Gold From Oprah...and Others

I’m every woman. It’s all in meeeee. Fifteen thousand of us dancing and grooving, or at the very least tapping our feet, while singing along as the deejay spins Whitney Houston’s hit. For nearly a half hour as the Prudential Center filled up with women from all walks of life, along with a handful of men, many of Oprah Winfrey’s favorite songs blasted from the speakers while the large screen onstage displayed tweets from excited ticket holders. This was the beginning of Oprah’s The Life You Want, a Friday night and all day Saturday event filled with lectures from Oprah and her trailblazers...people who have “been there and done that” who expound on their experiences and what they’ve learned for those of us who are still “there” and “doing that”. Any minute, Oprah would appear. Just as the anticipation reached its peek, I felt a vibration in my purse - a text from my mom.

What the hell with Sandra’s McDonald’s* comment?! Delete and unfriendly now!

This brief message indicated a few things...1. “Comment” and “unfriendly” (which I assumed was either an autocorrect for “unfriend” or my mom typing hastily) pointed me to Facebook. 2. Sandra McDonald, a former massage therapy student of mine who despite being the one in class who constantly harassed me for test answers I still gave her a positive reference for a job application years ago, made some sort of hurtful comment. 3. My mom was really upset.

I hadn’t spoken to Sandra McDonald since she asked me for that reference. I dumped my phone back in my bag, feeling that whatever it was that Sandra McDonald had said was not worth taking away my energy from what was happening now. Now was fun, celebratory, positive. Now was a good time. Now was not worth spoiling.

Another vibration. Another text from my mom.

Please read Sandra McDonald’s mets on your Oprah pictures right now,

My inferences were right about Facebook. Hours before the event, my friend Julia and I visited “O Town”, an area just across the street from the Prudential Center where sponsors set up interactive booths. After checking in at the entrance and receiving our weekend wristbands, it was highly suggested we go to the Wells Fargo booth to see if we won seat upgrades. Out $200 tickets put us in the nosebleed section, so the first thing we did was wait in the long line of other Oprah-loving hopefuls to see if scanning our wristbands would give us the golden ticket. Julia complained the entire time as we stood in the hot sun, watching a small handful of people in front of us scream as they learned of their seat upgrades. 

“This is stupid,” Julia complained. “We’re not going to win.”

“The line is moving,” I reasoned. “Besides, those people won. What have we got to lose standing here for a few minutes.”

“They just want to track us with our wristbands,” she remarked. “Next thing that’ll happen is I’ll get tons of junk email from Wells Fargo.”

Two more women started screaming. They also won seat upgrades.

“See, they won too!” I pointed out.

Julia rolled her eyes and agreed to wait. After thirty minutes of waiting, it was out turn to scan our wristbands. Before I could see if mine was a winner, everybody in O Town heard Julia.

“I WON! I WON! OH MY GOD I WON!” Julia shouted. I thought she was joking until the man who scanned her wristband started celebrating with her. Winning meant two golden tickets, specifically VIP tickets, which descended our elevation from nosebleed down to the comfy padded Devils hockey seats in the lower level. 

“Would you like me to take your picture with your tickets?” a fellow Oprah-lover asked us.

I handed over my cell phone and she snapped a picture of me and Julia, holding up our tickets, beaming with excitement over our luck. The natural next step was to post that photo on Facebook, along with other snapshots of our afternoon before the show.

Given my mom’s texting, messages that normally don’t come with grammatical errors, I knew something was brewing in the comments section under those photos. Since Oprah was about to come out on stage, I set it aside, choosing not to check, not wanting anything to damage this wonderful experience I was about to enjoy.

Enjoyment is an inferior word when describing listening to Oprah. Every word was precious. Every story was told clearly, simply. I scribbled notes on a journal, a free give-a-way at one of the O Town booths, hoping to capture every point she made. She had only one purpose for this evening’s talk - to help each member of the audience ignite their fire to have the life each wants to live.

Lots of lessons learned from Oprah’s talk, but one stood out the strongest. The Golden Rule, Oprah’s mantra...the single piece of wisdom common in dozens of ancient cultures and religions...and Oprah chooses Newton’s words to convey it. 

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Taught to me as a child, reiterated in high school physics class and only now did it seem like the bulb lit up. You get what you give. You reap what you sow. Treat others as you would want to be treated. It’s what I believe I do already, but to hear those words and tuck them back into my subconscious reiterated the significance of my words and actions towards others.

So many other nuggets intertwined within her nearly ninety minute talk, leaving me and Julia not only excited about our VIP seats, and the generous gift bag that came with them, but invigorated by what was to come the next day...more Oprah along with four people she considers trailblazers - Mark Nepo (poet, philosopher and author of The Book of Awakening), Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love and my biggest writing inspiration), Rob Bell (pastor named in 2011 by Time as one of the 100 most influential people in the world), and Iyanla Vanzant (star of Iyanla: Fix My Life and prolific author of more than sixteen books).

So invigorated that I didn’t remember my mom’s texts until we were more than halfway to Julia’s house. I dug my phone out of my purse while Julia drove. I clicked on the Facebook app and saw I had over a dozen notifications. Under my Oprah pictures amongst the “likes” and happy comments from several friends were Sandra McDonald’s comments. The first one under the picture of me and Julia holding our golden tickets - “Gee you got chubby”. The second one under the same picture but was on Julia’s timeline (I was tagged) - “You got fat”. The third comment under a picture of the view from our VIP seats - “Lefatnier”...an attempt at a play on of my married last name L’Eplattenier.

Julia was horrified. She couldn’t believe that a grown woman would say such comments. Admittedly, it stung for a second, but thankfully only a second, because after those nasty comments were dozens of comments from friends telling me the opposite of what Sandra McDonald said.

You look beautiful, Susannah! Let you light shine!

I see a beautiful strong woman who clearly has no time for people like you.

Sandra McDonald, you my dear do not deserve to have Susannah as a friend or a teacher. Susannah... Ignore the ranting of an insecure child, you are gorgeous inside and out!!

Those three comments came from women I hadn’t seen in a long time. My phone buzzed all night as more comments, texts and messages came in...all of them telling me how wonderful I am. It made the night even more amazing, shrinking Sandra McDonald’s comments into tiny specs of dust that the lightest breeze could quickly carry away. 

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Yes and no, if I may make an exception to Newton’s rule. Yes because my loving actions towards my friends returned to me. No, because the reaction to Sandra McDonald’s comments, although opposite, were far from equal.

And thanks to that experience, that bulb will always be bright.

*Sandra McDonald is not her real name.

We Will NOT Return For Our Regularly Scheduled Program

It’s ok! I’m still writing. I’m still making progress on the book. I’m still loving it, despite the pain that sometimes comes from writing about my dad’s death and PTSD. 

My initial intention of this blog was to write about my progress with this book, but the truth is, how many different ways do I really need to say that writing this book has been joyous, heart breaking, satisfying and frustrating? Why limit the subject?

Rather, why not write about other stuff?

How It's Going

While reading my Facebook feed, I came across a poster that struck a chord with me.

CREATIVE PROCESS

1. This is awesome

2. This is tricky

3. This is shit

4. I am shit

5. This might be awesome

6. This is awesome

I shared it, explaining that lately I’ve been jumping between 3, 4 and 5 with regards to writing my book. Thankfully, my wonderful family and friends quickly responded that I am never 4 and I am on the way to 6. 

Still, I have a completely new respect for writers, understanding more and more how difficult it is to complete a book and convey a story in a way one hopes a reader will enjoy, be moved and absorb the messages. 

How interesting it is that currently I am on version 4 and that I have been feeling like 4. Version 1 did feel awesome. Version 2 was tricky. Version 3 felt like shit, which led me to write version 4, making me feel awesome until I read it and then felt like 4. 

The good news is 5 and 6 are on the horizon, and despite the lack of confidence I feel at times, I still love writing and I still love this project.

And to answer the #1 question I get - “When is the book coming out?” - when it is a 6. 

Writing About My PTSD

After being asked by two friends on separate occasions how I “did it”, I realized I had a story to share. Writing about my journey with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder has been painful at times but the insights I have gained are incredibly rewarding. I now know my PTSD inside and out, and I am more secure in how I manage it than ever before.

I knew the process would be difficult. It’s not easy writing about the worst thing that has ever happened in your life as well as the struggles that followed. In order to write about the tough stuff, I decided I was going to write about whatever I felt like writing rather than sticking to a rigid, linear plan. I didn’t start at chapter one...I started somewhere in the middle...then I went back to the beginning...then back to the middle...then the end...then I filled in the blanks. The entire book was written by jumping back and forth between different sections.

The beautiful thing is when I chose what I wanted to write in that moment, the words came easily, like they were flowing from my mind down my arms to my hands and onto the keyboard. These moments felt meditative. My body felt relaxed as my hands were quickly typing out the thoughts. Even though the words were coming to me feverishly, the rest of me felt calm and peaceful. Sometimes, I’d be so engrossed in writing that I didn’t realize how much time had gone by. There were many times where even writing about difficult topics became a joy because the words streamed out of me so smoothly. I didn’t always know if what I was writing would fit into the book, and I didn’t always know how it would all come together. As I tackled each piece, eventually everything organically fit together like a puzzle. Not only was the process becoming a joy, but I began to fall in love with the words I was writing.

Even the title came to me easily. While in the car with my husband on the way to a weekend in Connecticut, I suggested coming up with potential book titles to help pass the time. The second I said, “hey, let’s think of titles for my book while we’re driving,”  Peace With Trees came to mind. Immediately, I fell in love with the title. Luckily, my husband simply responded, “that works!”

I am incredibly grateful for Peace With Trees. Not only has it helped me with my PTSD but it also awakened a joy for writing. Once it’s on the bookshelves, I look forward to the next work that flows through me onto the page.

Why I Wrote Peace With Trees

Last spring, on separate occasions, two friends came to me for advice. They had been going through really tough times, including struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder, and wanted to know “how I did it”. Both of these friends have known me for decades and know all about “The Accident”, but as longtime friendships often drift apart and find their way back together again, neither knew the particulars of how I managed to come back from the worst time in my life. They were only familiar with the end result, which is me happily married with a successful acupuncture practice who enjoys traveling and living a healthy lifestyle.

I didn’t know exactly what to tell them at first. How did I do it? As introspective as I’ve always been, I didn’t have an immediate answer, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that maybe I did have a story to tell. Clearly, these two friends felt that by hearing my story they could maybe learn something from me to help themselves. Maybe my journey can bring answers for someone else.

The brilliant thing that has come from writing Peace With Trees is that not only did I answer “how I did it” for myself but it also brought me insight as to what I need to do to continue to do to manage my PTSD in the best way possible. Who knew that by trying to help my friends that it ultimately helped me so much!