The Ivy leaves and the Curse

Last night I drove by a house covered in Ivy in South Park and I thought to myself, if stay in San Diego, this house is where I wish to live!

I remembered the place that was covered by Ivy in Bulgaria. It was called Vranilovtsi and it was some land we have with cherry and apple trees.

As children, my grandmother would take us there and pick cherries and apples and currants for us. Sometimes we would stay under the tree and she would throw branches laden with fresh ripe red sweet cherries. It was delicious.

One day we stayed in the shade of the small country house. It was covered in ivy. We were not allowed to go inside because in the living room was a pile of dirt and in the middle of that huge pile of dirt (not sure how it got there) was a black umbrella, unopened, stuck with its point down.

My grandmother said never to go in the house because it was a curse. This always surprised and frightened me and filled me with a deep curiosity I could not satiate.

My grandmother said that a lady named Maria had put a curse on our home. It was because this lady helped take care of the land for a while and she thought in return, my grandmother would gift her the land. But when my mother didn't gift her the land, she got angry. And so her curse was placed. Soon after that, my grandmother says, is when my grandfather (paternal) got sick.

I grew up mostly seeing my grandfather in a bed in the kitchen. He rarely got up except to pee. He peed in a jar in the kitchenette, where the wood-burning stove was, in my grandmother's small apartment in Gabrovo, Bulgaria.

He would rarely get up to eat and when he came to the table he would huff and puff as if it was the scariest thing. I remember being equally afraid and dismissive of him. On some level his illness scared me but also it was something that I had grown up with so it seemed normal.

I always believed he could snap out of it if he wanted to. One day I lie on his bed with him. He acknowledged me and even moved me to the other side. He smiled. I was surprised and happy.

On another occasion I got angry about the strain he was putting on my grandmother that I told her to lock him outside in the common apartment staircase so that he would have no choice but to walk. He can't lie down there, I said. "Don't be so cruel, " he said to me.

Now, 25 years later, heavy with life, disappointments and experience I can see why my parents had lost their playfulness and I can see how maybe he wasn't ab;e to just snap out of it. I forgive him and I ask that he forgive me.

Grandpa, please forgive me for saying those things. I didn't understand. I also forgive you for being that way. I says, sitting here with open palms. I hope our relationship can be restored to its rightness. Please forgive me. I love you. I forgive you. Thank you.

So on this particular hot summer day, my cousin and I were waiting under the shade by the ivy for grandmother to finish picking cherries, forbidden, to go in the house with the curse.

So I had an idea! Let's help grandma clear all this ivy, I said. She has been so busy picking fruit that she hasn't had a chance to prune the house, I said to my cousin Elena, who was just over a year older than me,

She said Ok and we started picking. We cleared the entire wall and felt very proud of ourselves. I was happy to be able to do something for our Grandmother.

But when Grandma came back, she wasn't happy!!! She was angry that we had taken off the ivy and that the ugly old walls had been exposed and now the house was even more vulnerable to decay.

She blamed Elena for not having more sense because she was older. I was relieved not to be held responsible, when it was my idea, but also I felt horrible that she got blamed. But I didn't say anything. I was 9.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that being this "unwell" makes me afraid to have the second child we dream of. I cannot imagine having another pregnancy. When I told Dr B he said, oh, don't say that, which I thought was very sweet and when I told him I was limping out of bed, the car, and any prolonged seating position, he seemed to wince slightly with kind compassion.

Mojo Myself and MORE

Today was a pivotal day. For two reasons, one because I am going to just share like I would in my journal without trying to impress anyone and two because of the kind of day it was.

I sit here with my little 5 month old baby in my bed, she is turning her head with a pacifier in her mouth and eyes rolling back, it's bedtime. How sweet to have her next to me as I write this, a dream come true.

The whit crib, that was given to us by a friend the week we started looking for a crib was another of the many sign that there IS a loving GOD and he/she IS providing, always, ENOUGH for our needs.

The crib is like a cemented image in my mind, a representation of my dream coming true and it is amazing to finally have it set up in the baby room. She is here, it is real.

Had I known I had fibromyalgia, or have the courage to ask for the diagnosis, which I fit exactly with sleep difficulties, aches, stiffness, migraines, food sensitivities, depression, anxiety, etc, I would not have had her. But it's Alessandra, I hear a little voice say. She gets it. No judgement. She chose me to be her Mommy.

I am kinda happy and hopeful. Because I FINALLY had the courage to face this disease. I went to a pain doctor today, and he GOT it. He GOT the hyper activation that my system is constantly in. He works with pain patients. I got some supplements, some pain cream and a blood test requisition. I am finally facing this.

Prior to this the diagnosis, the word fibromyalgia enraged and terrified me. I did work on it naturally for 8 years with only marginal results. But somehow I am in a different place now. I recognize that this is my journey. I accept. I see that this is a way to grow insurmountable compassion and strength, qualities I didn't have before this disease hit and I probably would not have developed.

I just rub some of Corinn Guntoli's "I speak Clearly" oil on my nose and throat chakra every morning and every night and remind myself that I speak lovingly to myself. And hey guess what, whenever I remind myself that I speak lovingly to myself, guess who else I speak lovingly to?

Yes I am happy. I am happy to be working on this. Thirty percent of his patients recover, Dr Bonakdar said. Hopefully I am going to him early enough that I can recover. Hopefully I am young enough, determined enough, with enough healthy habits already.

There is a part of me that has made peace with it, in a way. It majorly blows but on the other hand it's not terminal. And there are a lot of things one can do to enrich the quality of one's life.

The days that ensued walking out of the hospital with a newborn when I was drowning in pain and it became apparent that the pain I was experiencing (and still to some degree experience in my girl parts) was more than average, I asked myself how come no one stopped me.

I do I wonder this, when your medical professionals see that you have anxiety or depression, or if you are in some way handicapped or have a medical condition that may contribute to your inability to care for a child as well as a healthy person would, why don't they stop you?

Frankly, when we came home with a newborn, I was surprised that no one had stopped us. HA!

But now, 5 months later, I think we are GREAT parents, despite our difficulties. And when you have a problem like depression and anxiety, all you can do is be aware of it and handle it. Like an adult. And that is what I am doing.

I am amazed at how life changing this is for me. I remember the rage and emotional instability of my father and the anxiety and depression of my mother. When I was 8 yrs old, I wanted to kill myself because of my father's rage and neglect and when I was 12 yrs old I wanted to kill myself because of my  mother's emotional unavailability and depression.

I judged and was angry with my mother for many years and now looking back I see that not only did she have a very good reason to be depressed, but she was also biochemically predisposed to it. I judged my grandmother for not being able to move on from my grandfather's death, for being "stuck" in the tragedy of it, my mother and grandmother are stuck too.

And now I find myself stuck. I look around and life somehow seems to happen around me most of the time and I am not really feeling in the flow. I have been feeling this way for 8 yrs, after I got attacked by a pit bull and started working from home.

These realizations are life changing. I can't wait for the repercussions of my choices to handle this as an illness and get treatment to ripple out through my life. Praise God for my understanding and supportive husband. We all suffer from anxiety and depression but some of us are more prone to it taking a foothold in our lives and never leaving. Being "stuck" is a cingulate problem fairly commonly alleviated by SSRIs. Over-reactivity to pain is over-reactivity of the limbic system. I am very hopeful. YAY!

More Mojo Stuff:

It would be nice if I had a moment alone to write. But I don't. And that's Ok. I have a family and they are here, my husband is feeding the little one.

I lay there, Esther poking me with her finger while she did her "organ and emotion determination". I poked her back and we laughed. Those deep deep deep belly laughs you only share with true sacred soul mates.

I asked her if we could search deep inside, like we had done for the parasite. She did her little pokes, which she said is a combination of cranio-sacral, Somatic Experiencing, and all the tricks in her 30 yr old practise bag and she said, "neurotransmitters".

Recently I had been working on a bout of postpartum anxiety and depression. There is nothing like having a child to bring up all your stuff, she said.

She asked me to go deep within and picture what the field looked like when I "came in" because she twitched her little fingers and they told her it was upon conception.

I felt the field. I could not feel myself. I just felt dizzy, anxious, a turbulent wave of emotions. She asked me to search for my essence. I did just that and went deeper, and I saw many many miniature lights, oh they were so warm and beautiful, on a stone path.

What should I do now, I asked my guides. Follow the little lights, they said. I walked to a house and I found my mother, father and aborted sister there. It was my family.

It first I recoiled back but then I was so happy to be there, with all of them again. To BELONG there with them. I had rejected them because of the emotional instability that they created together.

I went to be with them and I just reveled in their presence. I a stone drop in my gut, the regret that I had rejected them. I put my hands up to receive and I declared that I accept and I love them, no matter who they were, and even if they were emotionally unstable.

I hung out there for a while, a few ideas bouncing in my mind but I felt such acceptance and joy. And That joy was sending joy neurochemicals in my system, Esther said, and balancing my neurotransmitters.

I felt at peace with my family of origin and I think what that means is I can be at peace with my family of choice.

Since I had written my daughter a song, a challenge was put to me to write my mother a song, or just play, "did you ever know that you are my hero" and send it to her. I remember I sang it to her when she had her open heart surgery.

Thank you God for the opportunity to do this work, thank you my angels and guides for the journey.

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body 
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.” 
― Mary Oliver

My friend asks, why do we do that, why do we always procrastinate? When I tell her that everyone has good ideas but the difference between success and mediocrity is followthrough.

And I came up with the theory that we are a dichtomy of two essences, spirit and animal, or as Alison Armstron calls it, human spirit and human animal. Than those two parts do not oppose each other, though it may seem like they do, it's more like they have opposite goals.

Human animal's job is to keep us alive, survive and therefore it is more concerned with storing energy than expending it.

Human spirit's job is to keep us evolving, creating and discovering, which takes energy.

So that's why we are always stopping ourselves. The bhuddist would call is the soul and the ego, I think....

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
― Mary Oliver

Mojo Missin Madness

After meeting a good friend for dinner today, I realized something. But first, let me tell you how it started.

She shares her emotional life with me and I share my emotional life with her. To me, that is sharing life.I often have this feeling, like, just underneath the veil of all these physical life things like cars mortgages, pretty hair and bills, there is this whole other undercurrent of an emotional life. Perhaps it's what Carl Jung called the subconscious and the collective subconscious. Either way I am convinced it's there, like a strong river, motivating our words and actions, dreams, self-permission to dream and our identities.

I like sharing that part of myself with others and I consider that intimacy. Sometime that part is celebrating, sometimes she is grieving, sometimes she is just processing or observing. Whatever it is, it's precious to be able to truly allow another to witness it and to witness another as they truly LIVE.

But today, as has been now for a few weeks, the theme to our conversation was that we can share our innermost life with each other. And this friend told me, as did another friend last night, that they really appreciate my emotionality and my realness. And I told them about a woman I know who is in her 50s, who is getting pressure from her husband and family to take antidepressant drugs. I nor she think that she wouldn't benefit from them, she very well may, but the bottom line was that her suffering and authenticity makes everyone uncomfortable. They want her to have a good life and do what they do; go out to dinner, eat gluten-FULL bread, enjoy shallow social patter. And she doesn't. She is real. Like the Velveteen Rabbit. She says she feels like she just discovered who she was at 50; that was about 6 years ago. Then she was offered the red or blue pill and she took whichever one it is that shows you out of the Matrix.

And those of us who are so deeply and truly committed to "realness" often feel isolated and alone, because what we observe is, that, rater than spend their resources discovering who they are and what motivates them, how they can contribute to society and more, most people spend their emotional resources in suppressing and oppressing who they truly are and that seems to be the culture we live in. Perhaps why Brene brown's work on vulnerability has taken such a foothold and is considered so counterculture. But really it's just research on how our brains are wired.

This theme also runs through the AVATAR. I often feel like all I have to do is "drop in" via meditation or intention and I am in the primal world of Pandora.

So maybe we are counterculture or maybe we are the normal ones, confused by the illusion of fancy cars and condos in Miami. It's not that we don't enjoy those things or find satisfaction in them, it's just that the satisfaction they bring doesn't quench our true thirst for self-discovery and the desire to touch, oh if only just a little, this great mystery that we all swim in, clueless and naked.

It's not that we judge others for how they swim. But I have gotten considerable pressure from my family, as my older friend does to go on medicine, the pressure I get is to "just move on" and appreciate life. The message is that there is something wrong with my process and my suffering and perhaps there is but who is to say? I just want to be able to share an emotional snapshot of my life at any given moment and for that to be allowed, welcomed, desired, OK.

But it seems it makes many people uncomfortable but thankfully others find it refreshing.

Like the other new mom that lives nearby. The first few times I saw her at the end of her pregnancy and in the early weeks of her birth, her and her husband seemed very chill and happy. They were going to the zoo, nursing was OK, everything was pink, I felt like a failure in their company which is why I didn't pursue a connection even though she lives a few doors down. But because she lives a few doors down, when I started needing Valium to get to sleep, I sent a text that I was struggling and would she like to walk and she came over the very same day and the first thing she said as she walked in the door was that she had started Zoloft. And that she had been attending a postpartum group. It seems like the realness of the moms at the postpartum group and her own struggles had finally forced her to strip off her false pretenses and she shared with me that when she told her mother she started medication, her mother quickly changed the subject.

As for me I feel equal terror and gratitude for the wakes of PPD becoming a mother has left behind. I think it's because for the last 8 years I have been struggling with a sensory overload and as my acupuncturist calls it a "global activation". I had depression but I was afraid to treat it with meds. I did everything natural you can think of; acupuncture, meditation, yoga, massage, and on and on and on. All of these things helped, but nothing got me over the "hump" of just not feeling alive, feeling like life had frozen still.

This is how I saw my mother and her mother deal with life. After the trauma of my grandfather's death when my mom was 5, life froze and everyone was perpetually stuck in grief. I blamed all of them and hated them for it, but now I see it was also at least some degree of mental illness. Seeing myself here I gain two insights; first that my  mother had profound depression, anxiety and some OCD and that my life as a teen and pre-teen would have been considerably better had she treated it, possibly with meds. I do remember that when menopause hit her she took Paxil for 3 yrs and our relationship was better than usual. And second that with my history of trauma and predisposition to these conditions, I cannot ignore the reality that medication is probably my next step.

I am so encouraged by the fact that in my middle trimester I started nortryptaline for migranes and I have barely had a migrane since; just once when I overdid the salt and the next day was a heat wave. But considering the sleep deprivation and stress of motherhood I am extremely grateful to say that there have been no migranes.

Perhaps increasing the nortryptaline or starting another SSRI or SNRI will allow for even more relief with the chronic pain, anxiety, insomnia and reoccurring thoughts. I just want my life back. I make a life wish to thrive. I am afraid of SSRI side effects but I am also willing to take a leap of faith because I want to be calm and happy and feel good in my body. I do notice that taking most seratonin receptor agonists really helps the body tension and aches. I am excited about the prospects!!!!

All I can do is face the problem and handle it. So that's what I am doing. I am increasing the nortryptaline to 25 mg. I am at 10 mg + 2 ml now and there is 2 mg per ml so I am taking apx 14 mg.

Thank you God,

Amen

I thought I would get to be a little girl. But I never did. We got back together as a family after a long separation - half of my childhood, in fact, and life just went on. I felt life moving again this morning listening to classical music and then the grief came. Grief is life. I appreciated my Father for having played so much classical music at home. And in those days it wasn't easy, you had to buy the CDs and know what you were looking for. Thanks Tati.

The Mojo Killer - Anxiety and Medication Musings

I took some Buspar - 7.5 mg and Ignatia and the first thing I did when I took Ignatia 30X is feel like I can go do something. Before that I was exhausted. I also felt like I was re-orienting to the present. Like I was honoring my story and able to leave it behind. But then it stopped making any difference. It did help the loopy thoughts, sorta. Then I took buspirone. It was an instant feeling of relief. I just cried with relief.

Last night a friend and I talked about being the one to be the generation curse breaker. That is’s hard but also what a blessing to know you are the one God chose for that VERY important JOB.

The following night I just wanted to be with myself, to feel my relief at finally having found my grief!!! Once Busperone took the anxiety cap off, what was underneath was a deep sadness and grief about my parents' divorce. I have not grieved that yet. I felt my grief and it was MINE! Precious and beautiful and real and life affirming and MINE!!! and it was delicious. Because grief, my body can process, but anxiety isn't natural. Grief is natural. YES! Thank you Thank you Thank you, God.

More Mojo - Mother Bear and Good Wife

Today I went to acupuncture and after my acupuncturist put in the needles I lay there taking another journey. My guides are funny and witty and entertaining. My inner life is more fun than my outer life. I hope soon they will even out.

They told me that I was an amazing wife, the right one for my husband, despite how badly I may feel about the anxiety and OCD issues I bring to the table. I handle them, take responsability for them, and do not put them on him and that's really all I can ask of myself. Not only did I give him a daughter, but I also stood by him, believing in him, trusting him, encouraging him and loving him into his own business and paying the bills while he got going. I let him, I allowed him and I believed in him. Now HE provides, our dream! For that, they surrounded me and gave me a standing ovation, calling other angels to join them. I couldn't believe it. It's like the standing ovation I got when I tried Cymbalta. As they clapped I stood there in disbelief, trying to receive it all and then I laughed at their giddiness. You set out to do this, they said, and you did it, you are doing it.

Before that, my acupuncturist was asking me to go into my body and see what was happening. I saw that my body didn't trust me,that  I pushed her too hard and expected too much from her, that I had hurt her terribly. To my body, I was as my mother is to me, perfectionist, breaking boundaries. But my body wanted me and loved me and needed me. So I exchanged my face for my mother's face inside myself and declared that anything she needed she would have to look to me for it. She jumped up in exhilaration and joy. I confessed that I had no idea how to be a mother but that I would engage with the process as deeply as I could and fail but try again. That's when my guides stepped in and said not to worry, they would download some serious mothering skills down. And they did. like Mama Bear skills. Like have no fear Momma is here and she's gonna make it right. and suddenly I felt confident that I could step in and be that mother figure to myself and to Alessandra. After all, now I got the skiiils and not just that but some great examples of great mothering; some close friends and even my husband.

I felt so grateful for this and as a friend said so grateful to have been chosen to be the one to break the curse of over-arousal, anxiety, suffering and stuckness in tragedy. All these ways of being are not only learned but also neurochemically wired into our brains.  As we were celebrating this work with my guides and also celebrating my decision to take medication - I had asked for confirmation and got it - I snuck in that I wanted them to take the neck pain away but they said that would not be in my highest good. AI AI AI!

Finally they sat there, in a circle, after the standing ovation, just admiring my beauty. We wish you could see what we see, they said. And they showed me: a beautiful, kind, strong, compassionate soul, so so so committed to love in the world, so so so beautiful, soft and feminine, gently but strong, colors of turquoise and green and blue swirling through. Thank you God for the unfolding. Thank you got showing me my soul.

Hurt People hurt People

Aug 3, 2014

What I would tell her

I would tell her that I know how hard she struggled and I probably can only barely begin to see how painful it must have been for her to leave her daughter behind. I would tell her that I suspect she can’t forgive herself and that’s one reason why we have so many misunderstandings. When you feel guilty you project judgment on others and then you defend and defend.

I would tell her I have compassion for her deeper than she knows but that she must also be brave enough to hear my anger. I would tell her that it could be worse; she could be denying herself and myself a true relationship of understanding.

I would tell her I suffer every day and that not a day goes by I don’t think about her with a stone cold deep sadness in my heart about how things are. I would tell her I grieve every night and every day that we have not found a way to be close, that she has not found it in her heart to truly hear me, to just be with me, to stop blaming me.

I would tell her I love her and I thank her for cutting the pineapple for me after I gave birth and that I still can’t sleep at night for sadness at the way our mother daughter bond went.

Can’t we change it? Can’t we do anything? I would ask her. Before it’s too late, before you are dead.

I would tell her I am tired of her saying she does not know what to do when I tell her what to do and then she refuses to do it and insists on being right in her way.

I would tell her, why are you so stubborn, your daughter needs you.

I would tell her, remember that day you said life felt like walking around with your leg cut off, because you were not close to your daughter, well how do you think I feel, without a mother to be close to?

I would tell her, watch Byron Katie, don’t believe your mean thoughts about me.

I would tell her, pls forgive me for believing my mean thoughts about you.

I would tell her I love her and I thank her and to pls forgive me and that I forgive her.

To My Sisters out there in the world...

A Certain Quality of Mojo :  Real Generosity

Alison Armstrong talks a lot about generosity. She uses it along with the words kind. What does that really mean?:

gen·er·ous
adjective
1. liberal in giving or sharing; unselfish: a generous patron of the arts; a generous gift.
2. free from meanness or smallness of mind or character; magnanimous.

3. large; abundant; ample: a generous portion of pie.
4. rich or strong in flavor: a generous wine.
5. fertile; prolific: generous soil.

kind
adjective 
1. of a good or benevolent nature or disposition, as a person: a kind and loving person.
2. having, showing, or proceeding from benevolence: kind words.
3. indulgent, considerate, or helpful; humane (often followed by to ): to be kind to animals.
4. mild; gentle; clement: kind weather.
5. British Dialect . loving; affectionate

After the romance has worn off, and it’s been years, and you have lost yourselves in the routines of going to work, dropping the kids off at school, paying the mortgage and the coming home only to do it all over again, you have a choice. That’s the time for real generosity. Because that is when your man will stand before you, with all the good, all the bad, and all of his accomplishments and all of his broken dreams, facing the reality of old age perhaps evidenced by hair loss he or you may find unnerving;  It’s holding those broken dreams that takes the most generosity and then having the generosity to say, “c’mon let’s go, I will keep walking with you.”

Keep the Mojo: Appropriate Parking

There is only one of two spots you can park in when it comes to balance and harmony in your relationship. There is the blue parking spot and the pink parking spot.

Time and time again I have women tell me, “I take a stand in my relationship and I get what I want”. And they are proud of it. Great. But are you happy? If you are taking a stand and demanding, then trust me sister you are parked in the blue spot. And parked in the blue spot is where you will stay, with all of the joys and responsibilities of the blue spot starting with but not limited to being in charge, being respected, being strong and being looked up to. As Pat Allen, on the way to the bathroom from the bedroom in the morning,  do you want to be cherished or do you want to be saluted? Park in the blue spot and you will be saluted.

Park in the pink spot and you will be cherished. Parking in the pink spot brings with it all of the responsibilities and joys of parking in the pink spot such as being cherished.

cher·ish
verb
1. to hold or treat as dear; feel love for: to cherish one's native land.
2. to care for tenderly; nurture: to cherish a child.
3. to cling fondly or inveterately to: to cherish a memory.

It seems for most women, the challenge is “but how do I get what I want” when I am parked in the pink spot. Well Firstly Flechelle Morin would say it’s masculine to want. You know that driving desire needing to be actualized? That is your masculine side and there is nothing wrong with it but if you want to be the feminine energy in your relationship you must let your man lead and you must respect his decision even if you don’t like it I repeat even if you don’t like it.

But you can be parked in the pink spot and get everything you desire as long as you are willing not to have it. I mean, as long as you make it your man’s choice to give you your desires as a gift and not as a response to your demands. I have made this mistake the most and for me it has been the hardest to do especially when you hit mid 30s and you want that ring. Waiting for it to be a gift is excruciating it’s so much easier just to demand it.  I did and I regretted it and still do to this day. You can let him know what they are, what would make you happy and then let him do it HIS way. Hands off.

However, one of the responsibilities of the pink spot is trust, or dare I say even faith, because there are many times in your relationship that it won’t LOOK like he’s doing anything about your desires and you simply have to survive on a plain diet of faith until you see the fruits of all his labors whenever he decided it’s time for their appearance. One of the responsibilities of being parked in the pink spot is choosing to be Ok with that.

Then here’s where the magic happens. When you are in the pink spot and you make a request – not demand – he does hear you. But because it’s his choice to either honor or not honor the request, why would he choose not to? If he loves and cherishes you, why would he choose not to honor a request of yours however silly? And then it’s not you against him as it would be if you had made a demand. Remember, making a demand parks you in the blue spot. And then you will either have a man who vies with you for the blue spot and then it’s you against him and the request becomes the ransom or your man will take the only other available spot which is the pink spot. Then you will whine and complain that he is a sissy, passive and you will be left without a strong man. Your fault, you hogged the blue spot. Don’t hog the blue parking spot.

If you are with a man who habitually hogs the pink spot, and you wish you were the one in the pink spot, you have to do some serious soul searching to find out whether you have been hogging the blue spot and how. If you have to vie with him for the pink spot you are with the wrong man. But only if you have let him take his spot.

So in terms of getting your request met, you lose both ways because if you demand he will either vie for the blue spot making him your enemy or he will park in the pink spot making him passive and uninterested in fighting for you and your request.

The only way you can hope to win is by parking yourself in the pink spot. But honey it’s not enough to park yourself in the pink spot you must also STAY IN YOUR CAR. What I mean by that is don’t get start telling him HOW to do it. Remember, he’s in the blue spot.

Then you can have the healthy dynamic you are seeking or you would not be reading this book. He becomes your partner in providing for you and not your enemy. He wants to naturally provide for you as an extension of his masculine nature which is to protect you. He provides joyously and with generosity.

You receive and appreciate and stay in your car, which is now joyfully fulfilled, parked in the pink spot.