One of my favorite internal pastimes is to compare myself to others. From where I sit it's as self destructive a habit as drinking, smoking or doing drugs - but it's a far more intangible behavior pattern to break. After all, the eternal analysis of whether I'm better or worse than you is an internal monologue has kept me company my entire life. In instances where my brain has generously let me eke out slightly ahead of you, my sense of self was falsely plumped - like a collagen injection to an Orange County housewives' lips, the effect was immediate, powerful but fleeting. When my insecurities would return, my inner critic would insist I'm like those lips when they need a new injection: flaccid, deflated and inconsequential. I'd need more of a charge to rev up the ole ego - almost like a drug - one is too many and there is never enough.
What am I saying?
I'm needy.
This hamster wheel inside me needs you to tell me how to feel. If I am surrounded by people who encourage me, affirm me and say things like "oh you're so funny" or "what would I do without you" I feel whole. Needed. Part of. When I get stern looks or someone's brow furrows when I've voiced an opinion, when the guy doesn't ask me out or when I don't understand what you've said but act like I did, the deflation is palpable. I can literally hear my thoughts start in and I instantly start telling myself I'm not good enough.
I truly hate this about myself. Of course, admitting there's something about me that I hate is vulnerability at its core. It's also the essence of low self esteem - self loathing? Please. But it's lying to say I don't battle this every minute of every day. Hating it, in my opinion, is an improvement - because at least I acknowledge that it exists. It's pretty extensive growth to then say in any kind of public forum that it not only exists but I'm not in denial about it - I admit it's a fundamental issue holding me back in every single facet of my life. Giving my power over to you to inform my opinion of myself is so dangerous - it's what drove my choice of career, it's what drove me to marry an abusive man, it's what fueled a voracious appetite for drugs and alcohol and it's what drives my continual need to please which really pisses some people off and attracts the wrong people.
Tonight I attended an intellectual lecture given by a Pulitzer Prize winning author. Even if all I did was listen to the man speak it was an incredible opportunity to learn and expand my intellectual capacity. As a staff member of the hosting facility, I am reporting on the event for a newsletter and a literary journal. That, also, is an incredible opportunity - I am so fortunate that my personal hobby is to write but that I get to translate this passion into my professional life, as well.
The author got his PhD from Yale in classics. So at the root of this lecture I'm already out of the park - there's a fair comparison in this instance that would put me on the "less than" column - first of all I'm at least 40 years younger than he is, but I studied at a Big Ten school, in the journalism department, and I only have a Bachelor's degree - but I am working on my Master's right now. I didn't take one second of Greek mythology in any class ever. I have no foundational knowledge of the lecturer's points of view so I felt a little like I was racing to keep up.
I've been told I have a fairly high intelligence by people who care about that sort of thing. I do need to be reinforced on a somewhat frequent basis that I'm smart but that's less my concern than whether I'm liked. Somewhere I learned that I'm smart enough, even though when I compare credentials in an apples-to-apples context I usually don't come out impressive. I'm good with that - I can't go back and re-do history. I came from such a chaotic alcoholic home that the fact that I went to college at all is pretty much a miracle. So it is what it is and if I've ever been judged not good enough I know I have choices to just find environments that appreciate what I can offer intellectually.
In fact that's probably why I shied away from becoming a reporter and opted for the advertising/public relations/business route. Fear. I've always wanted to ask questions but immediately shot down my own questions as "stupid." But in a lecture environment such as I was in tonight - there were questions on my mind that I wanted to ask but judged them and didn't want to seem out of my box, but then others asked them. I have the writing ability - there's no doubt in my mind that I am a good writer. But look at how the fear of asking questions has prevented me from doing what I'm ultimately supposed to do! By the way, my talents have not been wasted in any of my professional endeavors, but there have been decided brick walls I've faced and it's occurred to me over the years to ponder whether I'd have hit those same walls if I'd pursued a more traditional writing career.
I met someone tonight who did exactly that - he attended the University of Chicago and moved to New York and is a fairly successful journalist and author of a critically acclaimed book compatible with the intellectual capacity of tonight's speaker. In fact, they know each other and they travel in the same circles. I am exactly the same age as this person and I we had a really very nice conversation. But the "not good enough" train started in pretty early so when he invited me to join him and some of the other 'inner circle' people for dinner, I feigned a prior engagement and left. I didn't think I could keep up in the conversation. I might have been able to and I might not - but now I'll never know. Isn't that sad. I am sad for me that I let that painful neediness drive even the most basic of decisions. I hope someday I can grow past this.
This journalist I reference spoke of his initial passion to throw thunderbolts at those in power, similar to the evening's guest lecturer, only about 40 years later. He said he was inspired by the Pulitzer Prize winner's courage and remarked that his faith had something to do with it.
Faith.
This is a concept new to me only within the last five years - the idea that there's something out there showing us the way - guiding us through scary things and celebrating with us when we're happy. It's throwing up neon signs and red flags pointing us away from danger and it's turning every single green light on when we're supposed to move forward. Often the fear and the green lights are combined - the fear being the blinders preventing us from seeing the green lights. And in my case, there are often entire mountain ranges put in front of me suggesting I avoid a tricky situation, but I'm stubborn enough to scale the highest heights and self-will right over that range, heading directly towards a treacherous personal situation.
But what a Pulitzer Prize winning author possesses is faith. He uses this faith to have the courage to speak against human rights offenses, racism and other abuses of those in power against the American people.
I have a friend who claims I'm one of the most courageous people he's ever met so I know that I must have a little faith. It's true that in order to come down off the highest heights of those mountain ranges I crossed based on the merits of my own personal mettle, it's required a tremendous amount of courage to see me through the resulting scary times I had to face while things normalized. I've been unemployed with a tremendous amount of financial insecurity, I've been underemployed and underutilized at work and had my ideas rejected countless times, I've been rejected for jobs I thought I really wanted, I've picked the wrong men and have a number of failed relationships including a divorce, I've had to tell overbearing people no and lived through a resulting shit storm of very low level behavior. These personal triumphs don't really translate to a resume and what I think I'm hearing from the universe is it's time to put the courage I used to get through these tough times to use in a professional context. Stop comparing myself to others and ask the questions. Stop listening to my inner critic preventing me from writing in a professional context. Stop thinking others are better than me because their resumes look better - mine looks great! And try to replace some of the negative self talk with some positive messages, or at the very least, some faith.
One more thing the speaker said tonight that resonated - he said President Lincoln wasn't a good writer until he became President, and that's when his intellectual and spiritual capacity deepened. Spirituality as the path to professional accomplishment - I'll have to continue to figure out how that might apply in my writing and fitness endeavors, and certainly to help me through tough times I have with interpersonal skirmishes that come up with coworkers.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Not important
Part of why I write this blog is to become accustomed to putting my opinions out into the universe. It's time I get used to thinking that what I have to say is important enough to document. My experience is just as valid as anyone else's and as a writer, crafting fictional characters based on my personal history is part of it. Especially in short story writing the plot of the story is very often not what the story is "really" about. It's the innuendo and back story and unspoken drama between the characters as they fight out their tension.
I'm tense right now - an important friendship is in arrears because I set a boundary and it's not being well received. I feel really sad because this friendship means alot to me. I can't and won't articulate the details in this blog - even if the person doesn't read it it's still bad boundaries to break the confidence of the particulars. But I can say that something not being right in my friendships even if it's because I was taking proper care of myself is quite uncomfortable. That's part of my story - trying to figure out the balance between being a helpful friend, doormat, complicit partner and selfish asshole. I don't think anyone can be one dimensionally categorized in any of those compartments, I'm just saying for me in relationships I trend towards doormat and complicit partner specifically because I'm insecure using my voice - I think either what I have to say is not important, I think the other person is more important or I think that I'd rather not say what needs to be said to "keep the peace."
These are behavior traits that have gotten me into tremendous trouble, these unspoken contracts with people based on expectations and conditions. I've worked really hard on getting stronger and healthier emotionally and as a result, I'm attracting healthier people into my life and I am showing up in my relationships with more balance. It's less likely today that someone treats me with complete disrespect - not only will I not allow it, but I don't command a milquetoast presence that leaves me open as an easy mark.
I certainly get into my skirmishes and it's difficult when they take place. I really hate conflict and I'll go around the bush a hundred times before I have to just hit the nail on the head. I still shudder every time I have to do just that because I try so hard to position things the right way and live by the golden rule. But not everyone hears things the way it's been said and when boundaries have to be set sometimes people don't like it.
But I can't be liked by everyone all the time. I wince as I read this - it's impossible to articulate how uncomfortable it makes me to think there's someone out there who might be mad at me. Or flat out they don't like me. But how unrealistic is that - to be liked by everyone? More importantly, how *needy* is that. If I am so desperate for everyone to like me, then anything I need and want becomes unimportant so I can just be accommodating to everyone. I've tried that and nobody respects me and they actively take advantage of me when I do that. Having done all this work on myself I understand fully how not perfect I am, but I have grown to realize today that I am important, I matter, my voice matters. Listening to the still small voice inside of me saying "I want to be a cheerleader" and "I want to be a writer" has been hard to hear when it is covered by hundreds of lead blankets of self hate, punishment, denial and fear. I've worked so hard to take off those heavy guards and let those still small voices have some breathing room. I've got to stand strong inside myself and be me no matter if anyone else likes it. I have to sing with my headphones on and snort when I laugh and enjoy sports like a guy - those are qualities that make me special, just as much as feeling like I'm doing the right thing to help a friend while it works for me and then telling that friend it's not working for me anymore and letting the friend have their own experience, not trying to fix it for them, and not taking it back when they get mad.
We'll see how it goes. Writing this out has made me feel like my ideas and thoughts are less not important than my mind is saying they are. But it's a process. Fear is a powerful drug. It takes so much courage to work through it - at least for me. And writing my thoughts out like this helps me obtain that courage, and it helps me see how I can work my all of myself into my stories.
By the way one more thing about friendships - it's astonishing to me that if 100 people love and adore me and use all their energy to affirm me at all times, one person's negative opinion or one minor conflict and it affects how I see the world in total. It's so completely self-centered to think that everyone's emotions and feelings are about me - even if a conflict arises in a friendship and someone expresses anger, that's not necessarily about *ME*. Just like the plot of the story isn't usually the real drama happening in the story, often anger triggered from a friendship interaction is based on baggage from the past. So for me to sit here and say oh boo hoo this person didn't validate and affirm me and make it all about me is just crap. I am important meaning I have needs and feelings and a voice that needs to be expressed. But I am NOT important meaning everyone isn't thinking about me. What a relief that most people are thinking about themselves and I can just go about trying to have courage to be me and take care of me but not be self-obsessed.
It's complicated, isn't it? And I am so neurotic. But that's also part of why I write this. Because perfect people are boring. I don't intend to write stories and books about fictional characters who have their shit together and have no problems. My goal is to create real, relatable characters. And I am already writing what I know, working on a short story to submit for a contest with a deadline of April 30th. I'll keep you posted.
I'm tense right now - an important friendship is in arrears because I set a boundary and it's not being well received. I feel really sad because this friendship means alot to me. I can't and won't articulate the details in this blog - even if the person doesn't read it it's still bad boundaries to break the confidence of the particulars. But I can say that something not being right in my friendships even if it's because I was taking proper care of myself is quite uncomfortable. That's part of my story - trying to figure out the balance between being a helpful friend, doormat, complicit partner and selfish asshole. I don't think anyone can be one dimensionally categorized in any of those compartments, I'm just saying for me in relationships I trend towards doormat and complicit partner specifically because I'm insecure using my voice - I think either what I have to say is not important, I think the other person is more important or I think that I'd rather not say what needs to be said to "keep the peace."
These are behavior traits that have gotten me into tremendous trouble, these unspoken contracts with people based on expectations and conditions. I've worked really hard on getting stronger and healthier emotionally and as a result, I'm attracting healthier people into my life and I am showing up in my relationships with more balance. It's less likely today that someone treats me with complete disrespect - not only will I not allow it, but I don't command a milquetoast presence that leaves me open as an easy mark.
I certainly get into my skirmishes and it's difficult when they take place. I really hate conflict and I'll go around the bush a hundred times before I have to just hit the nail on the head. I still shudder every time I have to do just that because I try so hard to position things the right way and live by the golden rule. But not everyone hears things the way it's been said and when boundaries have to be set sometimes people don't like it.
But I can't be liked by everyone all the time. I wince as I read this - it's impossible to articulate how uncomfortable it makes me to think there's someone out there who might be mad at me. Or flat out they don't like me. But how unrealistic is that - to be liked by everyone? More importantly, how *needy* is that. If I am so desperate for everyone to like me, then anything I need and want becomes unimportant so I can just be accommodating to everyone. I've tried that and nobody respects me and they actively take advantage of me when I do that. Having done all this work on myself I understand fully how not perfect I am, but I have grown to realize today that I am important, I matter, my voice matters. Listening to the still small voice inside of me saying "I want to be a cheerleader" and "I want to be a writer" has been hard to hear when it is covered by hundreds of lead blankets of self hate, punishment, denial and fear. I've worked so hard to take off those heavy guards and let those still small voices have some breathing room. I've got to stand strong inside myself and be me no matter if anyone else likes it. I have to sing with my headphones on and snort when I laugh and enjoy sports like a guy - those are qualities that make me special, just as much as feeling like I'm doing the right thing to help a friend while it works for me and then telling that friend it's not working for me anymore and letting the friend have their own experience, not trying to fix it for them, and not taking it back when they get mad.
We'll see how it goes. Writing this out has made me feel like my ideas and thoughts are less not important than my mind is saying they are. But it's a process. Fear is a powerful drug. It takes so much courage to work through it - at least for me. And writing my thoughts out like this helps me obtain that courage, and it helps me see how I can work my all of myself into my stories.
By the way one more thing about friendships - it's astonishing to me that if 100 people love and adore me and use all their energy to affirm me at all times, one person's negative opinion or one minor conflict and it affects how I see the world in total. It's so completely self-centered to think that everyone's emotions and feelings are about me - even if a conflict arises in a friendship and someone expresses anger, that's not necessarily about *ME*. Just like the plot of the story isn't usually the real drama happening in the story, often anger triggered from a friendship interaction is based on baggage from the past. So for me to sit here and say oh boo hoo this person didn't validate and affirm me and make it all about me is just crap. I am important meaning I have needs and feelings and a voice that needs to be expressed. But I am NOT important meaning everyone isn't thinking about me. What a relief that most people are thinking about themselves and I can just go about trying to have courage to be me and take care of me but not be self-obsessed.
It's complicated, isn't it? And I am so neurotic. But that's also part of why I write this. Because perfect people are boring. I don't intend to write stories and books about fictional characters who have their shit together and have no problems. My goal is to create real, relatable characters. And I am already writing what I know, working on a short story to submit for a contest with a deadline of April 30th. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Daieynu
It's Passover and for those of you who know me, you know I'm no super Jew. But there are certain times of year that Judaism offers rituals that help connect me to a spiritual feeling of gratitude. I make it a practice to find something to be grateful for every single day. But there's always ways I can dig a little deeper and I make it a habit to find where religious people are right to help me do that.
Part of the seder ritual is to sing a song called Daieynu - a Hebrew word that means essentially if this is all God gave us, it would be enough. It's a long passage in the Haggadah where we read through all the things God gave the Jews wandering in the desert after they were freed from Pharaoh. I can relate this to my own life, especially after getting back on the spin bike following Monday's accident, but in all areas of my life.
One key thing I've always resented was organized religion. My family was so weird about it. So extreme. Either we were nothing, or I was force-fed competing points of view, or my Mom picked some extremely punishing, limiting, legalistic sect and restricted all our movements based on the principles some weird cultish leader imposed. There were periods where my fashionable, hip, wealthy relatives on my Dad's side would sit me down as the oldest grandchild on both sides of the family and say, "listen, Bubbelah, have a piece of rugelach. You're right, it is delicious! So, we don't care what your mother says. You're Jewish. Do you understand what that means?" Of course I understood what that meant. Looking at them with their sweet treats, their bigger than life presents, their kind and gentle ways, their frosty fingernails - in comparison to my mom's crazy family? Hell yes I understood what that meant. I wanted to be Jewish. I wanted it bad.
When I met other Jewish kids I felt so jealous of their family rituals around holidays and summer camp. This was really where the rubber met the road proving how not Jewish I was. Their holiday celebrations involved huge gatherings of extended family members and they all looked like they were having a really wonderful time. Our family gatherings involved two day non stop grueling cross-country drives where for 48 hours straight we were trapped inside a VW Beetle at the mercy of my mom's extreme mood swings only to arrive at my mom's mom's smoke-filled museum of a home where things *really* got tense and one false move would result in unimaginable shame-filled punishment. We'd stay there for at least a week and then go visit my Dad's side where everything was fun and relaxed and there was a pool. Yes there were religious rituals baked in on both sides of this, but all I remember is mom's side of the family, tense and scary. Dad's side of the family? I can breathe again. What religion would you pick?
Of course there are certain Jews who think I'm just Jewish enough to qualify and there are others who reject my Judaism. I've read this in the past to mean if you accept me I'm good and if you reject me I'm bad. I'm a little fucked in the head that way and only now am learning that I'm the only one who can accept or reject me. I'm a slow learner. So before I had the self-validation epiphany, though, I spent a tremendous amount of energy trying to prove my Jewishness. I've attended Torah studies. I've volunteered at The Ark. I've packed Lox Boxes. I've learned to read Hebrew at the level of a retarded kindergartner. I've had Jewish boyfriends with the great families who celebrated the holidays with the fantastic rituals I envied so much as a kid. But it's all been a hollow victory because at the end of the day, that was all external, trying to prove something. This house of cards fell down piece by piece to the point where my life was in the toilet and I was on my knees surrendering to the idea that the only person to blame for my unhappiness was me based on the crappy choices I was making trying to prove something.
What was I trying to prove?
Well, today I think I was trying to recreate what I thought I lacked when I was growing up. But taking the concept of daieynu, I was given exactly what I needed. I can sit here today and have compassion for my overcompensating self, accept her, and love her. I can see that my parents - even my crazy mom - loved me and did the best they could. I can take a second and thank God I didn't break my back the other day falling down the stairs, and that even though I was only at about 60% strength on the bike this morning, two days after a major fall I am back and largely operational. I can be grateful that as an adult I've got friends who appreciate the holiday rituals of Judaism just as much as I do and invited me to a really nice seder last night where I could be reminded of daieynu in the first place. I can be grateful for the many, many people in my life who care about me deeply and have reached out to take me places, have walked slower so I could keep up, have hugged me, have posted loving messages on my Facebook account, have called and texted and emailed to make sure I'm OK. I have such a wonderful life filled with passion and hope and gratitude. I am literally the luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived - to think about how five years ago almost to the day I was trying to throw away every opportunity I ever had and destroy my life because I didn't think I was good enough and because I thought I'd been wronged on every level. And today I can see the beauty and magic in even the smallest of gifts. If that's all God had given me? It would be more than enough. Daieynu.
Part of the seder ritual is to sing a song called Daieynu - a Hebrew word that means essentially if this is all God gave us, it would be enough. It's a long passage in the Haggadah where we read through all the things God gave the Jews wandering in the desert after they were freed from Pharaoh. I can relate this to my own life, especially after getting back on the spin bike following Monday's accident, but in all areas of my life.
One key thing I've always resented was organized religion. My family was so weird about it. So extreme. Either we were nothing, or I was force-fed competing points of view, or my Mom picked some extremely punishing, limiting, legalistic sect and restricted all our movements based on the principles some weird cultish leader imposed. There were periods where my fashionable, hip, wealthy relatives on my Dad's side would sit me down as the oldest grandchild on both sides of the family and say, "listen, Bubbelah, have a piece of rugelach. You're right, it is delicious! So, we don't care what your mother says. You're Jewish. Do you understand what that means?" Of course I understood what that meant. Looking at them with their sweet treats, their bigger than life presents, their kind and gentle ways, their frosty fingernails - in comparison to my mom's crazy family? Hell yes I understood what that meant. I wanted to be Jewish. I wanted it bad.
When I met other Jewish kids I felt so jealous of their family rituals around holidays and summer camp. This was really where the rubber met the road proving how not Jewish I was. Their holiday celebrations involved huge gatherings of extended family members and they all looked like they were having a really wonderful time. Our family gatherings involved two day non stop grueling cross-country drives where for 48 hours straight we were trapped inside a VW Beetle at the mercy of my mom's extreme mood swings only to arrive at my mom's mom's smoke-filled museum of a home where things *really* got tense and one false move would result in unimaginable shame-filled punishment. We'd stay there for at least a week and then go visit my Dad's side where everything was fun and relaxed and there was a pool. Yes there were religious rituals baked in on both sides of this, but all I remember is mom's side of the family, tense and scary. Dad's side of the family? I can breathe again. What religion would you pick?
Of course there are certain Jews who think I'm just Jewish enough to qualify and there are others who reject my Judaism. I've read this in the past to mean if you accept me I'm good and if you reject me I'm bad. I'm a little fucked in the head that way and only now am learning that I'm the only one who can accept or reject me. I'm a slow learner. So before I had the self-validation epiphany, though, I spent a tremendous amount of energy trying to prove my Jewishness. I've attended Torah studies. I've volunteered at The Ark. I've packed Lox Boxes. I've learned to read Hebrew at the level of a retarded kindergartner. I've had Jewish boyfriends with the great families who celebrated the holidays with the fantastic rituals I envied so much as a kid. But it's all been a hollow victory because at the end of the day, that was all external, trying to prove something. This house of cards fell down piece by piece to the point where my life was in the toilet and I was on my knees surrendering to the idea that the only person to blame for my unhappiness was me based on the crappy choices I was making trying to prove something.
What was I trying to prove?
Well, today I think I was trying to recreate what I thought I lacked when I was growing up. But taking the concept of daieynu, I was given exactly what I needed. I can sit here today and have compassion for my overcompensating self, accept her, and love her. I can see that my parents - even my crazy mom - loved me and did the best they could. I can take a second and thank God I didn't break my back the other day falling down the stairs, and that even though I was only at about 60% strength on the bike this morning, two days after a major fall I am back and largely operational. I can be grateful that as an adult I've got friends who appreciate the holiday rituals of Judaism just as much as I do and invited me to a really nice seder last night where I could be reminded of daieynu in the first place. I can be grateful for the many, many people in my life who care about me deeply and have reached out to take me places, have walked slower so I could keep up, have hugged me, have posted loving messages on my Facebook account, have called and texted and emailed to make sure I'm OK. I have such a wonderful life filled with passion and hope and gratitude. I am literally the luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived - to think about how five years ago almost to the day I was trying to throw away every opportunity I ever had and destroy my life because I didn't think I was good enough and because I thought I'd been wronged on every level. And today I can see the beauty and magic in even the smallest of gifts. If that's all God had given me? It would be more than enough. Daieynu.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Hurt
I slipped down the back stairs this morning. There was a wintery mix of precipitation making the stairs slick. I was worried about the dog slipping - she was fine. I slipped, my feet went up into the air, I fell back down and broke my fall with my back, then slid to the bottom of the staircase. It was one of those mornings I was just barely awake, and decided to walk the dog before I really got in the shower, nursing a cup of coffee. So my coffee spilled all over me, I was completely wet from slipping around in the mix and I had run out without a shirt on, just a parka over my bra. Good news is I was in too much pain to be really embarrassed and one of my female neighbors raced out to see if I was OK. The other good news is I don't seem to have broken anything but I'm in a lot of pain.
Of course the first thought in my head is what about teaching spinning. I hope to God I'm better by Sunday because I'm on the schedule to teach a special class for Easter - special because it's a different time than my usual class and the clubs are all access, meaning, people who belong to other clubs in the system can attend classes at any of the clubs on that day. It's going to be a lot of my friends attending and others who might like my style and request that I teach at their club and I just don't want anything to interfere with being able to showcase myself.
But first things first - when it happened I was just really, really scared. I'm very dramatic around medical related events so aside from worrying about spinning, I feared I'd broken a rib or my spine. I'm really lucky I've got nurse and doctor friends who can answer my questions and are willing to take tear-stained phone calls early in the morning. For a nanosecond I also felt very, very, painfully alone - like this would be the ideal time to have a significant other, a partner-in-crime, to help pick up the slack and take control. Well that is certainly the theory, isn't it? But when I was with my last boyfriend, I injured myself twice, once when we were first together and once towards the end of our relationship. The first time there were other people around so his self involved behavior was easier to conceal, plus it was a more serious injury so I wasn't really paying attention to how he handled it. But now that I look back on it, he wasn't really *there* for me. He was never really *there* for me. He'd do things like go out for takeout food and bring it into the emergency room causing a disturbance - by the way, who eats in an emergency room!? During the recovery process he'd be sleeping and unable to get me stuff I'd need and then wonder why I was in a big huff. And he'd make the whole thing about him - "your injury is really causing me an inconvenience because you need so much more attention right now." Truth is, any time during that relationship I needed any special help I got it from other people, not him. So how interesting that my mind thinks I need a boyfriend when I don't know where that even comes from. That is clearly an unhelathy, old thought process that drives me to make choices that ultimately put me in a place to be harmed.
The people who HAVE BEEN here for me are my friends. My sweet downstairs neighbor who brought an ice pack and Ibuprophen. People who have called to check on me. Medical friends who gave me solid advice and helped me reason things through. My boss who called to see if I was OK. I am not ever alone.
Of course, my real doctor still hasn't called me back - what a sad comment on today's medical community. I probably would have gone to the emergency room right away except I'm on an HMO and know that means I need a doctor's approval before I so much as put a band aid on. I've been able to make myself comfortable with Ibuprophen and an ice pack, though there are a couple of times I've twistted and caused SIGNIFICANT pain so I'd like to run it by a medical professional. I called first thing this morning and still haven't heard back. Not good.
But this is just really a bad time for an injury. I've got a really big week this week and can't afford to be hurt. I'm trying to prepare to interview a Pulitzer Prize winning author coming to speak where I work and I can't be bogged down with running to the doctor, I need to focus and prepare properly. We've got a huge event next week in addition to this and there's a ton of work that needs to be done for that. I've got a really big social event tomorrow and I'd like to put my best foot forward. And I've got reading to do for class and need to keep my wits about me so I can absorb what I need to. No. I don't have time to "take it easy" and sit around like an old lady.
I am trying to be gentle with myself, and patient. But after such a wonderful weekend where my fitness was at an all time high and my performance was at its peak, I'm really not appreciating an injury relating to a dog that doesn't belong to me and that's going to hamper all of my plans for the next week while I hobble around "taking it easy."
I also don't want to hear one person tell me something about how this means God wants me to slow down. I reject that suggestion out of hand. I don't think anyone knows what God's will is, I think we're all doing the best we can. I'm glad I wasn't hurt more seriously and obviously I'll deal with this, but I have a life that I truly enjoy living and it involves being healthy and whole.
Of course the first thought in my head is what about teaching spinning. I hope to God I'm better by Sunday because I'm on the schedule to teach a special class for Easter - special because it's a different time than my usual class and the clubs are all access, meaning, people who belong to other clubs in the system can attend classes at any of the clubs on that day. It's going to be a lot of my friends attending and others who might like my style and request that I teach at their club and I just don't want anything to interfere with being able to showcase myself.
But first things first - when it happened I was just really, really scared. I'm very dramatic around medical related events so aside from worrying about spinning, I feared I'd broken a rib or my spine. I'm really lucky I've got nurse and doctor friends who can answer my questions and are willing to take tear-stained phone calls early in the morning. For a nanosecond I also felt very, very, painfully alone - like this would be the ideal time to have a significant other, a partner-in-crime, to help pick up the slack and take control. Well that is certainly the theory, isn't it? But when I was with my last boyfriend, I injured myself twice, once when we were first together and once towards the end of our relationship. The first time there were other people around so his self involved behavior was easier to conceal, plus it was a more serious injury so I wasn't really paying attention to how he handled it. But now that I look back on it, he wasn't really *there* for me. He was never really *there* for me. He'd do things like go out for takeout food and bring it into the emergency room causing a disturbance - by the way, who eats in an emergency room!? During the recovery process he'd be sleeping and unable to get me stuff I'd need and then wonder why I was in a big huff. And he'd make the whole thing about him - "your injury is really causing me an inconvenience because you need so much more attention right now." Truth is, any time during that relationship I needed any special help I got it from other people, not him. So how interesting that my mind thinks I need a boyfriend when I don't know where that even comes from. That is clearly an unhelathy, old thought process that drives me to make choices that ultimately put me in a place to be harmed.
The people who HAVE BEEN here for me are my friends. My sweet downstairs neighbor who brought an ice pack and Ibuprophen. People who have called to check on me. Medical friends who gave me solid advice and helped me reason things through. My boss who called to see if I was OK. I am not ever alone.
Of course, my real doctor still hasn't called me back - what a sad comment on today's medical community. I probably would have gone to the emergency room right away except I'm on an HMO and know that means I need a doctor's approval before I so much as put a band aid on. I've been able to make myself comfortable with Ibuprophen and an ice pack, though there are a couple of times I've twistted and caused SIGNIFICANT pain so I'd like to run it by a medical professional. I called first thing this morning and still haven't heard back. Not good.
But this is just really a bad time for an injury. I've got a really big week this week and can't afford to be hurt. I'm trying to prepare to interview a Pulitzer Prize winning author coming to speak where I work and I can't be bogged down with running to the doctor, I need to focus and prepare properly. We've got a huge event next week in addition to this and there's a ton of work that needs to be done for that. I've got a really big social event tomorrow and I'd like to put my best foot forward. And I've got reading to do for class and need to keep my wits about me so I can absorb what I need to. No. I don't have time to "take it easy" and sit around like an old lady.
I am trying to be gentle with myself, and patient. But after such a wonderful weekend where my fitness was at an all time high and my performance was at its peak, I'm really not appreciating an injury relating to a dog that doesn't belong to me and that's going to hamper all of my plans for the next week while I hobble around "taking it easy."
I also don't want to hear one person tell me something about how this means God wants me to slow down. I reject that suggestion out of hand. I don't think anyone knows what God's will is, I think we're all doing the best we can. I'm glad I wasn't hurt more seriously and obviously I'll deal with this, but I have a life that I truly enjoy living and it involves being healthy and whole.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Can do!
One of the biggest blessings in my life is teaching spinning - spinning specifically because it's one of those things I didn't set out to do but it's turned out to be one of the best things that's ever happened to me.
When I got certified to teach fitness in the first place I thought I wanted to be a personal trainer. I haven't abandoned that objective at this point but it's so interesting how my goals as a fitness instructor have changed over the year I've been doing this.
My first certification was in Group Exercise which gave me the basic training to teach any group fitness class. The seed was planted during that training program that I could hang out a shingle on my own to train people in addition to try to get hired at a gym. At the time, getting hired at my gym was certainly the holy grail but it was a little bit of a long shot. My personal fitness was at a premium level, having discussed the idea with the fitness director (an act that required a herculean amount of courage to do at the time - I was so insecure about not having any experience and not having pursued what I should have done at 20 that I really had to screw up a ton of true grit even to reach out and ask for the meeting). She is my favorite kind of person - ultra outgoing, super bubbly but not in a girly pukey way. She's going a mile a minute at all times and is extremely smart. I loved her the minute I met her and we really clicked. I had heard legendary tales about how she basically stalked the inventor of spinning and was one of the original master spinning instructors. I can absolutely relate to that sort of tenacity and I felt really at home around her. She also was very encouraging which surprised me - I guess my insecurity stemmed from assuming she'd reject me out of hand because I am in my 40s. On the contrary she really responded to my physique and my ideas and put together a recommended plan for me to audition.
In the meantime I got certified in core and functional fitness. But she'd wanted me to audition for blast as well as spinning. I am obviously an avid spinner but to me spinning instructors were just a cut above regular fitness instructors - it seemed sort of unattainable. She said that she loved my personality and that I'd be perfect for spinning so she asked me to just go for it and what I lacked in technical savvy I more than made up for in personality. Well, that right there is a total blessing because I have a very strong high energy personality and there have been so many countless humiliating moments where someone's been overwhelmed by my Tigger-like enthusiasm. I've been teased about it for my whole life - alright, alright, ALRIGHT I get it, it's a little much sometimes. But in my 40s I've gotten really fucking sick and tired of apologizing for it, too. So to have someone not only be at my same level of energy but totally get how to use it in a professional setting was genuine validation from the universe that I have a place here on earth.
So I put together an audition for spin and blast and practiced both like crazy. I was hungry ALL of the time which makes me smile just even writing this. People who know and love me know that I am pretty much hungry all of the time on any given day. But during the audition time my appetite was purely insatiable. I also completed a spinning certification during that time so I was all set for the audition including super-cute playlists and cue cards with the proper technical information to communicate. Some of the instructors would let me sneak on stage for mini practice sessions and my fellow gym members were ultra supportive too.
I was talking to fitness directors at other clubs during this time and I was surprised at how many of them were receptive to me with a total lack of experience. I don't know why I held this line of work on such a pedestal but I started to see the constant stream of green lights as sort of confirmation from God that I was on the right track and not to question it.
Audition day was one of my favorite experiences in life to-date. I auditioned for spin with 5 other people and for blast with 10 other people. The spinning auditions were first and the person setting the order was one of my best friends, a fellow spinning instructor. He put me very last because he said that is the most advantageous position. I rode all the other auditions too because I wanted to show off my skillz a little. Not trying to compare myself to the other people but I think I was the most fun of the 5 and I felt the most positive energy in the room, like everyone was really wanting me to succeed. This is a totally new phenomenon for me having worked in hard-core business environments for so many years, ultra political dog-eat-dog environments where there are people just dying to see you fail. Not the case here - everyone was smiling and cheering and I wanted to cry tears of joy while I was up there. I felt like I belonged. It seems so funny to think about it now because I feel that way every time I get on stage as an instructor - like I just want to drop to my knees and cry tears of gratitude. Isn't that weird!? I just feel so lucky and happy that I get this opportunity in my 40s!!!
So of course after that setup it's obvious they hired me. I'd been unemployed all during this time and had started training people for a little extra cash. I loved doing that too - so much! It was like not only was my natural enthusiasm the feature that attracted my clients to me, but my big sister encouragement was what they all needed. I was able to fill my days with training appointments so I didn't feel so scared and isolated. And it gave me a physical outlet for my anxiety at that time. It was just enough money to supplement my unemployment. It was just like God was shining his favor on all of this - feel free to judge me talking about God and know what? I'm not a real "God" person. But all of these events are just so implausable what else could it be? What other 40 year old woman can walk into a gym and join for her birthday then a year later be hired as a spinning instructor!?
So today I taught one of the primo classes - a 75 minute class lousy with triathletes. The class was completely packed - out of the 45 bikes in the studio there were only empty. I felt like it was such a major responsibility and a one-time-only opportunity. I had my playlist and class plan all set. I know my shit so I wasn't worried about preparing for the class. I was just worried I'd get nervous and tongue-tied and that people would think that I don't know what I'm doing. But just like in all those other situations it was almost like I was filled with confidence I don't normally possess. I walked in that studio today like I owned the room even though it looked like Lance Armstrong cloned himself 41 times - oh my God so serious. My usual 'target market' are women in their late 20s to early 40s who all are trying to lose 5 or 10 pounds and want a fun punchy difficult workout so they can go have pancakes without guilt. These triathletes are some hard core dudes - and when I say dudes, I mean the class was 90% dudes (some of them cute!). Didn't matter - I just owned it: I owned my power, I owned my might, I owned my personality and I brought my A-Game to the table. I felt so good, so confident and so powerful. I was thinking while I was on stage about some of the really very difficult things I've had to overcome in my life and how all of it is totally worth it. I know how to withstand pain. I know how to reach out for help. I know how to persevere. I know how to discipline myself. And I know how to be grateful and enjoy abundance. I am so totally lucky - I wanted to cry walking home from that class because I just felt like doing my best was honoring God and validating my existence on earth.
It's not just I think I can anymore with me. It's just I CAN!!! How you like me now!?
When I got certified to teach fitness in the first place I thought I wanted to be a personal trainer. I haven't abandoned that objective at this point but it's so interesting how my goals as a fitness instructor have changed over the year I've been doing this.
My first certification was in Group Exercise which gave me the basic training to teach any group fitness class. The seed was planted during that training program that I could hang out a shingle on my own to train people in addition to try to get hired at a gym. At the time, getting hired at my gym was certainly the holy grail but it was a little bit of a long shot. My personal fitness was at a premium level, having discussed the idea with the fitness director (an act that required a herculean amount of courage to do at the time - I was so insecure about not having any experience and not having pursued what I should have done at 20 that I really had to screw up a ton of true grit even to reach out and ask for the meeting). She is my favorite kind of person - ultra outgoing, super bubbly but not in a girly pukey way. She's going a mile a minute at all times and is extremely smart. I loved her the minute I met her and we really clicked. I had heard legendary tales about how she basically stalked the inventor of spinning and was one of the original master spinning instructors. I can absolutely relate to that sort of tenacity and I felt really at home around her. She also was very encouraging which surprised me - I guess my insecurity stemmed from assuming she'd reject me out of hand because I am in my 40s. On the contrary she really responded to my physique and my ideas and put together a recommended plan for me to audition.
In the meantime I got certified in core and functional fitness. But she'd wanted me to audition for blast as well as spinning. I am obviously an avid spinner but to me spinning instructors were just a cut above regular fitness instructors - it seemed sort of unattainable. She said that she loved my personality and that I'd be perfect for spinning so she asked me to just go for it and what I lacked in technical savvy I more than made up for in personality. Well, that right there is a total blessing because I have a very strong high energy personality and there have been so many countless humiliating moments where someone's been overwhelmed by my Tigger-like enthusiasm. I've been teased about it for my whole life - alright, alright, ALRIGHT I get it, it's a little much sometimes. But in my 40s I've gotten really fucking sick and tired of apologizing for it, too. So to have someone not only be at my same level of energy but totally get how to use it in a professional setting was genuine validation from the universe that I have a place here on earth.
So I put together an audition for spin and blast and practiced both like crazy. I was hungry ALL of the time which makes me smile just even writing this. People who know and love me know that I am pretty much hungry all of the time on any given day. But during the audition time my appetite was purely insatiable. I also completed a spinning certification during that time so I was all set for the audition including super-cute playlists and cue cards with the proper technical information to communicate. Some of the instructors would let me sneak on stage for mini practice sessions and my fellow gym members were ultra supportive too.
I was talking to fitness directors at other clubs during this time and I was surprised at how many of them were receptive to me with a total lack of experience. I don't know why I held this line of work on such a pedestal but I started to see the constant stream of green lights as sort of confirmation from God that I was on the right track and not to question it.
Audition day was one of my favorite experiences in life to-date. I auditioned for spin with 5 other people and for blast with 10 other people. The spinning auditions were first and the person setting the order was one of my best friends, a fellow spinning instructor. He put me very last because he said that is the most advantageous position. I rode all the other auditions too because I wanted to show off my skillz a little. Not trying to compare myself to the other people but I think I was the most fun of the 5 and I felt the most positive energy in the room, like everyone was really wanting me to succeed. This is a totally new phenomenon for me having worked in hard-core business environments for so many years, ultra political dog-eat-dog environments where there are people just dying to see you fail. Not the case here - everyone was smiling and cheering and I wanted to cry tears of joy while I was up there. I felt like I belonged. It seems so funny to think about it now because I feel that way every time I get on stage as an instructor - like I just want to drop to my knees and cry tears of gratitude. Isn't that weird!? I just feel so lucky and happy that I get this opportunity in my 40s!!!
So of course after that setup it's obvious they hired me. I'd been unemployed all during this time and had started training people for a little extra cash. I loved doing that too - so much! It was like not only was my natural enthusiasm the feature that attracted my clients to me, but my big sister encouragement was what they all needed. I was able to fill my days with training appointments so I didn't feel so scared and isolated. And it gave me a physical outlet for my anxiety at that time. It was just enough money to supplement my unemployment. It was just like God was shining his favor on all of this - feel free to judge me talking about God and know what? I'm not a real "God" person. But all of these events are just so implausable what else could it be? What other 40 year old woman can walk into a gym and join for her birthday then a year later be hired as a spinning instructor!?
So today I taught one of the primo classes - a 75 minute class lousy with triathletes. The class was completely packed - out of the 45 bikes in the studio there were only empty. I felt like it was such a major responsibility and a one-time-only opportunity. I had my playlist and class plan all set. I know my shit so I wasn't worried about preparing for the class. I was just worried I'd get nervous and tongue-tied and that people would think that I don't know what I'm doing. But just like in all those other situations it was almost like I was filled with confidence I don't normally possess. I walked in that studio today like I owned the room even though it looked like Lance Armstrong cloned himself 41 times - oh my God so serious. My usual 'target market' are women in their late 20s to early 40s who all are trying to lose 5 or 10 pounds and want a fun punchy difficult workout so they can go have pancakes without guilt. These triathletes are some hard core dudes - and when I say dudes, I mean the class was 90% dudes (some of them cute!). Didn't matter - I just owned it: I owned my power, I owned my might, I owned my personality and I brought my A-Game to the table. I felt so good, so confident and so powerful. I was thinking while I was on stage about some of the really very difficult things I've had to overcome in my life and how all of it is totally worth it. I know how to withstand pain. I know how to reach out for help. I know how to persevere. I know how to discipline myself. And I know how to be grateful and enjoy abundance. I am so totally lucky - I wanted to cry walking home from that class because I just felt like doing my best was honoring God and validating my existence on earth.
It's not just I think I can anymore with me. It's just I CAN!!! How you like me now!?
Friday, April 15, 2011
Detox
Last year I was invited to a "Detox Yoga" event for Passover. This is exactly the kind of Jewish event that attracts me. I don't have to be embarrassed that I don't know some minor nuance everyone who grew up on one of the normal Jewish families knows instinctively. I don't have to pretend I know Hebrew. And I don't have to feel left out when everyone breaks out into their shared summer camp story.
I am not exactly a yoga person. I spin and kickbox and consider a good workout one where I leave the gym feeling like I've been bludgeoned. So yoga isn't usually my "thing" but I was invited by someone I like spending time with and the rabbi who teaches the yoga is totally cool.
Yes, totally cool - she (unusual for rabbis to begin with) is young, hip and pretty. She makes rabbi-hood super attractive and her yoga practice is just one of the very cool ways she infuses Jewish spirituality into modern life.
But as badass as I consider myself yoga usually humbles me in a bad way. There are kicks and twists and bends that yoga people can perform that my body simply will not do. There's the controlled breathing aspect of it too which leaves me feeling like an idiot. I see God in the spinning studio - it's dark so if I sweat or cry or gasp for air nobody sees it. Maybe that's painfully self conscious but there are some of the heavy breathing HAs and other weird sounds that yoga requires which make me feel uncomfortable. Plus I'm never breathing in or breathing out properly at the rate the instructor suggests so I feel bad about myself that I can't keep up. Yes I'm a weird little overachieving perfectionist which is precisely counter to the essential premise behind yoga. Hence, why I normally avoid it.
Anyway I went having no idea what to expect. I think I thought we might sit around and braid each other's hair or something. The physical component of the practice wasn't terribly grueling, though there were some moments that certainly separated the yogis from the yogettes, like when we stood on our head and walked our feet up the wall or sat in a squat pose for what felt like an hour.
Uncommon to my prior yoga experiences there was music. Bon Jovi, even! That I really enjoyed because I didn't have to think about all of the stuff I discussed before - basically the self consciousness that usually plagues me during a yoga class was eliminated.
Then she guided us into pigeon pose. I'm not sure how to describe this to the reader except to say it's sort of like a runner's stretch but your upper body is folded down over the lunged knee. We laid there and she coached us through a meditation about letting go. I don't know what it was but something about the pose (it hurt) and the song (it was beautiful, talking about "you're only human") and laying there for what felt like an eternity but tears came out of my eyes in waves. I wasn't sobbing uncontrollably, but I was really crying alot. I was embarrassed, aside from the friend who accompanied me and the rabbi who I only knew socially I'd never met any of the other women before. I don't usually cry in front of people I don't know. At that point I didn't really consider myself "a crier." So here I am folded over my body and it's like someone turned a faucet on in my tear ducts.
After we got up from that I had to take a second to blow my nose and made a joke about how this is why I never do yoga. And the rabbi said to me, stern but lovingly, that this is precisely what attracted me to it in that moment. Ultra spiritual zealots usually annoy the shit out of me but something about her or the way she said it or is it possible that the yoga had opened up something inside of me so I was willing to receive new messages ... I don't know, it just stuck with me.
I left that yoga session and went home to take a bath. I wouldn't say it caused an immediate change in my life. But I do recall feeling clearer and more decisive. Within two weeks I'd applied for a hundred new jobs and I broke up with my boyfriend, the latter was a choice I'd been wrestling with for over a year. I put some other plans in motion around that time I hadn't even realized until last night when I did the detox yoga again.
I haven't done yoga since then so I was eager to compare and contrast. First of all all of my physical training really paid off - I was way more competent at performing the physical practice than I ever have been. We can thank disciplined core training for that - there were tons of planks (my favorite) and an ab workout I didn't remember from last year that I was only able to complete because I work so hard on those parts of my body daily. I also had way better stamina for the two hour session because I usually work out for two hours. PS I ran six miles before I did this class. I know, I'm nuts. Anyway being able to perform the movements made for a more enjoyable experience.
My mat was stationed in the back corner of the room deliberately because I didn't want to get disturbed or distracted by others doing their thing. Regardless, the two heavy breathers put their mats on either side of me. I tried really, really hard not to judge or focus on them, but to keep the focus on myself. This is always going to be a challenge and part of yoga is facing what challenges us so I figured the effort was part of the practice. Plus, as a fitness instructor, it's been a really interesting shift in my perception from competing with other people at the gym to sending positive energy to people I can see are really struggling because I understand how difficult it is for them.
I didn't get the same tearful release as I did last year but when we were in pigeon pose, I did shed a few tears thinking about everything that opened up after the prior session. Breaking up with that boyfriend was a huge act of courage for me and was the last bastion of keeping myself trapped in a situation where it was all about someone else. That is a major pattern for me, letting some person or situation control me to the point where I have no voice and leave myself no options. Learning how to put myself first, to stand up for myself, to say no, to courageously use my voice, to set boundaries and to let other people have their own experience has been incredibly powerful for me. And letting go of that boyfriend was one critical movement I had to make so I could learn those lessons. Quitting my corporate job also took place following that yoga session. That was followed by a period of isolation including a work-at-home stint and then unemployment when they fired me because they didn't like me (interesting because they'd never met me in person). That is a whole separate post in and of itself but let's just say last summer was really difficult emotionally. I also had to decide to put my dog to sleep which was a letting go exercise I never intended to do. She was 17 years old, we'd been together since the 90s when I had the "Friends" haircut. I loved her dearly and having her not be a part of my life anymore has been so emotionally painful I can't really sit and process it properly because I have to function. It's like I set the feelings aside for later when I have a chance to deal.
But letting go of all of that and learning those lessons has created this amazing, incredible life I get to live today. I literally get to have fun and put my gifts to use in every single aspect of my life today. My job is as a writer where the things I write help people. I get to teach fitness - to use my natural enthusiasm and zest for life to encourage people, to use my personal fitness level as an example. I am getting a free masters degree in a creative writing program and it is an absolute dream come true, something I wouldn't have been able to afford otherwise. My home is wonderful. My pets are wonderful. My friends are wonderful. I totally have the best life ever. So last night in that pigeon pose position I felt nothing but gratitude. I think that class last year actually opened something in my heart that allowed me the strength to do what I needed to do. I wonder what was opened up last night!
Stay tuned.
PS I am super sore today. Woot!
I am not exactly a yoga person. I spin and kickbox and consider a good workout one where I leave the gym feeling like I've been bludgeoned. So yoga isn't usually my "thing" but I was invited by someone I like spending time with and the rabbi who teaches the yoga is totally cool.
Yes, totally cool - she (unusual for rabbis to begin with) is young, hip and pretty. She makes rabbi-hood super attractive and her yoga practice is just one of the very cool ways she infuses Jewish spirituality into modern life.
But as badass as I consider myself yoga usually humbles me in a bad way. There are kicks and twists and bends that yoga people can perform that my body simply will not do. There's the controlled breathing aspect of it too which leaves me feeling like an idiot. I see God in the spinning studio - it's dark so if I sweat or cry or gasp for air nobody sees it. Maybe that's painfully self conscious but there are some of the heavy breathing HAs and other weird sounds that yoga requires which make me feel uncomfortable. Plus I'm never breathing in or breathing out properly at the rate the instructor suggests so I feel bad about myself that I can't keep up. Yes I'm a weird little overachieving perfectionist which is precisely counter to the essential premise behind yoga. Hence, why I normally avoid it.
Anyway I went having no idea what to expect. I think I thought we might sit around and braid each other's hair or something. The physical component of the practice wasn't terribly grueling, though there were some moments that certainly separated the yogis from the yogettes, like when we stood on our head and walked our feet up the wall or sat in a squat pose for what felt like an hour.
Uncommon to my prior yoga experiences there was music. Bon Jovi, even! That I really enjoyed because I didn't have to think about all of the stuff I discussed before - basically the self consciousness that usually plagues me during a yoga class was eliminated.
Then she guided us into pigeon pose. I'm not sure how to describe this to the reader except to say it's sort of like a runner's stretch but your upper body is folded down over the lunged knee. We laid there and she coached us through a meditation about letting go. I don't know what it was but something about the pose (it hurt) and the song (it was beautiful, talking about "you're only human") and laying there for what felt like an eternity but tears came out of my eyes in waves. I wasn't sobbing uncontrollably, but I was really crying alot. I was embarrassed, aside from the friend who accompanied me and the rabbi who I only knew socially I'd never met any of the other women before. I don't usually cry in front of people I don't know. At that point I didn't really consider myself "a crier." So here I am folded over my body and it's like someone turned a faucet on in my tear ducts.
After we got up from that I had to take a second to blow my nose and made a joke about how this is why I never do yoga. And the rabbi said to me, stern but lovingly, that this is precisely what attracted me to it in that moment. Ultra spiritual zealots usually annoy the shit out of me but something about her or the way she said it or is it possible that the yoga had opened up something inside of me so I was willing to receive new messages ... I don't know, it just stuck with me.
I left that yoga session and went home to take a bath. I wouldn't say it caused an immediate change in my life. But I do recall feeling clearer and more decisive. Within two weeks I'd applied for a hundred new jobs and I broke up with my boyfriend, the latter was a choice I'd been wrestling with for over a year. I put some other plans in motion around that time I hadn't even realized until last night when I did the detox yoga again.
I haven't done yoga since then so I was eager to compare and contrast. First of all all of my physical training really paid off - I was way more competent at performing the physical practice than I ever have been. We can thank disciplined core training for that - there were tons of planks (my favorite) and an ab workout I didn't remember from last year that I was only able to complete because I work so hard on those parts of my body daily. I also had way better stamina for the two hour session because I usually work out for two hours. PS I ran six miles before I did this class. I know, I'm nuts. Anyway being able to perform the movements made for a more enjoyable experience.
My mat was stationed in the back corner of the room deliberately because I didn't want to get disturbed or distracted by others doing their thing. Regardless, the two heavy breathers put their mats on either side of me. I tried really, really hard not to judge or focus on them, but to keep the focus on myself. This is always going to be a challenge and part of yoga is facing what challenges us so I figured the effort was part of the practice. Plus, as a fitness instructor, it's been a really interesting shift in my perception from competing with other people at the gym to sending positive energy to people I can see are really struggling because I understand how difficult it is for them.
I didn't get the same tearful release as I did last year but when we were in pigeon pose, I did shed a few tears thinking about everything that opened up after the prior session. Breaking up with that boyfriend was a huge act of courage for me and was the last bastion of keeping myself trapped in a situation where it was all about someone else. That is a major pattern for me, letting some person or situation control me to the point where I have no voice and leave myself no options. Learning how to put myself first, to stand up for myself, to say no, to courageously use my voice, to set boundaries and to let other people have their own experience has been incredibly powerful for me. And letting go of that boyfriend was one critical movement I had to make so I could learn those lessons. Quitting my corporate job also took place following that yoga session. That was followed by a period of isolation including a work-at-home stint and then unemployment when they fired me because they didn't like me (interesting because they'd never met me in person). That is a whole separate post in and of itself but let's just say last summer was really difficult emotionally. I also had to decide to put my dog to sleep which was a letting go exercise I never intended to do. She was 17 years old, we'd been together since the 90s when I had the "Friends" haircut. I loved her dearly and having her not be a part of my life anymore has been so emotionally painful I can't really sit and process it properly because I have to function. It's like I set the feelings aside for later when I have a chance to deal.
But letting go of all of that and learning those lessons has created this amazing, incredible life I get to live today. I literally get to have fun and put my gifts to use in every single aspect of my life today. My job is as a writer where the things I write help people. I get to teach fitness - to use my natural enthusiasm and zest for life to encourage people, to use my personal fitness level as an example. I am getting a free masters degree in a creative writing program and it is an absolute dream come true, something I wouldn't have been able to afford otherwise. My home is wonderful. My pets are wonderful. My friends are wonderful. I totally have the best life ever. So last night in that pigeon pose position I felt nothing but gratitude. I think that class last year actually opened something in my heart that allowed me the strength to do what I needed to do. I wonder what was opened up last night!
Stay tuned.
PS I am super sore today. Woot!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
I'm just not that into dating
After a reasonable period following my breakup last year, I begrudgingly joined Match.com and then OK Cupid. Begrudgingly because the only results I'd had from past online dating adventures was an overstuffed arsenal of tales to tell and retell over cocktails and cigarettes with my girlfriends clutching their stomachs and howling with glee.
I'm not really sure I can articulate a great reason why I felt I needed to date. So I went back on and it turns out nothing's changed. I wound up going out with a number of men I wouldn't meet otherwise - that's the premise, right? Use the Internet to introduce people who wouldn't meet in the normal course of life.
The issue is that after the first date, many times after the first 5 minutes of knowing each other, I realize that if we had met in real life, I'd never have agreed to go on a date with any of these guys. I started to feel pissed off about the lies I was being told before I even met people in person. There was always some fundamental way the guy had misrepresented the facts as stated on his profile. Like I have kids but they don't live at home. That is technically true, but if they live next door, and you text and talk to them the entire time we're on a date, that's a level of kid interaction that might work for you, but would not be something I'd choose to get involved with. There are more subtle lies like lying about your height. Feel free to judge me for being shallow. I don't care. But I'm 5'9" and every inch of it. Of the four serious relationships I've been in, not one of them has been with someone shorter than me. I've dated shorter men but it's never been for the long haul. And I am just physically attracted to someone who's taller than me when I wear heels. I stated that outright in my profile in what I thought was a clever, cute, diplomatic way. Still, you wouldn't believe the number of guys who showed up at least 2 inches shorter than what it said on their profile making me feel like the jolly green giant.
I say all this to say that today I am responsible for me. I have my own fears, my own worries, my own insecurities. I have my own problems and my own successes. I have tools to deal with life's ups and downs and that simplicity really works for me. And having gotten out of my most recent relationship I've learned so much about my tendency to take on the problems and concerns of the person I'm with, so I'm not really inclined to rush back into that situation and I'm more sensitive to clues people give me that they're needy and need someone to take care of these things for them.
The Match date that pushed me over the edge was with someone whose profile I liked alright, who after a brief phone conversation we seemed to have some things in common, but when we met in person, I discovered that their profile picture was at least 10 or 15 years old and the years hadn't been kind. I have a difficult time understanding this - if you don't look like that anymore, don't advertise yourself that way! Is this selfish and superficial? Probably so ... but the point of dating is that there is a level of physical attraction. I've been in relationships where the initial physical attraction didn't exist and developed over time. I understand it's not ALL about physical attraction. But I'm not talking purely about physical attraction. I'm talking about the fundamental inability to tell the truth. If you're a middle aged man who's soft around the middle, I'm unlikely to fall in love with your really great kind soul if you've lied to me before we've even met.
I'm not really sure I can articulate a great reason why I felt I needed to date. So I went back on and it turns out nothing's changed. I wound up going out with a number of men I wouldn't meet otherwise - that's the premise, right? Use the Internet to introduce people who wouldn't meet in the normal course of life.
The issue is that after the first date, many times after the first 5 minutes of knowing each other, I realize that if we had met in real life, I'd never have agreed to go on a date with any of these guys. I started to feel pissed off about the lies I was being told before I even met people in person. There was always some fundamental way the guy had misrepresented the facts as stated on his profile. Like I have kids but they don't live at home. That is technically true, but if they live next door, and you text and talk to them the entire time we're on a date, that's a level of kid interaction that might work for you, but would not be something I'd choose to get involved with. There are more subtle lies like lying about your height. Feel free to judge me for being shallow. I don't care. But I'm 5'9" and every inch of it. Of the four serious relationships I've been in, not one of them has been with someone shorter than me. I've dated shorter men but it's never been for the long haul. And I am just physically attracted to someone who's taller than me when I wear heels. I stated that outright in my profile in what I thought was a clever, cute, diplomatic way. Still, you wouldn't believe the number of guys who showed up at least 2 inches shorter than what it said on their profile making me feel like the jolly green giant.
I say all this to say that today I am responsible for me. I have my own fears, my own worries, my own insecurities. I have my own problems and my own successes. I have tools to deal with life's ups and downs and that simplicity really works for me. And having gotten out of my most recent relationship I've learned so much about my tendency to take on the problems and concerns of the person I'm with, so I'm not really inclined to rush back into that situation and I'm more sensitive to clues people give me that they're needy and need someone to take care of these things for them.
The Match date that pushed me over the edge was with someone whose profile I liked alright, who after a brief phone conversation we seemed to have some things in common, but when we met in person, I discovered that their profile picture was at least 10 or 15 years old and the years hadn't been kind. I have a difficult time understanding this - if you don't look like that anymore, don't advertise yourself that way! Is this selfish and superficial? Probably so ... but the point of dating is that there is a level of physical attraction. I've been in relationships where the initial physical attraction didn't exist and developed over time. I understand it's not ALL about physical attraction. But I'm not talking purely about physical attraction. I'm talking about the fundamental inability to tell the truth. If you're a middle aged man who's soft around the middle, I'm unlikely to fall in love with your really great kind soul if you've lied to me before we've even met.
I felt I'd been wasting my time, realized I'm not unhappy being single so I made a decision to stop. If someone asks me out the old fashioned way, great. But no more of this online foolishness. Since I'd paid for the 6 months nonrefundable (fuck you Match), I couldn't deactivate myself all the way. So, occasionally during insomnia-fueled late-night guilty pleasure online search around sessions, I'd go on to see if anyone decent had checked out my profile. I got busy with school and spinning and whatnot so I'd forget about it for weeks at a time.
Until the other night when I checked it out and indeed three guys who seemed kind of normal had written thoughtful but not stalkery emails to me and I figured oh what the hell.
And this brings me to the denoument of my post.
One guy in particular sent me an email that gave me the vapors. In a good way. He talked about sports and he-man activities that for his stated 49 year old age was really quite hot. What can I say? I'm a jock and to have someone say they enjoy athletics and fitness at my same level is rare even in the gay community. So I struck up what I considered to be a witty banter to the point where I gave him my phone number.
His response? He didn't call me. But then started emailing me saying he was intimidated at how little body fat I had and wondering if I was REALLY in that good of shape. I thought about not replying then and there. Because he just revealed that he's insecure just like the guys who lie about their height or post an old photo. And I reminded myself that I am worth more than this. I've vowed no more helping anyone through their insecurity. People get to have their own experience but I am officially out of the business of being your touchstone to tell you you're going to be OK. But I figured I'd respond thoughtfully to show that there's some depth to my love of fitness and a spiritual component to it, as well (his profile said he's spiritual, after all). His response to that? I can't exactly remember but it was something gee whizzey enough that I said OK that's it. And I emailed Match telling them to permanently delete my profile end of report.
I have to admit it's a little scary, not putting it out there. The idea that "he's just around the corner" or "you never know" is compelling, I admit. But today I like me. I think I'm pretty. I think I'm smart. I think I have so much to offer THE WORLD and I'm not waiting to have one special person to make that OK. This is a tremendous amount of growth for me. A big reason I stayed in my last relationship and have trended towards serial monogamy in the past is because I think that if I have a boyfriend "I'm OK." Even if there are fundamental issues with my choice of boyfriend or the relationship has cataclysmic flaws, I have sought out checking off that box that I'm OK because I'm paired off.
And people ask me all the time if I'm dating someone. People actually marvel that I'm not - I'm not sure why but they seem super surprised about it. The truth is that I just don't get asked out on dates that often. It's not just because I live in a Weathergirls song, but men just don't ask me out very often. I had a very fun fling around Christmas time but that was really the only time that I've been asked out in any kind of substantive way except for online dates or an extremely occasional person coming out of the woodwork to ask me out and take me on one date only to never hear from them again. But I am not doing all the things I'm doing in order to attract someone. I'm enjoying my life for me, doing things I love to do because they make me happy. I see so many people in relationships making sacrifices and compromises for the good of the relationship. That's not all bad - that's part of being in a relationship. But I've done that to the detriment of myself too many times. Today it's about me. And if the universe thinks someday I should share that with someone, it'll be the right one. Until then, I love me.
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