Yep, I know what you are thinking. Language! - lol
But it's only 9:20 AM and I have already reached Fooey status.
Doggone it if I didn't get stuck less than a quarter of a mile into my run short of breath and terrified I wouldn't be able to make it forward or backward. I made some pretty crumby choices yesterday that resulted in said quagmire.
First, this waiting to workout until after work business just doesn't work for me. I may have to work out twice, but I need the endorphins from my morning cardio just as much as I need caffine or my daily Shakeology. Dear Lord, I needed a butt draggin wagon yesterday for crying out loud.
Then, to support a local charity I ate at Ghengis Grill - a wonderful Mongolian stir fry place, if you know your limitations. Ah, the magic of "if." Apparently I did not know (and/or observe) mine & went for not one, not two, but three kinds of seafood. Add spices & peanut sauce and you have a perfect recipe for crappy choices - excuse the pun.
So then, I rushed my kids to church, scarfing this down as I made the 15 minute drive and by the time I was home, woah baby! I was so sick there was no way I was doing insanity -- I could barely sit up and focus on my son's long division homework.
Ya know that phrase, what's done in the dark always comes to light? Well, that was yesterday and today when I be-bopped my happy hips outside in the beautiful Texas morning air, my lungs were not having it. Seafood, peanuts, and cold air with sans inhaler, sans Zyrtec? Really? Smoke crack much?
It should be no surprise that I found myself humbled and sitting on the curb trying to breathe.
So boys and girls, today's lesson is that every choice we make, no matter how seemingly harmless or covert, will come back to us. The fuel we choose for our bodies makes a difference. Every choice is relevant - that relevance can be downplayed or managed, but it always impacts the way your body runs and reacts.
Until next,
11.04.2010
10.30.2010
Fun Fitness Find: Lanacane Anti-Chafing Gel
Okay, so this one is straight from the "keeping it real" files.
If you are getting back into fitness, chances are that you have some area on your body that is occupying a bit more space than originally intended. If you are anything like me, this inconvenient little truth might just result in a little chafing.
Thunder thighs scrubbing?
Extra boobage rubbing the inner arm?
Bra strap screeching back and forth?
It happens to the best of us so don't feel bad. I was watching this hilarious dance show called Dance Your A$$ Off that is like an odd hybrid of Biggest Loser & Dancing with the Stars and a TV commercial for Lanacane Anti-Chafing gel came on. At first I giggled, but an ill-chosen wardrobe (boy shorts connected to an adorable tennis-style skirt) made me a believer.
I drew blood on my inner thighs at an early morning bootcamp run in said skirt and re-thought the genius of the product. About a month and a half ago, I slipped into my local Walmart and grabbed a tube. Since then, I've found that it also counteracts the scrubbing of my bodybugg on the inner arm and my braline (shoulders & chest).
The result? No more irritation & the darkening on my skin is fading. Hey, now that showing a little skin is actually a possibility, I gotta cover my bases :o)
Until Next,
10.20.2010
Avoiding Failure vs. Finding Success
Remember the value clarifying exercise I mentioned in another blog? If not, it was an activity that I did with my family therapist that had me list where I spent money, time & energy in one column and then what I truly valued in another.
Ideally, the two columns correlate, but in my case it wasn't even close. I spent money -- a LOT of money -- on things I didn't value at all. It took a recession and a major change in the way we earned and spent money to make me take a long hard look at what I'd been doing.
Tonight, I'm thinking about values, goals and choices for how and where I spend my money, time and energy. As you may know, I've recently joined Team Beach Body/Shakeology, a multi-level marketing company. I also have a long-time affiliation with Mary Kay, which is similar in structure. Specifically, I'm reflecting on my own odd sensations in the last week regarding my experience with, perception of, and future in multi-level marketing.
These types of companies can have such a bad rap, but the truth is that in many ways they make sense. Further, I happen to know a few people who have been very successful in this type of business (not my companies) including three former high school classmates -- two of which are actually millionaires. These are people I actually know and they are normal. Not predatory in the least.
MLMs come in various models, but the basic idea is becoming your own boss and setting your own financial destiny. Time & energy invested results in income and financial freedom. Sounds innocent enough. So why do I feel a little person inside cringe a little at the idea of putting the whole business "out there?"
It makes no sense; I have friends who sell everything from candles to handbags to special water to jewelry. Why on earth is it that these ideas are a bad idea? And if they are why are they so popular? Of course, there are situations where the companies actually make their money off of people with ridiculous start up costs and pipe dreams. That's part of it. A big part.
I think the other part is the fear of trying and failing. So many of us are terrified to try and fail that we just sit back and ridicule the living daylights out of any one crab that crawls for the top of the barrel. Others just want to see someone else try just to make sure the waters are safe.
My husband and I had been discussing the difference between having a goal to avoid failure versus having a goal to seek success tonight at our Wednesday date. My older son has been dealing with the fear of failure issue and it has been a common topic of discussion in our home. How do you teach someone to go for it? How do you convince them that failures are opportunities waiting to happen?
I don't know, to be honest. It's right up there with how you teach someone to be motivated, how to teach ambition, and how to convince my bulldog to stop waking me in the middle of the night to go outside (I'm here all day for crying out loud).
Of course, who am I to give advice? I look at myself -- touting the joys of an amazing product for months without earning a dime in affiliation with the company. Now that I'm officially on board, I feel awkward about saying a word. What's up with that?
I'll tell you what's up with it: it's a fear of failure. It's a fear of rejection or perhaps, of change in general.
It is 1979 and I am afraid that all the kids will make fun of me if they find out I've been living in another country. It is 1986 and I am terrified that my crush will find out I'm in advanced classes. It is 1992 and I am sneaking out of my dorm to perform poetry in middle English because my roommates will look at me like I have two heads. I am tempted by the lure of blending because don't want to be seen as different, as motivated, as trying. The raised nail gets the hammer & all that.
Of course, this is precisely the mentality that led me to a 50+ lb weight gain in the first place. It was so easy to sit and go through drive-thru's and wish. So ridiculously hard and different to run and cook healthy meals and actually do. No one else was, at least I'd managed to steer my way clear of anyone who was (convenient, yes?) And before you know it- bam! Hello 206.
I dont' want that: the excuses, the fear, the denial, the beige. I want something more even if I am terrified of reaching for it; even if I am terrified of attaining it.
I know who I am and that is not some sales psycho. I know what I want and how I want to help others, and for me that will mean walking a clean line. No obnoxious nonsense. No marketing assaults when friends are least expecting it. No over-the-top in your face machine gun posts on Facebook. Just consistently being me.
It's just so funny to me that here, less than a month from my 37th birthday. I still have to talk myself into having the courage to follow my heart and live by my own truth. Perhaps I'll go easy on my son, when I see him avoiding potential failure, possible rejection like the Plague. Afterall, this standing firm business isn't nearly as easy at it looks.
Until next,
Ideally, the two columns correlate, but in my case it wasn't even close. I spent money -- a LOT of money -- on things I didn't value at all. It took a recession and a major change in the way we earned and spent money to make me take a long hard look at what I'd been doing.
Tonight, I'm thinking about values, goals and choices for how and where I spend my money, time and energy. As you may know, I've recently joined Team Beach Body/Shakeology, a multi-level marketing company. I also have a long-time affiliation with Mary Kay, which is similar in structure. Specifically, I'm reflecting on my own odd sensations in the last week regarding my experience with, perception of, and future in multi-level marketing.
These types of companies can have such a bad rap, but the truth is that in many ways they make sense. Further, I happen to know a few people who have been very successful in this type of business (not my companies) including three former high school classmates -- two of which are actually millionaires. These are people I actually know and they are normal. Not predatory in the least.
MLMs come in various models, but the basic idea is becoming your own boss and setting your own financial destiny. Time & energy invested results in income and financial freedom. Sounds innocent enough. So why do I feel a little person inside cringe a little at the idea of putting the whole business "out there?"
It makes no sense; I have friends who sell everything from candles to handbags to special water to jewelry. Why on earth is it that these ideas are a bad idea? And if they are why are they so popular? Of course, there are situations where the companies actually make their money off of people with ridiculous start up costs and pipe dreams. That's part of it. A big part.
I think the other part is the fear of trying and failing. So many of us are terrified to try and fail that we just sit back and ridicule the living daylights out of any one crab that crawls for the top of the barrel. Others just want to see someone else try just to make sure the waters are safe.
My husband and I had been discussing the difference between having a goal to avoid failure versus having a goal to seek success tonight at our Wednesday date. My older son has been dealing with the fear of failure issue and it has been a common topic of discussion in our home. How do you teach someone to go for it? How do you convince them that failures are opportunities waiting to happen?
I don't know, to be honest. It's right up there with how you teach someone to be motivated, how to teach ambition, and how to convince my bulldog to stop waking me in the middle of the night to go outside (I'm here all day for crying out loud).
Of course, who am I to give advice? I look at myself -- touting the joys of an amazing product for months without earning a dime in affiliation with the company. Now that I'm officially on board, I feel awkward about saying a word. What's up with that?
I'll tell you what's up with it: it's a fear of failure. It's a fear of rejection or perhaps, of change in general.
It is 1979 and I am afraid that all the kids will make fun of me if they find out I've been living in another country. It is 1986 and I am terrified that my crush will find out I'm in advanced classes. It is 1992 and I am sneaking out of my dorm to perform poetry in middle English because my roommates will look at me like I have two heads. I am tempted by the lure of blending because don't want to be seen as different, as motivated, as trying. The raised nail gets the hammer & all that.
Of course, this is precisely the mentality that led me to a 50+ lb weight gain in the first place. It was so easy to sit and go through drive-thru's and wish. So ridiculously hard and different to run and cook healthy meals and actually do. No one else was, at least I'd managed to steer my way clear of anyone who was (convenient, yes?) And before you know it- bam! Hello 206.
I dont' want that: the excuses, the fear, the denial, the beige. I want something more even if I am terrified of reaching for it; even if I am terrified of attaining it.
I know who I am and that is not some sales psycho. I know what I want and how I want to help others, and for me that will mean walking a clean line. No obnoxious nonsense. No marketing assaults when friends are least expecting it. No over-the-top in your face machine gun posts on Facebook. Just consistently being me.
It's just so funny to me that here, less than a month from my 37th birthday. I still have to talk myself into having the courage to follow my heart and live by my own truth. Perhaps I'll go easy on my son, when I see him avoiding potential failure, possible rejection like the Plague. Afterall, this standing firm business isn't nearly as easy at it looks.
Until next,
Not Yet
"We don't really have no's; we have now and not yet."
These were the first words I heard when I registered that my audition was a complete bust. Okay, not complete, I have the look & the "general essence" of Hustle. Otherwise, not so much.
Gotta say, I didn't see it coming. Even with my running late, chewing gum to help loosen my cheeks for big smiles (and forgetting to spit it out!), having to wear a waist band dripping in someone else's sweat and talk into a mic that I'd never used. Not with the fact that the sound system wasn't IPod compatible and my back up CD didn't have the music I've been using. Would you believe, not even with the fact that I was on a Jane Fonda style carpeted stage that I was certain I would fall from at any moment. Not when the evaluator stopped the music about 10 minutes in. Even then I still didn't have a clue.
That is, until I took a few moments of reflection. Then I went from bummed to excited & hungry in a way I haven't been in a very long while.
Here's the run down:
First things first. I didn't suck completely; I just lacked several things that need to be addressed before you hit the A-Team at a club like 24. I am certain that I could totally kick booty at a local community center. No problem. Still, I've always been kinda type A and if I'm going to do a thing, I want total world domination - or at least a close second :o).
In short, I just wasn't ready. It's been 9 months since I've been really into fitness again after an 11 year lapse and even then I was into participating, not instructing. Further, it's been less than 2 months since I first thought about being an instructor - I can cut myself a little slack here and take it slow :o)
With that said, the feedback rocked! I listened and, of course, felt the lump in my throat. I felt it on the way to my car and about 5 minutes down the road.
Then the irony of the situation hit me: I used to be in the evaluator's chair. I used to see areas for improvement and try to point them out with tact. I walked that line between nonnegotiable expectations and honoring someone's effort.
It wasn't easy and I didn't have nearly the grace that this person had.
Not a proud moment for me, but it's true.
I remember wondering what in the world these people were doing by bringing less than and expecting it to be enough. It kind of drove me nuts. There were those who held the philosophy that they were trying, even trying their best, so that should count for something. I always thought, "Are you nutz?" If my brain surgeon didn't quite have what it took, but he was really trying, should it matter? Duh.
The thing is that there are some areas of life that are open to a great deal of leeway while others are not. You can't totally suck at being a mom and hope someone will spot you the points. Sure, there are a few things like housekeeping, availability or coolness can be offered a Mulligan. But there are the basics that simply must be done, like safety, security, advocacy, food & love. If you aren't providing those, you kind of suck (sorry).
When I was a teacher working with teachers, I would think: you can not dial it in here. Kids get one chance at this school year. Just one. And no, you can't suck because it's a hard time. You can leave and come back when you are ready to be what they need. Sorry.
So now, on this day that started with me writing an email to a student in my Research Writing class that outlined what the expectation is and why that would pretty much be the only acceptable product - afterall, it's a research class; ya kinda hafta have research - and then led to my being informed of the expectation and why it would pretty much be the standard I needed to meet, I am actually encouraged.
I know that expectations make sense. I know that there are efforts that aren't good enough, at least not yet. I also know that this does not mean I shouldn't strive to be good enough. Everyday, a little more. And believe you me, I will be kickin booty and takin names very soon.
Until then, I'm not ready to give up on setting my own expectations or on meeting the expectations of others. I'm not ready to sit down and start making a laundry list of excuses and explanations. I've been at home for a while, but I am not out of the excellence game. Not yet.
Until next,
These were the first words I heard when I registered that my audition was a complete bust. Okay, not complete, I have the look & the "general essence" of Hustle. Otherwise, not so much.
Gotta say, I didn't see it coming. Even with my running late, chewing gum to help loosen my cheeks for big smiles (and forgetting to spit it out!), having to wear a waist band dripping in someone else's sweat and talk into a mic that I'd never used. Not with the fact that the sound system wasn't IPod compatible and my back up CD didn't have the music I've been using. Would you believe, not even with the fact that I was on a Jane Fonda style carpeted stage that I was certain I would fall from at any moment. Not when the evaluator stopped the music about 10 minutes in. Even then I still didn't have a clue.
That is, until I took a few moments of reflection. Then I went from bummed to excited & hungry in a way I haven't been in a very long while.
Here's the run down:
First things first. I didn't suck completely; I just lacked several things that need to be addressed before you hit the A-Team at a club like 24. I am certain that I could totally kick booty at a local community center. No problem. Still, I've always been kinda type A and if I'm going to do a thing, I want total world domination - or at least a close second :o).
In short, I just wasn't ready. It's been 9 months since I've been really into fitness again after an 11 year lapse and even then I was into participating, not instructing. Further, it's been less than 2 months since I first thought about being an instructor - I can cut myself a little slack here and take it slow :o)
With that said, the feedback rocked! I listened and, of course, felt the lump in my throat. I felt it on the way to my car and about 5 minutes down the road.
Then the irony of the situation hit me: I used to be in the evaluator's chair. I used to see areas for improvement and try to point them out with tact. I walked that line between nonnegotiable expectations and honoring someone's effort.
It wasn't easy and I didn't have nearly the grace that this person had.
Not a proud moment for me, but it's true.
I remember wondering what in the world these people were doing by bringing less than and expecting it to be enough. It kind of drove me nuts. There were those who held the philosophy that they were trying, even trying their best, so that should count for something. I always thought, "Are you nutz?" If my brain surgeon didn't quite have what it took, but he was really trying, should it matter? Duh.
The thing is that there are some areas of life that are open to a great deal of leeway while others are not. You can't totally suck at being a mom and hope someone will spot you the points. Sure, there are a few things like housekeeping, availability or coolness can be offered a Mulligan. But there are the basics that simply must be done, like safety, security, advocacy, food & love. If you aren't providing those, you kind of suck (sorry).
When I was a teacher working with teachers, I would think: you can not dial it in here. Kids get one chance at this school year. Just one. And no, you can't suck because it's a hard time. You can leave and come back when you are ready to be what they need. Sorry.
So now, on this day that started with me writing an email to a student in my Research Writing class that outlined what the expectation is and why that would pretty much be the only acceptable product - afterall, it's a research class; ya kinda hafta have research - and then led to my being informed of the expectation and why it would pretty much be the standard I needed to meet, I am actually encouraged.
I know that expectations make sense. I know that there are efforts that aren't good enough, at least not yet. I also know that this does not mean I shouldn't strive to be good enough. Everyday, a little more. And believe you me, I will be kickin booty and takin names very soon.
Until then, I'm not ready to give up on setting my own expectations or on meeting the expectations of others. I'm not ready to sit down and start making a laundry list of excuses and explanations. I've been at home for a while, but I am not out of the excellence game. Not yet.
Until next,
9.24.2010
Neophyte No-no's: Battle Scars
I'm not sure how many people who read this blog have ever battled with body image. I'm not just talking weight, I mean anything: skin, proportions, you name it. If you've been battling, I can only assume that there have been wins and losses, ups and downs. There are days when you are sailing and days when you are scraping the barrel's bottom.
These are the moments that I've been considering lately.
Actually, I sat down to write this blog yesterday but couldn't. You see, I made a commitment a while back to use my words responsibly. I think that the ability to write is a gift that I've been given, by God and the Universe, for a purpose that I don't entirely understand. However, like Arthur's gift of Excalibur, it can be weilded to liberate and inspire or to damage and degrade.
I'm committed to using my gifts for good instead of evil, but don't think for one second that the alternative isn't tempting.
So what's the connection between body image battles & words that can cut like mythical swords? It comes down to wounds, retaliation and recovery.
The battle to love yourself despite all the negative messages and artillery that come hurling your way can be overwhelming. Once we figure it out, I think there is a temptation to go a little medieval on those we feel were hurtful in the past.
Maybe it was a comment, a look, whatever, but something someone said may have made you feel like less, like a failure for not winning in this one particular aspect of life. I know that at 201 pounds, I had many such stings. Too many to name, some too hurtful to remember.
One of these came from someone close to me, very close. On a visit to her home, this person spent time going on and on about how good she looked and how much weight she'd lost. Then she gave me a top to bottom appraisal and with a spark of inspiration, she broke her thought and said, "Oh, we should see if you can fit some of my old clothes, I mean, they are entirely too big for me, but you might be able to wear a few."
It's been years now and the ache of that humiliation still lingers.
You see I'd always been in shape until I had children, worked full time, and lost myself in the onslaught of newly defined roles. I didn't realize it, but this person felt inferior before, when I was "on top". Now, that the tables had turned, she took the opportunity to make me feel as small as she'd once felt.
I received a call from her recently. Seems word of my weight loss had traveled. Rather than catching up or talking about what we normally would, the conversation was consumed with confessions of weight gain and eating blunders.
Guess the universe turned again & once again, I was on the winning side.
This was a little something I like to call a defining moment. The point when your words and actions define who you are and who you are committed to becoming.
Here's what I chose to do: Say nothing. I'm not your food and fitness priest; there is no sense in confessing to me because I have no desire to judge or absolve you. Heavy, thin, fit, or fat. I don't care. Your battle with your body is your business. I love you because of who you are, not because of what you look like.
At 201 lbs, I needed love. Moreover, I deserved love. I deserve the very same thing right now and will continue to deserve it tomorrow. Part of loving yourself is protecting the person you need yourself to be. I need to be positive. I need to be gentle. With others and with myself. No urge for revenge or retaliation is worth losing what both provide in my life.
In my humble opinion, that whole cycle of attaching worth to your body image is nuts. You can't wait to look the way you want so that you can feel worthy of love. My self talk during the fitness journey has always been that I am worthy now. I work out because I am worthy, not so that I can become worthy.
Whereever you are in your journey, I hope that you will embrace the idea that you are worthy and that worthiness is the fuel, not the finish line.
Until next,
These are the moments that I've been considering lately.
Actually, I sat down to write this blog yesterday but couldn't. You see, I made a commitment a while back to use my words responsibly. I think that the ability to write is a gift that I've been given, by God and the Universe, for a purpose that I don't entirely understand. However, like Arthur's gift of Excalibur, it can be weilded to liberate and inspire or to damage and degrade.
I'm committed to using my gifts for good instead of evil, but don't think for one second that the alternative isn't tempting.
So what's the connection between body image battles & words that can cut like mythical swords? It comes down to wounds, retaliation and recovery.
The battle to love yourself despite all the negative messages and artillery that come hurling your way can be overwhelming. Once we figure it out, I think there is a temptation to go a little medieval on those we feel were hurtful in the past.
Maybe it was a comment, a look, whatever, but something someone said may have made you feel like less, like a failure for not winning in this one particular aspect of life. I know that at 201 pounds, I had many such stings. Too many to name, some too hurtful to remember.
One of these came from someone close to me, very close. On a visit to her home, this person spent time going on and on about how good she looked and how much weight she'd lost. Then she gave me a top to bottom appraisal and with a spark of inspiration, she broke her thought and said, "Oh, we should see if you can fit some of my old clothes, I mean, they are entirely too big for me, but you might be able to wear a few."
It's been years now and the ache of that humiliation still lingers.
You see I'd always been in shape until I had children, worked full time, and lost myself in the onslaught of newly defined roles. I didn't realize it, but this person felt inferior before, when I was "on top". Now, that the tables had turned, she took the opportunity to make me feel as small as she'd once felt.
I received a call from her recently. Seems word of my weight loss had traveled. Rather than catching up or talking about what we normally would, the conversation was consumed with confessions of weight gain and eating blunders.
Guess the universe turned again & once again, I was on the winning side.
This was a little something I like to call a defining moment. The point when your words and actions define who you are and who you are committed to becoming.
Here's what I chose to do: Say nothing. I'm not your food and fitness priest; there is no sense in confessing to me because I have no desire to judge or absolve you. Heavy, thin, fit, or fat. I don't care. Your battle with your body is your business. I love you because of who you are, not because of what you look like.
At 201 lbs, I needed love. Moreover, I deserved love. I deserve the very same thing right now and will continue to deserve it tomorrow. Part of loving yourself is protecting the person you need yourself to be. I need to be positive. I need to be gentle. With others and with myself. No urge for revenge or retaliation is worth losing what both provide in my life.
In my humble opinion, that whole cycle of attaching worth to your body image is nuts. You can't wait to look the way you want so that you can feel worthy of love. My self talk during the fitness journey has always been that I am worthy now. I work out because I am worthy, not so that I can become worthy.
Whereever you are in your journey, I hope that you will embrace the idea that you are worthy and that worthiness is the fuel, not the finish line.
Until next,
8.19.2010
It's not you, it's me
Okay, so I know you've heard this one before -- that it's not you; it's me -- but stick with me on this one.
I have walked around having what is tantamount to an out-of-body experience in the last two weeks.
I actually used the words "claw ___'s eyes out" in several different contexts. Me? Yep, perky Patty herself.
I've bemoaned my thin skin, my aggravation, I even fist-pumped to "We're not gonna take it!" by Twisted Sister when it slipped into the play list during spin on Wednesday. Forget the Ghost Rider, I have been hell on wheels people.
All the while, I've wondered what gives. What, exactly, is the dealy-o? Then as usual it all came together after a little girl time, a little rum, a little facebook and a good night's rest.
While chatting with a few members of the goddess squad last night, I realized that what I'd perceived (and received) as a series of insults were really just people responding to the new, clearly defined and strengthened me. I am positive because I want to be. Because I am blessed and I enjoy having the joy I feel exude from my words, my smile, my life.
Would you believe that I was offended because I'd been described as " really overly excited?" When one of the goddess squad members called me "exuberant," my little heart took flight. C'mon. I'm an English major, folks. While "overly excited" might not get an "A" for delivery, the message is pretty darn similar so what's up with being offended?
This same series of revelations continued througout the evening, through my dreams and into the morning when I read a newer friend's post. She wrote of not riding the fence, but asserting who you are with pride and confidence. As I read, my light bulb came on.
You see, that's what all of this is really about. It's about me knowing who I want to be and even about me becoming that person. Since it's still new, I'm kind of like Jake Sully in those first clumsy moments in the avatar: It feels new and right, but it also feels alien and raw.
Truth be told, I didn't know exactly how to take comments about my positivity -- do I bust out with a "What you talkin' bout, Willis?" or do I gracefully say thank you? The same holds true for other new experiences that have me feeling a little shaky in the knees.
Now that my older son is moving up and moving away, what is my purpose in his life, in this role as mom? Will I be ready for the new ways in which he'll need me?
Now that I'm defining myself, how do those who've known me for years navigate the newly defined territories and boundary lines?
I'd like to believe that "becoming" is like blooming into a beautiful little flower, but it isn't always. It's more like waking up in a 10 foot avatar suit and knockin crap over while you get your stuff straight.
Ya see, in the time that I've been asking myself what on earth is up with the cold-pricklies that have been coming my way, I may have wanted to look inward on this one. I don't fault myself for the awkward moments, the graceless slips, but I do own my responsibility to figure it out and to own the fullness of this process.
Thank God for the guides that inform my path.
Until next,
I have walked around having what is tantamount to an out-of-body experience in the last two weeks.
I actually used the words "claw ___'s eyes out" in several different contexts. Me? Yep, perky Patty herself.
I've bemoaned my thin skin, my aggravation, I even fist-pumped to "We're not gonna take it!" by Twisted Sister when it slipped into the play list during spin on Wednesday. Forget the Ghost Rider, I have been hell on wheels people.
All the while, I've wondered what gives. What, exactly, is the dealy-o? Then as usual it all came together after a little girl time, a little rum, a little facebook and a good night's rest.
While chatting with a few members of the goddess squad last night, I realized that what I'd perceived (and received) as a series of insults were really just people responding to the new, clearly defined and strengthened me. I am positive because I want to be. Because I am blessed and I enjoy having the joy I feel exude from my words, my smile, my life.
Would you believe that I was offended because I'd been described as " really overly excited?" When one of the goddess squad members called me "exuberant," my little heart took flight. C'mon. I'm an English major, folks. While "overly excited" might not get an "A" for delivery, the message is pretty darn similar so what's up with being offended?
This same series of revelations continued througout the evening, through my dreams and into the morning when I read a newer friend's post. She wrote of not riding the fence, but asserting who you are with pride and confidence. As I read, my light bulb came on.
You see, that's what all of this is really about. It's about me knowing who I want to be and even about me becoming that person. Since it's still new, I'm kind of like Jake Sully in those first clumsy moments in the avatar: It feels new and right, but it also feels alien and raw.
Truth be told, I didn't know exactly how to take comments about my positivity -- do I bust out with a "What you talkin' bout, Willis?" or do I gracefully say thank you? The same holds true for other new experiences that have me feeling a little shaky in the knees.
Now that my older son is moving up and moving away, what is my purpose in his life, in this role as mom? Will I be ready for the new ways in which he'll need me?
Now that I'm defining myself, how do those who've known me for years navigate the newly defined territories and boundary lines?
I'd like to believe that "becoming" is like blooming into a beautiful little flower, but it isn't always. It's more like waking up in a 10 foot avatar suit and knockin crap over while you get your stuff straight.
Ya see, in the time that I've been asking myself what on earth is up with the cold-pricklies that have been coming my way, I may have wanted to look inward on this one. I don't fault myself for the awkward moments, the graceless slips, but I do own my responsibility to figure it out and to own the fullness of this process.
Thank God for the guides that inform my path.
Until next,
8.17.2010
Bring it, baby!
The last 14 days have been a wild ride, not the kind that is fun. Nah, this is the kind that sucks hard core. Still, I find myself wanting to run at the day like Phoebe in Central Park screaming "Bring it, baby! Bring it!"
First, the context: Here's a recap of the highs and lows.
Sunday. First, I woke up with a horrible rash on my neck. Apparently, I am now, at 36 years of age, allergic to shellfish for the first time ever. Go figure! On this same day, I woke with a kink in my neck that limited my ability to look left -- very Derek Zoolander. As a special cherry on top, I got my monthly visitor that day as well. Yum! I couldn't use Icy Hot to calm the kink because of the rash, so I was one crampy, splotchy Frankenstein's monster for days.
Thursday. I hit the 30 lbs. down mark (woo hoo)! & that was absolutely wonderful! My husband offered me chocolate cake to celebrate and I honestly didn't want any. Thank you, Shakeology!
Friday. I hyperextended my right leg while furiously attacking the AMT machine (similar to an eliptical) at my gym. Still, I'm training so I have to suck it up & foam roll my self silly :o)
Saturday. Like sunlight screaming in the face of a hangover victim, the terrifying reality that I am, in fact, registered to run the Jailbreak on September 19th hit me as I huffed and puffed up and down teen weeny hills. Despite my desire & perceived ability, I wore the wrong clothes (a cute little running skirt) and ended up with chaffed and bleeding thighs. I took two days off, but again, I'm in training so I had to suck it up!
So you can see I was kind of all over the place so to speak and maybe this is why I was feeling a little delicate. Maybe this is also why, when faced with a few nice-nasty comments and WTF situations in a row, I was left wanting to claw someone's eyes out. Maybe that's why I dreamed of punching and kicking my way through the faces that had left me feeling like someone else's punching bag.
Did I mention I'd started Turbo Kick Boxing? That might be relevant.
Oh, & I also saw the movie Kick Ass last week? Loved it. This might also be relevant.
Interestingly enough, I was talking to my mom about a situation where she felt that petty high school sensation of others being mean for no frickin reason at all. She was in shock. Afterall, she's pushing 60; isn't that sort of nonsense supposed to be over at this point in life?
Apparently not.
And apparently the fact that I'm pushing my own boundaries, meeting my own goals, finding such personal balance and peace doesn't make me exempt from what I perceive as attacks either.
The difference is that I've been kicking ass and taking names -- the miles, the pounds, the fears have all been falling by the waste side in the past 6 months -- and I am not the person I once was. I'm all for taking on life's ups and downs, for grabbing the bull by the horns and getting it done, but when it comes to having someone else's crap dumped on me, well, that's where I draw the line.
My new nature, the healthier, more engaged me, likes to look for the lesson in experiences. So what's up with this little nugget? I think the lesson is that no matter what, there will always be two battles raging. The internal and the external.
Getting fit is partially about the internal battles. Fighting the voice in your head that questions your ability , your strength, and pushing through to prove just how kick ass you really are. Then there are the external battles. Those that hit you when you aren't expecting them, when you haven't had the chance to steel yourself emotionally. What then?
I can't pretend to know for sure, but I can say this. I have a life time of proof that points to my ability to do anything through faith, presence and determination. If anyone has reason to fear, it definitely isn't me.
Until next,
First, the context: Here's a recap of the highs and lows.
Sunday. First, I woke up with a horrible rash on my neck. Apparently, I am now, at 36 years of age, allergic to shellfish for the first time ever. Go figure! On this same day, I woke with a kink in my neck that limited my ability to look left -- very Derek Zoolander. As a special cherry on top, I got my monthly visitor that day as well. Yum! I couldn't use Icy Hot to calm the kink because of the rash, so I was one crampy, splotchy Frankenstein's monster for days.
Thursday. I hit the 30 lbs. down mark (woo hoo)! & that was absolutely wonderful! My husband offered me chocolate cake to celebrate and I honestly didn't want any. Thank you, Shakeology!
Friday. I hyperextended my right leg while furiously attacking the AMT machine (similar to an eliptical) at my gym. Still, I'm training so I have to suck it up & foam roll my self silly :o)
Saturday. Like sunlight screaming in the face of a hangover victim, the terrifying reality that I am, in fact, registered to run the Jailbreak on September 19th hit me as I huffed and puffed up and down teen weeny hills. Despite my desire & perceived ability, I wore the wrong clothes (a cute little running skirt) and ended up with chaffed and bleeding thighs. I took two days off, but again, I'm in training so I had to suck it up!
So you can see I was kind of all over the place so to speak and maybe this is why I was feeling a little delicate. Maybe this is also why, when faced with a few nice-nasty comments and WTF situations in a row, I was left wanting to claw someone's eyes out. Maybe that's why I dreamed of punching and kicking my way through the faces that had left me feeling like someone else's punching bag.
Did I mention I'd started Turbo Kick Boxing? That might be relevant.
Oh, & I also saw the movie Kick Ass last week? Loved it. This might also be relevant.
Interestingly enough, I was talking to my mom about a situation where she felt that petty high school sensation of others being mean for no frickin reason at all. She was in shock. Afterall, she's pushing 60; isn't that sort of nonsense supposed to be over at this point in life?
Apparently not.
And apparently the fact that I'm pushing my own boundaries, meeting my own goals, finding such personal balance and peace doesn't make me exempt from what I perceive as attacks either.
The difference is that I've been kicking ass and taking names -- the miles, the pounds, the fears have all been falling by the waste side in the past 6 months -- and I am not the person I once was. I'm all for taking on life's ups and downs, for grabbing the bull by the horns and getting it done, but when it comes to having someone else's crap dumped on me, well, that's where I draw the line.
My new nature, the healthier, more engaged me, likes to look for the lesson in experiences. So what's up with this little nugget? I think the lesson is that no matter what, there will always be two battles raging. The internal and the external.
Getting fit is partially about the internal battles. Fighting the voice in your head that questions your ability , your strength, and pushing through to prove just how kick ass you really are. Then there are the external battles. Those that hit you when you aren't expecting them, when you haven't had the chance to steel yourself emotionally. What then?
I can't pretend to know for sure, but I can say this. I have a life time of proof that points to my ability to do anything through faith, presence and determination. If anyone has reason to fear, it definitely isn't me.
Until next,
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