“Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful.” | |||||
 Thich Nhat Hanh
To my mom who is the most beautiful and giving person I know. You are the kindest and most giving person I know and I am touched by it and inspired by you every day. I hope to be the love and gentleness you show the world.
Shopping for flowers, you putting up with my craziness....black thunderclouds and I decide to take my Jeep and a dog. It's never boring with me anyway.....thank you for laughing and loving it, it will forever be one of my favorite days!!!
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Monday, May 28, 2012
Blog: Your Smile
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Face Your Barracuda
I spend a lot of time talking about fear, other people’s fear, mostly. It comes with my occupation and it is often our greatest motivator and our greatest barrier.
If you ask people why they feel fear in the absence of actual danger, their answers are usually related to past experiences, rejection, failure, judgement, and a whole list of negative emotions and thoughts. I call these the easy answers, they are used so often they have almost become cliches. I was recently in a professional setting and another therapist commented on how a client was not growing because of fear of change. The tone of the therapist was just shy of condecending which angered me as much as his comment. No kidding the client is afraid of change, welcome to the human race. Anyone who says they are not is either not being fully honest, or numb. Good or bad, change provokes fear. However we live in a therapy culture where statements like this have become cliched and when they are spoken, people nod their head knowingly. I think our fear is more than the tired statements which are easy to accept.
When I feel fear, after I am done reacting with the full intensity of my personality, I try to figure out what it is that I am afraid of. It sounds like a healthy trait and it is, however if I am being completely honest, I despise something else having control over me. Which is the basic truth behind my tendency to tackle fear head on. I can also be guilty of coming up with the easy answers at times, but when I challenge myself to dig through the deeper and real layers, the common demoninator is almost always about me. I find myself innately worried and afraid that that I am not good enough, or perhaps I don't belong anywhere or somehow someone will see who I really am and that part of me will be exposed. Keep in mind this is not a rational process, it has the emotional intensity of a tropical storm although this is not visible from the outside.
The center stage for my fear these days has
Friday, May 18, 2012
Being Real
"Real isn't how you are made", said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.""Does it hurt?""Sometimes," said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
The Velveteen Rabbit
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Grace
On a daily basis my job is to listen to people ask painful questions
about their value, their worth, their purpose. I am no different, I ask myself
the same questions. I wonder sometimes
how vulnerable and authentic I really have the ability to be. On stage teaching a fitness class, in front
of a room of students with my curriculum ready, or in a therapy session connecting with someone, I can choose my vulnerability
carefully, selecting it with caution.
As someone who spends her life and if fact makes it part of
my mission statement to connect with others and help them reach beyond their safe
zone, how vulnerable can I be?
I am a complicated person and my life has few linear lines. My life is messy and chaotic, split in too
many directions, none of which I could imagine giving up. For those who know me, I am sure the
revelation that I wanted to be at least ten different things comes as no
surprise. An avid reader from early
childhood, I explored amazing worlds through books which sparked my interest
and curiosity.
Early in life I knew what I wanted to be, I just couldn’t
decide because the list was too long. I
wanted to ride horses, and be a cowgirl dancer.
I wanted to work in the rodeo but maybe work for the FBI. I would be an archaeologist and a lawyer, but then
again I really dreamed of being a writer or maybe an artist. I wanted to travel the world, be beautiful
and graceful and when I was really old, at least 30, I would get married and
maybe have children.
The world of books and my naturally creative mind gave me
dreams, but the world of reality gave me something much different. In fact if I am to tell the complete truth,
by the age of 6 some of those dreams had already been shattered. I lived in a world in which a college
education was a farfetched dream and to finish high school was a big deal. My
world didn’t have time for nurturing dreams and creativity, it was one of
survival, chaos, and violence. Even as
I write these words I start to squirm because this feels somehow a bit too
authentic and vulnerable. I have an avid
aversion to ever sounding like anything from a daytime talk show and when others
share their stories in a public way, I find myself fighting the contempt of judgment.
So I have always hugged the other end of the continuum, not talking about it at all.
I was thankfully blessed
with stubbornness and grit which has helped and hurt me in life. In a fairy tale world, these traits would
have given me a happy ending and I would have beaten the odds and lived happily
ever. I didn’t get the fairy tale, my story
was a different kind of book .
By the age of 15 I
decided if I were to survive I needed to move out of my home. What followed was an initial attempt to stay
in high school and pay rent. Finally needing to decide between dropping out of
school or working as a way to stay on my own, I sealed my fate for the next few
years. I had always been an above
average student and although already in an alternative school by that time, I
continued to get straight A’s and loved to learn. Because of this walking out of school with my
withdrawal papers was a painful and shameful experience.
It becomes difficult when you are anchored with shame to
live a purposeful life or to live a life
of value. Within a year I had made
choices that would alter the course of my entire life. At 17 I had moved to a foreign country, was
engaged to a man 9 years older than I and had no direction or purpose of my
own. Fear of my future with him allowed
me to briefly call off the engagement, but it lasted only as long as a persuasive
phone call from him. We were married one
month later, I was less than a month over 18.
The clichés’ could not be more painful when I describe my wedding night. I watched him get drunk with his friends from
the base and tell me that I hadn’t looked as fat as
normal. I was 1500 miles away from any
family or friends, it was before cell
phones and accessible internet or email, and I was horrifyingly stuck. I find myself wanting to back away from the vulnerability
I feel when I describe the utter despair I felt. For months with no phone, no car, no job and
no high school diploma watching him leave for work every day I wondered what I would do to get through the
day and what my future was. I am not
proud of the way I escaped, lying to an elderly man to get Greyhound bus fare,
telling him my mom was sick. Promising
to pay it back knowing I would never see him or step foot in that bayou again,
I added to my list of shame. Many events
followed including a near terminal illness, a hospital stay which meant my then
husband found where I was living and many other events that come with living a
life of hopelessness. Through it all I found myself returning to
the little dreams that would be my big dreams.
A GED, a divorce, a place of my
own where I wasn’t afraid, a home that I could call my own.
When people ask about my marathons and races, the questions
that seem to be the most common are how
and where does it come from. People are genuinely curious about the desire
to push to limits. They seem to hope for a simple answer that will give them the formula to replicate some aspect of it. I don’t ever have a good answer for the question
often wishing myself for the answer. I can only guess and those answers are likely to change by tomorrow. My best guess is this. I know that my mistakes in life have shown me exactly who I do not want to be. I know that when I allow myself to be totally and completely, vulnerable, authentic, connected and genuine I somehow feel better despite my urge to cover my emotional nakedness.
I know that the stubbornness, defiance, resilience and determination
I have are not things I get to claim. I
have them by grace and my moments of defining decisions in life have fine-tuned
them. I have at times hurt myself and
others with them.
There are times when I experience flashes of clarity and
joy. I have learned to celebrate and
cherish these moments and know that when they come there is a message I need to
listen to. I had a moment yesterday
when I pulled in to my driveway after
too many hours of work especially for a Saturday.
Chronically tired these days and overwhelmed with a list which grows
bigger every day I felt drained. But as I pulled in I felt a tug from the
past. That scared, hopeless and homeless kid, the one without a diploma,
stuck in a no win world, tapped my shoulder and reminded me that as tired as I
am , I am a long way from my roots. She
reminded me that I am tired from a long day of working at my own damn agency. She reminded me that I have been this tired
before. The fighting that got me here is the reason that I am the first person
in my family to go to college, that I was the first to even get a GED. She reminded me that the house I was pulling
into with its beautiful country view, wide open space and three amazing dogs
waiting for me, was better than the homelessness of my early years. She reminded me that with bad odds I have
raced through China and Africa and half the United States. I am so much more than my early years
promised and so much more that 15 year old walking out of high school for the
last time filled with shame.
I sat in my driveway with tears running down my face and
wondered how the hell I had made it here and why ? I thought of the woman I met with earlier in
the week who talked about the other women who have it all together and how she
feels so inadequate.
My headfirst dive into vulnerability in writing this is to
be as real and authentic as I can be and to honor the process I encourage
others to take every day. The people
around you don’t have it together , sometimes they just have a better
cover. I will forever be that homeless
vagabond kid, fighting the shame of being a dropout and a life of poor choices.
I hear the voice so many others hear asking “who do you think you are?”
challenging my dream of being loved, being accepted and being good enough.
I hear this voice when I dream of what I want. I want someone to cherish me and to be loved fiercely
and passionately. I want that one
certain person to fall head over heels for me, just the way I am. I want to feel the certainty of knowing I am good enough when my dogs come running and are
overjoyed to see me. I want to connect with others and share moments and feel the peace of
acceptance. I want to exist with grace
and to live each day judgment. I want to be daring enough to show the real me,
with my scars and my shame. In my risk
to be fully authentic I want to find
love and peace and connection. And I
want to know that I didn’t put on a shiny cover, and that in that act I allowed
someone else to find the peace that comes with being as authentic as you can
be.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Serendipity and Friendship
My Letter to Craig
Don’t you wish you knew ahead of time the moment’s that were about to change your life? Not the bad things of course, just the good ones. The moments which seem to fall into the category of random or chance and later you realize that although you were minding your own business, by chance something amazing had just happened. The problem with these moments of serendipity is they are almost always seen in retrospect and rarely apparent in the moment. It is one of those moments that I look back on and wish I had been able to appreciate the significance of the exact moment I was about to gain an amazing friend.
On a Monday morning more than four years ago, you walked into my Core class at the gym. You looked familiar, and I made the connection to the café casually mentioning it after class as I was packing up my things.
I really can’t describe our relationship from that moment on, mostly because it feels as though we have always been friends. I recall the moment we met, but struggle to imagine a time when you were not in my life. There wasn’t a moment we decided to be friends or evaluated our fit, you were there and we just were. You seemed to fit effortlessly into my life despite our major life differences which should have made it challenging. Over the past few years our lives have connected so thoroughly, we have too many mutual friends to count, and so many shared experiences that the reminders are everywhere. From the paint on my walls, the millions of words we have shared, to the trails I run, and the love you have for my dogs, there is not a part of me you have not touched. As I said good bye to you today, I made it just inside the house before I sat on the floor and cried so hard my body hurt. I cried until the pain in my head forced me to move although the pain in my heart was still overwhelming and suffocating.
You are a once in a lifetime friend, and even though this hurts so much more than I imagined, I am so very grateful to have you as a friend. I realize as you pack a truck and move across the country that I won’t lose your friendship, but I will lose so much in your companionship and the special gift of comfort, love, laughter, sharing and joy you give to me.
You have added to my life in a way I never dreamed possible. Memories have been flooding my head and heart over the last few days since you decided to move and I have cried a hundred times. My tears are selfish, I don’t want to feel this loss and don’t want you to be so far away. It is my own need for what you give in friendship that makes me wish you had turned down the job and stayed. My running routes will never be the same and when I finally bullied you off the treadmill to cautiously try running outside, you quickly outran me in a way I predicted immediately. Your running addiction rivals mine. I drove past Millie’s tonight and started to cry remembering our breakfast, shivering in our wet running clothes and your look of horror at the tiny pancakes that came with your breakfast. I cry as I remember the love you gave Annabelle in those rides down to Madison for chemo and how you showed up at 5:00 am on those Monday's as a friend to make the trip, giving her hugs and kisses all the way. I remember telling you after my last surgery that you had to stop bringing daily bakery plates, and how our Sunday morning runs became walks and then walk/runs as I worked at healing . I think of all of the times that without production you were simply and quietly there for me, often before I even knew it or knew I needed it. I laugh when I think of trying to convince you to go camping and your horror in the lack of toilet facilities. How many times have I told you what a diva you are! I can’t stand the thought of summer without the things we do together. Of not being able to see you at the gym, go for a run, have dinner, sit for hours talking and share the beauty and comfort of a friendship and connection.
What will I do without you? The hole you will leave will be impossible to fill and at this moment it seems at though the pain will be infinite. I know I am asking the same question that many others are asking. I watched tonight how many people were moved to tears by the thought of you leaving and how they couldn’t form words because they were too choked up. I witnessed the love so many other’s have for you and how much you touch each person you meet. You are a once in a lifetime friend not just to me, but to many. You are an amazing man and I wondered today if I have been the same kind of friend to you, and if I have given you the same things you have given me.
In your absence, I am going to send you messages when I think of the things that remind me of all the shared memories. I will tell you the sadness I feel when I am wishing you were here, and the smiles when I remember the good times. I will send these not to cause pain or guilt, but so you are reminded how deeply you are missed and how much you are a part of my life.
My emotional intensity has never been subtle and I do not seem to have a neutral zone in me. I am terrible at being vulnerable, more likely to threaten to punch someone in the face than show weakness. I love as passionately as I fight and I am cautious when letting people into my life. Without quite knowing how it happened you became such an integral part of my life that I have no defenses. Today, saying goodbye I cried openly and felt the loss so deep it was overwhelming. I love you my friend and my pain is a testament to the amazing man you are.
The last year of my life has been a test of my strength on so many levels and in an effort to recover and to maintain my equilibrium I have had to work more hours than humanly possible and have lost precious moments. In retrospect of course I wish I could have spent more time with you and although I know I have been doing what I need to do, I still wish we could have spent more time together.
Thank you for walking into my class and my life and for being an amazing man and my best friend. Thank you for sharing so many amazing moments with me and for being so genuine and real. I have such gratitude for you and I am reminded frequently that I can only hope to be the kind of friend you are. You have some challenges in your life right now that will be life altering and I hope I will be the kind of friend you have been to me. I am grateful more than you know that you have a partner to share this journey with you and to share the adventure with. As you head out to your new home and begin your new life, trust yourself. You are one of the truest people I know.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
2012 ~Back to the Start
I don’t usually make NY resolutions, I don’t believe in using one date out of the year to make changes. As a health professional I find the idea of focusing one week a year on growth and goals crazy. Why aren’t we doing this every week? I often point out to my clients that they generally spend more time planning their vacations and picking out a car than on their personal goals.
My best thinking happens while I am running, and often by the time I get home from a run I am overflowing with ideas, goals, plans, people I want to talk to, articles I want to write, things I want to create. I lose some of them in the transition of rushing to shower and getting out the door, but the big ones I keep long enough to talk into my phone on my way to work.
2012 will be one of my biggest challenges and one I have been thinking about often the last few weeks. As January 1st approaches, I will be once again starting to train for Ironman Wisconsin. Déjà, I was here last year. I am now $1200 into registration for a race I have not done, and one I am quite sure I don’t have a chance in hell of completing. “What the hell am I thinking?” is the recurring thought that keeps looping through my head. I am not strong enough, not conditioned enough and not sure I am able to fight hard enough. I can’t swim, yes I said can’t. The furthest I have ever swam is a quarter mile, the last time I was able to ride seriously I needed help getting off my bike because once bent I couldn’t straighten on my own. My running mileage total this year is the same as one month last year! Again what the hell am I thinking? I know and I believe beyond any doubt that I cannot do this. Yet as I organize my planner for 2012, my training plan is in there and along with everything else I have in my life I will begin the process. This year, unlike last year I don’t even have an endurance base to build from so starting from scratch takes on a whole new meaning.
Mapping out my calendar, my first week of January looks like this. Teach at the college two days, work at my clinic 4 days, work at the EAP office 2 days, work at Gold’s 4 days, 3 social engagements, 2 little boys at home that are more exhausting than all those things combined, 3 dogs that I love to spend time with….and somewhere in there did I mention I need to start training for a race I am sure I can’t do. I am convinced I am on the wrong side of the desk in the therapy department.
I have been here before though and know that what I can’t see today does not mean the same thing as impossible. I know that what I am not capable of today, is not a life sentence and that God willing I will get to the starting line and God willing I will be upright crossing the finish line. When I was weeks from leaving for Africa and so sure I could not possibly do this I reached out to someone who had been a huge support and has wisdom beyond human capabilities. Ray Zahab is an amazing man who has an amazing spirit. He said all the right things and he was completely right in this prediction. He told me at the start of the race I would be too scared to breathe, and in the middle of the race I would wonder what the hell I was doing t here. But there would be moments where I would look around and realize the beauty of them moment and be amazed that I was. He said at the end when I crossed the finish line it would be the best feeling in the world and in moments I would start to plan my next race. He was right. Knowing this I will not make resolutions, rather I will focus on results. And when the negative thoughts, doubts and fears take up residence in my brain I will know they are there, and know that despite my efforts to quiet them they will return a hundred times. But they won’t stop me from training and theyMonday, December 26, 2011
Where are you Christmas?
Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can't I hear music play
You used to bring me
Why can't I hear music play
My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too
Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go
Three days before Christmas, driving home, I listened to Faith Hill sing these words. Its been one of my favorite Christmas songs since I first saw The Grinch. I was tired in a way that can only be from days that are too long and stress that is too much. I felt the lump in my throat and my chest start to tighten and without the energy to fight it I cried most of the way home. It has been such a crazy year of crazy. I thought about my world and truly how much everything was rearranging. Last year at this time I had a plan mapped out and my goals were laid out in front of me. Yet despite my plans so much had changed that I barely recognized my own life some days. Physcially, I am fighting back again from another surgery that I hadn’t expected. I am a foster mother to a 4 and 7 year old set of boys with special needs, 9 months into this “couple months” placement with no clear ending in sight. My workload is busier than it has ever been and balance is a getting more than five hours sleep a night. I lost my dog, people have left my life and some days I am not sure where I belong in my own life. I have friends I am too tired to call, and despite my faith, church has become something I do if there is time left over. I am drained and empty, having giving everything to everyone else during the course of the day, and as I fall into bed I count the scarcity of the hours until the alarm goes off. I could get a bit more sleep if I skipped my morning run, but in the complete darkness running with Ellie before work, I can believe there is a me in there somewhere. I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too
Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go
Christmas has always been an emotionally chaotic time for me, sometimes high and sometimes low. I didn’t embrace the season and it’s celebrations until I was well into adulthood and it took several decades of seeking my own meaning and celebrations to find joy and peace in it. It was a hard fought battle to let go of what my Christmas had been as a child and intentionally make a decision to live it with a different meaning. This was most challenging when my dad died nine days before Christmas in 2005, but I held onto the meaning of the season, the connection, the love that people share a bit more openly this time of the year.
Except this year, I couldn’t seem to find it. This year I was so overwhelmed with the changes in my life, the uncertainty and the fight that I felt numb and empty. Along with those painful feelings I retained just enough awareness to be angry that I couldn’t quite get there even though I wanted to. I sometimes remind myself that even Mother Teresa questioned her faith at times, and it comforts me on a rational level, but it does not quiet the emotional hurricane that sweeps through me in times of struggle.
Except this year, I couldn’t seem to find it. This year I was so overwhelmed with the changes in my life, the uncertainty and the fight that I felt numb and empty. Along with those painful feelings I retained just enough awareness to be angry that I couldn’t quite get there even though I wanted to. I sometimes remind myself that even Mother Teresa questioned her faith at times, and it comforts me on a rational level, but it does not quiet the emotional hurricane that sweeps through me in times of struggle.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Moments and Peace
MY MOMENTS, MY QUESTIONS, MY PEACE
The past six months have been a whirlwind of frantic days, increasing workload and a sense of losing any grasp of order in my life. A short term placement of two little boys which happened on the heels of my unexpected surgery, took my already chaotic life to a new level of insanity. The past month has been even more hectic and my long days even longer. These days the moments of sanity I manage to get are infrequent. They typically come when I am doing one of the things I love most, teaching fitness, coaching, or running and training.
Lately, most days I am a bit closer to that than I am comfortable with. I continuously remind myself of the big picture and that despite my questions I need to rely on God’s plan. Some days this works and other’s I have to just try to run it away.
Last weekend I headed out for a run with Ellie. Ellie is so many things to me, but of all the things she gives me, a running partner tops the list. Maggie at 7 months is still too young to run and Tanner at age 12 is just too tired. Aside from her energy which reminds me of a Tasmanian devil, Ellie has been my security blanket as I eased back into running after surgery. She is the presence that keeps me feeling confident when I am a few miles from home, safe on the trails, and present when I could be feeling alone. My brief but frightening stalker from last year no longer worries me as much and the doubt of getting back home from the run is less daunting. Within a week of her joining my life this year, the sound of the leash brings her running and literally dancing at my feet. Our routine was established almost immediately and the sight of me grabbing my running shorts sends her into frenzy.
As I headed out with Ellie this last week, I was irritable, anxious and stressed. My weekend had no less than six social engagements, two little boys that were going to be bat crazy after a home visit with their mom and more paperwork waiting for me than I can do in a month. On top of all that, it was 30 degrees and raining. I absolutely love running in the summer rain and will do a go out of my way to run on a warm rainy day. Winter rain is different and I tend to find it miserable and painful. But Ellie had too much energy and I couldn’t stand the thought of the treadmill. Because of the rain and temperatures I decided to drive to the start of the trail, seeking out the protection of the woods. I got dressed and grabbed a leash, and Ellie who doesn’t care for the rain at all, was so excited she could barely sit still in the Jeep. My obligations the last two weeks have affected some of our runs so she had way too much energy. We got to the trails and I was surprised to see how muddy they were. In the insulation of my office and work from pre-dawn to late evenings I had forgotten how much rain we had this week. We took off and I didn’t even bother dodging puddles as we wound through the woods. We were a bit more protected in the shelter of the trees but not so much that it kept us dry. I had just barely an hour to run and although I wasn’t really measuring distance, I turned on my GPS anyway. As I warmed up and we ran the familiar ground, I found myself allowing Ellie a few more stops to explore the smells and explore, and eventually I turned off my GPS. I lost interest in my pace and distance, and when Ellie’s attention wandered to the side of the trail I stopped more than usual. I walked up the hills, stopped fighting my heart rate and gravity, and allowed Ellie to set the pace. We slowed for sticks and sprinted for squirrels and listened to noises. We were splattered from head to toe in mud, soaking wet and had to entire trail to ourselves. When I finally looked at my watch I realized we had been running for 90 minutes. I was well past my schedule and yet knowing how tight my schedule was, didn’t pick up my pace and even took a small detour to allow Ellie to sniff the shore of a pond. I was reluctant to end the run and felt unsettled.
It took a few minutes to figure out what I was feeling and I realized it was sadness at ending our morning out there. I wanted to stay in that place all day and just meander through the mud and the rain. I wanted to capture the moment and the contentment I had found in the rain and mud. I felt physical tightness in my throat and chest as I finally turned around and headed in. Ellie must have been feeling the same things I was. Normally after that long on the trails, she is ready to drink some water and get her post run snack. Not this morning though. As I toweled off her muddy legs, she kept pulling against me trying to head back toward the trail. She kept looking at me and I knew she could likely sense how much I wanted to go too. She and I shared our usual banana on the way home and I thought about the difference in this morning’s run.
I am not sure I can explain in any way that does it justice. I know this though. I spend every hour of every day trying to achieve, to be better, to do well, to be a good person, to help others. I spend the hours of my life asking questions, of myself, my life, my faith, my past, my future and of others. I live in a state of relentless drive, to propel myself forward in a universe filled with the pull of gravity. I am never far from the street kid, homeless half my life and living on my own at fifteen, proving to the world that she would not allow her past to be her future.
In the woods, with Ellie none of those things matter and I am the closest I can be to letting go. It doesn’t matter who I was then, and the fear goes away. Ellie, who was so badly beaten she was blinded, trap marks around her backside and so scared of strangers she pees herself, lives in the moment. In her presence, she gives me a beautiful gift, because I am able to do the same. I find peace in the moments, silence in my questions and a wisdom that is more intuitive than intellectual. This amazing four legged girl, so badly treated by others, can love the moment, living in just the smells, the trails, the run. With her along side me, I am at least content knowing my futile attempts at controlling my world can rest for a moment. A fairly popular sticker reads “Who Rescued Who” and there is no doubt in my mind she rescues me, moment by moment, day by day. Defined by too many roles, tugged at by too many people and fighting with too many demons, I lose sight of the battles on our runs. She turns and looks up at me with her blind eye squinting against the rain and her tongue hanging out, and she is a reminder of the love and loyalty in my life and that I get to do this. For the moment I find peace and the moment gets me through another day.
 |
| My Buddies |
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
A Weekend for Me
Just 48 hours ago the weekend stretched out ahead of me with the selfish pleasure to do whatever I wanted. I was about to enjoy two short days of just me and my three dogs. Friday night arrived and I found myself conflicted between my overwhelming desire to sink in to the quiet of my home, but also to dive into everything I wanted to accomplish. With my two foster boys at a respite home for the weekend, I wanted to hoard every moment and stretch it to its fullest capacity. But I also wanted to avoid the pressure of any expectations and truly have a break from any kind of pressure or demands. In my life of achieving, accomplishing, performing, meeting expectations, answering others needs and most days also failing, missing and neglecting, I was checking out. I had decided I was not going to worry about anything but enjoying the moments.
I had been looking forward to Friday night with the enthusiasm of a child waiting for Christmas. When it was finally here I wanted to enjoy every moment of it and savor each second. I was greedy in my need to squeeze every bit of pleasure of out of the solitude and the absence of little boys demanding attention from me.
A list person by nature, I had decided I would absolutely not make a list for the weekend. But I admit to having an informal list in my head and if I had to outline my informal list, it included these things.
ü Spend as much time as possible with my three dogs that I adore. I frequently feel a bit cheated at the end of my long days, and never get tired of hanging out with them. To actually play with them instead of trying to frantically make sure they get some exercise at the beginning and end of my long days.
ü Reading-actual reading just for the love of it and nothing I needed to educate myself on, educate someone else about, or know for morning
ü Sort the mountains of paperwork that are piled throughout my house, from my office to my chair by the window, to the dining room which doubles as my desk when I need to be downstairs, to the briefcase that is so heavy I can barely lift it. Keep in mind much of this paperwork includes articles which I can’t wait to read and never seem to get a moment for.
ü To rifle through my notebook in which I jot all the random phrases that push into my thoughts. These are tidbits I jot as I am in the midst of something else, always thinking how much I would love to expand on the thought. To spend time indulging my love of writing and lose myself in exploring the words and thoughts.
ü To stay as far away as possible from the ridiculous amount of paperwork that taunts me on a daily basis.
ü To keep plans for Saturday night despite my knowledge that I am feeling obsessive about spending as much time at home as possible. I love my home and feel as though it is a long distance relationship, in which I constantly long for physical connection.
ü To spend time with my mom who is always so patient and who never complains when days go by with only a few minutes for rushed phone calls, usually punctuated by telling my foster boys to stop doing whatever they are doing.
ü To go the entire weekend without worrying about anyone’s needs but my own, except for my dogs of course.
ü To organize and straighten my home gym so my rushed 5:00 am workouts can be more effective and I feel a semblance of peace while I am in it.
ü To email and call no less than 18 people that I have not talked to in way too long. Ok at least 3 people!
ü To get up at least one hour later each day just because I didn’t have to take care of anyone else.
ü To enjoy my workouts for the sake of my own personal and physical accomplishment, rather than planning and coordinating someone else’s workout.
So how did I do? My weekend of solitude started at 7:00 pm Friday night and I was due to pick the boys up by 6:00 pm Sunday night. I had just 48 hours to do all this and to relax!
Friday night when I didn’t get home until 7:00 pm I was comforted by the fact that I at least had 3-4 hours left of my day. My usual bedtime lately has been between 10:30 and 11:00. Often I look at the clock and force myself to get to bed only because I am aware of how tired I am when 4:00 am comes. Except on Friday night, the peacefulness of the house and the lack of demands lulled me into an early bedtime. I was almost comatose by 9:00p.m. and sound asleep hours earlier than usual.
My plan to sleep an hour later Saturday morning was spoiled by two of the three dogs having a wrestling match on the bed that shook the room! Their internal alarm was outraged that it was a few minutes past 4:00 am and they hadn’t been fed. By the time I let them outside, wrestled them away from each others food dishes, making sure the puppy got all of her food, I was wide awake. Oh well I counted it as one of the hours I missed out on by falling asleep early.
The rest of the weekend went much the same, with every single thing I had “planned” somehow being realigned in some way. Most things on my list, I didn’t even get close to and by the time I picked the boys up tonight I wondered what I had done with my weekend. My days had vanished and I was not sure where it had gone.
If I count the checks on the list, the weekend was almost a complete failure. Of the massive list I started with, I accomplished only a few things, failing miserably in my unofficial list for the weekend.
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ut when I tried to figure out where the weekend had gone this is what stood out to me:
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Taking Chances and Living Naked
There was a race I signed up for in 2008 with the intention of using it as a training event for my marathon in China. The Great Wall Marathon was reputed to be one of the most challenging in the world, partially because of the 5164 steps. I decided a 103 story race up Sears Tower would be great practice so I trained, I climbed and I stepped for a month before heading to Chicago. Sunday morning I was scheduled to start at 9:00 am with no idea what to expect, I was excited about spending a weekend in Chicago. My procrastination in booking a hotel left few options, so instead of staying downtown I settled for a hotel near the airport.
The reminder of how quickly life can change became even clearer on the way to dinner. The night before the race, a group of us were getting together for dinner. I climbed in the backseat of a car, glad I didn’t have to drive for once, as we headed to the restaurant. Less than five minutes from the hotel, I had no idea how much things were about to change. The discussion in the car was about planes, triggered by the busy sky so close to O’Hare and general conversation somehow became reality as we were hit from behind without warning. An explosion shattered the rear window and I remember thinking the car had been hit by an airplane and it was coming thorough the back window. I could hear screams, glass shattering and metal screeching, but I remember being very confused about what was happening. When we finally stopped moving I recall seeing broken glass all over me and I was wondering what had happened. I couldn’t wrap my head around any logical thought and it was as though my brain could not catch up to real time or to physical sensations.
Somewhere in the process, between the accident and the hospital I learned we had been hit by a 19 year old, driving his parent’s Corvette. People who saw the accident said he was drag racing and weaving in and out of lanes. A firefighter had seen him heading toward us and estimated his speeds were more than 80 mph. From my position in the backseat and pictures I saw later, it explained the explosion behind my head, although I can’t understand how I survived.
After an ambulance ride to the hospital and several hours in the worst emergency room I have ever seen, I was released in the middle of the night. My friend, who was there to do the race with me, was the person who picked glass out of my head. I saw the doctor at the time of admission and not once after that. The pain was a screaming, living thing that had taken up residence in every cell of my body. The pain was so intense it was impossible to focus on any one thing, so I focused on my anger and my fear. I was angry at the driver’s recklessness and I was angry I was being cheated out of doing the Tower Climb. I lay in the hotel bed for a couple of hours, unable to sleep and not knowing what to do with myself. I was conflicted internally and couldn’t seem to find a place I didn’t hurt physically and emotionally. Yet I also was so completely consumed with how different things could have turned out and the reality of life’s fragile state, which was completely at odds with my other emotions. I had reassured everyone that I was not doing the climb and I would call them in the morning when I woke up. Through the early morning hours, wide awake, hurting and yet grateful, I spent a lot of time wishing. I wished again and again it hadn’t happened and the night had been different. I was in Chicago because of a spinal fusion and my effort to recover, yet I was in more pain than before. I thought about a lot of things, deep and meaningful life questions that come naturally with glimpse of your own mortality. Throughout my recovery I had been unwilling to accept someone else’s opinion about what I was physically capable of doing and I questioned if this should be different. I knew nobody would agree with my decision, but at some point during those hours I knew one thing. I realized that if in fact I was going to choose my life and my circumstances, it meant doing so in the most challenging of moments also. By the time 5 am came I was both furious and calm. It felt so unfair, that someone else’s actions, beyond my control were going to take something from me that I valued.
I decided I could either accept the situation, or confront it and write my own ending to the story. Desire and fear are powerful motivators of action and for me I was feeling both. I had an urge to live my day, knowing how quickly it could be taken. I wanted to be true to the determination and passion that had brought me here in the first place. And with every breath I took I felt fear. I worried about the long term impact of the accident. Getting out of bed, I was physically unable to lift my head off the pillow without using my hands to pick it up. I could hardly swallow, the muscles in my neck hurt so badly. I couldn’t eat and taking a drink was enough to make me scream. The act of getting up and getting dressed was so painful it made me question my decision. I managed to take Tylenol and headed downtown, lining up at the door of the stairway without sleep or food and barely able to dress myself. I was consumed with pain and nausea and although I couldn’t fathom getting myself up 103 stories, I couldn’t imagine not trying.
I did it, climbing 2109 steps. I had no benchmark to gauge it by, and I might not have done as well as I could have. I did hit my two main goals though, I finished and I didn’t throw up. My satisfaction had nothing to do with the race, and nothing to do with my time. I felt a deep sense of pride in taking the moment, defining it on my own terms and fighting for it. I would never look back on this and wonder if it were a chance I could have taken.
It is easier to face a challenge in ideal circumstances, like the ones I had at the start of the weekend. I had trained, I was with friends, and had prepared for the event. But in that one moment, the reality of how little you can actually prepare for life and how little control you have was clear. That was where my emotion was living and life reflection is impossible to avoid. It is impossible to not ask yourself questions about how you have lived and what you will do with the day you have in front of you.
In Steve Jobs famous Stanford speech he said “Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”
He was right, with the wisdom only experience can give you. Everything I had prepared for, my expectations, my time goal, none of it mattered. It didn’t even matter if I failed to get to the top, because at least I could make a decision to start. In that moment I did feel naked, naked of all pretenses, stripped so bare and so vulnerable by the closeness of death that nothing else mattered. I was emotionally naked and without guard. That can be a frightening place to be, and since then I have made an effort to live life with less pretense and fewer masks. I remind myself the things I worry about are really not all that troublesome and what I am stressed about today will be forgotten tomorrow.
This year has been a year of challenges and decisions. In 4 days I will again line up for the climb. The tower is now the Willis Tower and I have since completed races around the world. I have also had another spinal fusion and am currently in the early stages of recovering from this. I will line up at the door of the staircase feeling challenged, physically disadvantaged, and unprepared. I am fearful of how my body will respond and what kind of setbacks I might feel. At the end of the day, my time for the climb won’t define me and neither will much else about this year. The issues that seem so big today will fade but what will define me are the decisions I make about how I live my life, my gratitude for today and how honestly I live my life.
I know the importance of showing up and facing the challenge. Steve Jobs spoke about living life naked and this is often my biggest challenge. Because it means I will take chances, face challenges and jump over the edge with only faith to catch me. I can admit I would like to be someone other than me some days, and on other days I don’t care. I can embrace all the parts of me that make me who I am, including my weaknesses, and always be ready to say to hell with what I should do. I embrace my passions knowing the reward and thrill of life when you are fully open. I dream it, live it, love it and am thankful for it. If you have ever been on a roller coaster, jumped out of a plane or made a decision to leap with all your heart straight out of your comfort zone, you know the thrill. There is nothing like it and only in that moment when nothing is certain are you fully open and naked. None of us can say for sure where we will be tomorrow, next week or even in the next moment. I hope along the way I become the person I want to be, and I hope I show the world the person I really am. Nobody expected me to do the race and no one would have blamed me for not doing it. But it wasn’t about what anyone thought of me for doing it or not doing it, it was about stepping into my decision and owning my life. It was about my ability to show up even on the days when life isn’t fair and the cards you are dealt are bad. Sunday, as I line up to run 103 flights of stairs I will carry this with me, knowing whatever the outcome, in my faith and in my life I am following my heart.
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| They get it right every time! |
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