Sharing stories

I love stories.  I love to tell stories, love to hear stories and love to remember stories.  My dad used to have us stand on the bricks of the fireplace and tell an account of our day.  He made a rule that if we made any pregnant pauses or said “umm”, we had to start over from the very beginning.  I always started the same way, “I woke up at X:XXam, and umm…”  Buzz!  “I woke up at X:XXam, got out of bed, went to the bathroom, went back to change my clothes, and umm…”  Buzz!  I remember making such an effort to get at least one step further every time before I had to restart. I normally began laughing or was distracted by comments being made from the peanut gallery that I’m really not all that sure I ever finished recounting a day.  I also feel like we did this exercise a lot but maybe it was only a few times.  I just remember it really clearly because it was such a great challenge.  One summer we all had to earn $100 in spending money to take on a trip to Hawaii.  My sister did so and then spent very little of that $100 while we were on vacation.  My dad had her stand on the bricks to tell us why she didn’t spend her money when my brother and I had.  While I don’t remember a word she said, I remember laughing hysterically watching her up there. 

In my active alcoholism and addictions my daily goal was to just get ‘there’, meaning anywhere but where I was.  The strange thing about it though, was that once I was ‘there’, the goal remained the same… get me anywhere but here.  So the cycle went.  This cycle was the beginning of the end of my drinking and using.  My drinking, eating and insert behavior here just stopped working.  No amount of anything could keep me out of me, and I just wanted me to disappear.  Obviously, quite a contrast to the type of escape I get from hearing stories, but I just can’t imagine a better high than laughing so hard my sides split, my eyes water and I lose my breath so badly that I start coughing before I can regain control. 

So, the reason I bring this up is that last week my sister, brother-in-law, mom, dad, husband and I were all in my parents’ kitchen last week, when the retelling of my many ‘wake up fits’ began.  My sister has the imitation of me down so well that it brings the whole event to life all over again.  This time she was focused in on an evening that I woke up at around 7 and frantically ran into the kitchen.  I was getting out cereal and milk and slamming my bowl down on the sink when my mom or dad asked me what I was doing.  Completed exasperated, I screamed back “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING I’M TRYING TO EAT BREAKFAST AND I’M TOTALLY GOING TO FAIL MY TEST TODAY CAUSE I DIDN’T STUDY CAUSE I FELL ASLEEP I’M GOING TO FAIL!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING??!!!”  Family member, “Fran…”.  “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND I’M GOING TO FAIL!!” “Fran, it’s 7 o’clock at night, not in the morning”.  “WHAT WHAT?!”  I was still waking up so it didn’t sink in instantly, but several more moments and it clicked that my dad was home and they were eating dinner.  As my sister reenacted the scene, we all broke into fits of laughter.  What a great feeling.  On the way home, I just kept getting the giggles seeing images of her playing the whole thing through and then experience the laughter all over again as my husband was playing her imitation over with me later. 

Stories give me perspective. They allow me to laugh at myself and at things once heavy and consuming.  They remind me of the value that every moment can hold.  They show me another side of my friends and family.  They reveal my own growth and the strength and love of others.   They take me to another place and my emotions and thoughts shift completely. Tell your story.  Listen to the stories of others.  Take it from me, it’s tough to find a better experience. 

When life happens, I want to be there

As usual this holiday has inspired me to reflect on my experiences, my relationships, my health and my overall life perspectives.  I like to start with the shortest time frame, the closest things, and build out from there.  Generally this approach ensures I end on a positive note.  Maybe it’s the distance or the time that’s passed that allows me more of an open-minded outlook and more permission to view the older, wider scope stuff as positives.  That’s neither here nor there I guess so here we go…

Starting with the near and dear, this year feels like it’s been a rough one.  If nothing else, it’s been a change packed one and we all know how I do with change! Growing pains indeed!!!  I moved my home; lost a dear friend; changed jobs; welcomed my new nephew home J; had neck surgery; and got some life-changing news about my mom.   Those were the doozies.  Sprinkled through were the little things: I celebrated three years sober; I got to hear stories from some awesome women and be inspired by their strength again and again; I went camping with my husband, then with friends, then with more family; I giggled a lot with too many friends and family to count; I enjoyed the ups and downs of my high school divers and celebrated their new skills; Notre Dame is #1 and going for the National Championships in a couple short weeks, and I was there with my dad, bro and husband to watch them beat USC; I wore a crown on my birthday on a hiking trail; I reacquainted with friends of old; I was able to clean up a little more of the wreckage of my past and continue to feel more and more at peace with others; I got to enjoy a rad cousin day; I heard just last week my brother has delivered three babies (WHAT!!!??? He’s really going to be a doctor!); I called my mom and sister almost every weekday morning and heard them and the kiddos in all their morning glory.  I could keep going but suffice it to say life is happening and the coolest part is I’ve been there to experience it! 

If I take a walk away from all that and turn around to see the bigger, broader view, I’m just in complete and total awe at the gifts and love that seem to have been poured straight down on my head in the past year or 4 or 33.   I see how lucky and blessed I am.  Certainly in light of all the traumas and hardships that are happening around the world, my ‘changes’ seem luxurious and inspired.  My heart aches for those in pain, experiencing injustice and stricken with loss.  I want to fix the wrongs and the hurts and the grief, but of course I can’t.  It makes me wonder how I got so lucky.  I used to ask God why a lot.  “Why me God?  Why is it so hard God?  Why can’t it be different God?  Why can’t I just quit God?”  I had to stop asking why in order to allow myself to just live and do the next right thing.  So now as I’m asking “How did I get so lucky God?” it occurs to me that I just don’t get to know the why’s and how’s of life.  I’m discovering that it’s in the not knowing that I’m enabled to live in today and simply do the next indicated thing.  Truth is I can’t know when someone will need my help or even if I'll be able to help them when they do, but so long as I show up and remain present, you bet your butt I’ll be there when life happens.   

All the love during this holiday season and happy reflections to you!!!

No Film

Keeping on the theme of my awesome nephew, my newest little buddy was baptized this past weekend.  What an amazing deal!  I’m telling you, I’m still blown away.  I was the camera girl, and I felt honored as usual in being asked to help.  I wonder when the novelty of being trusted with responsibility is going to wear off?  I hope never!  When everyone left for the church and I was left behind with my husband, I did have a moment of panic as physical pain and exhaustion took over.  I cried a few overwhelmed tears and took some medicine before I could join everyone at the church.  When I did, I was overwhelmed in a very different way.

Family and friends showed up in the usual rowdy fashion.  I got that old nervous feeling that we might get into trouble or insult someone for making so much noise inside the church.  That passed rather quickly though as I saw that the laughter, the hugs, the kisses and the play were nothing short of heavenly.  We, as a community, were lifting all that joy up to God.  It just kept getting better and better: the neighbor kids embracing one another; my nephew playing with dad between, under and over the pews; my young cousins reuniting and lining up excited and thrilled to be together in one long row; the priest processing in with both families of the soon to be baptized children to the tune of “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”; the proud Godparents smiling down at my beautiful nephew as the sacrament of baptism was performed; the sign of the cross being made on my nephew’s teensy two year old forehead by his parents, godparents, grandparents, aunts and big sister; my 3 ½ year old niece making the sign of the cross on her brother’s forehead with no knowledge of what that meant, but displaying all its depth with her simple desire to share the moment with him; both my niece and nephew crawling all over the pews, trying to be quiet and watching their brother take the spotlight (they don’t like that one bit!).  All of it was just so beautiful.  Then, to really bring it all home, the priest raised my nephew up in front of the altar, nice and high, over his head in awesome celebration.  We all swooned and awed at the magnificence of our newest family member.  A feeling of limitless love filled me as I shared all of this with my dearest of family and friends.

 

I got such great camera shots of all of this.  I mean, great shots.  I was really on top of it.  People were posing for me, asking for a copy to be sent to them later on, and giving me thumbs up as I clicked away.  And then I realized, there was no memory card in the camera.  I had taken it out that morning to print some pictures for house decorations for the reception after the ceremony.  This is one of those cameras that does NOT save any pictures on the hard drive.  They just don’t exist.  So bummed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I had pictures of all those moments digitally captured!  I was so sad and apologized profusely to just about everyone.  Of course, they all said it was no big deal and we’d just collect shots of the day from a bunch of other folks and make a collection.  Okay, I agreed, but mine were so good!! Hahahaha.

For lack of words... or pictures!

Now that a few days have passed and I look back on Sunday, I just know I do not need pictures to remember the inspiring love I felt inside that church.  In fact, the power of it seems to have grown.  What a gift to have my spirit so lifted.  There is no picture that could capture that.  It is magnificent, awesome, beautiful and infinite.  My heart and spirit are so full, and they will remember that day forever. 

To love freely...

I am incredibly tired today so I am a bit off but decided I had better blog anyway so as not to let this writer’s muscle of mine wither too much.  I have probably already passed that mark but here we go anyway…

It is a pretty amazing time for my family, and I am still a little overwhelmed to be a part of it.  My sister returned home from China a few weeks ago where she was adopting her third child, my new nephew.  An elaborate babysitting schedule was laid out by my sister and bro-in-law before she left, as my niece and nephew had to stay back in the states with working dad.  I took on a few days of babysitting, and my husband and I got to cook some meals for the gang.  I was filled with such a powerful sense of purpose that I really loved every bit.  My bro-in-law did a great job keeping mom and kids connected via Skype and even wrote a daily blog to loop in the extended family.  My new nephew is home now, and he’s a total rockstar!  There’s absolutely no question that he knows mom and dad and siblings are his.  It just blows me away, like it was meant to be and his heart just knows. 

I cannot even begin to understand what my nephew is thinking and feeling inside that little body of his.  I do like to guess at it though. :)   He seems a bit confused as to who I am and what’s going on sometimes, but that’s to be expected since he’s two years old and EVERYTHING JUST CHANGED.  He maintains a pretty fierce look for the most part with occasions of tears and more of brilliantly joyful smiles.  He has the coolest smile.  His whole face lights up!  Overall, I imagine a crazy amount of determination working inside him.  I project that his efforts are to focus, to understand, to communicate, to get fed (he really loves food!), to connect with mom and dad, and to explore his siblings.  I also wonder what he is feeling, aside from what he’s thinking, and simply have no clue.  I hope to spend more and more time knowing and loving him, but for now the mystery that is him is more than magnificent.

JUST FOR TODAY, 
I will love abundantly.

My reflections today really started, and end now, with my wanting to fix my relationship with a particular someone.  Let’s call this person Amanda.  I want control over what she thinks AND feels about me.  I want her to love me and trust me and confide in me the way she did a decade ago.  The wreckage of my past just slaps me right in the face some days, usually on the days I least expect it!!!  The thing is that I just don’t know what’s going on inside Amanda’s head and heart.  Unlike my new little nephew, I have a history with her and have decided some things based on that history.  She should forgive me.  She should believe I have changed.  She should know I love her and want her in my life.  She should reciprocate all my feelings.  As I write that I realize that what throws me is not that Amanda doesn’t meet all the ‘shoulds’, but that I just don’t know.  I feel lonely and scared- very different from the love and joy and hope I feel when watching my nephew without knowing.  I check myself with other people on this, and I find support in their feedback and find a greater love for Amanda in all her stubbornness and quirkiness.  The hurt remains of course, but hope is gained.  I believe and know I am taken care of and surrounded by the love of friends, family and God.  I would like some answers to emerge, and I would like even more for those answers to include Amanda and I becoming as close as we once were.  For now, I don’t have any answers so what can I do?  Probably nothing...  sitting still stinks.  Haha!  I hope to one day let go of my desire to control how other people think and feel towards me and to just love.  To love freely and without expectations is a practice that often eludes me.  Great thing is that sober experience and hope are on my side today.  And so, just for today, I will love abundantly!

Crimes against Clients - HFC Day 14

Share your experiences about a professional or professionals (doctor, therapist, nurse etc.) that had a negative impact on your recovery. How did they make you feel? Did you speak with them about this? How did they respond? How did they impact you? How did you recover from that experience? How did you learn to seek help and trust professionals again?

This is a shaky one for me.  In my letter to medical professionals (Day 6) I expressed my frustration with my treatment over the years but also my gratitude for all the men and women who have treated me.  I believe that all my experiences, good and bad, have made me the recovery woman I am today.  I know that everyone I come in contact with is a teacher – some of what to do, some of what NOT to do.  Either way, I can learn from everyone.  Back in the throws of bulimia, I didn’t see it that way.  When a professional (aka role model) showed disease behavior, I took away bad habits and negative massages and fit them right onto me.  A lot of times I knew I was self-sabotaging and wanted to bring the pain.  Other times I was competitive or seeking attention.   Occasionally, that “I’ll show you how sick I am” mentality drove me.  In the most dangerous times, I just had no fight left and I was giving up. 

So, you may be wondering what made some folks such bad examples.  My perception may be off and my disease certainly filtered things said and done differently back then, but the number one reason I decided a professional was not worth my effort to recover was inconsistency.  If the message of the professional was inconsistent with their behavior, I was done.  The most obvious example I have is one therapist who owned a day treatment center and was my primary therapist.  This was an eight hour a day, five day a week deal, and I was a patient there for over two years.  I saw so much of this therapist that I could tell you what she would say next, if she was in a good or bad mood, and how she was doing with her food.  She was a recovery anorexic, or maybe just an anorexic.  Here was the inconsistency.  She spent all day, every day, telling us to embrace our bodies, sharing professional opinions, encouraging us to eat balanced and nourish ourselves while she did none of it herself. 

If I could go back now, I would ask her why she only ate 150 calories for lunch every day and how that made any sense to eat during our sessions.  I would show her that my meal of 500 calories, made no sense next to hers.  I would ask her why she got plastic surgery and showed off her cleavage at work while telling us we were perfect just as we were.  I would challenge her to explain her significant weight loss after her husband left against her claim that we did not have to use food to cope with any and all circumstances.  I would call to her attention that we were all competing with HER!  I would share my anger and confusion towards her and her behavior.  I would explain my pain in all its depth and tell her I wanted to be free.  I would walk away from two years of a dead end pursuit and look for help and hope in someone who had recovery.

I spent years being angry at this therapist.  I felt that I had lost so much time being sick because of her.  I don’t feel that way anymore.  I learned a lot from that experience.  Today, I interview my doctors and therapists.  They are working for me after all.  If I don’t find hope in their story, sense in their methods, or most important to me consistency in their words and actions, I find a new professional.  This has served me well and I am my own mental health advocate.  I tell a doctor or therapist when something doesn’t seem right or when I’m just not feeling comfortable with my progress.  I have learned what I don’t want in my treatment, so now I’m finding what I do.  

Hungry For Change May Challenge - Days 10,11, 12

I’m way behind!!!  It’s been quite a week so these will be short but I hope you still enjoy….

Today is bloggers choice! You can write on anything you wish with regards to eating disorders, relate mental health or social problems. Maybe you have read an article or seen a photograph or advertisement recently you wish to respond to. Perhaps you want to reflect on the challenge so far? It’s entirely up to you. If you’re stuck for ideas post on the HFC Facebook page for inspiration.

I’m a bit relieved that the free style day was day 12.  I’m going to take this day as a day off.  Something extremely valuable and a lesson I’m still learning in recovery is recognizing my own need for unstructured hours.  Me time.  I am a busy body all the way, and I really do love staying productive and creating memories with other people, especially with my family.  But quiet and rest and stillness is just as important as all the activity.  So today, I’m going to take my free style day at home by keeping this entry short, not making too many plans, and maybe a getting in a couple of naps.  It’s been a loooong week!! 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today direct your writing at someone in particular, some people in particular or society in general. What do people misunderstand about you? What do you need them to know? If you could explain your eating disorders and how you experience them without consequences – what would you say? How could the person/people reading your writing support you or others battling or in recovery from eating disorders?

Dear mom of the teenaged girl,

BE CAREFUL! Your daughter is more than you see.  She’s talented, strong, beautiful, spirited, and sensitive.  You see these things - but remember too that your daughter is simple.  She’s a young girl and she needs permission to make mistakes.  She wants you to admit she’s not responsible for everything.  Not because you are putting too much pressure on her but because she is.  Telling her she’s putting too much pressure on herself is not going to cut it.  Be aware of the way you talk to other people.  She is listening.  Try not to predict her future.  Try to talk about who she is with your family and friends and not always what she’s earning on paper or in medals or up against her peers.  Remember to tell her silly side and her mistakes too with love and laughter.  Maybe she walked into a wall or couldn’t stop giggling or was afraid of a trip or ride.  Share these times.  She will know that ALL of her is to be celebrated and not just the things with the ‘good’ tag. 

  

Another thing, your daughter is going to be okay no matter what happens to her or what mistakes you make.  She may get mad at you or blame you for things but don’t take it on.  Don’t blame yourself for her hardships.  It takes away from her ability to fully experience and own the blame and pain.  Teenagers love drama and getting through trauma and tough times of their own allows them a sense of pride and strength.  Allow it and don’t steal it.

Remember that you are a wonderful mom.  You care and she knows it.  Try not to take yourself too seriously.  She will learn that from you too.  Be joyful and celebrate being a woman!  Embrace yourself and your daughter will too.

Good luck!  Love, Fran

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Choose ten words; five of which relate to your experience of eating disorders and five of which relate to your recovery. What does each of these words mean to you? Why are they important to you? What part have they played in your illness and recovery?

Recovery

1. Grace
2. Action
3. Love
4. Resilient
5. Freedom

ED

1. Shame
2. Guilt
3. Broken
4. Lies
5. Lonely

My Mascot - Hungry for Change - Day 3

Woo!  This brings me back to all those art therapy sessions.  I loved art therapy even though I’m a terrible artist.  It was one time I felt like there was no right answer and I didn’t have to try to be the best at it because it was all from our own experiences that our creative pieces came.  I thought they were all beautiful.  After looking at the other mascots chosen for the third day of the Hungry for Change May challenge https://www.facebook.com/hungryforchange, I have to say I haven’t changed a bit.  I find them all so beautiful!

My eating disorder recovery mascot is now, from today, A DIVER.  

In some sense it has been my mascot for years but I certainly didn’t call it that.  This picture is a perfect representation of my diving mascot for a couple reasons.  One is that she’s diving from a springboard.  I have developed a springboard diving metaphor for life.  It goes a little something like this…

In diving just about 90% of the dive’s success depends on the work that is done on the board.  You take careful steps, maintain strong and balanced posture, drive all your weight and power into the board to push it down and you up just so, and carefully time your arms and second push so that the board will seamlessly fling you up into the air and safely away from the board.  The success of the rest of your dive, however simple or complicated, will absolutely be affected by how well you’ve executed your board work.  The best part is in the freedom that comes after you’ve essentially catapulted yourself into the air.  If you’ve done it right, there’s not a whole lot you can do to mess it up.  If you’ve done it wrong, you might be saying some prayers as you come closer to hitting the water!  Either way you basically get to enjoy the ride and probably get a lot of laughs if it turns out to be more of a painful go.  Life is this way for me today in recovery.  I do the footwork and keep the ‘plug in the plate’ (as a good friend of mine likes to say), and I get to experience a freedom that welcomes all kinds of unexpected pains and pleasures.  What a thrill!

Before recovery, I knew what the day would bring – misery.  Today I have no idea what the future holds, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other and watch the results as they are revealed around me.   

The second reason I like this picture for my mascot is that she is doing my favorite type of dive, a twister.  This is my favorite because it’s both extremely complicated and fairly impossible to ‘think’ about.  You have to just do it and trust that your body knows how to take care of the dynamics in the air.  In diving this is called muscle memory and it takes some time to build up but once you’ve got it you learn to absolutely rely upon it.  In eating disorder recovery, this is compared to intuitive eating, turning away from the magnificent magnifying mind in the mirror, and the human instinct to survive no matter what.  The body know best and I have come to enjoy the freedom I get when I trust that. 

I’m built strong and healthy.  My body is able and capable.  My recovery allows me to take some pleasure, joy and comfort in that.  No more fighting.  I’m doing the work; I think I’ll enjoy the ride. J

  

I just love this picture.  I wish we still wore suits like this!!!

How to die gracefully

A lesson from Tina Diaz.

My sponsee in recovery died of cancer Sunday night at 11:10pm.  She was 2 years and 4 months sober and absolutely LOVED LIVING LIFE.  When I met her, she was in remission and just beginning a new journey in sobriety.  Just a short time later, the cancer showed up again and she fought hard to survive another bout.  Sadly she has passed, but not without leaving behind tons of memories and a bit of her tenacious spirit in all who loved her.  Over the past year, I’ve heard myself say on several occasions something like, “If there’s a way to die well, Tina’s doing it”.   

Throughout her fight, she spent all her stored energy experiencing brand new adventures.  She was one mighty woman!  She won a scavenger hunt and danced at my wedding.  A memory I will never forget.  She parasailed, went on retreats, threw birthday parties for her family (played in the bounce houses herself!), let it loose in Disneyland, and all sorts of other things.  She lived! 

From her sick bed, she would send us out from our visits saying things like "Go get a newcomer ladies!"  She wanted everyone to get the life and freedom she found in recovery.  She had a clear purpose to share her story with other alcoholics and she never passed up a chance to reach out to someone in pain.  She inspired so many women to admit their problems were not so big, to swallow hard, to suit up and to help someone out.  If Tina could, they could too. 

She was a fierce mother and so loved both her children and her grandchildren.  She would do anything for any of them and didn’t bat an eye to defend them.  She would get this ‘don’t mess with my kid’ face on if someone began to cross a line, and if her accent returned, oh man, watch out!  Her family surrounded her in her final moments.  She was a blessed woman.

She loved having prayers sent her way.  It was like she could feel them comforting and energizing her.  You could see her whole body change and her chest expand as she took in the prayers and well wishes sent from her friends.  Occasionally, she would cry while she listened to longer prayers.  It was as if the longer ones filled her up so much that she overflowed in tears.  The way it moved her was so inspiring that I came to find more comfort in prayer than ever before in my life.  She taught me how to pray comfortably, honestly and without reservation.  I was not shy in prayer with Tina.  She was a woman of awesome faith and she showed me how to carry my own faith with more grace and confidence.  She told her friends and family that when the time came for her to go from this life, she would not be afraid.  She would be filled with love and taken home.  What faith!

I am humbled to have ever met Tina and am so grateful for all she taught me.  I hope you can find strength, hope and faith in her story.  She would love you to know more of them all!

“To watch people recover, to see them help others, to watch loneliness vanish, to see a fellowship grow up about you, to have a host of friends -- this is an experience you must not miss.” -BigBook of Alcoholics Anonymous, p.89, Working With Others

“We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.” -BigBook of Alcoholics Anonymous, p.164, A Vision For You

Inspired

I’ve been inspired thousands of times in my life.  It seems like with that many moments of inspiration, I should be walking around forever inspired.  I’m not.  In order for that to happen I would need a constant stream of new influences and arousals.  It’s what I began seeking in addiction.  Even now, seeking sobriety and sanity, that sounds awesome.  Knowing that in every moment change is happening and newness is intrinsic, all could be different all the time.  The ability to experience every moment for what it is, a brand new one, would theoretically provide me constant inspiration.  Hmmm, I’m not even close.  I mean not even a little bit.  Haha!  It does make sense though, and the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse makes even more sense with that line of thought.  I can even see the similarities between seeking release in addictions and seeking enlightenment.  Sounds nuts but read the book and you may find you agree.  Since I’ve got a long way to go before I’ve awakened to the present with 100% of me 100% of the time, I thought I’d describe some things that inspire me… every so often at least.

People inspire me.  People who try new things.  People who fail because they tried new things.  People who celebrate and share their successes with joy.  People who cry.  People who dance.  People who hug.  People who work hard and keep working hard.  People who refuse to make excuses.  People who sing.  People who pray for other people.  People who scream at God and glorify God in the same sentence.  People who find themselves paralyzed by fear and then somehow begin to move again.  People who don’t know and ask how or why or what or when.  In a nutshell, children inspire me and people who continue to show their own imperfect, childlike humanity inspire me.  They inspire me because in them I am assured that I am not alone.  I am never alone.

Water inspires me.  I am calmed and refreshed in water.  I have never been able to describe the feeling completely because it’s not just a morning shower eye opener.  It creates a complete change inside me.  It doesn’t matter what my mood, water will lift it.  I’m sure there are exceptions but so far I haven’t really found any.  I can be extremely depressed, feel completely worthless and out of hope and within a minute of jumping in a pool I have some new energy and life in me.  My thinking becomes extremely clear when I swim or dive  I goal set and sort out things that have weighed heavy on my heart.  I pray and I am grateful in water.  Water is forever in motion and surrounds me completely when I’m immersed.  I’m comforted by water’s power and presence and feel safe in being myself. 

Dance inspires me.  Not only is dancing entertaining and beautiful to watch, it breaks down barriers between and within people that would otherwise remain solid.  There doesn’t need to be any other connection than that of human movement for two people to share in laughter, competition, tension, love, and companionship.  Dance gives us that gift.   It also gives me the ability to open my heart and let out whatever I have to give.  Thankfully my heart is usually joy filled, but even in tough times dancing helps me release what’s inside.  It’s exhilarating and completely freeing.  I can be me and show myself to other people with only the slight risk that they might think I’m a bit spastic.  I’ll take it.

I hope you have a few things that inspire you.  If not, make some time to find some.  I promise you a human experience.

Hormones

I don’t shy away from PMS talk.  Everyone gets it or knows someone who gets it.  If I didn’t know what was driving the week long crazy train I ride once a month, I would have to seriously consider some extreme treatment options for my ‘problems’.  Believe it or not, I used to get locked up in a psychiatric hospital about once a month when I was in my early 20s.  It was close to six months before anyone realized it was hormone related.  Seems like I should have noticed the pattern, but I was PMSing so give me a break!!!!  Thankfully when they discovered what was up and started treating me for the hormonal symptoms, my trips to the psych ward decreased exponentially.  They didn’t stop altogether, but those are stories for another day.  Fast forward 12 years and I still struggle to stay in good emotional fitness the few days before my period. 

This past week was a doosey.  My husband was traveling for work and I was busy with my own work, coaching and family.  Food called to me from inside the refrigerator; the mirror would scream insults directly into my brain whenever I even glanced at it; I was exhausted and drained but didn’t want to get in bed at night; I ranted on the phone at my husband about his leaving me all alone and then cried when he returned; and I cried once at my desk and once in the middle of a meeting at work.  A total wreck.  Thankfully, after the first day, I knew what I was going through which allowed me to roll with the punches a bit better.  I mean, who cries in the middle of a meeting because the whiteboard hasn’t arrived?!??  A hormonal me, that’s who.  Thankfully I’ve mastered the silent cry and I pulled myself together after a couple minutes… but seriously!!

So here’s how I survive week’s like this past one:

1. Alert my female family members.  This is a serious family trait passed down woman to woman to woman.  I mean we ALL go nuts with our swinging hormones.  We all understand it, and I take great comfort in knowing I come by it all honestly.  Remember that I have a BIG family and as far as I’m aware, no woman in it has a mild cycle.  We all lose our stuff when we PMS.  We all feel closer to mean and ugly, lose our tempers more easily, feel a little lonely and act a little nutty. 
2. Alert my husband.  This is crucial to the continued success of our marriage. J  Seriously though, he has standing permission to remind me that my mood swings and oversensitivity could be due to my period being near.  He treads lightly here and thankfully he’s found a way to insert it at the right moments.  It usually makes me laugh.  He also will listen to me fly off the handle, and I mean all the way off the handle, then say sorry and give me a hug. 
3. Tell my internal morning critic to take a break.  Nothing is gonna look any good on me, according to me, for a few days.  It’s just the way it is, so no need to intentionally start my day with fat and ugly’s.
4. Make certain I keep a sense of humor.  This is huge.  I tell my stories of melt downs and temper tantrums to friends, male and female, because they are funny once I’m through them!  Three of my friends got the whole run down of my twisted, crazy thinking while my husband was away earlier this week.  It was only two nights and I had worked it up into a future lifetime of loneliness!!!  I laughed and laughed as I recounted one of our phone conversations and my subsequent thinking about the whole thing.  What a great release.

So that’s the long and short of it.  Now, if you’re a man and you happened to read all the way to the end of this, I’d like to make a suggestion: Do not pop this up in front of your wife, girlfriend, or sister and tell them they should read it because insert reason here, unless you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THEY ARE NOT PMSing AND ARE IN A GOOD MOOD!!!!  Also note that I asked my husband to help me in reminding me about my cycle… tread lightly! J  As for all the ladies out there, I hope you related and find some humor in our shared experiences.  I am so grateful l don’t have to live enslaved by my emotions anymore, and I have learned to take myself far less seriously today than ever before.  A favorite quote of mine growing up was, “Angels can fly, because they take themselves lightly”.  When I let go of my pride and perfectionism, I find such unbelievable freedom, humor, and joy in being a woman..

Keep it simple stupid

Yes, this title sounds harsh.  No, it’s not meant to put anyone down nor is it meant to label anything or anyone stupid.  This is a slogan around recovery communities that isn’t used so much anymore.  It’s usually just said as ‘Keep it simple’, which I admit is a great message by itself.  For me though, the stupid works.  I didn’t always agree that it was a useful saying.  The reason it works for me now and didn’t a few years ago is that my perception, the way I view myself in relation to everything and everyone, has drastically changed.  I used to feel like a little piece of terd.  If someone was trying to help me, but used a slogan with a derogatory term at the end, I took it as a personal offense.  I couldn’t hear the message through the delivery.  I don’t feel smaller or less than anyone today nor do I feel at all unintelligent.  Yet now, more than ever, “keep it simple stupid” really does make good, logical sense.  


The ‘stupid’ reminds me that I must remain teachable.  I heard it said best like this, “You can’t teach someone something they already know.”  I spent years telling people I couldn’t stay sober or stop purging.  I would tell them exactly why that was.  I would tell them what I needed to do if I was ever going to ‘get it’ and then all the reasons and emotions that prevented me from doing any of those things.  Clearly, I was not going to change because I had it all figured out.  I knew all the answers to all my problems and no one could convince me otherwise.  So, neck deep in despair and desperation, I held onto just enough intellectual egoism to stay stuck and miserable.  


Finally, finally, finally, I just didn’t know.  I had no ideas or solutions of my own and couldn’t find any persuasive arguments to excuse myself from trying something different.  It took what it took for me.  I could tell stories upon stories that lead me to the day I ran out of ideas, but I could not begin to guess why it was that day that it happened.  It simply did.  Without answers I began listen to folks who appeared to have them.  Stupid me was the beginning of the me I have become today.  It gave me enough willingness and openmindedness to seek a simple solution.  Thank God I did.  It really is simple! 

Finding my fit

I go around trying to dot my I’s and cross my T’s by doing everything I say I’m going to do and showing up for my friends and family when and where I am needed.  A lot of times it feels like I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to fit myself to everyone else’s schedule.  Sometimes I get overwhelmed.  When I do, I’m at a high risk of quitting everything.  What happens is I get to thinking people are disappointed or angry with me, because I can’t meet all their expectations.  Before long, I get swallowed up by guilt and shame.  Guilt and shame have been the two most paralyzing and dangerous emotions I have experienced in my life.  Enough of either one, and I fall into such self pity, resentment and fear that relief only comes at a great price not only for me but for others as well.  I wallow.  I hide.  I lie.  I lash out.  I self-destruct and take you down with me.  I have endured this enormous, destructive cycle countless times in my life.  Coming out the other side is neither easy nor guaranteed.  I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE THIS WAY ANYMORE.

The truth is that most often I am only guessing that people are disappointed or angry with me.  Even before I get to that, I admit that I am usually the one trying find time to spend with all the people I love in my life because they bring me strength and peace and joy.  So long before I find myself in a world of hurt, I have told myself lies like I am not in control of my own actions or that people have put me on a pedestal of sorts and expect me to be everywhere for everyone.  I have thrown out my own truths and put other people’s opinions of me over my own.  I have forgotten humility and have placed myself at enormous risk.  What people think of me and how much time I give to them decides whether I am a good or bad person.  I've given others all my God given grace that allows me to have my own human experience.  When I embrace my perfectly imperfect humanity, I get to love freely and give generously.  When I don't, I am bitter and alone.  Today when my thoughts get noisy with self-deprecating and berating messages, I can pause and ask for some help and some courage to get off my crazy making cargo train to crappy town and find my right place in this world.  Feet on the ground and eyes wide open, I can go from there and do the best I can, expecting no more than just what that turns out to be.

A long time ago, an elderly man told me this, “We don’t have to fit into shoes that are too big, just our own.”  Now that makes sense and takes the shame and guilt off my heart.  I can only do as much as I can do, and I’m the only one that knows my limits and my intentions.  I answer to the truths I hold within and I can be accountable to others without shame if I fall short of my commitments at any point.  I'm only human after all and I have discovered nobody has mistaken me as anything more... EVER. :) 

What I am

Lately I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about what I want to be when I grow up.  With that comes a lot of reflection on what I am today.  Thankfully, I’m not asking myself who I want to be or who I am.  That’s probably one of the most convoluted, crazy-making mind games someone can play on themselves.  Who I am will constantly change as I try to grow and as I gain more life experience.  So I guess I know who I am – ever changing.  What I am?  Well, that can be crazy-making too I guess because I am made up of a lot of different pieces and if I’m asking the question, I’m the one deciding which pieces to count!!!  For the purpose of not ranting onto a philosophical tangent, I will keep the ‘what am I’ question confined to my professional world.

As a little girl, I wanted to be the next Olympic superstar, mostly for the fame and notoriety.  As a young teen, I wanted to be a nun, mostly because I had decided that I was a better person than everyone else and should be marked as good and special forever.  In young adulthood, I gave up wanting to be much of anything except cared for and protected and even that felt horrible.  By my mid twenties, I wanted to save all addicts and alcoholics everywhere, because I had gained so much experience with both and believed I could relate to anyone.  This would have seemed a bit more logical if I had been sober myself, but even then it would have been grandiose. J  A couple years later I realized that I had gone kicking and screaming through my whole life to avoid the ordinary.  My efforts had left me jobless, broke and hopeless.  I told myself that what I did would define who I was.  So, I had become completely worthless. 

Thankfully my brother, sister and brother-in-law didn’t just stand aside and let me wallow in my bog of self-pity and depression.  I moved in with my sister and bro-in-law and my brother quickly hooked me up with a friend of his who got me a job as a human resources coordinator.  I hated going to work.  I hated how ‘average’ the work was.  Albeit reluctantly, I showed up day after day (well most days) and before I knew it a year had passed.  My siblings even threw me a one year on the job party because they knew what a big deal it was for me. (Yeah I have the coolest siblings in the world!)  I worked there for over two years and by the end of my time there I had some employable skills.  I did quit my job so I was jobless and close to broke but I was no longer hopeless. 

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I got sober shortly after I left that job and moved back home to California.  Just by holding a job down, I had gained a little hope in myself and some esteem – two things I had not experienced in adulthood.  I had also learned a little humility.  I needed to show up for life no matter how mundane I decided the day would be.  I knew I had to get sober to give myself a chance at showing up consistently again and when I did I learned how to do a whole lot more than that. 

I had a ton of direction my first year of working as a sober woman: “Put your head down and do eight hours work for eight hours pay.”  “Be a worker among workers.”  “Self esteem comes from doing esteemable acts… just do the next right thing.”  “Act better than you feel.”  The daily practice of all these pearls of simplistic wisdom brought me to what I am today.  I’m a good worker.  In the office I am a very able professional.  People like me and easily trust me at work.  I am given more responsibility than my job description dictates, and I welcome it.  I am articulate and capable under pressure.  Flipping to my coaching self, I am an awesome coach.  I think I say awesome because I love doing it so much.  Really, I am responsible.  I am deserving of the trust I am given by both the kids and parents.  I am talented and get to see my kids improve at a rapid pace.

Now, after all that, what do I want to be when I grown up?  Ha!  I still don’t know.  I want to give this public speaking thing a shot and see what journey it will take me on.  I want to be a mother and provide for my family.  I don’t know how those things will mix or work if both are in my future.  What I do know is I will be present.  I will work hard.  I will be one in the mix of so many in this enormous world that try to do good things for it.  I will take comfort in my past experiences and know that no matter what, no matter what, things will change.  In the end, what I am matters very little.  Who I am will be born of the things I do as I continue to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.  It’s in the doing.

The Dream

I’ve learned that when I tell someone that I’m going to do something, I’m about ninety times more likely to do it than if I keep my intentions to myself.  I’ve had a dream for a long time to become a public speaker.  This dream has never taken shape because I have not made any concrete goals or made consistent efforts towards transforming this dream to reality.  I did enough research to know that blogging and writing is a great first step, but that’s about all I’ve done.  I believe I can be an excellent motivational speaker.  I believe I have the ability to stand up in front of a group, capture an audience, and ultimately inspire hope.  I believe there’s a path for me to follow to get to that end, but I don’t know where to start or how I will find my way.  That said, if I don’t start, well, I’ll never start.  If I never start, I’ll never find a way. 

I’ve fallen off my blog a bit because I couldn’t see a simple way to improve it and to expand its reach.  I have a nasty tendency to believe my perpetually lazy ego that tells me people should want to listen to me and value what I say without my having to show them I’m worth listening to.  Of course, I come to my senses after a bit and realize all I’ve gained is fear and what I’ve lost is time.  Good news is I trust that if I put one foot in front of the other and work steady and true, the time will come for me to realize my dream.  And if I don’t reach the stage or get the audience, I hope it will be because it was not God’s will for me, not because I did not put the work in.  “Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.” –Theodore Roosevelt.  This is worth it.  I still don’t know how to lengthen my reach, but I do know that working hard is the only way I’ll find out. 

Soooo, I’d like to increase my ‘do’ likelihood by 90 times and commit to a few consistent tasks and three goals over the next 1 month.  Here they are:

1.  I will blog 4 times per week no matter the typos or the length of blog.  I will post 4 separate entries a week.
2.  I will spend 1 hour, 4 times per week, researching how to bring more visibility and ‘hits’ to my blog and adjust my blog accordingly.
3. I will respond individually to comments on my blog posts
4. By month’s end, I will be following and participating on 15 other blog sites
5. By month’s end, I will have my blog site reformatted to be more interactive, inviting and intuitive  

Thanks for reading!  

Grateful for Gratitude

I haven’t had much to say for a while.  Life is going on and I’m showing up.  I feel kind of blah I suppose, and I know the cause so it’s not anything I want to fix or feel is going to destroy me inside.  I have certainly had some mornings where I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make all my obligations that day and wanted to stay home more than I wanted to get up.  It sounds a lot like depression, but I know and am comforted that it’s my chronic pain, increased over the last few weeks, that is causing my lackluster attitude.  I’m actually pretty impressed with what I’ve been able to do considering the level of pain I’m in.  I haven’t quit anything or lied to anyone to get out of obligations.  I forgot a meeting with one of the women I work with, but I still got there after she called to remind me about it.  I haven’t looked all that neat and tidy or spunky at work, but I am still getting the job done and receive nothing but positive feedback from my coworkers.  Now, just there, in less than a paragraph, I have found a topic for this blog.  Gratitude!  The power of it is amazing.  When I first started typing I didn’t feel up to the task and now I feel like I could write forever! 

I’m so grateful for so many things in my life today.  First things first is the simple ability to welcome growth and good and then to share it.  This is my own personal definition of gratitude.  I’ve written before about pain being my greatest motivator for change.  I absolutely grow from pain and with it I’m blessed with the good that comes once I’m on the other side.  I’m allowed moments of pain, frustration, disappointment, guilt, shame, and brokenness while still remaining present and aligned with reality.  So if and when I welcome some tough times and deep emotions, I get to experience the growth and the good.  Best of all I get to share it!  Truth is I have to or I get all sick and stupid in the heart and head, but it’s such an experience that I see it as a privilege.  I get to see and experience my life in an entirely different light than ever before and then I get to show others a whole new view of me.

I have a group of five or six female friends who write a daily gratitude list.  10 items a day and it might as well be a million.  The depth of emotion and richness of life we share in those emails is unbelievable.  The only guideline I have for my list is to be honest.  It is a gratitude email chain so I do have to come up with things I’m grateful for but I’m often surprised how that lets everyone in on what’s really happening with me.  I don’t have to see any of these women in person for them to know or for me to know when extra support and encouragement is needed.  It’s a paradox to me because logically I would think that by sharing only things we are grateful for it would mean we write only the simple, happy and good life events, leaving out the rest.  That is not the case!  We see it all, but we see it in the light of gratitude.  What that tells me is that I don’t need to whine and moan and bitch and complain to get support or help.  Why not seek to walk through struggles with the heart and eyes of gratitude?  I’m betting growth, good and companionship will continue to be found on the other side.

I haven't done my email list today so I will start it here.  Enjoy!

1. It’s Friday!!!!  Sleep is on the horizon!
2. I get to see Tina tonight and see the prayer quilt the women’s guild brought to her.
3. My mom asked me to watch her try on the clothes that she is packing for her week away to a wedding.
4. My sister called me this morning and asked when I was going to meet them at the pool.  They’re in Palm Springs!  So wonderful to feel loved.
5. My niece and nephew “love vacation”!
6. Hearing my husband’s work meeting went well in New York and he’s coming home tonight!  Yay.
7. My husband asked me what I want to do for Valentine’s Day in advance.  That’s a miracle!
8. Going shopping this weekend to start my new wardrobe and it’s even in the budget.
9. Even though I couldn’t see my old doctor I do have insurance and will be able to see a doctor that can help.
10. I do not have to fix or control anything in my life today because I know God’s got me.  All I have to do is continue to seek.

When tired takes over…

I got so physically exhausted that on Tuesday of last week I actually heard high pitched screeching in my head.  Tuesday!  I couldn’t see how in the world I was going to get through the rest of the week with that kind of fatigue setting in.  Of course I made it through and into the weekend without some banshee taking over my brain and body, but that took some doing.  When tired I become increasingly emotional and usually experience problems with depression, loneliness, self image, relationships, motivation, work, ambition, the little things, and then strangest of all - sleep!!!  That’s ridiculous by the way- I can’t sleep because I’m too tired?!!!!?????  What?  If things continue and I cross into the dangerous neighborhood of overtired, I lose the ability to hide my increased emotional state.  I might be seen experiencing one or more of the following: spontaneous crying, uncontrollable and/or inappropriate laughter, extreme anger at the suggestion of any sort of change in schedule or routine, inexplicable clumsiness, verbal ranting coupled with a lack of language or content filter, etcetera!   It becomes unmanageable in a hurry and I have found only one cure.  Sleep. 

My family pokes fun at me by calling me a professional sleeper.  It’s what I do best!  Okay it really used to be best if I was sleeping, and I would sleep for fifteen hours at a time for days in a row as an avoidance strategy.  Now, it’s just best if I get the proper amount of sleep.  For me that’s in excess of eight hours a day.  Right about nine hours seems to work best.  I realize that this won’t always be possible.  Actually, it’s already not possible all of time.  What if I have children though?  I don’t think I have ever met a mother who gets eight hours a night.  That’s so scary… for you all that have to deal with me then!!!  Hahahaha!  Seriously though, not only do I experience high emotions and incredible sensitivity, everyone around me gets a very ‘funny’ version of me.  I cannot imagine what my friends and family think during my overtired times.  Oh heck, they are so used to it they’re probably just amused or shrug it off.  But for the folks that haven’t known me so long?  Last week I told our team mom that there was no February 6^th and therefore our team dinner could not possibly happen that day, and I really meant it.  While the head swim coach was retelling the story later that day (he was copied on the emails), I was both uncontrollably laughing and crying real tears.  I also noticed the divers looking at me a bit sideways this past week.  I mean you can’t really miss when your coach starts giggling while talking about the schedule or comes close to falling in the pool a few times during practice.  What a wreck!

At any rate, I am still pretty tired from the last week or two but am beginning to feel some relief.  Strangely, this semi-rested, not quite 100% space is where I get myself in the most trouble.  I feel stronger, present much more sanely, and perform normally at work, but my emotions are still raw and tender.  My reactions continue to be magnified within, and instead of my extremely silly or unglued outward reaction, I can get pointedly mean and hurtful.  I remember a counselor of mine being concerned for my safety back in a particularly dark year of my twenties.  I was a couple days released from a psych ward, and I told her she should not worry because I was feeling a whole lot better than a few days before.  She gently replied that her concern was precisely because of my slight progress.  She acknowledged my improved cognitive reasoning and more groomed appearance but reminded me that I had struggled to find a reason to get out of bed that morning and then had experienced road rage and extreme jubilation within an hour of that.  She noted the imminent danger of my road rage transferring to rage towards myself, not to mention the danger it brought to other drivers as it was.  She reminded me that before being committed to the psych ward a few days prior, I had possessed no energy at all to do anything, including take my own life.  Now, in this ‘recovery stage’ I certainly had energy enough to accomplish that if I was hit sideways just right.  I absorbed her point and apply her message today.  I am watching myself closely and making a concerted effort not to step on too many toes or entertain any hopeless thoughts for too long.  Self pity is a luxury I can’t afford much on any day but in these times I must air it out quick, or else. 

Every doctor I’ve ever seen for anything has stressed the importance of sleep for a girl like me.  I am fairly certain they would say that to anyone.  So take advice from someone who knows: when tired takes over, just let it.  Get some sleep.