Airplane Seats

Okay, no one I know truly enjoys plane travel.  That said, traveling on an airplane is a new level of hell for the tall and for the overweight.

If you happen to be both it means so many years off purgatory, you might well get simply assumed into Heaven, like Elijah or the Blessed Virgin.

There was a time, ahem, when the amount of extra weight I carried around meant that I (yes, I can admit this) needed an extender in order to get the belt buckled on an airplane seat.  (omygoshicantbelieveiactuallywrotethatoutloud!) A friend gave me one so I could at least be spared the humiliation of asking for one... But you know, in the interests of honesty, there it is.  I still remember with perfect clarity the first time I had to ask for one.  A part of me felt like simply getting off the plane and quitting my high travel job and taking a job that involved never interacting with people or being seen by anyone, ever.  I found no job postings for trolls-under-the-bridge, though.  Guess you gotta have connections.

There are some airlines that make you buy two seats at some point.  Thankfully, due ONLY to the way my weight was carried, I never had to do that.  But misery is misery. Once numbness set in it wasn't so bad, though.

Additionally, being over six feet tall also meant that my knees were digging into the seat in front of me... A miserable experience for not one but two people.

I still have a strict travel order from those days for my assistant... Her only firing offense would be to book a middle seat for me on a flight.  This makes the flying experience miserable for all three people in my row, plus the person in the seat in front of me.

On one five hour flight back from Boston, a giant football player of a man and I scored seats in the bulkhead.  Our legs were fine, but we had the delicate dance of where to put elbows and knees and shoulders. After we hit turbulence which threw us both around, he turned to me and said, "Hi, I'm... I thought I ought to introduce myself because I think you may now be carrying my child!" We both laughed somewhat miserably.

Now that I'm a bit smaller, I fit into the seats without people around me giving me the eye, and the belt buckles just fine.  I carried the extender around for a while anyway just in case I magically ballooned to my former weight as I boarded.

 

The thing I am most grateful for in a really concrete way about this getting healthy stuff is that I buckle myself into a plane seat and have slack on the belt.  I text my trainer pretty much every time just to give him a long distance hug for his part in this happiness.

 

True Strength

So, now that I'm home from my visit to Indiana, and moving back toward some semblance of structured healthy living, the idea of strength keeps coming to mind.

The last few months have been emotional and hectic and frustrating and one thing I kept smacking myself with was, How come it was so easy to stay on track back at the beginning and now it is so hard to get back there?

The reason?  I have a FAMOUSLY poor memory.

I went back and read my former blog from those days and realized that it was even HARDER then than it is now.  Back then it wasn't a habit, everything was new, I had a heart and a mind full of fear and a mass of doubts so thick I could walk on it.  I beat myself up for every perceived backslide and mistake.

Out of the last few months of desiccating in a desert space, what has carried through is the quiet conviction of my own true value, the ownership of my own life, embracing my true strength.

Strength is not about what you can do, but about what you can do now that you once thought you couldn't.

When a desert place strips you of everything you were hiding behind, what is left is what is true.

As I discussed my upcoming hike in Spain and my prep hikes here in Flagstaff, I mentioned that I was telling myself to do these hikes every single weekend, whether or not someone could come with me.  My friend tilted her head and looked at me and said, "Remember, this is not about your social life here in Flagstaff, it about getting your body and brain ready for a very long hike all on your own.  Learn how to be okay in silence, in your head, with nothing to entertain or distract you."

Then I realized that these last few years have been leading me to this process, which will inevitably lead me to some other journey.

I had seen this pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago as a destination of sorts (I don't know why I should do this, but something tells me I must...) and it came to me, silent and strong, that it is simply the road to the next space.

The true strength isn't in simply the physical walk, but in embracing everything that lifts me there.

Walking Home

When I was little, my dad and I would walk to Mass on Saturday nights, holding hands to steady me over the rough parts.  Sometimes we'd take the long way home, stopping by the gas station where he would let me pick something out of the vending machine while he talked with the owner, a friend.  I famously kept up a steady stream of chatter until we would get home, my father giving no hint of impatience or tiring of his ears being filled with the things important to small children.

Sometimes we would walk along the St Joe River, me begging to go just a bit farther until he would inevitably end up carrying me the last few blocks home, my little girl legs no longer able to keep up with his grown man loping.  Eventually we would end up back at the house and I would again have to share my daddy with all my brothers.

I went back to Indiana to visit my family this past weekend.  My dad and I walked to Mass together on Sunday morning.  Because being there with the Usual Suspects for the Rosary is important and the walk takes a half hour, we left the house at 6:30 AM.  I was carrying an extra-large high-octane coffee.  My dad was carrying a walking stick and proudly sporting a pith helmet.  He is into crazy hats. I'm past the point of embarrassment.  The man is closing on 80.  He can wear anything he wants as long as it doesn't land him in jail.  That was his attitude toward my clothing when I was a teenager, so turn about is fair play.

Now I'm the one with the long legs and loping stride.  My arthritis-free feet easily bear the punishing hard asphalt.  My balance doesn't wobble over curbs or uneven pavement. His pride will not bear any assistance but his walking stick, so I keep my twitchy hands to myself.  My ears are filled with the things important to old men, and while my interest in the subjects may wax and wane, my interest in him does not, so I care, because he cares.

We sat with the other old men who teased my dad about the pretty young thing with him.  The liturgist approached and asked if we will take up communion.  My dad got very specific instructions from her then turned to me and said, I hope you remembered that!  

As we approached the altar with the hosts and wine, I noticed his hands were shaking a bit and I mentally prepped to grab the plate if it tilted too far.  As we gave the paten and decanter to the priest, the priest grinned and asked, Did he make you walk to Mass?  My dad laughed as I smiled and nodded.

After we caught up on all the news after Mass, we walked back the way we came, me wishing I hadn't had to toss half the coffee out on the way in to church, my father admiring my restraint for not stopping for more.  We both kept up a steady stream of chatter on the walk home.

As we approached the house, I wanted to beg like I used to, let's walk a bit farther, just a little bit.  But I noticed his pace had slowed up the hill, he was leaning on the stick a bit more heavily, and he grew more quiet.

It was time to go inside and share our time with the others.

Swallowing String

So, although I believe there are prophetic dreams, mostly I do not experience them.  My crazy dream last night was not prophetic in the proper sense, but I do think God was trying to point something out to me.

Cutting to the chase... In the dream, I swallowed string.  When I tried to pull it out, it was like it never ever ended.  No matter how much I pulled in frustration, there was more string. It kept catching on my throat and it wasn't until I just stopped fighting it and let it go that the end of the string finally came out.

At the other end of the string were some people who really hurt me recently, and at whom I immediately redirected the hurt into a seething rage. (Anger is a much more powerful-feeling emotion than weak and pathetic hurt, right?)  During the dream, they just watched as I pulled and pulled, talking among themselves and occasionally glancing at me but basically ignoring the string that connected us pooling at my feet.  When the string was finally all the way out, I looked around and there were some of my friends.  I hadn't even seen them in the room before because my eyes never left the folks at the other end of the string.  My friends just smiled at me and said, "Okay? Are you done? Ready to go?"  And then I woke up.

When I woke up, it hit me I haven't read my missal in a while (I have it on my phone... iMissal is awesome, btw!) and there were today's readings.

A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter... A life saving remedy. -Sirach 6:5-17

Make me understand the way of your precepts, and I will meditate on your wondrous deeds -psalm 119

Your word, oh Lord, is truth; consecrate us in the truth. -John 17:17

Daily bread: Acts 10:38. (Jesus) went about doing good and healing all oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.

Those seem rather unrelated, but something about this was really touching my heart, so I took some time to really think on it.

Then, on the drive down to Phoenix, since I had two hours to fill, I prayed the rosary, and since I had such a bucket of time, I chanted it. Chanting forces you to slow down and cherish what you are saying.  And it turned out because it is Friday, the Sorrowful Mysteries were next in line.

The Agony in the Garden

The Scourging at the Pillar

The Crowning of Thorns

The Carrying of the Cross

The Crucifixion

(Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy...)

At the end of all that pain was the forgiveness.

Forgive, forgive, forgive and then again forgive.

Let go of the anger.  Forgive.

Let go of the pain.  Forgive.

Let go of the frustration.  Forgive.

They do not see the damage.  Forgive.

I cannot fix this problem.  Forgive.

I got sucker punched.  Forgive.

They do not want me.  Forgive.

I long to matter to them, and I do not.  Forgive.

I have tried and failed again and again.  Forgive.

This is more pain than I can handle.  Forgive.

Why have you abandoned me?  Forgive.

(Receive me o Lord, according to your Word, that I may live, and do not fail me in my hope...)

I can look around.

There it is!  The love, the sturdy shelters in storms, the people who have literally saved my life, who want me, who love me beyond measure, and who allow me to love them in all my fears and failures.  

There it is!  This healing that has been working miracles in all my life.

There it is!  The truth shining like the Star of the Sea, His words, His Spirit, His life.

There He is!  Longing for me to see Him and sing Him and keep my eyes fixed on His life and love that sustains us all.

... so the chant settles into my soul.

Maple Tree Helicopters

Well, the sun has started shining again, and that's awesome considering I'm headed back to Indiana for the long weekend.  When you don't see people very often, whatever mood you are in at the moment is the one they think you are in all the time.

Now that I am really and truly seeing some of my family this weekend, and it feels more real, I am looking forward to it.  Burying my head in my work has meant this time has sped along and I barely remembered to make a rental car reservation or solid plans with people.

I'm spending mornings with my dad, through lunch.  Sunday, I am getting up spectacularly early to meet him before Mass and walk over to his parish with him.  He is getting older and likes naptime in the afternoons, so that's when I will do my running about town.

My darling cousin, Denise, with whom I am staying, asked what I want to especially do.  There isn't really a lot of time, so we have to be strategic.

We are OF COURSE going to the zappos outlet in Shepherdsville near Louisville.  I am meeting up with friends on Saturday and Sunday nights.  I will eat Donut Bank donuts with enthusiasm!  I will find time to run at that lovely low elevation in clear air.

The rest are all little things.  Chill out by the Ohio River, letting the humidity frizz out my hair and make my skin shine and breathe wetness into my xeric Arizona lungs.  Put more flowers on my family members' graves.  I doubt my cousin will tolerate my habit of sitting down on my mom's grave and having a long chat with her over Maker's Mark.  I mean, it isn't like she is actually THERE anyway and I can talk to her whenever I want to, because she is always listening -when she isn't whispering into God's ear to take care of her little girl.  Still, in a lifetime of leaving, that was the last place I left her, so it is special.

It isn't "home" the way some people look at home.  My roots are deep there, but my branch tends to be like those little helicopters off a maple tree -the wind scatters where it will and we drift until the right soil comes along.

I suspect once my father passes away (hopefully quite a while from now!) my big draw to southern Indiana will pass as well.  I treasure these visits more than I did when I was younger and thought everyone lived forever and that whenever I returned everything would all be the same.

Well, the Ohio River doesn't change, and I'm hoping Donut Bank doughnuts haven't either!

My Crazy Life

"How are things going?"
"Oh, good, just crazy busy!"
"You are always crazy busy.  I hardly ever even see you here!"
"I'm thinking things will slow down in the summer."
"You said that last summer, girl!"

This was my exchange this morning with a colleague in my office.

It got me to thinking.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I am too busy.  Most of us are, so it isn't an uncommon thing.

My assistant and I file reports every quarter on our activity in the previous quarter.  Every quarter we stare at it and wonder aloud,"HOW did we get this all done?"

You put your head down and plow through, that's how.

At lunch yesterday I met my dear friends at the Lumberyard Brewery and supplemented the fun with mac n cheese.  I had to add that in because they have the best mac n cheese in town.

We talked about my upcoming trip in September to Spain, which includes walking on the Camino de Santiago.  I shared I planned to be completely unplugged, other than taking a camera.  Not my phone. A real camera.

When I review the last two years in my head, especially this last year, I realize I spent a lot of time just plowing through the work.  And sleeping.  Not a lot of time for relaxing and renewing.

I do not believe that if I live my life like this, two weeks in Spain is going to make all that much difference to me in the long run.

It is about 18 weeks to my journey.  If I am going to be able to do it in the first place, I have to start going on some really long hikes to build up my feet. 

So, I mapped out on my calendar when I will be taking these hikes, which pretty much is every weekend between now and Sept 21.  If I look at it as a project, then I will certainly do it.  And I have to do it whether or not anyone joins me.

Then I realized that the preparation for this journey will prepare not just for the walk, but for the space and time I will have.

Music and Meaning

I spent $50 on iTunes yesterday.  I just needed some new music, darn it! I logged in to spend a $15 gift certificate that I had gotten for Christmas, and ended up... well, you know.

As I was browsing about iTunes I came across a category of Christian hard rock.  Cool.  I checked it out.

I wish I could remember the name of this particular band, but the lyrics started out with a really vivid description of a girl cutting... and I immediately clicked off.  I'm sure it led to something transcendent, but I didn't stick around to find out.

The way God made me was to be super sensitive to images... I haven't seen Schindler's List, or gone to the Holocaust Museum, or seen The Passion, and I don't watch violent or degrading movies, or listen to violent, graphic music because these are things that stick with me.  I know exactly how brutal human beings can be to each other.  I do not need artistic representations of it to be understand this or to embrace the notion of transcendence and forgiveness.

A few months ago I had to research some Nazi artifacts for work, and stopped every once in a while to go throw up.  The things we think about -whether out of necessity or habit- shape who we are.

I do not have the luxury of wallowing in darkness.  Most people have a bungee cord that brings them back up the well.  For me, it is a slow slippery climb back so I have to make the effort to keep my thoughts from slinking back down into the hole.

Somebody really smart, I think it was Norman Vincent Peale, said, What we think governs what we feel, and what we feel governs our actions.

Most of the music I listen to (Aside from classics like Blondie or the Ramones or the Pogues or a number of others) have lyrics I can hang on to, and happen to be Christian musicmakers.  Personally, I dislike the use of the word "Christian" as an adjective, but that is the common parlance so there you have it.

Casting Crowns:
...
But the waves are calling out my name and they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
Time and time again. 'Boy, you'll never win!'
"You'll never win"

But the voice of truth tells me a different story
And the voice of truth says "Do not be afraid!"
And the voice of truth says "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth
...

Jason Gray
...
When I lose my way, and I forget my name
Remind me who I am
In the mirror all I see is who I don't want to be
Remind me who I am...
If I'm your beloved, won't you help me believe it?
Tell me, once again who I am to you
Who I am to you.
Tell me lest I forget who I am to you
That I belong to you...

Or my theme song from two years ago:

Francesca Battistelli

Don’t know how it is You looked at me
And saw the person that I could be
Awakening my heart
Breaking through the dark
Suddenly Your grace

Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so
Beautiful, beautiful
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so
Beautiful, beautiful...

I have come undone
But I have just begun
Changing by Your grace

A New Way to Eat Chocolate

So, because I have found life has little meaning if chocolate is not involved, yet have accepted that consuming vast quantities is not the best way to reach my goals, I decided to try something.

To be fair, this suggestion was first mentioned about two years ago, and occasionally repeated since, but I finally decided to actually do it.

It involves paying attention.  That is not my strong suit, especially at work when some days feel like drinking from a fire hose.

My normal way to consume chocolate (we're friends, I can admit this, right?) is based more on QUANTITY than on QUALITY and capability of rapid consumption.  It can astonish people (okay, really only my trainer) how much I can eat given the correct motivation -usually involving a stressful day.

General guidelines are to pick something REALLY worthwhile and is individually packaged. And of course, to eat it after eating something with protein.  So, dark chocolate caramel Ghirardelli Squares made their way in to work.

When the time came, I was seriously stressed out, having discovered a mistake I made that would require me to not only stay late, but miss a happy hour with some colleagues I really like.  I kinda wanted all the candy in all the world.

 Still this was a scientific experiment.  Don't mess with science!  I took one square, put the rest back in the drawer and moved away from my desk to look out the window.  I was pretty sure I'd be diving back in for more, but I repeat, this was for science. 

I was going to do nothing but eat the piece of candy.  No checking email, playing on Facebook, drafting/reading/editing documents, nothing.  Sit there, look at the trees, and eat candy.  I have a stunning view out my office window, and I rarely actually look at it.

I sat in the chair, slowly unwrapped the candy, and took the first bite.  Yup, was trying to make one square last five bites.  I set the candy down, chewed slowly and watched the trees waving in the wind.

It took at most 4 or 5 minutes to eat the little square.  When it was gone, I went back to work and my frame of mind was completely different.

Later in the day, I repeated the experiment.  Once again, moved away from my desk, watched the mountains and the trees and just sat there, eating one piece of candy very slowly.  I went back to work breathing more easily, much calmer and ready to take on the rest of the evening.

I learned something.

First of all, high quality chocolate is even MORE delicious when you take time to, you know, actually NOTICE it and EXPERIENCE it.  It is really, really enjoyable.

But most of all, I realized in a very concrete way that when I am stressed out, I do not actually want chocolate.  What I really want is a sense of calm.  Taking those few minutes to focus on the pretty weather and the experience of something pleasant made a HUGE difference in how I was handling the stress.  Quantity just made me numb, which is not nearly as awesome as calm.

During a day I fully expected to finish off the entire bag of candy and go hunting for more, I had two pieces and felt like it was the exact right amount. 140 calories total. Ten minutes of awesome.

And a new outlook to boot.

Champions and Crickets

I rarely post about work, but something is weighing on my mind today.

We had a welcome gathering for the new people.  For the first time at one of these events, the department heads had the opportunity to share successes of their downline staff.  Each department head had notice this was going to happen.

I went first (since I run these little gatherings!) and shared news about an employee who had gotten a recognition award and some other news.  One other person shared about various awards that had been won in their department.  The other five people sat there.

I heard crickets, so quickly moved on to the next thing.

Now, I knew there were a few other people at least, in a room of 40+ who must have done something worthy of public recognition.

After the party, one person came up to me and thanked me for my work on the gathering and shared how disappointed she was that no one else had anything they wanted to share.

She said, "The best leaders champion their people."

The best I can hope for is that next time we do this, the other department heads think it through a little bit and give it the old college try.

Because my colleague was correct.

The best leaders DO champion their people.

The HCG Diet -Good Idea?

This morning at the gym a couple of us got to chatting.  I asked her how her workout went, and as we talked she shared she has started the HCG diet.

I had not heard of this.  Honestly, I really don't pay attention much to the different diets out there.  I know Atkins, Mayo, Weight Watchers, and more recently, Paleo.  One of my staff tried Paleo even though we made fun of her and she eventually gave it up in frustration. 

I meet with a registered dietician who gives me advice that seems to work, so I'm happy.  There isn't a name for this diet, but I may make one up, like the: Eat Like A Normal Person Food Plan.

I guess, technically, it isn't a diet anyway.  It's eating food and trying to be purposeful with the choices.

ANYWAY, she shared she takes these HCG drops and restricts food to 500 calories A DAY!  A DAY!!

I think I may have actually gaped at her.  I feel abused if I can't eat 500 calories at one meal.  She shared that in two weeks she has lost 17 pounds and that it seems to be working.

I was really proud of myself.  I didn't pepper her with questions about water loss vs fat loss, and how too few calories starts to eat into muscle or anything.  You know, the heart is a muscle, right?

I nodded and shared that I've lost quite a bit of weight but that for me, working out was the key.  She said she can't lose weight just working out.

Not my place to question her decisions, but I decided to look up the HCG diet on the interweb and see what's up with that.

So, HCG is a pregnancy hormone that suppresses appetite in overweight people so they are more okay with only eating 500-800 calories every day.  It isn't actually available legally over the counter in the US, but seriously, if we can get crack cocaine, this stuff is obviously going to be easier to obtain.  And I'm sure there are some doctors out there who love money more than integrity who are happy to prescribe such things.

Every article I read said this diet is dangerous and does not work long term.  Every single article.

I got mad.

Seriously, this is preying on people's desperation and it ticks me off.  The WORST part is that since this cannot be sustained long term, when the person inevitably goes off the diet and crashes, they feel even worse about themselves and their supposed "lack of self discipline" involved in one's body revolting against starvation.  This leads them to more and more crazy diets, and the continuing spiral into self-hate.

So, please, if you are tempted to go on a crazy diet, take a moment to visit with someone who actually knows about food who can help you come up with a plan for your REAL LIFE that works for you.

There is no quick fix.

Back in the Gym, Some Tears, Some Smiles

So, this morning I went to the killer yoga cardio crazy class.  This is the first time I've stepped foot in my gym on my own in about two weeks.  I kept my appointments with my trainer (a couple times only barely) but offset those with lots of mac 'n' cheese.

Still, I was ready to return.

When I got to class one of my gym friends said she'd missed me and asked where I'd been.  I shrugged and said I'd been sick, so had been taking it easy.  She said, "Oh, I'm sorry, was it that crud that was going around?"

And I decided to be honest, "No, it wasn't that kind of ill.  Depression kind of took over and I just couldn't make it."

I fully expected an awkward silence followed by an equally awkward, "Well, good to see you!" as she rushed away.

What I got was a tilt of her head, a nod and then she said, "I get that.  Did you miss work, too?"

Oh. I didn't scare her off. Okay.

We chatted for a few more minutes before class started and I could feel the tears welling up in me, and how freeing it was to just say, "yeah, my big accomplishment was leaving the house this last weekend, and it was SO HARD but I did it anyway," and have someone understand, and not shy away from it or be afraid of the tears or try to fix it or give advice -to just be with me in the simple acknowledgement of a difficult fact of my life.  She smiled encouragingly and said she was glad that I am back.

The class started and the tears mixed up with the sweat and eventually dried up and I got a great workout in.

I am grateful my life is getting back on track.  I was especially grateful this morning for those few quiet words and the encouraging smile.

Oh, Yeah, Now I Get It!

So, now that I am slowwwwly moving out from under the big dark cloud and my thoughts have regained the ability to embrace positivity, I can look back over the last few weeks and realize, Oh! I get it now!

It did kind of astonish me how in mid March I was ready to take on the world, and by mid-April was ready to quit it entirely.  Occasionally, people would remind me that life was not completely terrible and pointless, and that usually I was doing just fine.  It helped for a bit, but it was hard to see.

Depression gives you tunnel vision.  It makes you forget about sunlight and good cheer and general happiness.  It saps your energy. You start thinking that the cave is all there is to life.  You start to resent people who seem, you know, happy.  You forget that you matter.  You forget that anything matters.

So looking back, I can see exactly when the spiral started, can see the perfect storm of events almost designed to poke every one of my personal demons and get them all lined up with their pitchforks, can see that my efforts to simply avoid and wait out the hurricane of emotion -fear, sadness, anger- would never get me through that storm.

I probably over share about the depression stuff on this blog, but so many people struggle with this, and it really can be debilitating.  When I am fully me, I am energetic, enthusiastic, attentive, happy, rational, optimistic, and stable.  When the dark cloud takes over, I lose all of that, and life becomes more about wake up, work, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat.

It isn't as bad as it could be, and it certainly doesn't manifest in me the way I have seen it in people I love.  But that is all in hindsight.  In the middle, there isn't a lot of rational thought, just the big dark cloud in the way of everything I love and everything I know I am, and what I believe and hope to achieve.

So, as the sun is coming out again, and I get to remember who I am and the mysterious purpose for which I am alive, I forgive myself for all things I wish I could do differently when the dark cloud hovers, and simply resolve to remember the sunlight if the sky starts to darken again.

Geographic Solution

My BFF called me this morning from Abu Dhabi, via google+ video chat, which was awesome.  I needed to see her face so badly.  We talked about mostly mundane matters and laughed a lot.  Being fairly new to video calls, I made a lot of faces and kept adjusting the iPad so she wasn't getting such an amazing chin shot of me.  I'm surprised she wasn't made seasick looking at me, although that may have been the very reason she suggested putting it on top of the headboard of my bed and getting it out of my hands.  Roxy came over to say hello, too!

This is us laughing:

One of topics that absorbed some time was our plans for the future.  I will be making a huge geographic change this year - not because I hate my job or Flagstaff is miserable, but because I have become so desperately lonely, I dread weekends.  dread them.  And she and her husband are dealing with normal married with children stuff. And we decided that, yes, indeed, God is putting it in no uncertain times, it is time for me to move on.  And then she told me to watch the Avengers, since it is the best movie ever, and then go see Iron Man 3 and at some point apply for this job in Kentucky I'm eyeballing.

This is a cute shot of Tracy, while I am making faces:

Later, my dear Alicia called to say hey, and when we talked about my current hermitlike state of mind, she said, "Anne, you are the most outgoing person I know!  You have tried EVERYTHING and done EVERYTHING possible in the last four years there.  Thinking about your next step is a good thing!" And then we talked strategy.  We are in the same profession, and Alicia is super smart and less inclined to be impulsive than I am.

That was a normal phone call, so no pictures.  Which I am sure Alicia appreciates!

A colleague called from work to ask me some questions about a mutual project, and I was SOOOO tempted to go in to work and finish it up with him. I stopped myself.

I pulled the covers over my head and slept a while more, Roxy curled up with me.

I've spent the last few weeks sleeping away every weekend, eating mac n cheese almost every meal, pizza last night/breakfast this morning, and then, this past week, I stopped working out.  Me, the tenacious, get up early and work out twice some days fanatic. I haven't written anything outside my blog in months, haven't done any sewing or painting in even longer. I've been tempted to de-friend on Facebook everyone who seemed happier and more together than I am, which would have left me maybe three friends, and all people I do not know well.

I lost the energy to do the things I love, because of the loneliness and feeling unwanted, getting my safety alarms pinging and those old feelings of not mattering to anyone, so I must not matter at all.

So as I woke up and decided to write this blog this morning, technically afternoon now, the energy isn't there, but the motivation is.

Waiting for change has changed nothing.  The weight of all the shoulds running through my head is incapacitating me... My home looks like a crack house, my yard is the shame of my neighborhood, I STILL have not done my taxes, the list is endless and when it piles on, it becomes too much effort to even leave the house.

So, I'm leaving the list of shoulds at home.  I'm not going to exercise or go hiking today.  I'm going to take my Roxy and my laptop and find some beautiful place to sit outside and sip bubble water and just write whatever comes into my head.

Doing something that brings me life, might start bringing back hope, and energy, and eventually, the rest of my life.

Because I do matter.  I just forgot that for a while.

Looking for the Helpers

Mr. Rogers used to quote his mother, saying, "Whenever tragedy strikes, look for the helpers."

Bad things happen, but good people help.

I'm honestly trying to not think too hard about what those three Cleveland women and the little girl went through being held captive in that house for a decade.  Police reports included finding ropes and chains and other sorts of evidence usually seen in a Law and Order SVU episode.

So let's think about Charles Ramsey.  I about cry every time he is interviewed.

He is just a normal, working-class guy.  There he was, hanging out in his living room chomping on McDonald's when he hears a woman yelling for help.

And you know what?  He helped.  He helped kick in a door, call the police, keep that woman and her little girl safe until the police got there.

And then his attitude was, "Of course.  Who wouldn't help?" When asked about receiving a reward for rescuing those women, he said, "I got a paycheck.  Give the money to those women."

Stop a moment and think.  Rough neighborhood, home of a neighborhood friend, something occurring so out of context you might not understand what is happening... or even knowing who else was behind that door, armed with God-Knows-What kind of weapon.

He didn't know.  He still helped.  He expected nothing in return and refused to profit from his actions.

That, to me, is Superman.

Food Rots

It is a running joke about how I do not take good care of plants.  I actually love plants, but am not good at taking care of things that don't remind me to take care of them.  I basically watched a plant die in my office because I would think, Oh, I need to water that! and then get distracted and not remember until the next day.  After a few weeks of that goes by, the plant give up and passes into its next existence.

That is the same reason I do not have an aquarium.  Fish are passive aggressive.  They just go belly up rather than telling you to feed them.  Roxy has no such qualms.  She always lets me know in no uncertain terms what her expectations are: food, clean water, cuddles, walks and treats.  If I forget, she will stand on me until I remember, eventually sticking her nose in my ear if I do not respond fast enough.

So along those lines, the last couple weeks I've been focusing on eating comfort food.  Mac 'n' cheese, (frozen Stouffer's TOTALLY hit the spot!) icecream, brownies, Chick-Fil-A breakfast biscuits, even once a doughnut from Dunkin Donuts... you get the picture.

This morning, I woke up and thought, "Hey, I'm ready to eat healthy again!" I opened the fridge door to get out the ingredients for a green shake.

Then I realized the yogurt had expired, the blueberries had a white fuzzy coating, I was no longer sure how long I'd owned the coconut water, and the bananas on the counter scared me a bit.  I think a new ecosystem was forming.

Those who know me, know nothing aggravates me more than waste, especially wasted food.  I am the leftovers QUEEN.  So I spent a couple moments irritated with myself for buying food I basically watched rot.

I spent a couple minutes conducting an inventory of food I thought might still be edible.  Pretty much just the apples and the spinach, which seem to last forEVER in that fridge.

It isn't even the money spent and wasted that got under my skin.  It is that in the US we waste something like 40% of our food produced -either it goes bad in the grocery store or bad in our homes.  I cut down significantly on my meat consumption once I realized that about 40% of the animals we kill for food get thrown away through this kind of waste.  I'm not anti-meat, but that just seems disrespectful.

So, I begin and then again begin.  I am blessed to live in a part of the world where we have a positively decadent number of choices of food at the grocery store, and blessed to have an income sufficient to eat as well, as often and as much as I like.  I am past my self-irritation.  It is done and all I can do is resolve to do better in the future.

Which really, is all we can do about anything.

Embracing Desert Places

Let me tell you right now, there is no loneliness like the loneliness of a single adult without family.

It isn't that one is friendless, or uncared-for or unloved or even particularly unhappy.  The simple truth is that when one is alone in the world, when there is no one there for any major decision, or to be counted on with consistency, or, really, to build a life with, that my friends, is being alone.

All you happily-coupled folks, take a moment to think about being alone -no spouse, no kids, your family of birth has moved along to embrace those things, as have all of your friends.  All those people will be there if you get into a pinch, but you pretty much have to be in a pinch.  You are outside their 5 acres.

You are (I am) functionally irrelevant.  I realized I have more in common with my homeless friends than I do any of my married ones.

A formerly single friend of mine (married at age 35) is adamant about taking pictures of her single friends.  I asked her why, and she said she remembers that when she was single, no one ever took pictures of her.  When I thought about it, I realized the same is true for me.  I have almost no pictures of myself from age 25 to 43, except for those I specifically requested or necessary for work.

I conducted a bit of an experiment last week.  I decided to see, if I did not initiate contact, who would initiate contact with me.  I had a wonderful email from a dear friend in St. Louis, and a couple phone calls from a dear friend here in Flagstaff, one that occurred late last night because she was a wee bit worried about me.  I reassured them both that I would be fine... mostly from hope, rather than conviction.

On Saturday morning, I was supposed to run a 5k color run.  I diligently picked up my packet the day before.  In contemplating this event, this great sadness washed over me, and I realized I simply did not want to do one more damn thing alone.  I woke up in time, walked to medicine cabinet, downed a bunch of benedryl, and went back to sleep.

I realize this flies in the face of all my deeply-held beliefs, like, Everyone Counts, and that I believe in a God Whose Heart is My Home, yet, there it is.  Sometimes the loneliness is so very acute, merely getting out of bed seems utterly pointless.

“The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”
― Mother Teresa

We all have our own desert places.  I'm just wondering when I get to leave it.  If I will get to leave it.  Will I be stuck here until I reach a wry acceptance of this time, or is my acceptance, itself, irrelevant?

One of my colleagues just stopped in and told me, looking directly into my teary eyes, "What you do matters.  Look at how many kids get to go to college because of you.  You've changed their lives and the lives of their families.  That matters."  Then she nodded and said, "This isn't the end of it, you know.  It is hard, but it will pass.  It isn't time to give up yet."

She is the third person to tell me that today.  Her words have weight because she has been there, in a strange desert where nothing is as it should be, where reality eats into you like sunburn.

SO here is my desert place. And off I go to wander around some more.

Not Even Hungry

So, I've been taking a break from a few different things, mostly from life.  Part of this was to see how many different varieties of chocolate exist in the world, and try to  evaluate them all.

Conclusion: They are all wonderful.

So, as I'm moving back into real life again, I realized my recent habit of eating whatever, whenever, has a bit of a hangover effect.  For example, today... I won't go over everything I ate, but I CAN share that I wasn't ONE BIT HUNGRY when I got back to the office from a lunch meeting, and as I sat at my desk, suddenly had a MAJOR craving for Sugar Mamas' salted caramel brownies.

Seriously.  REALLY wanted them even though I had no actual desire to eat.

Huh.

Of course, given the sheer amount of sugar I have had over the last couple weeks, I sort of expected that the cravings would hang around a few more days, but still.

I had broken my previously ingrained bad habit of mindless eating, but it seems it is time to take it on again.

No worries.  I beat it before and it's much weaker now.