J's Place

Tag: life

  • Take your shoes off, stay a while.

    Let me set the scene.

    The year is 2014. I have lived in Midland for a little over 18 months. I am fresh in the profession I currently hold.

    A group of, lets call it 10 ladies, all of us in the same line of work, are in a “team building/life coach,”mandatory meeting. We sit in a circle. The “O” shaped chairs are set up in a large office with floor to ceiling windows, brown carpet and muted colors to keep everything to a minimum, or so it feels. No flair.

    I removed my shoes and got comfortable. We were goal setting. It seemed like a relaxing and reassuring setting to do so. I crossed my legs and started in on what I wanted to accomplish by the end of 2015.

    After the meeting, a smartly dressed woman with a slight heir about her, 20 years my senior, slowly, but confidently approached me.

    “You know,” She stated as she looked down at my feet with disdain. “You should probably leave your shoes on during a meeting like this. It doesn’t show much class when you remove them.”

    When she turned around to walk away, I stood there, frozen. I was mortified. I felt guilt. I felt shame. Gosh, was I that TRASHY? With my eyes and head lowered to the ground I went down a rabbit hole. What did I get myself into? Was my entire life a lie?

    Shoes were a necessity growing up on 80 acres. Without them, you risked being impaled by multiple bright green goat-heads (stickers.) Obtaining a stone bruise from a sharp rock. Or stepping in a huge pile of animal feces.

    If none of that bothered you, which, to a kid, meeehhhh….how many times did all of that happen, a couple hundred, I still refused shoes more often than not. Because kids are smarter. ;)

    Fast Forward. The year is 2025. Same City. 11 years later. I am now happily divorced. I am blessed with two beautiful little girls. I am once again, in a group setting. In a circle, coincidentally just South and across a major intersection from the barefoot shaming incident.

    I attend a weekly class on self help, free therapy if you will. A consistent self improvement gathering to remind myself I can always be better. That Wednesday, I removed my shoes, crossed my legs and got comfortable. When it was my turn to share I remembered the above mentioned moment of embarrassment, or what I TOOK as embarrassment. I cried a little bit because of the freedom I now feel and ended the share with a laugh about being shoeless.

    In this class, we are reminded that “what others think of us is none of our business.” How dare I think that I can control someone else’s thoughts about me?

    Read that again. “What other’s think of me….IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS.” Pretty profound.

    As a people pleaser by nature, we are always looking out for how others feel. Are we satisfying their needs? Are they happy? To be honest, being a people pleaser is exhausting. Yes, I am in sales. Yes, I have always liked to make people happy but what happened to making myself happy? Where did that get lost? When did that emotion turn it’s back on me and walk over the hill, not asking if I was coming with it?

    In Don Miguel Ruiz’s, The Four Agreements, the 2nd or 3rd agreement, depending how you read it, is , “Don’t take anything personally.”

    I was given The Four Agreements book in 2022 by a wonderful friend who was going through a divorce. At the time, I was in a downward spiral, attempting, very adamantly, to survive a failing marriage.

    I loved the book and the Agreements. I ate them up. I ordered quite a few paperbacks and handed them out to select friends. I felt like this was a game changer for me and that it could be for others too.

    I lived by the teachings of Ruiz for a little while, I felt them. I spoke about them. I actively practiced them.

    In 2023 after years of trying to be happy in my partnership, my tryer, tried out. My soul focus was not on the Four Agreements anymore, but figuring out a new way of life for myself and my children. A better path forward.

    Starting over, I started practicing the agreements again. I was reminded of the “Always do your best agreement.” As long as you do your best, and YOU KNOW, without a doubt, it is your best, then FOR REAL…..

    What others think of you, is NONE of YOUR business, so, quit taking it personally.

    I loved how all of these thoughts and practices tied in together. In 2023-2024 I cannot remember exactly when it was, but I fired a client. Shit. Jessica, what did you do? I definitely over thought it, as I do most intrusive thoughts, but I executed a plan. The people pleaser said “NO.”

    I had spent gobs of money on the original listing. Then re-listing. Paying for photos, videos, drone shots, Broker opens, open houses and subscriptions to specific websites that marketed the community.

    NOTHING was good enough. It appeared it was my fault that their decor choice was horrific and that they continuously over leveraged themselves on the price of another home they were wanting.

    I am not saying this is a best practice but a little known Real Estate fact: You can spend thousands listing a home, trying to get it sold. However, the #1 rule in sales always prevails. The client is always right. Even with suggested staging, painting, price drops and fixes, if the client doesn’t agree, sometimes the house does not sell, if the house does not sell; you do not get paid.

    When I knew I was doing my best and that there was nothing else I could do to please them, I let myself go. I did not take it personally and to be honest, the next time I saw them, I gave them a hug and we were more forward and friendly than when I had their home on the market.(PS, I did re-list it for a 3rd time because I am a glutton for punishment. It didn’t work in the end. I did my best.)

    Let me tell you something that happened today. 7/13/25 around 8:30 AM.

    I ventured to the ATM to get cash out to pay a baby sitter from this weekend. The local ATM at Chase Bank didn’t work; shocking, I know. This new precious sitter doest have Venmo, which, at this day in age, I appreciate. She only accepts cash. Smart girl.

    Since I was NOT planning on getting out of the car I did not put a bra on. Now, unexpectedly, I was going to drive to the Gas station and get out of the vehicle. Oh Lord. I might see someone I know. Midland is a small town. May not seem that way to a newcomer. Just wait.

    Old me would have gone home. I would have delayed getting this sweet new sitter paid due to my potential embarrassment. I would risk her not coming back because of the possibility of seeing someone I knew, crouched down by the ATM, hiding like a troll in a ratty t-shirt, without a bra.

    Today I did not think twice. I proudly walked….. OK, I definitely didn’t look around to see who was there. I scurried in and kept my head pointed at the ATM. But I got the cash out, I came out alive. With my head held high in the sunlight walking back to my car. Braless and all.

    On a positive note. At least I wore shoes. ;)

    Peace- J.

    PS: You cannot control what others think. You dont live in their reality. You only live in yours.

    “When you argue with reality, you lose, but only 100% of the time,”-Byron Katie.

  • Really Local. Really good. Really Rileys.

    One of the top questions asked in the Permian Basin: “So, are you from here?” Me? No, but I call this dusty place home. Landing here in March of 2013 I told myself I would give it a year. Three days before accepting a job offer to manage a franchise in Midland, I asked God to show me ANY signs NOT to move 5 hours away. I kept my eyes wide open. Nothing appeared.

    At the time I was 27 years old, making a living in Seguin, Texas.

    Let me paint a picture for you. Tall Trees. Rivers. Green Grass. A far cry from mesquite bushes and flat surfaces. Growing up, our Uncle Andy(dad’s fraternity brother,) ran a pipe company and I can account for a couple of trips from Weatherford, where I was born and raised, to the land of big skies and pump jacks.

    If you have kids you may have watched “Inside out.” That is what my memory is like with these Interstate-20 voyages. Grasping a marble from the Fun House scene in the dimly lit pathways of my child brain. Dad worked at a dealership in Fort Worth. He was always able to get demo cars. A fun surprise coming home to a new vehicle we would get to cruise around in for a few weeks at a time.

    On one particular journey to Odessa, he chose a new white two door Acura with leather interior. I can still recall the smell.

    Mom did not go with us on this trip.

    I do not know whether is was that she needed a break or that she didn’t care for the views. I suppose it might have been both. My sister and I argued about who had shot gun. Dad reluctantly allowed us to play our cassette tape “Jaws of the Jurassic,” over and over.

    Listen at your own risk ⬆️

    A Saint, now that I think about it. No way I would allow that audible torture all the way to Sweetwater. We stayed at the Days Inn on Highway 80. In fact, I am 99% positive that is where the Fun Dome is now. On that note, unless your vice is meth and prostitution, I’d probably nix that choice for future travel. I’ll cover that in another post. Not my position on drugs and hookers; choosing to stay at the Fun Dome.

    I could not tell you what happened on that trip but I do recall a quieter ride back East with the Cars and the Traveling Wilbury’s playing while I stared out the window, from the back seat this time, observing the vast expanse of cotton fields.

    That excursion and one more, which involved a velvet portrait of a naked woman on a leopard rug, are the only two trips to Odessa I can pull from the marble jar. I know I had to be under the age of 9. I believe the last trip that involved the vulnerable woman in the painting had to be a significant Birthday for Uncle Andy.

    See rendition below. Uncle Andy, I’ll need follow up clarification on this memory please.

    Fast forward to some eighteen years later.

    I decided to make the journey out West when Seguin showed no reason to stay. West Texas was not as I remembered, well, a little bit, but the skies were far more expansive, the personalities very charming and I could see potential through the occasional haboob.

    I was fortunate to have several locals and non-locals show me around town. I now make it my mission to assist clients and friends, a lot who are new to the Permian, to find the “Best of the Best” in the Tall City and Odessa.

    My world looks a little different now, spectacularly beautiful in so many ways, yet different than I had imagined. However, I have learned through many months of counseling and other avenues of self help, my control only goes so far and pivoting in life is necessary sometimes. This Easter, after an early morning egg hunt, the girls were ecstatic to spend the day with their Grandparents and Cousins.

    Me, I got to spend Sunday afternoon with two extremely good looking brunettes.

    Two beautiful souls who are incredibly worldly.

    From a local perspective they are new to Midland. Each one is open to unique situations and most importantly they both posses sophisticated pallets.

    There was an itch that needed to be scratched and I felt it my calling to introduce them to the best Bloody Mary in the world.

    This pitcher of nourishment can be found at Riley’s Bar and Grill.

    Located at 3421 W. Wall Street, next to an old tire shop and a questionable Motel, this Midland staple gets 4.5 ⭐️’s out of 757 Google reviews. After doing a few minutes of digging, I THINK, Rileys has been in existence since 1991, if anyone can shed more light, please let me know. There is still a jukebox. Dad, I played the Travling Wilbury’s in your honor. You can buy vapes or cigarettes out of a machine. You can order a steak. You can enjoy fried catfish. You can try your hand at pool. The people watching is epic. But the #1 attraction at this local joint, hands down, is the Bloody Mary.

    The bar tender that day was Donna. Her hair was as white and fluffy as the snow we never saw fall this winter. Donna can make a superb Bloody Mary, I imagine she has been making them for eons. When I asked one of my date’s, who is a non local, for their honest feedback, his take was, “True dive bar, hole in the wall, really cool place, wish I had tried some food, Bloody Mary was great and the beer was cold,” maybe he can make that review #758.

    If you have not been to Riley’s, go.

    If you have visited, take the time to enjoy it again.

    You can check an answer off your list when asked by a local if you have experienced Rileys. Added bonus, you can sit outside, soak up some sun and your hair wont smell like cigarettes.

    2013-May.

    Carol Holloway, Boss Babe supreme and one hell of a Woman- Previous Owner of Servpro Of Midland/Odessa.

    Peace- J.

  • For the LOVE of Teeth.

    Cue the “Jaws” theme song.

    My girls are super stars at the Dentist. My sister needs a tranquilizer for her visits, mom seemed to oddly enjoy the torture and dad could care less, it is basic oral health for him.

    Myself, I was in and out of the Orthodontist through out childhood. Our parents made sure our teeth were always healthy. I would excitedly sneak “junk,” when visiting a friend’s home due to the lack of sugary snacks under our roof.

    I never had an issue with the Dentist, until I did. My issue was not with the Dentist, the cleaning process or potential issues.

    My issue was me.

    I had an eating disorder.

    This life sucking disease took hold of me my senior year of high school, I allowed myself to stay in it’s clutch, on and off for 15 years.

    Yeah. 15. FUCKING. YEARS.

    Potential origins that have surfaced through therapy sessions will be covered in a later post. Grab the popcorn.

    The eating disorder I chose was Bulimia. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bulimia/symptoms-causes/syc-20353615

    Want to take a guess at what repetitive vomiting over the course of 15 years does to your teeth? Acid wears your teeth down. Irony in the form of a demon.

    A normal looking gal with a dark secret. Sounds like a tagline to a murder mystery thriller.

    Bulimia is a tragic disease, like alcoholism. As my wise Father would say, “It is that 800 pound Gorilla that sits at the front of the line, every time.”

    in 2017, through the help of innate self control that had been absent and the realization that I was now in charge of another soul surviving, I was able beat that Gorilla to a pulp. Slit it’s throat. Then burn it. Leaving nothing, not even ashes; those blew away in the West Texas Wind. Why not just bury it? Because, I could dig that up.

    What a FREE FEELING. To have something so sinister let go of it’s claws around your soul.

    I can live. I can love myself again. and I do.

    In December of 2024, I finally made a decision to fix my teeth.

    The reason it took me to long to take care of the canines? Your psyche get affected when you tiptoe over shards of glass for so long. We can jump into that hole at a future point.

    However, I was finally ok to look someone in the face and tell them my teeth were a mess.

    I was ok to tell them WHY.

    I was ok to break down and helplessly cry in the dentist office.

    The wall of shame that was so high, hard and humiliating could finally crumble down into the rubble, where it stays.

    I am forever grateful for the love, compassion and empathy that Colleen and her staff showed me. The vivacity I have for my Dentist is undeniable. They will ALWAYS hold a special spot in my heart that no one else will touch. They will hold that spot because they helped heal it.

    Cue the “Rocky” theme song.