Who Are Your Monkeys?

One of my monkeys gave this to me.
His name is George.  I'm super clever like that. 

I took (another) life-changing seminar this past week (Hello, My Name is Kalei and I’m addicted to seminars).

Since my name is not exactly easy to pronounce, without fail, these events begin with us all playing The Name Game.  For example:

New Person: Hey there [glances at name tag]…Kay-lee!

Me: Hello New Person! It’s actually pronounced [slower than honey] KUH...LAY. 

New Person: Got it, Kahlua. 

(This little scenario, which I encounter multiple times a day, is why I answer to everything from Kayla to Kool-Aid).

This particular seminar was completely AH- MAZING.

The content was incredibly powerful.  However, what excited me more was The People.  Because of the nature of the seminar, I found people just like me (this idea may be completely terrifying to my family, who I can imagine are thinking: um, we can handle just one Kalei at a time). 

Strangely, the word that came to mind while I was there was Fellowship, a churchy word that makes me think of stuffy potlucks and overflowing rice cookers (and cookies. Mmmm. Cookies.  Peanut Butter Cookies.  Ok where was I…). In this context, to me it meant learning together, listening, loving, and supporting each other in spite of our humanness.  

It was another reminder to me that hey, we’re all in this thing together. 

And apparently I think I’m pretty special, because I struggle daily with trying to do life by myself.  

And then I’m reminded, in one way or another, that no, in fact, I am not Wonder Woman.  

I need my monkeys.  

Say what??  (Bear with me.  I know I'm all over the place today but I promise I actually do have a point).

I attended a (you guessed it) seminar earlier this year where I heard a story that really struck a chord*.  Scientists put a monkey in a cage, and then terrified the crap out of it- flashing lights, horrifying sounds, the works.  They measured his stress levels, which, not surprisingly, were off the charts.   

Then they put the monkey’s friend in the cage with him.  They repeated the experiment.  

The monkey’s stress levels were reduced in half. 

It’s a simple experiment, with two profound lessons:

1. Sometimes, our buddy doesn’t need to do anything but be there with us when our cage is rattled.  

2. Choose the right monkeys. 

After hearing that story, I made sure to tell my monkeys how much I appreciated them.  

Perhaps your conversation can go something like this, but slightly less awkward.  (This is a completely hypothetical situation of course): 

Um so I learned this story about monkeys and um…I was wondering, Will You Be My Monkey?

The thing is, we were never meant to do life alone.

We all need our monkeys.  

Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down. - Oprah Winfrey

Fellowship is a place of grace, where mistakes aren't rubbed in but rubbed out. Fellowship happens when mercy wins over justice.  -Rick Warren

Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. - Romans 12:10

*The Monkey Story was shared by Dr. Henry Cloud, and I believe is included in his book, Boundaries for Leaders.  

Believe the Best

This is what bread is supposed to look like (I'm talking
to you, American Airlines): fresh, soft, warm, and swimming
in butter-- glorious, glorious butter.   

My recent flight from Paris to Dallas is now legendary.  I wish I could say this was because I had deep, thought-provoking conversations with fellow passengers while nibbling on exotic French cheeses and watching a marathon of English-subtitled French noir films. 

Oh no. 

It was a 10 hour hell ride.  

It started off well enough: I arrived with plenty of time, was whisked through to my gate (heads up: telling the French how much you love their country will expedite your airport security experience), shopped leisurely at the wonderful boutiques (mostly at Laduree, which sells my favorite, ridiculously beautiful and outrageously priced candles), and sat down to a lovely farewell breakfast of vegetable quiche and deliciously strong French coffee. 

Ahhh.  La vie est belle. 

I then boarded the plane.  I noticed as I sat down that my area was surrounded by men.  Man on my left, man on my right…you get the picture.  I didn’t think too much about this at the time, other than, huh, there are lots of men (deep thoughts, people).

Shortly after takeoff, we were served lunch, which included limp lettuce and a sad little tomato, a wheat-flavored rock, and “chicken”.  

A few hours later, I started feeling a little off.  And then, pretty uncomfortable.  

Which turned into OHMYGOD I THINK I’M GONNA THROW UP.

All of a sudden, I bolted out of my seat and sprinted to the back of the plane, where an all-knowing flight attendant ushered me into the bathroom.  I barely made it. 

As I sat back down, I noticed a few curious stares from people in my row.  I smiled reassuringly (Oh that?  I just really needed a 7-Up) and returned to my movie.

I was hoping I’d feel better.  Unfortunately, I continued to feel worse. 

An hour prior to landing, the flight attendant/detective appeared and handed me a giant trash bag, “just in case.”  Not surprisingly, every eye within a 10 row radius was on me.   I just smiled, said “thank you” and to comfort everyone on the plane, added: “I’m sure I won’t need it.”

Famous. Last. Words.

As we began landing, stuck in seat belt hell, with nowhere to go without a US Marshall on my tail, I emptied my last three days worth of food into the giant trash bag. 

I was slightly terrified imagining the disapproving  faces of all the men I would encounter once I pulled my head out of the bag.  I assumed they'd be disgusted, horrified.

My first thought: I want my mommy!  

My second thought: I wish I was sitting by women.  At least they’d help take care of me.

I was in for a shock. 

Jean-Pierre on my left, in his thick French accent: Would yoo like some Kleenex? 

Me: Oui.

Jean-Pierre with the most compassionate eyes I’ve ever seen: And perhaps some mints?

Me: Oui.

Having arrived at the gate, I stood up to collect my things, when Francois on my right reached out to rub my back and, very concerned, asked: 

So, you are ok, yes?

Me: Oui.

After customs, Jean-Claude, who was sitting next to Francois, bee-lined for me and asked:

May I offer you a Wet Nap?

Me: Oui.

At this point, I was FLOORED.  These lovely gentlemen could not have been kinder.

I felt a bit convicted.  

It’s so easy to believe the bad, that I forget to believe the best.  

And that’s a tragedy.  Because there’s so much good in this world.  

Sometimes I have to seek it out.  But sometimes, it’s sitting right next to me.

Love chooses to believe the best about people. It gives them the benefit of the doubt. It refuses to fill in the unknowns with negative assumptions. And when our worst hopes are proven to be true, love makes every effort to deal with them and move forward. As much as possible, love focuses on the positive. - Stephen Kendrick

*Yes, I made up the French guys' names.  Who knows, maybe they're true.

The Secret to Being a Good Human

You have no idea how many awkward selfies I took
on this trip. It's seriously staggering.
What am I doing here? Oh gosh, who knows.
Also, in reviewing my trip pictures, it's become
clear that I have a huge obsession with the Eiffel Tower.  

One of the things I love most about traveling is the people I meet—the fascinating, crazy, annoying, lovable people. I just vacationed in France so I’ve been on a shipload (why no, Thesaurus.com that’s not what I meant) of planes, trains and automobiles, meeting lots and lots of people in the process. 

While I didn’t realize this when boarding my first flight, it became clear to me that on this trip I had a very important job:  I was there to listen.  To strangers.  Tell their stories. 

Here’s what I mean: 

The Australians:  To my right, I struck up a conversation with a Mom and daughter traveling from Australia to Tampa, to seek special treatment for Lymes Disease, which isn’t recognized as a disease in Australia.  Mom was exhausted and plenty frustrated but overall in good spirits, considering she was leaving her job as a cattle rancher/teacher for 3 months to attend the $75,000 treatment her 26 year old now-wheelchair-bound daughter needed to recover from her debilitating illness.  

How do I know all this?  I listened.  I asked questions here and there, but really, all I did was sit there as this woman poured out her heart to me.

The Gangbanger: To my left, a man I was almost too scared to even say hello to.  When this  short and stocky, frowning, black hoodie-wearing Hispanic man sat down, he was listening to his iPhone through giant headphones.  Peeking from underneath his hoodie, I could see tattoos spreading from all over his body— from his chest and neck onto his face, from his arms all the way to the tips of his fingers.  Everything about him said: Go Away.

Not gonna lie, I judged.  But I was also really, really curious.

Because he kept texting.  And every keystroke highlighted letters tattooed on his fingers and ohmygosh what the heck does this tattoo say?  Of course, with my judgey-ness  in overdrive, I assumed he was texting his drug dealer.

I decided to carefully, out of the corner of my Lasik-enhanced eye, glance at what he was writing.  

Boy was I in for a shock. 

Scary Guy: Baby, I miss you so much already. 
Not Drug Lord but Probably Girlfriend?: Honey I love you.
Scary Guy Who’s Apparently a Giant Teddy Bear:  Baby you’re the best, you know I love you too. 

Um.  WHAT??!

So now dying to talk to this guy, I turn to him and say Hi.  He was a little startled, but said Hi back.  I asked him why he was heading to Dallas, and then…the floodgates opened.  

Friends, he would not stop talking.  About his job with FedEx, where he makes good money, but it’s bittersweet because he travels a lot and it takes him away from his wife, who is the Love of His Life.  No, that’s not strong enough.  She’s the Sun and the Moon and Stars and he would Die For Her.  No joke, this is all coming out of his mouth.  About the music he listens to, which is all OLDIES LOVE SONGS.  I kid you not, he actually made me write down a bunch of OLDIES LOVE SONGS to look up on YouTube.  

Besides listening, my other big lesson, as you can probably imagine: hello, judge much?  I had one of the most surprising, delightful conversations I’ve ever had, with a man I was almost too scared to say hello to.  (And by the way, I was right about one thing: the tattoo on his fingers spelled VIDA LOCA, an old gang tattoo. But that was his old life.  He's a new man because of his wife, who he Adores With All His Heart and Misses to the Depths of His Soul).  

I'm not kidding, this guy talking about his wife brought me tears. I learned a thing or two about love that day.  

Now, I’d love to say I do this all the time.  Yup, that’s me, The Great Listener.  

But that’s a load of you-know-what.

Here’s the deal: Listening is hard.

And me, the Type-A-oldest-child-fixer-problem-solver, always thinks I need to do more: What astoundingly wise thing can I say?  What thoughtful and perfect thing can I do?

And that’s the thing.  Sometimes we need to just listen. 

It’s a lost art, listening.  We’re so busy with our work, our phones, our lives, our overall busy-ness, that stopping to listen to someone—really and truly listen—it’s just not something we do. 

And it should be.  Because when someone takes the time to truly listen to me, I feel heard.  I feel cherished.  I feel loved. 

So now, I'm doing my best to listen better, to listen more.  And not just to strangers, but hey, maybe those people closest to me, too.

Anyway.  Thanks for listening. ;)

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.  - James 1:19

The first duty of love is to listen. - Paul Tillich 

When people talk, listen completely.  Most people never listen.  -Ernest Hemingway

How I Survived My Divorce

There's always a light at the end of the tunnel, always
a silver lining.  All the cliches are TRUE.  

There’s no question about it.  DIVORCE SUCKS. 

I have a few friends going through this horrific ordeal at the moment, and they’ve asked me how I did it.  How I survived.  How I went from a fragile, broken, empty, lonely, lost, utterly destroyed mess to being stronger, wiser, thriving, even gosh darn hopeful.

Looking back, there are so many things I wish I knew- things that I’m more than happy to share in the hope that others can skip some of the truly stupid stuff I did.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t think I’d still be single by now.  I mean, I thank the good Lord I didn’t jump into some of the relationships I thought were a great idea at the time.

God seriously saves me from myself on a daily basis.

And only recently, 5 freaking years after my divorce (that would be 4 years more than I gave myself to “get over it”), I realize I’m finally, truly ready to be in a relationship. 

I hate to say it because this is the worst piece of advice ever and it makes me want to claw my eyes out when anyone tells me this: it took time.  Time to heal, time to make a crap load of mistakes, time to discover who I really was.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I did, what I changed, how I moved on.  If I can humbly offer some advice:

1. God.  The day I left my husband was the worst day of my life.  I was a pathetic wreck, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. You may think I’m crazy, but on that day, I experienced several miracles.  

Here’s my story: I told my husband I was leaving him, and after some arguing, he ran out the front door, as I stood there in a fog, sobbing and shaking.  I slowly made my way to the master bedroom and was heading to the backyard, when all of a sudden I felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over my entire body, and a giant weight lifted from my shoulders. And I heard this: It’s gonna be ok.  You’re gonna be ok.  

I’ve had several God moments in my life, but never have I felt the power of God as fiercely as I did that day.  

Look, am I saying that God approved of my decision?  I don’t know.  But I do know this: God revealed himself to me in a way I’ve never experienced before, and haven’t experienced since. 

2. Surround yourself with positive thoughts absolutely everywhere.  I mean, everywhere- on Facebook, in your home, in your bathroom, on your phone, on your fridge…you get the idea.  Cleaning out things that weren’t serving me, and instead being surrounded by pictures of friends, family, my dog, inspirational quotes made a HUGE difference.  I learned that you're a product of your environment, and your thoughts become your life.  Choose wisely. 

3. …and most importantly, that includes positive people: I realized I needed to re-define what a good friend was.  Sure, it was fun having friends who’d want to bar hop on a Tuesday night.  But I also needed healthy, supportive people who would listen, offer advice, or sometimes, just sit with me. 

4. Please be very, very kind to yourself.  It’s hard, but try not to beat yourself up.  Check those negative thoughts at the door because they’re doing no one any good.  Figure out what you love to do, and do it- at least one thing every day.  A walk in the park, a massage, calling a good friend.  

5. Try to make healthy decisions.  I say “try” because no one’s perfect.  I tried to exercise every day and eat healthy foods for no other reason than it made me feel good. 

6. Indulge when necessary.  Sometimes I drank.  Too much.  And danced.  On tables.  And ate.  Bowls of cookie dough.  Sometimes that’s all I wanted to do, so I did.  Then I forgave myself and moved on.

7. Find something you’re passionate about.  Painting, horse racing, sky diving, writing.  For me, it was pursuing my MBA.  I took a GMAT class, studied intensely, applied to UCLA, got in, and then decided I didn’t want to go.  This might seem like a giant waste of time (and money- that GMAT ain’t no joke), but I learned a ton from the experience.  Most importantly, that I didn't want to spend 2 years of my life locked in a classroom.  I wanted to discover my new life.  And I’m so glad I did.

8. Listen your gut.  It’s there for a reason, and you’re wiser and more amazing than you can possibly imagine.   I realized I rarely stopped to listen.  And when I did, I found me.  Beautifully wonderful, imperfect me.   

9. Just keep going.  There were days I wanted to stay in bed, so I did.  But more often than not, I realized I needed to keep living.  So I put one foot in front of the other.  

And it got better.  Trust. 

Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you. Deuteronomy 31:6

Oooh! Pretty Shiny Thing!

One huge plus to running: I do it in pretty shoes! 

I had a pretty big epiphany this past weekend.  

I’ve spent a lot of time running.  

I really wish I meant physically running- though if you’ve been reading my blog, you may have picked up that running is an extremely recent thing for me, something I hated so much I put it on a 20 year hold due to an extremely strict high school PE program that forced me to run a 15k (for the Americans, that translates to 9.32 miles) in order to graduate my freshman year (The scars!  Oh the scars!)

I mean, running from my life.

Let me take you on a quick little trip down memory lane: Hawaii to Boston to Denver to Boulder to Washington DC to New York to Santa Monica to Manhattan Beach to New York to Newport Beach.

Just writing that made me dizzy. 

The Magnificent Marketer in me says: Wow, that’s adventurous!  And that’s true.  I’ve led a pretty amazing life, filled with all kinds of fun shark/blizzard/yacht/celebrity stories.  

But the Truth Seeker in me says: You didn’t think that was working, so you left.   Wait a minute, that’s not really working either so let’s leave again.  Uh oh that’s still not working, let’s try this.  Or maybe this… 

The truth is, I’m a World Champion at Distraction. 

I have quite a few tools under my belt.  Some of my favorites: iPhone, food, alcohol, sex.

Over the years, I’ve become really good at using my tools all the time. 

But my approach is changing.  

I’ve finally slowed down.  I’m sitting still.  I’m dealing with it. 

And it kinda sucks.  

I wish I could tell you it didn’t, that I love feeling feelings and dealing with my $h*t.  But the truth is, it’s painfully hard work to deal with past hurt, grief, and loss that I've been a master at hiding.  

I'll tell you though, the rewards far outweigh the pain.  

A huge benefit for me is actually knowing and being me.  (Turns out, I like me.  I think I’m kinda neat).

And most importantly, without all this noise, I’ve discovered a much deeper, richer, fulfilling relationship with my Creator. 

Pain removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul.  - C.S. Lewis

I am not a theologian or a scholar, but I am very aware of the fact that pain is necessary to all of us. In my own life, I think I can honestly say that out of the deepest pain has come the strongest conviction of the presence of God and the love of God.  - Elizabeth Elliot

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. -Psalm 34:18 

I'm Terrible At This

Gosh I loooooooove this place. 

This past weekend was busy.  And chock full of really awesome choices.

It started with an impromptu bbq at a friends house on Friday.  I said I’d “drop by” and promised myself I’d have just 1 glass of wine because I had a run in the morning (I finish one half marathon, and now I think I’m a runner). 

Famous Last Words. 

A bottle of wine and many many hours later, with just a few hours sleep, I woke up to run a 5k.

You can probably imagine my mantra during this run: Don’t throw up.  Don’t throw up. 

Immediately following the run, I rushed home to shower and change to join a friend for the long drive up to West Hollywood for a baby shower.  Fun girl talk, cake and presents later, we then slowly inched home (101, I curse you) where I immediately met friends to watch the Kings game at a bar (apparently there is a sport called “hockey” on right now).  More fun chatting, cheering, and some drinks later, I finally got home, and promptly collapsed into bed. 

I was exhausted come Sunday morning.  But I promised a friend I’d go to church, followed by brunch.  And then I decided to do this:

Sit on my couch for 5 hours watching Game of Thrones.  (Spoiler Alert: Everyone DIES.) 

So, you know, I observed the Sabbath.  A-hem. 

Was this because I had nothing else to do?  Not exactly.  

Among the 137 things on my To Do list: 

• study for a final exam (which I miraculously passed)
• 4 loads of laundry (including something urgent and smelly)
• return 13 voicemails (I seriously hate voicemails, sorry Mom)
• shop for real food (dinner was salsa and a frozen chicken patty- super creative or just plain weird?)

As I pondered the end of my opposite-of-busy day, I thought: 

You make really bad decisions.  Do you have any idea what you're doing?

Sometimes this thought pervades all others: I’m terrible at this, at life.  

And then I took that thought and tossed it.  

The thing is, I know I'm making slow progress, taking life one day at a time.    

Sometimes it's ok to be, and not do (when a friend first shared this with me, I remember thinking: Aww, that's so cute.  I'm a doer, you see. But she couldn't be more right).  

And I'll bet this is true: no one really, truly has everything figured out.  

But thank goodness there's a God who does.    

But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.  Matthew 10:30

Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.  Psalm 147:5

Wanna Hear a Crazy Dating Story?

I was in such deep thought staring at the ceiling of
this Botanical Garden that I almost ran into a field trip
full of little kids.  This has nothing to do with anything.  
I just thought it was cool.

I had such an interesting experience recently that it made me want to share something kinda personal that I don’t normally talk about:

Dating.  

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you probably just spit out your coffee.  It’s true that I share a lot of raw things.  But this topic has been really difficult for me to write about.  Partially because I have a hard time believing some of the downright wacky things that have happened.  Like this little adventure from last week:

I had a fun date with a nice, funny, smart, successful, good-looking guy.  So for our second date, he asked me to join him for dinner.  At his house.  

In his hot tub. 

Because, if you want to get to know someone better, you should do that in a hot tub.  (No judgement if you’re wondering what the heck is the problem here?  I’m just not a hot-tub-on-the-second-date-kinda-girl).

Not knowing him very well, I wasn’t comfortable with this, and instead suggested that we meet at a restaurant.  

And that’s when things took a rather interesting turn. 

Little did I know what I would unleash: Crazy Angry Hot Tub Guy.  

I will spare you the ridiculousness, but in a nutshell: he became enraged.  To put it mildly. 

I’m really grateful this was all captured via text because seriously, I just can’t make this stuff up.  Also because I will be making a movie out of this. 

As hurt as I was by the exchange, this incident highlighted a theme that I’ve been seeing over and over and over lately.   

We’re all broken.  So very, very broken. 

I’ve been working on trying to see people, especially when dating, through a different lens: with love and compassion.  (This is a huge departure, I might add, from my they're-all-a-holes-I'm-joining-a-nunnery mentality). 

While it was really difficult for me to see Hot Tub Guy with love and compassion at the time, I've realized that at the end of the day, we’re all hurting, wounded, walking messes.  Me included. (This may shock you, but I have quite a few issues myself). 

The good news is, we’re all in this together. 

I’m so grateful for a friend who actually read through the entire text exchange in real time, offering advice and sympathy.  For a friend who came over with dinner (!) immediately after work to patiently listen to me share my stupid story. For a friend who checked up on me repeatedly to make sure I was ok. 

Most importantly, I’m grateful to Him for being a God who loves and forgives our brokenness, heals our wounds, and is always there to comfort us. 

Nothing God allows you to go through is pointless. Even in the midst of hurt, He will work good for you: now and in the future. He still has a grand plan for you!  - Lysa TerKeurst

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.  - Psalm 147:3