I got into a car accident last week. I was fine, but it shook me up: Physically, I was shaking, and mentally I could feel the pull of anger, blame and shame; old familiar territory that insists that this incident was everyone else's fault or entirely my fault. The other driver was irate and aggressive: She lashed out before even checking to see if I was okay, yelling that I was in the wrong and then refusing to meet my eyes before storming off, buttressing her defenses and missing all of our shared humanity. In the cortisol and adrenaline provoked stress responses - fight, flight or freeze - hers was classic fight. My stress response showed up closer to freeze: I moved slowly through the mo
When I left my full time job two years ago, I had no idea the roller-coaster I was in for, but the lessons I have learned are invaluable.
I take a gulp and look down at my check book. It has been siting on my desk for days now, taunting me in my indecision. The words of the admission officer still ring in my ear: "When you put a definitive step of action and commitment in place, the universe conspires to make it possible." In bright blue ink, I have written eleven-thousand-dollars in the square box on the right of the check. It is the largest single check I have written up to this point, and a good portion of the savings I've worked hard to accrue over the past years. The words "University of Santa Monica" are printed neatly on the To line. Before I can think twice, I tear the check satisfyingly out of its perforated book, sli
