Blind Faith

“I really admire your blind trust in the universe,” said a friend I was with Saturday night.

She meant it, though the words themselves don’t pack much punch, the look in her eyes and how she said it definitely did. I laughed and took a sip of the bourbon that I couldn’t afford.

Indeed, many of the decisions I’ve made recently, and in the far away past, probably look quite blind from the outsiders looking in.

I don’t know that we ever get to an age where we have to make less choices, but right now there seems to be a lot. And they all feel BIG. And detrimental. And…important.

The older I get, the more I can start to weave together the impact even the tiniest of choices can have. To say yes to that date and no to another, to break up or stay together, to say yes to that job and no to that one. 

To walk away from something or someone with no certainty that something greater is around the corner.

It’s hella scary.

Choices, of any kind, used to paralyze me. I’m that person who has to order last at brunch. First I can’t decide if I want sweet or savory, the classic breakfast dilemma. Then, just when I think the painful decision process is over:

“How would you like your eggs done?”


A trivial decision yes, but how you behave at OJs on Sunday afternoon is likely very similar to how you behave elsewhere. Consider that how you do anything is how you do everything.

I read this “motivational” quote by some guy named Michael Josephson: “The choices you make in your life will make your life. Choose wisely.”

That didn’t motivate me Michael; it stressed me the fuck out.

I feel very lucky to have grown up in this generation where our choices seem endless. We’ve thrown the straight and narrow out the door. We are no longer looked at funny if we’re 25 and without child. Reinventing ourselves five times before our 30th birthday and having numerous careers is totally cool.

But is anyone else feeling overwhelmed?

I used to have this deep rooted fear of aging. And not the getting wrinkles kind of fear. It was more of a, “I’m running out of time” kind of fear. That, coupled with the fact that there are lot of things on my bucket list, was causing a lot of stress. As if I had to get it all crossed off, like, now.

To know which impulses to follow, and to know when it’s time to pull the trigger. To know which ideas still need time to blossom, and which you should just go for. To know when changing your mind is just that, or when it’s actually just giving up when you might be three feet from gold.

The tug at your heart, the impulsive decisions, the well thought out plans. When to choose and when to sit on it.

I may have written about this before, or I may have just uttered this lesson to friends and colleagues, but here’s a teaching from a friend and mentor that changed everything for me, and is likely the reason why it looks like I have blind trust.

I assure you, it’s not blind.

We always think that it’s about whether we choose A or B, but the most important thing, and the thing that actually propels our lives forward, is making a decision.

Mind not blown? Consider this: That place of indecision sucks. Wavering back and forth between moving, quitting a job, or leaving a relationship, is so much worse than just making the decision and pulling the trigger.

In Edwene Gaines’ Four Spiritual Laws of Prosperity, Maxwell Maltz says, “A step in the wrong direction is better than staying on the spot all our life. Once you’re moving forward you can correct your course as you go. Your automatic guidance system cannot guide you when you’re standing still.” (p.38)

So, just go out there and choose, and trust that you’ll be able to course correct.

And trust that you’ll get what you need one way or another.

Last Friday night I was having coffee with an old friend at a quiet cafe. One way to look at it is we were discussing our latest choices. Choices like: sleeping with guys you know deep down are fuck boi’s, moving cities, and quitting jobs. Giving things up for new experiences, or giving things up for one night of fun.

Mid conversation an older man came up to our table with two plates, a dessert for each of us.

He said, “These are for you. I have 5 daughters and you two sitting here chatting reminded me of them and how much I miss them.”

Hopefully he didn’t hear the details of our conversation, for his sake.

His sincerity took away any initial reaction I had that screamed, “Don’t take treats from strangers!”

Then he said, “The world is good to us, it’s not always as bad as they make it seem.” 

I think the difference between reckless blind trust and the kind of faith my girlfriend and I were talking about this weekend, lies in the difference between being impulsive (which has its place) and having your eyes wide open. When you know yourself well enough and have your eyes (and heart) open, making those choices gets a little easier. You don’t get attached to one outcome over another. You trust that the world will be good to you, because your eyes are open to all the ways that it already is.


That Night In December

Lately I have a lot of girlfriends fully participating in the world of dating. It seems to me that the friends in my life have gone one of two ways. I have girlfriends who settled down with bachelor number one or two fairly early on. They’re engaged, married, or own a puppy together.

Then I have this group of friends who have done the opposite. They’re on to bachelor number seventeen, they’ve been single so long they forget what it’s like to share anything with anyone, or there’s my funnest friends: The one’s who now look at dating as an experiment. They’re the people who got sick of unfulfilling relationships and bad dates so they changed their perspective on it all. They have checklists, goals, experiments, and they don’t take any of it too seriously. They’re in it for the fun of it to the joy of people like me who love hearing the stories over Sunday morning brunches.

I had a lot of hilarious Sunday morning brunches in the month of December. Maybe because of all the holiday parties and that forever overrated night called New Years Eve. These stories had a common theme; they all involved us humiliating ourselves in front of the boys we liked. Or, you could also look at these stories as proof that we need to stop binge drinking.

I can’t remember what friend said this because I think it was just before midnight on December 31st. But I remember hearing “If he really likes you, you can’t embarrass yourself in front of him”.  It seems that during the end of December the universe was testing this.

There will always be drunk texting. I remember being twenty years old and swapping cell phones with my best friend so that we wouldn’t text our ex-boyfriends. Cynthia knows herself so well that she deletes the messages she sends after eleven o’clock on weekends because she doesn’t feel like cringing at the witty attempts at flirting she made the night before.

“Oh my god. I remember you told me to be nicer to him so apparently I told him I liked his dimples”

“At least you didn’t say I can’t wait for you to [insert something totally raunchy and explicit here]”

“Don’t put those ideas in my head!! Take my phone away from me and don’t give it back until tomorrow morning”

To make her feel better I remind Cynthia of my New Years Eve. This was the first night I “partied” with the guy I’m seeing. You would have thought I’d be a little smarter and eat enough to balance out the amount of rum and champagne we were drinking. Early on in the evening I posted that overused quote on Instagram that says “time to drink champagne and dance on the table”. There was no dancing on my part. I fell asleep standing up nestled into his chest. Apparently I kissed Cynthia at midnight and my friends had to direct me to my new guy. The next day I checked my phone and I had sent Cynthia a text at 12:14am asking if we could go home yet.  Lucky for me he’s kind enough to trust that I’m normally a little more fun than this.

In the midst of our  two day NYE hangover my roommate and I felt better about ourselves after we heard a story from a friend who went home with her new boyfriend after a late December Christmas Party.

“The question is, where didn’t I get sick?”

Oh no.

“I puked all over his apartment”

Oh god.

“It gets worse. I woke up in his shower.  Then he slept with me on the bathroom floor all night”.

He sounds like a keeper.

And then there’s every girls worst fear. My good girlfriend Kim loves to party. She’s that friend who has been to every festival, experimented with every drug, and can drink most guys under the table. She came over on the 27th with a look of horror on her face and I knew something bad must have happened.

I can always tell when Kim’s about to confess something. I sit patiently and wait.

“I peed his bed.”


“We played five rounds of Sociables. I drank a 26 of vodka, shots, champagne, wine, smoked a shit ton of weed, and barely ate.”

“No wonder you had zero control over your body”.

“I blamed it on his dog”

“And he believed you!?”

“I don’t think so” 

Kim and her boyfriend of two months are still together. Not a word has been spoken since about his dog peeing the bed.

So I guess it might be true. If a guy is really into you no drunk text or messy New Years Eve will change that. And if it does, there will be a guy out there who will clean up your puke, hold you up at the bar, and not call you out on blaming his dog for pissing your pants.

Way to start the year off right girls.