UGH!

Yesterday, as I was getting out of the car, my knee pinched so intensely that it buckled. Yes, I know what it means. I just don’t care! We’re going to have to find another method of dealing with the patella femoral issue. The recommended inactivity isn’t working for me. My ass and waistline grew three damned sizes over six months, and I refuse to let it continue.

I gave up breakfast burritos in favor of 9-grain cereal with fruit instead of sugar. I cut myself down to one meat meal a day and one fried item a week. I had a dessert today for the first time in almost two weeks (because I was out to lunch with a work group). I’ve begun drinking a 30g whey and soy protein shake as soon as I get out of bed, replacing flavored drinks with yerba mate tea and taking acai and fiber supplements. I have an hour of cardio 4 times a week and strength training 3 times a week. When I say that I am not going back to inactivity, I really mean it! I’m sick of being weak and bloated. I’m going to have a “this is what you are going to do with me from now on” talk with Dr. Hotness. I just can’t take this shit anymore. I looked at myself in the mirror last night when I was doing my physical therapy exercises, and I was disgusted. To have been in such great shape at this same time last year and now to be like this is just pathetic. Seriously, I am spittin’ mad about this now. It has gone on long enough.
To add insult to injury, I have to pay every time I see him. Fix it already, dammit!

A long way to go

I finished "A New Earth " today. The book has had a profound effect on me. I'm much more comfortable not knowing what to do with my life.

I don't think I've ever been sure of what I wanted to be when I grew up. After finding out that fighter pilots were required to have perfect vision, I was stumped. That was 5th grade. I watched my father and teacher plan my career as an Air Force desk jockey, and I knew I would have no part of it.

On and off I dream of being an author, but I always talk myself out of it. I don't know if anyone really wants to read what I write, and, for some reason, friends don't count. Why would a complete stranger have any interest whatsoever in my stories? Then, after reading "A New Earth ", I remembered that the writer is not the focus. The story is ready to be told, and the writer is the vessel. I have to put the future of the piece out of my mind and just be present, feeling the flood of creativity and emotions that accompany it. Where the story goes once it's finished should not influence me. I need a whole lot of work there.

I have difficulty accepting the way things are, especially when it comes to where I am in comparison to where I believe I was expected to be by now. All I ever desired as a child was praise. I still look for it now, but I am never satisfied when I receive it. I'm always looking for the next thing that's gonna make me feel loved and valued. It's a common dysfunction, no matter where a person is in their life. The biggest lesson I am learning is how to find joy in everything I do. The task isn't as important as the intention behind it. I've got a long way to go to get there, but the work is its own reward.

Night Out with the "Big Girls"

Twin Peaks wants to go to a club that has a "big girls" night tonight. I don't really qualify as a big girl in the normal world, outside of the office where I work with mostly retired and weekend athletes. Hopefully the regulars there won't mind me tagging along. I do have a backup plan to hang out at a trendier spot around the corner. It probably won't come to that, but it never hurts to have a plan B.

Setting New Goals

This is a particularly challenging week. I'm adjusting my sleeping schedule again. I'm bored with going out. I think that is due mostly to my unwillingness to endure the hives and hangovers that accompany alcohol consumption. I haven't figured out how to have a good time with people who are drinking without also partaking. So far it just makes me want to be doing something else.

I agreed to be one of Eduardo's dancing girls in this year's SF Carnivale parade. It sounded fun. At the time I hadn't considered the costume, but it's all I've thought about since then.

I started using the whey protein shake mix I won from Six Star late last year to kick start my metabolism in the morning. I've changed my rest days into pilates, core and physical therapy. I'm having hot cereal with fruit and nuts for breakfast and vegetarian lunches. I haven't gotten the dinner situation together yet. Dinner is hard because it's a family time meal, and the fam doesn't eat healthy often unless I cook. Cooking would be nice, but not realistic with my schedule. I'm considering either smoothies or juicing. I want to get down within range of where I need to be in order to feel comfortable in the parade costume - 7 to 12 days of intense training and calorie counting away from show shape. I'm encouraged. I haven't received the green light to go back to running, but I can still dance! I felt lost without a fitness regimen, goal and timeline. I'm finally back and soooo happy about it.

These past several months have been humbling due to how little stamina I have in comparison to when I was running. Taking time off from visiting the gym now reduces me to couch potato status (or at least as close as I ever want to get). All things considered, I have accepted my current situation as reality. I am not a runner. It's difficult to say. No matter how much I want those endorphins and freedom from food concerns, I must be good to my body. My muscular imbalances need to be addressed NOW, before I end up with a debilitating injury. I am going to follow doctor's orders for a change.

I am not my pain.

Since I started journaling regularly again, I find the lines of personal and public writing a bit blurred. Instead of fighting it, I thought this morning, maybe I should embrace the colliding of these worlds.


A friend from high school asked if I would attend our 20-year reunion. I have a lot of anxiety around reunions because I was such a train wreck back then. The whirlwind of sexual exploits and alcohol abuse that filled those years is something distant, as though it was a story I read instead of my actual life. I was so young, angry and full of pain. I hated the life and experiences that made me. I wanted to drink it away, fuck it away, whatever. I wanted my life to disappear and just leave me empty; I was certain that would be better than the reality of what I felt. I had so many overwhelming emotions and so little support. I couldn’t trust. I was like a small, frightened wild animal – I attacked anyone who tried to help me. It was a mess. This is why I have no children. I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing another life into this world to relive that whole cycle all over again, and I had no idea how to stop it except to make myself the end of the line. It ends with me… or so I assumed. It didn’t occur to me that there are hordes of others just like me all over the world, struggling to feel like a whole person and to accept themselves as a human beings deserving of love and happiness. Although we feel alone, there are so many of us.

Through the really hard work, going to therapy to try and remember some of the experiences I blocked out and confronting my abusers, I trusted my therapist. It was the first time I felt like I wasn’t being judged for what happened to me. Revealing everything I could remember was a hugely liberating experience. I still had hang-ups with my family and falling back into those same old roles when we were together, but I was making progress. I had a safe space to really figure out how I felt. I didn’t have to be concerned with how my voice would affect other people. It isn’t my responsibility to protect the reputation of the person who wronged me, no matter who they are. Once I realized that, everything else began to change for the better.

I was estranged from my family for a while, as would be expected. There was some disbelief at first, of course, but I wasn’t swayed from my path. I didn’t need them to acknowledge what happened to me, I just needed to tell them. I knew they wouldn’t be very supportive.

The final peg clicked into its hole when I took my mom and brother to therapy with me individually. They had completely opposite reactions. My mother became stoic and uncooperative, my brother opened up in a way that I’d never seen before. Upon observing and hearing them, I realized that they were as screwed up as I was – maybe even worse since I was open and ready to change. My selfishness and complete disregard for them waned. They were people too, with pain they weren’t ready to deal with yet. I had to respect that. At least they came. They loved me that much.

I’m not sure where we are as a family unit these days. I suppose we’re in transition. Our roles are no longer clear. I’m okay with it. I talk to my brother a lot – a complete 180 from how we were as kids. Our mom, well, I think she’s running. I don’t know what happened to her, but whatever it was she doesn’t want to revisit it again, ever. She’s an old woman now. She has earned the right to spend her remaining years doing whatever she chooses… except for telling me what to do. We’re still working on that part.

every day a new lesson in letting go

The closer I feel to surrender, the more opposition I discover inside myself. It seems that my favorite ego-driven practice is taking offense to something. Bear in mind that I'm probably the worst offender I know. It's true that the qualities that you find most unappealing in other people are merely reflecting what you dislike about yourself.

That's Miss Asshole to you.

I slept well last night... until about 5:30AM, when I awoke with the nagging feeling that I had made an ass of myself. Sometimes I wonder why people put up with it. I said something mean -spirited to a guy I work with. I didn't even give it a second thought until another person commented on it. Although the commenter meant it light -heartedly, I took it quite seriously and examined the motivation behind my snarky retort. What it comes down to is my constant self-depreciation. I am rarely (if ever) satisfied with anything I do. I can't even take a compliment! If I'm so critical of myself, it makes perfect sense that I'd insult someone else to take the focus off me for a while.

Well, I don't want to be that person. There are enough bitches in the world already without me adding another one. I'll just have to find a new, different way to quiet my cold inner judge. Until then, I must be strong enough to endure the stare of my reflection.

I apologized of course. Even though he said it didn't matter, it was important to me that I at least admit my wrongdoing.

Breathing and Inner Peace

When I'm nervous or upset, my breath gets shallow.  I may even hold it.  During my meeting with a lifecoach yesterday, every time we talked about something I found intimidating she had to remind me to breathe.  It's not uncommon.  Most people rarely use their full breathing capacity (except maybe during strenuous exercise), and it's even more rare to witness a person under extreme stress pausing to take a breath.  Can you imagine how many terrible decisions we could all avoid if we just took a moment to breathe before acting or reacting to something?

I was such an angry young person - always just one piece of unpleasant news away from a complete meltdown. Those meltdowns became all-encompassing fits of rage. They got so bad at one point that I completely blacked out, emerging on the other side of an episode without any recollection of what I had done. After that happened, I ran. I avoided situations and people who caused me distress because I didn’t want to lose control again. I was afraid of what might happen. I was afraid of what the consequences would be. I was afraid of myself. I lived with that fear through my twenties. It wasn’t until I took my sabbatical at age 34, when I traveled alone to Thailand to spend two weeks in silence with the mountain monks, that I really became acquainted with my true, centered self. 

Since that trip, I've held fast to the belief that most of us are perfectly capable of creating balance and happiness in our lives if we just SHUT UP AND BE STILL for a damn minute.  If it's not life or death, there's no need to immediately jump into action.  It's important to give ourselves time and space to feel whatever we feel without judgment.

So... My lifecoaching homework (layering on my existing assignment to rebuild my morning and evening meditation practices in 5-minute intervals every week - I'm up to 15 minutes now) is to notice my breathing.  Whenever anything exciting happens, I pause and return to my breathing, making sure it is even and relaxed.  I have some pretty exciting activities planned, so it should be interesting.