. So this morning, Jake, please know that I am in the dog house with you.

Early on, I shared with you all that I am using the Flat Belly Diet and also several in-home workout DVDs to get back into shape. As I’ve rounded the corner of 40, so have my hips, my thighs, and Lord hope not my bra size. Whether we want to call these challenges reasons, justifications or excuses – quite simply they are unacceptable. However, I’ll share with all of you, Dear Friends, in case you see any resemblance. I’d love to know that I’m not alone.

Over the past 3 weeks, I’ve had a corporate reorganization thrown in my lap. I’ve been yanked from my professional home and dumped off into a foreign igloo. Of course, I threw myself into my work which means:

  1. I’ve worked 14 – 15 hour days and forgotten my family
  2. I’ve neglected my exercise which means I’m getting really crabby
  3. I’ve ignored an eating program that I love. So now I work all day and get crabbier because I’m hungry
  4. I’ve made work my first priority rather than my health so my doctor is yelling at me
  5. I’ve gone without sleep due to anxiety from all of the above.

OK, so I suppose I am Girl Dumb. I have a wonderful man gently reminding, assertively nudging, and then forcefully shoving my exercise and my eating back into my life – all because he loves me. I can give him all of the excuses in the world, but he knows the real reasons. I’ve quite simply become exhausted. The funny thing is, if I were keeping up with my exercise and my eating program, I’d have a hell of a lot more energy and probably grow a cape and fly.

The scary thing for me is that I only have about 2 weeks left where I can exercise whole-heartedly. You see, I’m having a “procedure” the first week in November – Doc is putting pins in my feet to help slow the rheumatoid arthritis. I will be wearing a boot for half of the winter that simply doesn’t match anything in my wardrobe (including my best Nike get fit gear). So now it is go time. I need to get my body and my mind as healthy as possible to speed my recovery.

So how do I do this? I commit. When I commit to something I go head first and all-in. So today I promise first to myself and then to those in my life who love me – Today I will eat my 4 small meals per day. Today I will do 2 miles of vigorous in-home walking. Today I will have dinner with my family. Today I will take care of me first.

And I’m making this commitment because I have to love me first – if I don’t, how can I expect others to?

Anyone care to join me? Let’s hear from you about mind and body fitness goals between now and the New Year. No sense in putting off until January 1st, right?

Kind Regards,

Kettle

artwork borrowed from http://civitaquana.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html

On the Particular subject of Toads – I give you the incurable, “Boy-Dumb”

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Good morning, Dear friends, and Happy Story Day, Wednesday.

As I get ready this morning for a day in my office, my mind is screaming with a newly realized wisdom on the incurable disease that is prominent in the masculine gender – Boy Dumb.

Yes, friends, boy-dumb is most likely incurable; we have only seen this disease grow into an epidemic. This morning, I share a case study with you all. My goal is that through the work of mine and others, we can finally put an end to this epidemic.

The Subject: The Afflicted, My Friend Jake

The Hypothesis: Jake is Boy Dumb

The Supporting Evidence: Jake is a sweet, if somewhat jar-headed boy with many good qualities. Jake is loyal and funny, animated and sincere. Yet Jake is dumb. You see, friends, Jake is stuck as an Apprentice in the Art of Toad Kissing, and he could even likely be a slightly wart-infested toad himself. While he knows he wants a relationship and a family and a friendship – he doesn’t know how to explain what he wants to an intelligent woman.

I’ve met the lady who Jake is seeking a forever with – she is statuesque, intelligent, supportive, stunning. In short – she is the woman we all strive to emulate – and Jake has her heart. Way to go, buddy!

But Jake, as most boys, has not learned the art of candor as it relates to his relationships. He openly shares with me as we are friends, but he would rather treat this strong woman with kid gloves than to tell her what he wants.

Now, friends, we’ve all dated or known this guy with one name or the next. I’ll explain this specific challenge to highlight one of the most common symptoms to diagnose the affliction. Jake is physically fit, and he enjoys spending a great deal of time in the gym and maintaining his BMI. Awesome job, Jake!

However, his lady Cindy has not yet shared his love of sweat and protein powders. Jake told me a couple of weeks ago, “Heidi, I am crazy about this woman, but I don’t know that I can commit to a forever with her”

“Why, Jake, what’s wrong? What happened? She seems perfect for you.”

“Well, Heidi, she is. But I have always been attracted to athletes, and she doesn’t work out”.

Seriously??!!! She doesn’t work out? I’m thinking by this point, this woman is a high powered director in a major corporation. She is gorgeous and genuine, and she thinks she is so lucky that Jake is into her – humble. Don’t get me wrong, Jake I’m sure is quite the catch, and they are both lucky. But Cindy wows me.

“Jake, have you ever talked to Cindy about joining you at the gym? I mean, she is slender and looks as if she takes immaculate care to maintain herself. Have you invited her into this world of yours? Does she know she is even welcome?”

“Uhm, no. I wouldn’t want to upset her with her thinking I am not happy with her body.”

“So, you would consider that this woman is not The One for you simply because you are wimping out and not talking to her? Crap, I’m even insulted. Go home tonight (did I mention they live together?) and ask her to go for a walk with you. Ask her to come to the gym. Talk to her about your fitness goals, and ask her if she will support you with them. Jeez, dummy, she has a brain. In fact, most women do.”

<eyes widened as if 2000 years of suppression had just been lifted as he witnessed the growth of an opposable thumb – witness Jake evolve into the upright species of homo sapien>

Jake asked my advice on talking to Cindy about joining the gym. We came up with a strategy, and he was all set to deploy. The next day, he called me to discuss an unrelated topic, and I asked, “How’d it go with Cindy last night?”

He seemed to perk up at the question and started to giggle like a chimpanzee – happy from just eaten the lice out of his buddy’s fur coat. “Well, the cool thing is that I really thought last night about what you said.” (R&D: subject responds to reasoning)

“Heidi, I’m realizing so many amazing things about her, I don’t know if the workouts really matter that much. I mean, se’s smart, funny and loves me and my kids. I look forward to the things she has to say just as much as to sitting down at the end of the night with her after a rough day at work. I’ll invite her to get a gym membership with me because I think that is a great idea. But I love who she is now, and I think I’m happy”.

Diagnosis:

Jake, while once suffering from severe and chronic Boy-Dumb, seems to be responding to treatment. While I cannot fully diagnose remission, I can say that I’ve witnessed progress in his protocols. I am quite certain that we will witness an acute onset in the future and often, but I believe we have the disease under control at this point.

The therapy – Truth, candor, and respect that woman are not gentle, delicate petals any longer. We are strong, ambitious and beautiful. We will not break at a suggestion towards self-improvement. We will not fall because some afflicted boy tells us we aren’t meeting all of his needs. No, dear friends. We, quite frankly, are tough broads these days. I’d honestly be more worried about our somewhat fragile male counterparts.

Jake, here’s to your evolution

Friends, I’d love to hear other cases of the incurable disease. Calling for other diagnoses, please

But What is Toad Kissing?

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Good morning to all! And Happy Tuesday.

I went to dinner last night with some family members, and we were talking about The Art of Toad Kissing. I noticed a bit of curiosity but more
skepticsm as they realized that I would be sharing with all of you my very personal journey through Online Dating. During the conversation, I mentioned that I saw the Art of Toad Kissing as relevant across personal dating, professional growth, and other core relationships that we all experience as we move through our lives. I’ve kissed toads at work and at play, and heck – even at home. I’ve grown from each giant smooch.

This brings us to my thoughts for today. I’ve spent my first couple of conversations with you discussing my philosophy, but I haven’t really dug into any of the pearls of wisdom that I hope to share. My first pearl:

Understand who you are and love yourself first.

Over my 41 year life, I’ve had many successes but probably double the failures. This made my first lesson tricky to learn. I spent the majority of my adult life with the wrong men for happily-ever-after, but they were the Right men at the time to help me learn myself.

Huh? I know – I ask myself that same thing. I’ll explain.

My ex-husband – while he may likely turn out to be somebody else’s Prince Charming, was clearly a giant, wart-infested toad in my life. What I learned from this man, though, was how to shed the warts and keep only the good stuff that remained – my son.

I was married for the better part of my 20s, and I pretty much all but crushed my own identity. I spent those years raising children and being a
stay at home wife and mother. I lost most – if not all – of my female friendships, and I became quite introverted.

The good news was that living within my own, lonely mind for so long allowed me to realize that I wanted so much more than the life I was
living. I wanted a career, an education and a family. The man I was married to simply didn’t share these goals, and he was quite content to live below our true abilities.

Therefore – I got out. We divorced, and I have been raising our son on my own for well over 12 years now. What a great kid!

So this was truly my first Toad Kissing experience, and I am grateful for that time in my life. Those years were my lead in to understanding
who I really wanted to be – a necessity to being able to successfully share myself and my life with another person.

Throughout my 30s, I grew both personally and professionally – and I literally swam in toad-infested ponds at work and in my romantic world. I’m sure over time I’ll share more of these experiences with you, but I learned to push myself harder in spite of people in front of me who wanted to hold me back.

So now we come to my 40s. Spending the past 20 years finally becoming an adult, I know who I am. I like who I am, and I am proud of many
accomplishments. So now, I’m ready to share. I want to talk with you all about life’s insecurities as well as celebrate all of our accomplishments. I feel that only when we can openly accept all that we are, can someone else really appreciate us – warts and all.

With this being said – I’d love to hear what you might be proud of in your life. Tell us here, or whisper it to me quietly in an email. Either way, it just feels good to have someone notice.

So what am I most proud of about me – personally – children, men and friends aside?

I’m proud of my personal drive and my commitment to always grow. I accomplish my goals, and this feels great!

How about you? What about you makes you proud?

Warm Regards,

Heidi

Finding Your Voice

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Good Morning to you all, Dear Friends. And Happy Game Day to my fellow football fans! Go Packers!

 As I open my heart this morning to each of you, I have to stop and ask myself who each of you may be. After all, my goal is to share experiences, so I suppose I must understand who might be open to hearing my voice. I suppose I should also let you each into how I hear my own voice.

 A voice is a lens into the world, and these lenses may be rose-colored or they may be distorted. Regardless, our voices are our lens and therefore our life-perspective.

 So, my friends, what I hope that you hear in my perspective is a positive but honest voice of experience. I’ve kissed more than my fair share of toads, and I’ve shamelessly been both the giver and the receiver of toad warts – thus my self-proclaimed expertise. I suppose that means that I, myself, have been somebody else’s Toad.

 As I see the Art of Toad Kissing, we have all likely kissed or will kiss a hundred frogs or more to find our Princes or Princesses. We are all Masters or on our way to becoming well-versed in the Art, but each of us with our own creativity.

 So perhaps you ask, “Where do I fit?” Am I a beautiful princess or a wart-infested toad? Seriously, if we all have kissed a toad, but none of us really owns up to being a toad, who is it that we are kissing?

 My opinion? I see the Mastery of the Art as 5 distinct voices for the toad kisser.

 1.     Voice of the Novice: This toad kisser is new to the wonderful world of love and romance, doe-eyed and trusting and searching for a canvas to paint a masterpiece. He or she has not yet discovered the true heartbreaks of love and life, and this fresh perspective can often be overlooked and underappreciated. I think we should all stop and listen to this untainted voice sometimes – the purity is quite refreshing.

 The novice may hastily commit, however, to oil painting – finding himself or herself covered in the greasy residue left over from creating art using a nasty, radioactive toad as the subject.

 2.     Voice of the Apprentice: Having sampled several mediums, this toad kisser has earned his or her brush strokes. This person can be trusted with someone’s heart, but may not be ready to commit to water color over oil. He or she may even still want to experiment with sculpture or music and can find beauty in many forms.

 The apprentice will still kiss many toads, but he or she is a more discerning artist than the novice. This person begins to understand the method and the process that compliments the art forms, and at times allows the mechanics of the art to replace the true voice.

 Still, we can learn much from our apprentice – just as Mickey taught the Wizard in the Disney classic – Fantasia. This person is well on his or her way to self-discovery and to taking pride in talent, strength and beauty.

 3.     Voice of the Master: The master is ready to be both the teacher and the student, and hopefully this artist has finely found his or her true voice. This person knows the medium that best compliments the strengths, and yet can share vulnerabilities to learn new talents.

 The key to achieving this level is to recognize that art cannot be perfect, but it can be beautiful regardless. When this person focuses inward, he or she can develop the internal soul of the artist. Outward expression may allow for others to share in the journey – regardless, this person realizes that with or without a toad, art is still possible. This is how we truly find our subject for which to create our masterpiece.

 4.     Voice of the Doctorate: To achieve a doctorate in the Art of Toad Kissing, this artist now dedicates his or her art to perfect the voice. Perspective is clear, and a masterpiece is well underway. Students at all levels strive to achieve this confidence in self-awareness and contentment.

 The masterpiece of this artist may well be a collaborative work of art – a relationship with another artist. It may simply be an unwavering self-belief and inner beauty that we all strive to emulate. Regardless, this person is truly rare.

 The challenge with becoming this skilled in an art, I imagine, would be taking that art for granted – failing to appreciate the beauty still held within and forgetting to share with others.

 5.     Voice of the Legacy: We’ve spoken of the art of toad kissing, the legacy is clearly recognizable above all else. Let me try to paint this picture as I see it through my lens.

 I saw an elderly couple last week holding hands and eating icecream. They laughed together and she still glowed when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. This to me, was the artwork of a legacy. I saw in them, nostalgia and love – years of mastering the skill of making themselves better people. Together they could share a piece of the same canvas and know that whatever they created could be between only them but that others would always remember their form of art.

 This voice – often heard more clearly by art-lovers – is gentle and quiet. No longer a struggling artist, these voices are revered in the art world as having left the gift of their art as a legacy for the rest of us to cherish.

 For me, I consider myself a Master in my Art. My chosen canvas – architecture. I’ve kissed many toads, and I’ve learned the art of being me in the process. I’ve also learned how to share myself with others while still preserving an intimate creativity and design reserved for someone special.

I found that my art lies in design and remodeling. I don’t have a brush stroke to paint my walls or the skill of the carpenter – instead, I am an architect. I designed me, and I am happy. I can tell you how I did it, and I can share my own mistakes and masterpieces throughout my discovery.

 So, after reading this, do you want to share my voice? Do you recognize a voice of your own that you can share? If so, tell me who you are.

On the other hand, are you wondering why you don’t hear your voice as you read this note? If this is the case – perhaps you are realizing that just maybe you are somebody else’s toad and messing up their masterpiece. That’s ok too – we’ve all been there. I’d love to hear from you, and I promise to respect your warts.

 Warm Regards

 Heidi