Schlep and Love

Juno (Ellen Page): "I think I'm in love with you...Cuz you're like the coolest person I ever met and you don't even have to try...ya know?"

Paulie (Michael Cera) : "I try really hard...actually."

~ from the upcoming film, Juno

I'm sore.
Life is good.

I did a Step Aerobics class (I called it the Step and Schlep) with my Vixens last night.
It was just the four of us and the instructor, very intimate, like a private session.
The class itself was a bit beyond my ability, though.
Stepping and Schlepping takes coordination and some serious lung capacity.

So I modified.
I did things in half time (taking one step for their two)
or did the moves without the step.
At first I felt self-conscious and borderline ashamed that I couldn't keep the pace.
The negative feelings didn't last long.
I felt no judgement from anyone in the room.
I was truly comfortable.

Some moves I was able to do exceptionally well.
The classic bend-over-and-touch-your-toes move is fairly easy for me. I can pretty much place my palms flat on the floor (thanks to my chiropractor, Dr. Alan Brewster!)

During the "cool down" and I put that in quotes because some of those moves were incredibly difficult, she had us put ourselves in plank position (a freeze frame of a push up) and hold it for 30 seconds.
I was determined.
I held it.
It was torture.
I felt great afterwards.

I drew strength from the love in the room.
It's great to be able to have faith in myself, but there's nothing like having someone else believe in me. It fills in the blanks where I leave off.

I only halfway believe that I don't deserve it which is a radical improvement from having to burst into tears any time any one was ever nice to me.
I've earned my own respect over the past year.
I kinda DO believe I deserve the love, ya know?

I sure do give the love...I mean I love so many and so much.
Not sure I give it in an obvious enough way.
I'm sure there's room for improvement.
I hope my loved ones feel loved by me.
Really.

I just received a text from one of the Vixens (The Vixens are my soon-to-be former students Melanie, Kelly, and Michael who are taking on the Get Fit BeFORE the Holidays Challenge with me at their request!) telling me that even though we aren't scheduled to work out together today, she's going to the gym.
Can you imagine that?
Real live people being real life inspired by me (and me by them)!

It blows my mind every time I read a Comment here on my Blog where one of you says that I've inspired you.
It's a miracle, truly.
I've been such an asshole for so long, failing to take care of myself, failing to appreciate life.
To have turned it around to something SOOOOO positive and to hear from OTHERS is a gift.
An absolute blessing.

And just for the record...
None of this comes easy.
I try really, really hard.

*Movement for Motivation*
Ok, this guy is badass from a wheelchair.
I have no excuses...

Yesterday's activity: One hour step aerobics class with the Vixens!

Vigor Vixens

Vigor Vixen...my beloved Shiva Rea

"I am always doing that which I can not do,
in order that I may learn how to do it."
~ Pablo Picasso

Yoga was easier.
Not that I've been practicing or anything.
Not that I've even thought about it much since the last time I tried it.

I haven't even been doing much exercise except for walking.
So, I'm not exactly sure why yoga was easier (not easy but easier than the last time I tried it).
Maybe it was the power of the Vixens.

That's my nickname for my students and me. We're taking on the get fit beFORE the holidays challenge.

The Vixens.
The Vigor Vixens.

They came to me with a desire on their hearts to motivate me and motivate themselves, giving me renewed inspiration and purpose.
We are Vix-atious together.

Maybe having them next to me on their yoga mats helped me (they said they didn't really like yoga but they did it for me, aren't they awesome??).
Maybe the joy of having them there is just a part of what made things easier.

Since I've been trying to be more well-rounded in my self-care I've been getting more done, having more energy, and yes, i n e x p l i c a b l y, I broke my plateau and dipped below the 250 mark after weeks (months) of being stuck.

Here's why I use the word "inexplicable"...
Sure, I may be eating less, but since I don't count calories and refuse to diet, my question is more about why, without focused effort on eating less am I burning off the fat.

And yes, I have a theory...
I believe things are happening for me because
I let go.
I took a deeeeeeep cleansing Shiva Rea breath and let go.

Rather than pushing myself so hard at the gym I relaxed and learned to connect a bit more with my body. Instead of trying to punish my body away and force it into submission. Sure, there are parts of my body I want to get rid of....the extra fat....but I don't feel the need to force it off. Rather, I'm asking it to leave then helping it out the door.

Different mindset, different results.

In my mind, during kickboxing class, I said (in a recent blog) I made my body fat the enemy.
I want to point out that this was a targeted focus on a part of my body that I feel like I no longer need. I separated the excess from the essential.
The fat is not just extra stored energy, it's an old way of life, a old lifestyle of self-hatred, an imbalance, an unwanted reminder of addiction and misery.
I wouldn't want my readers to take that idea to the extreme of bad-body-thoughts or a dysmorphic condition of not wanting to have ANY body fat at all. We need some fat on our bodies.

Bodies move.
Bodies shake.
We have wobbly bits.
They're OK.

That OKness is what helped me in yoga class yesterday.
I wasn't as stiff.
I wasn't as angry at myself.
I had a few less pounds on my body to deal with.
I felt supported by everyone in the room.
My students were arm's length from me.
I love them.

The yoga flowed.
Still a bit awkward, still a great effort, but easier this time.

Easier flowing from somewhere within.
Must have been our warrior spirit.

*Movement for Motivation*
This yoga practice helps with persistent fatigue.
I could use that kind of help.
Probably better for me than stimulants...

Yesterday's Movement: one hour yoga class (including warrior asanas!)

punching and kicking

Female Samurai by Victor Konnov

“I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory.
I love only that which they defend”

~ J.R.R. Tolkien

It came naturally.
It felt better than yoga.
My students and I took a kickboxing class yesterday.
We kicked some serious imaginary ass.

Upper cuts,
hooks,
kicks,
jabs.
It was just what my body craved, some healthy aggression.

When I first entered the room I told the instructor (a 19 year old girl, mind you)
that I would probably have to hold onto something to keep my balance.
She reassured me that we would just covere the basics and that she thought the chair might get in my way. I told her I would only use it if I needed it.

I didn't need it.

That blows my mind....in a number of ways.
I expected (see, sometimes the universe surprises us) to have a hard time keeping my balance.
I expected to be unable to stand on one leg.
I expected to topple and fall on my ass.

Didn't happen.
I stayed upright.

I held onto one of the big arm chairs in Kops Lounge for maybe a minute out of our 60 minute workout only to do back kicks where we kept our leg in the air for one whole minute without letting our foot touch the ground once.

I'm not saying I was GOOD at what we were doing. My coordination needs a lot of work.
My form could have been better. I kept checking myself out in the reflection in the windows and feeling fat and foolish. I was in a room with girls half my age and half my size. I felt enourmous, like a big, clumsy lummox, but I kept at it. My students were toughing it out. I wasn't going to quit on them.

We were there to vanquish our enemy.

I made fat and self-doubt into my enemy.

The instructor had us imagining boards that we were punching, elbowing and kicking to keep our extensions from flying all over the place. I thought it would be intereting to picture an enemy instead of a board, someone I was angry with.

I couldn't do it.
There was no one I wanted to physically hurt.
No one's imaginary face that I wanted to punch or kick.
I needed an enemy, so I chose my own self doubt.
I chose the fat on my body that needs to GO.
Burn off.
Leave.
In its place leave only muscle and self-assurance.

Dignity.
Grace.
Controlled aggression.
Honor.
Poise.
Live in me the warrior spirit.

" Traditional warriors developed ethical, martial, and spiritual skills that served their community and fostered their personal quest for an expanded consciousness."
~ The Tea House

*Movement for Motivation*
This vid isn't about the soda.
Awaken your warrior spirit.

Yesterday's activity: one hour kickboxing cardio class with The Vixens!

why NOT me?

"Asking 'Why me?' is selfish.

A better question is 'Why NOT me?'
It would be selfish of me to wish that someone else had Cerebral Palsy.
And if it weren't for CP I wouldn't have had the chance to learn all these lessons and do all these things."
~ Paul Stuart Spiker, Disability Awareness Motivational Speaker

I am thankful for my troubles.
Sure.
It's easy to say.
It's even easier to say in retrospect.
And oh, so easy to say when I'm sitting here in my pajamas in the safety of chill-ville with a mug of coffee and very, very few worries.

Not like yesterday.
I taught my way through a prolonged anxiety attack complete with heart palpitations, wooziness, shortness of breath and hypo-mania.
No, I'm not saying this to be dramatic.
It happened.
It sucked.

The classroom seemed brighter than usual, like the walls were painted neon yellow and morphing like a panel of light.
It didn't help that the room was unusually warm from the heater blasting during the unseasonably warm weather.
I held lecture notes in front of me that I couldn't use.
My hands were shaking and I couldn't focus on the words.
I ran on auto-pilot, hoping muscle memory would get me through.
During my video clips I sat and tried to breathe, tried to calm myself down.
Didn't help.

I made my way through making even less sense than usual.

After class, my heart racing, still dizzy and pulsing, I asked some of my students if they could tell how anxious I was.
They said they couldn't, that I just seemed a bit more annoyed than usual, like I wasn't my usual self.

Ok, not bad.
Not too much damage done.

I vibrated my way over to University Hall, sat with my diva-lunch box and watched the first half hour of The Sound of Music. Nuns singing Rex Admirabilis is a wonderful perspective-giving, calming yet ecstatic way to come down off a dangerously high strung anxiety bender...

Rex admirabilis
Et triumphator nobilis,
Dulcedo in effabilis,
In effabilis,
Totus desiderabilis,
Totus desiderabilis.

Translation:
O JESUS, King most wonderful!
Thou Conqueror renowned!
Thou Sweetness most ineffable!
in whom all joys are found!

If only I could embed that hymn in this blog.
Better yet, if I could convey the feeling it gives me over to you, like putting on a virtual reality helmet and letting me beam it over to you somehow.
Warning, the fever pitch of emotion might shock your system.

Those nuns sang me into a more God conscious state of ok-ness with the world and myself in it.
I rewound the video tape and played it again.
Then simmered down with "How do you Solve a Problem Like Maria" and part of the confidence song.

Felt better.
Much better.

I think I know why it happened.
I just hurdled over a strange hump in my weight loss/fitness journey and my body is responding.
I'm under 250 and the momentum is carrying me downhill to One-derland (weight numbers that start with 1).

My body is responding differently to things, meds, drugs, stimulants, movement, sleep, excitement in general.
I don't need as much of any of those things to feel their impact.

Note to self: Self, you don't need to be overstimulated to teach!

Old habits, dontcha know?
I used to need the overstimulation.
I used to sleep poorly, move with great labor and poop out by the time I was standing up in front of the classroom, exhausted from getting ready for school.

Guess that's changed.
Guess I changed it.

Clothes are getting looser.
My face is changing.
I have more energy.
I move with less pain.
The weight is coming off with little effort.

My initial reaction is to pound on the breaks.
Screech to a halt.
The momentum is scaring me.
There's nothing to grab onto.
STooooooooooooopppppp!

Breathe, I tell myself.
It's ok.
Take it slowly.
Everything will work out.
Everything will fall into place.

It's how I feel now while I'm falling that's scary.

*Movement for Motivation*
What's not to love about this guy?
Look at his cute little bachelor apartment.
Great accent.
Easy stretch!

Yesterday's Activity: 30 minutes on the upright bike and 15 minutes of weight training at Panzer with MiKelMelisa (Combination of Michael, Kelli, Melanie and me!!)
MiKelMelisa, the Vigor Vixens will be meeting 4 times per week for a one hour workout.
Today, most likely we'll be doing a class in Kops lounge.

Swords never get tired

One of my favorite fight scenes ever: O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu) fighting The Bride (Uma Thurman) in Kill Bill Vol. 1

"For those regarded as warriors, when engaged in combat the vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior's only concern.
Suppress all human emotion and compassion.
Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself.
This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat."
~ Hattori Hanzo in Kill Bill Vol.1

It's graceful and violent.
Lucy Liu and Uma doing their deadly dance in the snow.
We take for granted that their characters know how to fight.
Behind the scenes, the two actresses spent hours...days...weeks in training to make a few minutes on screen come to life.

I like that idea.
The pursuit of excellence.
The unity of grace and aggression.
The beauty in disciplined fighting.

If my soul is craving combat lately it is for good reason.
I've been turning the other cheek since I was a child.
That's what I was told to do.
That's what "good" girls did.
I wanted to be a "good" girl.

Being good meant getting love and attention, praise and acceptance from my elders.
It's natural to want love, attention, praise and acceptance.
It's ok to have embraced good-girl-ness as a strategy.
I forgive myself.
I'm working on forgiving everyone around me, too.

I have a lifetime's (well, my lifetime so far) worth of anger that had no outlet except to take it out on, or rather push it into, myself. I was taught to sacrifice the self rather than be aggressive toward others. So I did.
Then I almost died.

Addictions don't happen out of no where.
We're needy beings and I don't mean "needy" in a bad way.
We've been taught that needing makes us weak.
We've been taught to be ashamed of our human need for love, acceptance, attention and validation.

Addictions seem to me to be our thwarted attempts to soothe ourselves in a socially acceptable way. And yes, I mean this society fosters addictions more so than it encourages mutuality and relationships.

Rightly so. We live in a capitalist society. Addictions and overconsumption are the logical outcome of a media dominated culture that offers products rather than people as balms for our aching hearts and souls. I understand the logic of our economy.

Got pain?
Take pill.
Got emptiness?
Fill it with stuff.
Got love?
Don't even bother expressing it cuz you're not good enough, thin enough, hot enough, young enough or worthy enough to get any back.

I was ashamed of my neediness since childhood.
That's when I became addicted to overstuffing myself.

This is my second year post-op.
Last year at this time I wanted discipline and motivation.
I got it.
This year I want to learn how to be ....

Hmmm. What is it I crave?
I want to be...

Tougher?
More aggressive?

What is it that I seek?

I'm thinking of Neo (Keanu Reeves) in The Matrix.

Agent Smith looks skeptical about whether Neo is actually dead or not. He nods to the other agents.

Agent Smith : Check him!

Agent Brown checks his pulse

Agent Brown : He's gone...

They turn and start to walk away, but Agent Smith turns round and smirks at Neo's body

Agent Smith : Goodbye......Mr. Anderson...

The sentinels have broken through and are now on the main deck, ripping everything apart.

Neo sits up, trying to focus. He stands up, and the Agents turn around, staring at him, also in disbelief. Agent Smith grimaces and aims his rifle at Neo. He fires.

Neo : ...No...!

As Agent Smith fires, Neo just puts his hand out. The bullets slow down and stop in front of him. Neo looks at them, and picks one up. He looks at it, and then drops it to the floor. He looks at the rest, and moves his head down. They all fall to the ground. The Agents stare, and all take a step back.

That's the moment.
The big "no" ...the dignity of deciding I'm-not-gonna-take-it-anymore.
The impenetrable-ness of the hero who finally knows their own worth, embracing their own power.

That's what I crave, now.

I've cowered for too long.
I've sacrificed myself for way too long.

Last year at this time I attracted the people and circumstances that would help me be disciplined and motivated. Attracted, sought them out, whatever way you want to look at it.
As I become more clear as to how I want to focus my energy this year, I'll gather those around me who can help me get where I'm going.
Like my two students who are partnering with me beginning today.
I'll post more about that tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'm beginning to figure out the what part of this year's focus.

Now to figure out the HOW part.

Maybe it's time to buy a sweeping black trenchcoat and a cool pair of shades.

Next year at this time?
A yellow jumpsuit.

*Movement for Motivation*
Forgive me for getting weepy.
This Chi Gong video clip is not merely beautiful for its setting on the Lijiang River in Guangxi, China....nor is it gorgeous merely for Chi Gong's spiritually and physically uplifting movement.
It's the bird.
I got choked up looking at the bird.
It's wings spread in praise to the eternal chi of life, its partnership with Rafi Anteby as he shows us how to move...how godly....how worshipful...

Yesterday's Movement: 30 minute walk in the sunshine.

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Geez, I just watched the video again and cried again!
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will toward all.

renewed vigor

"Consistency: It's only a virtue if you're not a screwup."
~ Despair Inc

I haven't posted an activity report in 2 days cuz I haven't done anything.
That's right.
Little Miss Discipline is feeling mighty slack.
But just in time to prevent me from going soft, the universe sent me what I asked for:
A new source of motivation.

2 of my students are taking on the Lisa Challenge to work out with me every day(?) at Panzer until it closes for Christmas break.
They approached me about this!
They said they want me to whip their asses into shape.

Little do they know that they're the ones helping me to step it up and get back on track to a higher level of activity and commitment for myself.
It's so much easier to motivate myself by motivating others.
It's so much easier to keep my word when other people are involved.

They came along with this request and gave me the gift of renewed vigor.
I'll tell you more as soon as we set our schedule and make our hardcore promise.
Thank you universe for sending me exactly what I asked for in an unexpected, fun, delightful way.
I say that I'm doing a lot of what I'm doing for the sake of helping other people. I thank these two brave (they don't know what they're in for) young ladies for giving me a chance to ACTUALLY do that.

The Lisa Challenge begins tomorrow!
I can't wait.

Today I have lots of work to do that will require lots of discipline.
Paper grading.
Quiz making.
Lecture planning.
Research for a client of mine.
Sorting, finding and filing.

Knowing that I have people counting on me makes doing all those things that much easier.
Sartre said, "Hell is other people," and sometimes I'm inclined to agree.
But sometimes other people make life worth all the toil and effort.
Doing FOR others rather than for myself can be exactly the perspective-giving, inspirational kick in the pants I need to get me out of my head and out into the world.
Sometimes other people are heaven on earth.
Sometimes...sometimes...

*Movement for Motivation*
Just for the record, I DID take a nice 30 minute walk today in the abundant sunshine!
Here's a nice workout for desk dwellers...

dwell in possibility

Top: Bosie head to head with Gabriel;
Middle: Jacob Christmas 2006;
Bottom: Sebastian the 20 pounder.
For more pics of my cats Click Here.

"'I’m a failure?'
You sound like someone who’s just given up!
If something you believe in doesn’t exist,
then try and make it exist!"
~ Vad in David Kreinberg's Blood Core

Uploading pictures of my cats this morning I noticed how nice my apartment looks in pictures.
Just now, I was about to type that it looks more luxurious in pictures than in person but come to think of it, it IS pretty luxurious. Small but luxurious. As a matter of fact, my apartment has got to be the most chill place on earth.

Come to think of it, if I had a gaming system and a large(er), flat screen TV I would never have to leave the house. Well, except to exercise...and make money....or...wait...

Even exercising can be (and in the winter, probably will be) an in-apartment activity.

And I was about to say that if I were more disciplined, I could be making tons of money at home.
But..but...but...I AM disciplined.

Hmmmm.
I bet, with the right strategy and some Lisa-style focus, I could create something that doesn't exist yet.

A colleague and I sat down to lunch the other day and made an exciting plan.
We're going to write a book together over the winter break.
Should be ready by early March.
Yup.
A real live book.

Since my colleague is busy busy busy and currently earning a doctorate I would be the one going on the "road" to promote it, give talks, interviews etc.
How fun!
Then my colleague mentioned the word "honorarium".
What's an "honorarium" I wanted to know.
"It's a speaker's fee my dear. You've been a university professor for 6 years. You have 2 Master's degrees. You're a public speaker with an incredible portfolio of topics on which you can lecture. You can and will get paid for your talents."

Paid.
It hadn't occurred to me.
Well it had, but I batted the thought away as if I wasn't good enough yet, or experienced enough yet, or hadn't lost-enough-weight to be in front of a room giving a talk (and believe me, I can talk about a lot more things than dieting, exercising and weight loss...and I have).

How silly of me to doubt my own ability.

That's what happens when I get stuck in my head.
I get limited.
I forget my own worth.
I get bogged down in the "not yet" of it all.

Besides yanking my head back and tilting my face up to the sky, hanging out with empowering people helps to expand my world view. When I say "empowering" I mean folks who believe in me. Folks who see more than I see from my first person perspective. People who have energy and ideas that come bubbling to the surface when they're around me. (Is it possible that I really am inspiring?)

So on the one hand wouldn't it be nice to have a home so cushy and luxurious that I'd never have to leave it if I didn't want to and on the other hand isn't it awesome to get out and get inspired by other people who can broaden my horizons?

Sometimes I have to be reminded of things that don't yet exist.
Sometimes I have to be reminded that I can make them exist.

I can.
I will.
I must.

More to come.
More to exist.

Click here to leave me a comment.

*Movement for Motivation*
How great is this guy?
I bet doing these simple morning exercises helps him leap out of bed with abundant energy!
(Today's video choice was inspired by D.K. and his affinity for all things Japanese).

walking on wine

"Everyone doesn't have to love me.

I love myself. And I'm a sure bet."

~ Maria Lynn Pomponio

I had a great time with my family yesterday.
We went to my aunt's (my father's sister) in Cedar Grove where we've been gathering since my grandmother sold the house in Montclair back in the late 1970s.
Aunt Zoppy kinda took over as the matriarch of the family.

Between the "cocktail hour" and our actual meal (do Italian Americans ever eat light?)
I wanted to take a walk, part commitment, part wine buzz.
My cousin Maria and I stepped out into the downright balmy, late afternoon.
It felt like 70 degrees outside although the carpet of fallen bright yellows, oranges and reds on the ground reminded us that it was autumn.

Up the hill we walked with slow, deliberate steps. The wine made it feel like less of an effort. Our muscles were warm, our bellies full, our hearts content.

Almost to the top of the hill (Pompton Ave) I thought I felt a raindrop.
Then Maria thought she felt a raindrop.
We decided to turn back just in case it was going to rain.

As soon as we turned toward home the leaves started tapping with falling rain.
We picked up the pace a bit.
Maria texted her husband (my cousin, Jimmy) an SOS.
We giggled in the light rain.

Then as if our laughter egged it on, it swelled into a deluge, soaking us as we jogged back to Zoppy's laughing and screaming through the pouring rain.
Hair wilted, makeup running, panting our way into the comfort of a warm house and some more red wine, we knew we were blessed.
Blessed to have each other, blessed to have a warm, welcoming home to run back to, blessed to be alive after a trying year for all of us. Blessed for the abundant food!

We savored our traditional turkey dinner, thankful for every delicious mouthful.
I enjoyed my freedom.
Freedom from the demon of overconsumption.
Freedom from temptation to eat too much or indulge in too many carbs.

I put mustard and soy sauce on my turkey instead of gravy and I didn't mind a bit.
I had a tablespoon of mashed potatoes and a tablespoon of stuffing just to taste.
I loaded my plate with vegetables and white meat.
It was great to be full. It was wonderful to feel well fed and to push myself away from the table with no guilt over what I had eaten.

While everyone ate dessert I had a nice handful of mixed nuts and a giant coffee.

It wasn't a big deal.
No one made comments because no one had to.
I didn't draw a lot of attention to myself.
I didn't make sweeping pronouncements of "oh, I can't eat that" or "mmmm, no I wish I could but I'm not allowed" or whatever I might have said regarding my slightly unconventional way of eating.
It was a non-issue.

I enjoyed myself.

How incredibly awesome.

When I got home I did some thinking.
I felt a heaviness as I walked around my apartment.
The next hundred pounds needs to go.
I felt that without pressure, without fault finding, without panic.

I want to feel better, lighter, freer.
It felt possible, suddenly.
Really do-able.
I could imagine the wobbly bits disappearing.
I could feel the weight as if it were already on its way off my body.
Kinda like that old chestnut about Da Vinci and his famous sculpture.
He said he just chipped away all the marble that wasn't David.
That's what I feel like now.

Chipping away.
Creating a masterpiece.
And what's not to love about David.

*Movement for Motivation*

She doesn't even care who's looking. She's working it!
Love her...

Yesterday's activity: 15 minute rain soaked wine walk!

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all that you are

"Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone."

~G.B. Stern

Have I been vocal enough?
I hope you feel appreciated.
I hope you know how important you are to me (and to the world).

We don't always get the acknowledgment we want or think we deserve.
I know I sometimes throw myself out there like confetti in a wind storm.
Then when I don't get any (or enough...or what I think is enough) thrown back at me I sulk and make it mean more than it should.

How selfish.

That's when I need perspective, a head yank to make me look up at the sky.

Then I breathe and remember.
So big.
So much more possibility.

Just get me out of my head.

I'm grateful even for the hard lessons, the painful mistakes, the pain in general.
If it weren't for screwing up a bunch of times...per day...life would be flatly uninteresting.
It wouldn't be life at all.

I could write a litany of things to be thankful for.
This past year was incredible.
A life-saving year.
I didn't do it alone and I know it.
I am grateful for the love and support from all of you, even if you read in silence, even if today is the first day you're reading my blog, even if you play "catch up" and read it once in a while, and especially if you read this every day.
I know that writing every day has changed me for the better.
But I'm only a blogger cuz you're a reader.
Thank you.

I'm not going to write a litany of thanks.
Instead I'm going to be thankful for my life by living it in gratitude.
I'm going to be thankful by doing the things I couldn't do last year at this time.

I'm up nice and early.
The parade is on in the other room.
There were times I didn't even get out of bed till it was an hour before I had to be at my aunt's for Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm grateful for the morning and for the energy to live in it.

I'm going to fuss around my living room. Replace the little white lights in my ficus tree. Enjoy the parade. Drink coffee. Eat turkey. Play fetch with Bosie and I'm going to be thankful for every blessed minute of it.

It didn't have to go this way for me.
I didn't have to survive.
I didn't have to ride the wave of hope to something better.

So, I'm thankful.

Thank you for my life.

Click here for a great song by The Weepies.

*Movement for Motivation*
Today's movement is for the heart and mind.
Enjoy...

Yesterday's activity: foggy, foggy, night walk for 30 minutes in gratitude.

Click here to leave a comment.

and doggonnit

"...as you peel back the curtains around your core self, you become ready to tap the source of all change and success—self-love, and forgiveness for past failures."

~ Hara Estroff Marano's article in Psychology Today

No wonder people don't change.
Or find it hard to change.
Self-love is the most difficult love.

I look at the phrase "self-love" and immediately feel uncomfortable.
The phrase sounds hokey and self-helpy like that character, Stuart Smalley, from Saturday Night Live who looks in the mirror and says, "I'm good enough, smart enough and doggonnit people like me!"
The phrase sounds selfish and this is a culture that frowns upon self-acceptance and self nurture while condoning self-punishment and self-criticism.
"Self-love" sounds like me loving myself because no one else wants to.

As we all know, the more reactive, emotional stuff that comes up when we are confronted with something - a phrase, an idea, another person - the more our karma needs us to confront it.

Self-love.

Lisa Nichols, empowerment guru featured in The Secret, says...“I’m the first example of how the world is supposed to love me and I have to give them the best example ever. We expect someone to show us our greatness when [instead] I’m supposed to show up understanding my greatness and allowing you to celebrate it with me.”

That's a tough one.

It's taken me 43 years to get to this place where I'm at least aware that I just MIGHT be worthy of love. Integrating it into my self-concept may take more work. I'll eventually get it. Then I'll be a happy, self-loving old crone just in time to die....lol.
No, I'll handle it before that.
I'd like to really, really, really enjoy the next half of my life and beyond.

That season is here.
That season of looking back at the past year and giving thumbs up or thumbs down to certain decisions and accomplishments. Not that a clear cut thumbs up or down judgment is healthy, but old habits die hard (but they do die, especially if you bludgeon them with big, heavy blunt instruments).

That season to say to myself, "another year with a bunch of false starts in the romance department. Another Xmas without a boyfriend."

I want so badly to say, "so what?" and mean it.
So what that I have no one to buy the Mr. Potatohead Transformer Doll for.
(Ok, I could buy it for Matt and Sarah but I think they'd dig some games for their new Wii instead...whether or not they're on Santabot's naughty list ;-)

It's just that I've gotten so used to judging my self-worth based on my attractiveness as perceived by others. I've used having or not having a whatever-friend as the barometer of that attractiveness (need heavy bludgeoning instrument).

Intellectually I know that measuring my self-worth by the approval of others is disempowering, stinkin'-thinking.
However, learning it, knowing in my gut and not just my head may take more time.

I hope I have more time.

If only change was as easy as it is for the Transformers.

I'm reminded of Aliens when Ripley was trying to put Newt to sleep in the infirmary. Newt says she's afraid of nightmares. Ripley takes Newt's favorite doll (the head of headless Barbie named Casey) looks inside the doll's head and says that she doesn't see any nightmares in there.
Newt says that Casey has no nightmares because she's made out of plastic.

Oh.

Silly me.

*Movement for Motivation*
This is an ad for a longer DVD but it shows some great moves that you and I can do right now at our desks. Play it a couple of times. Memorize the moves. Do them. Repeat.

Yesterday's Activity: 25 minute night walk in the fog.

Click here to leave me a comment!

scraped off the ceiling

Is your outcome positive?
Say "I enjoy peak health" rather than "I want to give up smoking"
Say "I move with grace" rather than "I want to be less clumsy"
~ adapted from Checklist for Wellformed Outcomes

Do you have any idea how great it is to be able to stand and walk?
I never want to take that for granted.
Sometimes I feel as though I can swell and burst with gratitude.
What some folks take for granted is such a luxury for me.

I remember when taking a walk wasn't even an option.
I remember never writing on the board or standing while I lectured.
Last year at this time I still couldn't walk from one end of the campus to the other without sitting to rest a few times. I can still tell you where the elevators are in each building. I can tell you where all the benches are too.

Part of the head trip that got me here was having a well formed outcome - a term used in NLP (neuro linguistic programming) to describe a specific goal - in mind. I imagined walking. I imagined standing. Every time I walked I told myself that I was getting stronger and stronger. Every time I stood I imagined standing free of pain.

You can call it The Secret, you can call it creative visualization, you can call it goal setting. Whatever it's called, it works.

So when I whine about being unsure of my future it's for a good reason.
I KNOW like I KNOW in my soul and in my blood that what I intend, what I picture, what I imagine will come to pass.

Not something silly and far-fetched like looking like Jessica Alba in Fantastic Four (did the Invisible Girl have such stylish lingerie in the comics?)
Even imagining that seems silly and un-do-able.
There's no power in it.
It's not a well formed outcome that I can intend.

There's emotion involved in empowering a well formed outcome.
Confidence that it can be done.
Security in the desire for it.
Realistic possibility.

Not that imagining the "impossible" is such a bad thing.
You can find magic in impossible dreams.
Some of the greatest achievements of humankind were once unthinkable like flight or space travel.
But as far fetched as those ideas were the folks who worked to make them real felt the reality of them. The far fetched wasn't so impossible to them.

That's how we got to the moon.

That's how we'll break free of this solar system someday and explore the "final" frontier.

Whatever you do, don't let anybody steal your dream.

On Saturday my mother and I went to a church bazaar.
We were sitting in the recreation hall (the church basement) with all the nice, little, old church people. My mother was quiet and content with her donut and orange soda. I was observing people (because human behavior is fascinating dontcha know).

An old man in a corduroy cap was worrying over something on the ceiling. A clotty red blob had caught his attention. It was a deflated balloon. It had floated up and gotten stuck in what may have been wet paint at the time it made its ascent. It was a gelatinous mass, crumpled and ugly. He wanted to get it down. The old ladies sat with their Styrofoam coffee cups and started nattering about what it was, how long it was stuck up there and how impossible it would be to get it down.

He walked stiffly to the corner and grabbed an 8 foot long rod with a curtain hook at the end and started scraping at the balloon blob on the ceiling.
The rod was long and unwieldy. It wobbled unsteadily as he pushed the blob a bit but was unable to pry it from the ceiling. It was too sticky.

The old ladies started muttering discouragement at him. It was stuck. It would never come down. He had the wrong tool.

"No, keep at it," I chimed in.
He glanced at me then determinedly back up at the blob.

He attached a napkin to the hook at the end of the rod. Perhaps he could absorb some of the stickiness with it. He clumsily scraped at the ceiling entangling the balloon in the dry, paper napkin. He didn't pry it loose. He just complicated the blob. Instead of a gelatinous red blob of rotting balloon it was now a gelatinous red blob of rotting balloon plus paper.

Scraping at it made it move a few inches from its original spot but it still clung to the ceiling. It was like one of those sticky novelty toy octopuses that magically "climb" down the wall.


The ladies tried to discourage him telling him he'd never get it down.
"Don't give up!" I chirped.
He ignored them and barely acknowledged me.
He placed the rod back in the corner near the flag pole and gave up.

"Noooo, nooo. You can do it! Keep at it" I whined.
He disappeared.
Within less than a minute he was back.
He grabbed the pole and dragged it to the kitchen where sweet little church ladies were serving cupcakes and hot dogs.
He emerged with his pole. He had taped a fork to the end of it.

He attacked the stubborn blob.
Again, he just managed to move it but not dislodge it.
The fork came loose at the end of his pole and flopped.

"No, that's not gonna work. You'll just have to wait for so and so to come with the ladder next week. C'mon leave it," moaned the church ladies.

He tromped back to the kitchen. This time he came back with triple the amount of duct tape firmly holding the fork in place.

He raised the pole to the ceiling and in one swift stroke scraped the balloon from its spot. It fell to the floor with a gentle splat.

My mother and I clapped for him.

The church ladies scowled.

He had a well formed outcome.
It didn't matter what the naysayers said.
It didn't even matter what I was saying as he struggled.

He KNEW he could scrape that balloon off the ceiling.
He wasn't going to stop until it was done.

Thank you little old balloon guy.
Thank you for not giving up.

*Movement for Motivation*
If your knees aren't ready, don't try this!

after boot camp

"If a pretty poster and a cute saying are all it takes to motivate you,
you probably have a very easy job.
The kind robots will be doing soon."
~www.despair.com

Oversimplification can be helpful or not useful at all.
Depends.

Take this Zen advice for instance...

"...there are really only two steps to simplifying your life:
Identify what’s most important to you.
Eliminate everything else."

It's beautiful.
Simple.
Elegant.
Worth meditating upon.

It does, of course, require further thought about what matters and what doesn't
but still, it's simple and poetic.

Now take what some Jackovasaur said in the comments of my blog the other day about losing weight being as simple as expending more energy than you take in.
I found the comment unhelpful not just because it was insulting given the exploratory nature of my Blog, but unhelpful to those of us who have struggled so hard with yo-yo dieting, eating disorders and/or obesity for any length of time.

Am I denying that energy intake and expenditure is the physical essence of losing weight?
No.
I don't deny that at all.
What I'm saying is that an oversimplified answer like that is the myth at the center of prejudice against fat people.
It's the tired old, "get a grip all you need is willpower" that no one needs to hear ... again.

If someone asked this Jackov
how he got to Atlantic City he would probably answer
"The wheels on the bus went round and round."

I dont' deny that the bus wheels went round and round anymore than I deny the calorie intake energy expenditure story.

However, just because the wheels turning on the bus is true, it's not the complete story.
Human beings, human behavior is more complex than that.

Challenge the Jackov on this point and he'll become indignant.
He'll point to the bus's spinning tires.
He'll talk about how the bus wouldn't GO anywhere or DO anything if the wheels didn't spin. He may even show you video of the bus wheels spinning then criticize you for asking too many questions on what he believes to be a very simple concept.

But you and I know that there's more to the story.
We're smarter than that.
We're deeper than that.
Yes the bus wheels went round and round but...
Who was driving?
What route did they take?
Who traveled with you?
How much did you pay for your ticket?

Get my meaning?

I know that my emotions, my ability to handle relationships and my developing self-esteem are inextricably tied into my acting to achieve my goals in life.
Losing weight is simple.
Recovering from an eating disorder takes more work.
Difficult work.
Willingness to deal with the complex.
Getting well takes more courage than the Jackovasaurs of this world are ready to admit.

Keeping the excess weight off, creating peace surrounding issues of food, developing habits of self-care, advocating for respect in all my relationships is a bigger more complex health-goal than merely weighing less. It requires more explanation than the overly simple "the wheels on the bus went round and round."

That's why I blog.

I assume that's why you're reading.

If you read my blog and your reaction is to point your finger at the screen, laugh and say, "She's making it so complicated when all she has to do is go on a diet and stick to it!" then you haven't said anything new or helpful. You haven't found a way to help people get well and stay well. Getting well and staying well is for folks who are willing to do the hard, messy emotional work involved in transformative recovery.

Those of us who have succumbed to weight loss surgery know that dieting alone doesn't work. It doesn't work to the tune of 400 500 600 700 800 pounds and is not to be taken lightly or oversimplified. Breaking the cycle of addiction takes more willpower than what's required to say "no thank you" to a piece of chocolate cake.

I love the first half of my story so far.
Last night, my best buddy described it as Boot Camp.
He also pointed out that being a Marine requires coming OUT of Boot Camp and using those skills to actually do something in the world. Boot Camp is the beginning. Being a Marine requires living and being courageous out in the world.

Last year at this time I was looking for something.
I found it.
I wanted discipline.
I wanted motivation.
I wanted to be born again hard
and I did it.

This past year was incredible.
As my buddy pointed out, I proved to myself and the world that I could do it.

Now, as is appropriate for a seeker, explorer, thinker and healer like me, I need something new.
The next leg of my journey.

I'm standing at the crossroads making my decision.

One thing for sure, my wheels will be turning.

*Movement for Motivation*
It's a 7 minute montage that will give you ideas of how to move when you're sitting to get your circulation going!
I like that they show people of different sizes and ages and ethnicities.
No cookie cutter aerobic bodies in this one
Click here if video won't load...

Yesterday's Activity: 5 minutes on the elliptical, 30 minutes on the upright bike, 10 minutes on the recumbent bike.

smiling walker

C'mon, this At-At (Imperial Walker) is definitely smiling!
Look at it's cute little head. He wants to play fetch no doubt.

"I want you to get a bigger vision.
There are exciting things in your future.
Your future is filled with marked moments of blessing, increase, promotion...
Time and chance are coming together for you.
Why don’t you get your hopes up?
Why don't you start believing that no matter what you have or haven't done,
that your best days are still out in front of you?"
~ Joel Osteen

I like hope.
I need it.

This is the season when the sky tends to be overcast and I lose my sense of depth. I lose track of my place in the universe and get stuck in my own boring world view.
I forget possibility.
I need reminders.
When I get limited and stuck I wish someone would come up behind me, put a hand on either side of my head and turn my face up to the sky.
Remember how big...

Remember what I wrote on Friday about having a day's worth of chores and sorting to do?
I did a little bit.
Then I did a whole lotta napping.
Then wasted a bunch of energy feeling bad about napping.
As if resting were a bad thing.

It's been a while since I've been able to enjoy guilt-free napping.

My mother even asked me why I needed to nap.
Was I feeling tired lately?
Was I sleepy because I was doing more?
Was I sick?

"No, Mom," I just needed a nap. "I'm 43 and I get tired."
"Well, I'M 85 Lis, so Mama needs her naps!"
"I don't need to be 85 to deserve a nap, Mom. Sometimes I just need to sleep."

I thought about that, was proud that I stood up for my needs.
I could have even left out the part about being 43.
Naps are good.
Naps and snacks.
Believe it.

Then I thought about it.
How had I been able to do 10 months straight of 6 day a week workouts with virtually NO napping?
How had I pushed myself through the tiredness?

Oh, right.
Over the counter speed, caffeine and energy drinks.
Forgot about those.
Better living through chemicals.
Probably not a great idea.
Probably a real strain on my heart.
I like the peppy feelings, though.

But if the peppy feelings are chemically induced then who am I without them?

Could it be that I'm a bit more draggy and slothful than I want to admit?
Then again...
Is a low key lifestyle such a bad thing?

I can change my energy level...if I choose to.
I can accept myself as I am...if I choose to.

Lucky for me, I'm in the writing-my-future phase.
The future is a giant sketch pad of blank pages.
I can be as peppy or draggy as I choose to be.
My life.
My choice.

The walking has been good for me.
When I take my walks I think of them as "health walks". I'm a character on a diabetes control pamphlet, zaftig and smiling, measuring my meals and activities for good blood sugar control, being a good little patient.
Normally that would not appeal to me but,
I kinda like the feeling.
It's so radically different than 127 pounds ago when walking wasn't even an option.
Being the smiling walker is kinda cool right now.

Last night I was walking and my left shin started to burn a bit.
NO!
I will not injure myself, I thought.
I slowed my pace and silenced every pushy, bossy, critical voice in my head that ever told me to walk faster.
YOU DON'T SPEAK FOR ME pushy, bossy, critical voices.
Shut up!

Instead of pounding the pavement faster, I walked more gently, took longer strides, tightened my gluts, and walked with MORE INTENTION rather than with more velocity.
I immediately worked up a nice sweat.
The pains in my legs and ankles subsided.
Turns out

I

Know

What's

Best

For

Me!

Whatever gets written or painted on my nice blank pages I want to make sure that I am the one holding the brushes, the pens, the fat Sharpies and no one else.

I'm halfway up my mountain toward a health goal.
If I need some time to sit at cloud level, breathe a bit, enjoy the view and plan my next moves, I'm going to do it without guilt.

Hear that self?
Enjoy the view!!

*Movement for Motivation*
This is awesome and easy!
I just did it holding onto the kitchen sink for balance...lol.
Good for balance, good for grace.
Click here or click below...

Yesterday's Activity: 22 minute intentional walk in the cold night air.

click here to leave a message

We Hit Hard

From l. to r. Maria Pomponio, Simone Edwards, 'Little' Steven Van Zandt (Silvio from The Sopranos),
Mary Byrne, Kim Wilcox

"Now, why would any woman want to play tackle football?"
"Because she can"
says Maria L. Pomponio,
General Manager for the New Jersey Titans Women's Professional Football League
~ from Star Ledger article by Sid Dorfman

Ok, now try to give me any s**t about boy culture.
No really.
Try.

Look, boys' culture doesn't have to be The HeMan Woman Hater's Club.
We can get in, now.
Instead of having to sneak in through the back door we can bang up our own sign and make clubs of our own, too, if we want.
Just look at the Titans!

I would just like to point out that it started with the boys, for whatever unfair, gender biased, patriarchally restrictive reasons, boys had permission (gave themselves permission) first.
Then we women said,
Hey, I can do that!
And now we do.

If I believe that Hudson's "Game over man, game over" is more clever and quotable than Ripley's "Get away from her, you bitch!"
it doesn't make me anti-feminist.
It makes me wish that women's coolness felt as good, was as much fun to watch, was as fulfilling to participate in as boys' coolness.

Maybe the female heroines just need better writers.

Says Pomponio (my cousin!) manager of the New Jersey Titans "We didn't draw well at our exhibition games because we didn't get any recognition in the press. Nobody knows we're around."

So they DO need better writers...lol.

I need a better writer, too.

I'm at that What Next phase of my life.
It's taking me a while to figure out my next move.
And guess what?
That's cool.

Yeah, I'm cool with the uncertainty.
I'm not looking up at the spaces between the stars and screaming.
I'm taking it all in, like one, long, deep breath.

The Holidays are here.
I LOVE this time of year, melancholy and all.
It's intense, sparkly, weepy, joyous and renewing.
And of course, there's Rankin Bass and their little felt-covered, Christmas-puppet animations.
There's Charlie Brown and The Grinch (the cartoon NOT the god-awful aberration of a film).

I have less to fear this year.
Less fear that I'll eat too many Christmas cookies.
Less fear that I'll love the food more than the company.
Less fear that my blood sugar will run me down.

More room for presents.
More chance that I can be present.
More room for possibility, for taking that chance on the spaces between the stars.

Maybe I'll look up and see Rudolph.


*Movement for Motivation*
I did my clumsy version of this the other night in the inner courtyard of University Hall (one of my favorite places in the whole world) while balancing on a long concrete bench.
A tree was hanging in the way and I almost fell, but it was interesting doing yoga up off the ground like this guy is doing. If the video won't load, click here.

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minute bundled up night walk under the stars.

click here to leave a comment

sing it back

"We're the new face of failure
Prettier and younger but not any better off
Bullet proof loneliness
At best, at best..."
~ Fall Out Boy

I spent the last hour watching music on You Tube.


Watching music.
How funny.
I remember being 12 years old and holding a 5 pound tape recorder up to the radio to record my favorite songs.
How far we've come.

It was only a few months ago that I got high speed internet access. Before that I was using dial up.
Can you imagine?
Finding and listening to music was such an ordeal.
Now, it's instant.
And there's video with it.

What WILL I do with all this extra time?
lol

Lots of boring chores to do today.
Filing.
Bill organizing (with maybe a little paying).
Selling stuff on eBay to raise Christmas spending money.
Nothing thrilling.

It's good to have a low key day after a high anxiety day like yesterday.
Yesterday went well.
Considering the god-awful, cold, wet weather we had high attendance at our events.
I stayed at a low level of jittery anticipation throughout, but I did enjoy myself.
The day ended with Japanese food and a nice Saki buzz.

Good times, good times.

I ended up not wearing pantyhose yesterday.
None of the ones I have (all new and in packages....hello, eBay!)
were size 5x and 6x.
Thankfully too big.
The ONE PAIR of panty hose that fit me, a basic queen size, were so old the elastic had disintegrated in the waistband. I had saved them for too long, for the "someday" when I'd be able to wear them. My little No Nonsense packet of hope finally paid off.

The great part was putting them on.
They fit.
My legs looked almost normal, kinda shapely.
It was a nice feeling.
Better than nice.
It made me want to wear high heels.

But...no high heels to be found.
I've been wearing orthopedic-type sensible shoes for so many years I haven't even purchased a set of decent pumps in god knows how long.
Fashion is fun.
I've missed it.

It won't be long till I can actually wear clothes that express my taste.
Vintage stuff.
One of a kind stuff.
No more having to wear things just because they fit.

In the meantime I'm going to buy some new panty hose and a nice pair of pumps.

*Movement for Motivation*
How great is this guy's accent?

Click here if video won't load.

Yesterday's Activity: 10 minute power walk with stairs.

Click here to leave a comment.

Nervous

Tweek from South Park.

If you typed my description into a South Park character generator today I might come out looking like Tweek.

I'm nervous as hell.

Today, my friend, colleague, mentor (and boss) will be presenting at an event for Diversity Week at MSU. I'll be introducing him. My buds over at Equity & Diversity Programs and the Women's Center put this event together and I have the usual pre-event jitters and unreasonable doubts...
What if no one comes?
What if people come and leave in the middle of it?
What if he doesn't like the introduction I wrote for him?
What if my head pops off and explodes spattering blood and grey matter all over the walls of the lecture hall?

It would be so much nicer if I could just calm the f**k down and enjoy my day starting this morning with a talk on Celtic Spirituality at the Drop-In Center at 10am.
Then I have an interview.
Then I teach class.
Then the event.
Then I have to work-out or take a walk or some damn thing.
Then dinner with my best friend from grammar school.

Sounds like a nice day, right?
So why am wishing it were over?
I can't wait to just come home and chill.

Yet, I'd rather have a busy life.
I like days like today, chock full of activity and socializing.
In the absence of days like this my life is too boring an unchallenging.

I will not be defeated by my anxiety.
I'm going to take deep breaths and imagine the day going well.
No matter what happens it will be ok.
I am going to enjoy everything about today including my jitters.

Yesterday I received some comments on my blog that deserve attention.
I will have to answer them later or tomorrow.

ahh
Now that I got all of that off my chest I feel better.

Time to breath.

*Movement for Motivation*
Look! Even little kids need to unwind and learn to breathe!
Hey, isn't that Tweek over there in the corner??

Yesterday's Movement: 40 minutes on the upright bike (while watching 'Rudy' in the retro-theatre, 5 minutes on the recumbent bike.

Click here to leave a comment.

Boy holding Sword

"Get it straight buster - I'm not here to say please, I'm here to tell you what to do and if self-preservation is an instinct you possess
you'd better f**king do it and do it quick!
I'm here to help - if my help's not appreciated then lotsa luck, gentlemen."
~ Harvey Keitel as The Wolf in Pulp Fiction

I love boy culture.
They're such fascinating creatures.
They have a sense of entitlement we girls have been fighting for since the First Wave of Feminism.

Imagine a female delivering those lines (above) from Pulp Fiction. The dialog doesn't work as well. It would be cartoonish, like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider. Her character doesn't resonate with me as a real life person. She's a video game character. Perfectly proportioned, skilled, violent for a cause, smart enough to get in and out of tactically complex situations but not clever enough to deliver lines like Harvey Keitel.

Fictional, tough women don't have the same coolness factor as the male characters of boy culture.

I remember my first Women's Studies classes. I experienced my first wave of guilt over wishing I were Luke Skywalker rather than Princess Leia. What can I say? I wanted to be the spiritually disciplined, macho yet intellecutal warrior with the cool weapon. Leia was cool and all. She could handle a blaster and bully Han Solo but she wasn't as cool as Luke. Not to me anyway.

I struggled with feminism throughout my undergrad years. Learning about social injustice made me angry and rightly so. The brutality and inhumanity of patriarchal cultures still infuriates me, but the thought of trading patriarchy for matriarchy doesn't sit well with me either. Total peace and cooperation doesn't take into account our need to do battle. I believe a certain, restrained (see any of the martial arts) level of violence is necessary for a balanced psyche and a balanced civilization.

There's a place for warriors.
Boy culture preserves that place.

I remember seeing the film The Virgin Suicides for the first time.
The narrator says,

"We knew the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love, and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them. "

and I completely understood.

I don't mean I understood the boys' fascination with the women's mystical qualities. I meant the "noise" part. Their noise IS fascinating. They get to play-fight. They get to play dress up, not as fairy princesses (not that there's anything wrong with that ;-) but as knights and soldiers and vanquishers of evil. God, I always envied that. Boys and their noise. Boys' noise.

Boys have permission to be tough.
Boys have permission to beat stuff up with toy weapons.
Boys get to wear armor, kill dragons AND rescue the princess from the high tower.

I always resented having to sit up there in my pink princess dress waiting around to be saved.
Teach me how to wield a sword.
I'll fight!

As I get my body into some kind of shape I look forward to feeling that feeling. The power. The controlled discipline of martial arts.

Maybe I'll never look like Lara but it will be fun to dress up and pretend.

*Movement for Motivation*
Hey, if these beautiful old people can stretch, so can I!
And so can you!

Yesterday's activity: 22 minute brisk walk.

Click here to leave a message.

Technical Difficulites with Podcast

The service cut out 21 minutes into tonight's teleseminar.
My apologies.

We'll try again next week.

short supply

Discussing the possibilities of extraterrestrial life:
"I would love it even if they were short, sullen, grumpy and sexually obsessed.
But there just isn't any good evidence."
~ Carl Sagan (1934 - 1996)

I missed out on my 20s and 30s by totally wasting the "pretty".
Too bad I couldn't muster more self esteem back when I was younger and had better hair.
It seems like it would have been easier to like myself back then but in retrospect it was never easy.

I guess it's karmically correct to have to learn to love myself and my 43 year old face, badly-in-need-of-plastic-surgery body and temporarily fried hair. I didn't learn the lessons back then so the universe upped the challenge.

God I hate the mirror lately.
It doesn't help being surrounded by 20 year college students (whom I adore). My downfall is that I compare myself to them. I mean, double their age and they're still not at old as I am!
(Wow, when did THAT happen??)

Yesterday in class I talked about the illusion of scarcity and how it deludes us into competing with one another. I guess I teach best what I most need to learn.

As if deserving love and affection has anything to do with how we look.
As if love, affection and appreciation were in such short supply and had to be competed for.
As if that competition had anything to do with our appearance.

Yet, we labor under that delusion.
Let's face it, our economy thrives on that delusion.
And I ain't no socialist.

But does being a capitalist mean I have to feel like crap about myself?
Hmm, not sure.

And that God for capitalism.
Thank God I can buy a new body (soon) after losing a person's worth of weight.
I LIKE being able to fix what I think is broken.
Plus how cool will it be to have a flat screen, high definition TV?

I better get Law of Attracting my dream job...or money...or something.
Either that or learn to be happy with exactly what I have.

If a surgeon can do a body lift why can't they do a self-esteem lift as well? Or is that a natural byproduct of the surgery?....lol.

Sagging self esteem is a problem.
It keeps too many of us stuck in our safety zones not experimenting, not expressing, not out there taking risks and accomplishing things.

Healing an ailing self esteem isn't just about my feeling good about myself... though I am entitled to feel good about myself.

I try to tie it to my damn fool utopian idealism.
Maybe I attach a view of a better world to my desire to feel good as a way to assuage my guilt over wanting to feel good.
If I attach some lofty ideal to a selfish desire that somehow makes it ok.

Let's say a better world is an authentic desire of mine but it is secondary to my desire for a better life for me.
Now if only I could FEEL that way without judgment I'd be ok.

Or maybe I can just be OK no matter what.

Yeesh, too much self focus.

Time to go outside and look up at the sky.

*Movement for Motivation*
Need some moves for your workout?
Check out this Golden Girl...

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minute power walk through University Hall's hallways and stairways with a 3 minute yoga break in the gorgeous inner courtyard under a murky night sky.

Rolling possibility

Sephiroth: Tell me what you cherish most. Give me the pleasure of taking it away.
Cloud: You just don't get it. There isn't a thing I don't cherish!
~ from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children

Cherishing everything is hard work.
Walking around in a state of constant amazement and gratitude isn't easy.
It can be done, but it's an effort.
It takes focus.
Focus ain't easy.

So, what IS easy??

It's easy to fall into submissive habits.
We allow ourselves to be carried along by our own moods. Many of our moods are dictated by the corporate overlords of TV, radio, noise, noise, noise, noise. Bad news, bad food, bad interactions. We're programmed to buy, buy, buy, buy to make up for the bad feelings.

All at the expense of the dignified, actualized self.

Self-empowerment isn't profitable.
I don't care what the critics say about the self-help industry.
The self-help industry ain't nothin' compared to the multi-billion dollar food industry, or the multi-billion dollar tv news industry or whatever corporate Death Star Empire seems to keep us fighting amongst ourselves, fighting with ourselves, wanting, ego-driven and unhappy.

Even with the constant media barrage of negativity we have a choice.
I believe we get what we're looking for.
If we look for misery we'll find plenty of it.
If we look for miracles we'll find them.
If we look for the best in people they'll show us their good side.
If we look for people to disappoint us they'll oblige.

Everything is out there.
Everything is in us.
Life is a giant buffet with everything on it.

Whatever we put on our plate makes it to the dinner table.

What we focus on thrives.

That's why Mother Theresa never wanted to go to an anti-war rally.
She said it placed too much focus on war.
She said that if they ever held a pro-peace rally she'd be there in a heartbeat.
Different focus. Different results.

I am becoming more aware of what I have to focus on.
I am becoming more aware that I have choices.

Focus on what I've always had and I'll get what I've always got.

That's why I love the inbreaking of possibility.
That's why I light up and jibber with excitement when something stirs inside me reminding me that there's a universe of possibility that has yet to find me.
That's why I love my song (Ben's Brother "Stuttering")
for its ability to light me up.

God, I love the fall.
They say the veil between two worlds is thinnest at this time of year.
Eternity threatens to spill over into the mundane and turn our souls to screaming reds and oranges to match the autumn trees.

Screaming possibility.
It's kinda scary.
Like a freefall.
Like being dead every time we jump out of this airplane until we yank something.

It's all about the yank, ya know?

Click here to leave me a comment!

*Movement for Motivation*
How cool are these chicks??
They didn't let their mundane office job get the best of them.
And seriously, use your legs to pull yourself around a room on a rolling chair. You'll build some serious leg muscles! We used to do it on a rolling stool in physical therapy.

radical pop song

"Grasp your dream!
If you wanna be a hero you'll have to grasp your dream."
~ Zack in Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core

Anything is possible during the change of seasons.
Reality moves.
It shifts.
The ordinary slits in places and allows radical hope to break in.

Radical hope.
Not merely the lovely promise we feel when we experience regular hope (as if there was anything regular about hope).
I mean the kind of hope that swirls around you like a sweeping autumn wind, the first chill that scares your toes from sandals into sneakers. The hope that trips you and makes you swim in mid air for something to grab onto. The hope that reminds you that there are more things possible than our struggling imaginations can conjure during more ordinary times.

I'm talking about the hope that makes you say "Oh, THAT'S why I'm suffering through all this!"
We're reminded of newness. We're grasped by something as exhilarating as a free fall.
We can sense the newness that shakes the trees from green to screaming orange.
The feeling that this life is more than a crack of light between two pitch black eternities.
Once in a while I feel the source of that light...every once in a while.

Or maybe it's hypo mania.
I'm not sure I care WHAT it is. I just care that I feel it.
And I do feel it.

It came to me in a Dentyne commercial.

No, really.

Hope, radical hope came to me in an advertisement for chewing gum.
(The song is "Stuttering" by Ben's Brother)

It was the song.
Every time I heard it, just the little snippet of the chorus during the Dentyne ad, I felt the winds of hope whisking away the cobwebs in my soul. It screamed LIFE at me and didn't stop screaming till it got my attention and made me gasp with the thrill of it.

It's not the content of the song that gets me. It's not the romantic theme that shook me awake (though that is a part of it). It's the yearning. The precious wanting. The reaching out for the not-quite-sure. The blissful maybe I feel every time I hear it.

I don't want to play it for the 12th time this morning or I might go numb but I'm putting it here on my blog so I can hit 'play' whenever I need it.

Maybe for you it will sound like just another sugary, annoying pop song.
Maybe it will grab you and shake you the way it shakes me.

My wish is that you find SOMETHING that gives you radical hope so you can enjoy the thrill of it.

Yesterday's Activity: 35 minutes on the recumbent bike, 15 minutes on the upright bike, 15 minutes of weight training (and I couldn't resist weighing myself, 251 lbs).

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Rehab

"If you can't learn to do something well, learn to enjoy doing it poorly."
~ Despair, Inc.

I tried yoga at home.
I figured without the pressure of having to do it in front of a group I could take my time and really do the poses the correct way.
I was wrong.

It seems that my body actually gets in the way of doing certain poses (asanas). I'm too big and waggly in certain areas. My legs are too wide and short. My abs hang. I'm not strong enough.

Doing the simplest pose (upward facing dog) actually hurt.
My arms burned.
My torso shook with the exertion of it.
It didn't just hurt, it made me want to vomit.

I'm not exaggerating.
I did upward facing dog and felt like puking.

Doing yoga alone didn't give me the freedom I'd hoped for.
It gave me the freedom to feel things more authentically, but the authentic feeling turned out to be nausea.
Go figure.

I'm discouraged.
(Not defeated, there's a difference.)
I've been working out for almost a year and I'm still TERRIBLY out of shape.

It made me realize what the next leg of this journey is about:
REHABILITATION

When I hear the word "rehab" I think of celebrities recovering from drug addiction.
I think of junkies sitting in a circle during group wishing they were high rather than having to sit on a hard chair listening to other people's stories.
I think of bad coffee and powdered non-dairy creamer.
Cigarettes and diet soda.
12 Step.

That's not the rehab I'm talking about.

It's about rebuilding myself.

It's about coming back to life.

Waking up the tired muscles.
Getting the rest of the weight off.
Nourishing myself.
Putting my body back in place.
Healing from disordered eating.
Taming destructive urges and emotional addictions.

Becoming an expert at self-care.

I like to imagine that I'm in a helping profession.
How can I take care of anyone else if I'm half dead?

Me first.
That phrase is hard to digest.
We resist it.
We're taught that we're supposed to make our lives about others.
But we forget what the prophet said:

"Love your neighbor as thyself."

If we ain't loving the self, we sure can't love our neighbors.

The world needs us to be healthy.
We need ourselves to be healthy.

I need my self to be healthy.

After almost 40 years of destructive habits I've damaged myself.
One year of becoming better at self-care isn't going to magically fix all that damage.
It takes more than a year to turn a demilitarized zone into a green, thriving neighborhood.

So what about yoga?

There are asanas that I CAN do without feeling like I'm falling apart.
I will do them.
Simple asanas are the place to start without guilt, without judgment that I should be doing more, without pressure.

Even simple asanas can help me gain balance.
You'd be surprised at the focus and strength it takes to be in mountain pose.

Looks like she's just standing there, right?
Wrong.
This is a disciplined pose.
With focus and intention you press down into the ground with your feet standing with your big toes touching.

Think that's easy for me?
It ain't.
My muscles twitch.
My body sways.
I have to struggle to stay balanced.

Standing there with toes touching and feet pressing into the ground, lift the muscles in the thighs. Not moving the thighs just being aware of those big thigh muscles and feeling them lifting the body upright as the feet press down into the ground.

At this point I'm supposed to be breathing through my nose.
I'm out of breath.
I have to breath with my mouth open.

Shoulders down, butt tucked in, spine nice and elongated like a string of pearls reaching toward the sky.

Still teetering.
Swaying on my feet.
Keeping balance is work.

Maybe these simple moves are easy for some people.
God bless 'em.
Let them do more advanced work.
I don't need to keep up with anyone but myself.

I'm acknowledging that I have recovery work to do.
Going from 400 pounds down to my current 250 has changed my body drastically.
No wonder I hit a plateau!
My body needs to recover.
It needs care.
It needs balance.
It needs nourishment.
It needs love.
It needs yoga.

You know I'm a fighter.
I won't settle for this current state of fitness.
I'm going to push onward.

I woke up this morning in pain from the damp, cold weather.
Everything hurt.
I creaked and groaned my way out of bed.

Knowing what I know...I had to move if I was going to change my sluggish stiffness.
I didn't want to.
I wanted to take a pain killer and go back to bed.

Then I remembered my little lady from the Dean's office.
"When you're active you have more energy."

Lying down and snuggling-in under the covers may have felt good at the moment but it would not have given me the energy I needed to get through my morning.
I FORCED myself to breathe.
I pushed myself to do mountain pose.
I raised my arms to the ceiling and looked up.

That little bit of moving and stretching brought me out of my morning funk.

It's a start.

I'll do what I can do till I can do more.

*Moving for Motivation*
I've included this woman's yoga vid before but there are a few on YouTube.
So here's one that I'm going to do right now...

Yesterday's Activity: 10 minute Ab workout, 10 minutes of poorly executed Vinyasa Flow yoga.

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Podcast with Lisa!

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Humble denim jacket

" Theological humility requires us to recognize that although we have but one God,
God has more than one nation."
~ Michael S. Kogan in Opening the Coventant: A Jewish Theology of Christianity

You should definitely buy this book.
Not only because it's a milestone in interfaith dialog OR that it's written by one the most brilliant thinkers in theology today (or that he's my dear friend and mentor) but I'm in the acknowledgments!
Lol
I just pre-ordered mine on Amazon.

Speaking of theological humility...
I took a yoga class on Wednesday.
It was difficult.
The poses were rudimentary sun salutations but for me they were painfully demanding. The yoga instructor didn't want us to push our bodies too hard. She wasn't looking for us to be in pain, but I didn't see any way around it. When we're waking up sleepy muscles in the body that haven't been used for years, pain is to be expected.

Not injurious pain, just exertional pain.

She came around the room to check on our postures to be sure our bodies were balanced and in alignment. Every time she adjusted me she would ask how it felt. I wanted to yell, "It hurts! I can' do this! I'm not ready! Please just let me leave!" It wasn't easy. I breathed away the defeating thoughts. Holding those poses was difficult. I toughed it out.

I was angry at myself, angry at my body for being so out of shape.
Angry at the flabby curtains of fat that hang and pull my body in unhealthy directions screwing up my balance.

She ended the session with calming relaxation. We lay there on our yoga mats, prone with our palms to the sky. As she guided us through the relaxation she walked around the room to each of us and covered our upper bodies with our jackets. I was lying there trying to follow her calming voice, batting away distracting thoughts, breathing away the nagging self-blame. I heard her voice getting closer. My eyes were closed. Gently she placed my jacket over my upper torso. I felt like I was being tucked-in ever so lovingly. It was the spiritual equivalent of feeling chilly and having someone place a warm blanket around me fresh from the dryer. I wanted to weep.
Feeling genuinely cared for is not something I'm used to. I'm tearing up now just thinking of it.

It's exhausting to be on the defense all the time.
It's spiritually draining to distrust the world the way I have.
It makes sense that I would manifest a body loaded with curtains of fat to protect me.

In this, the second half of my journey to "skinny" I'll be learning to be less defensive. If a denim jacket can make me feel loved and protected, I'm sure I can learn to live without the fat.

*Movement for Motivation*
This is similar to the Sun Salutation we did on Wednesday. She did it much more slowly and we held the poses for longer. Looks easy. Wasn't easy for me.

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minute night walk.

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Join me for a free LIVE TELESEMINAR TUESDAY NIGHT AT 9:00PM (Eastern time).
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alive with anger

"Every time you jump out of this airplane you're dead until you do something."
~ skydiver on promo for The Weather Channel

No one is going to live my life for me.
No one can eat my lunch for me.
No one can take a shower for me.

Ever see the term "self-starter" in job descriptions?
We're all self starters, but sometimes we flood the engines and stall.

I used to stall all the time.
I'd wake up every morning and overeat. My day would start with lethargy, over-fullness, high blood sugar... the equivalent of a flooded engine.

Today I was reminded of that.
I woke up with energy, started whirl-winding around the kitchen and living room, straightening things up then doing some important stuff online for school. Usually I eat breakfast in front of the computer and today was no exception. This morning's mental pace made me eat a bit too quickly (chili tofu with almonds from Whole Foods). I paid the price. I should have eaten more slowly. I could have eaten less.

It took me 45 minutes on the couch just now to overcome my nausea. I ate too much too fast and it made me sick. It didn't matter that it was GOOD food. Too spicy and too much.

The 45 minutes of nausea-recovery got me thinking about how I used to start my days like this all the time. Before the surgery I would overeat to the point of being incapacitated every single morning. Sometimes I'd even go back to bed and sleep for a few more hours on my overfull stomach. What a way to set the pace for my day.

Things are better now. Even though I have to fight that foggy feeling of lethargy I have more energy to fight the good fight and I almost always win.

I've complained about being angry but I really should be grateful. Anger is a powerful motivator. Even if it's anger over being angry it gets me going.

I'm angry that life is such a painful effort. I'm angry that I don't bound out of bed with abundant energy every morning. I'm angry about a lot of things. I'm angry enough to do something about them.

Sometimes I'll seek out things to be angry about just for the motivation of it. (What am I an anger junkie?) Just now I read an entry in an online forum for post-op gastric bypass patients about "slider" foods.

Slider foods slip easily past the little stomach (or "pouch" to use the lingo) into the intestines. They don't hang around in the stomach being digested for very long so the patient is able to eat more.

Post-ops are advised to eat solid protein first at every meal to fill up the "pouch" (I hate that word, you have no idea. Talk about anger! Just refer to anything on my body as a "pouch" and see how pissed I'll get). The purpose of eating solid protein first is to eat less food overall. Studies show that if you eat more protein than carbs, weight loss is your reward. Therefore, slider foods should be avoided. Slider foods include things like soup, pretzels, graham crackers, puddings, ice cream or any simple carbs that are mushy and easily converted to energy (or fat if you're not moving enough).

Sounds logical.
It's good advice.
Don't eat simple carbs unless you're an athlete running a marathon or you're trying to gain weight.

I like this idea.
I'm all for it.

But that's not quite what I read on the forum today.
Today's posts were about fruits and vegetables.
The recommendation was to fill up the "pouch" (aaaagggghhhhh, what am I a kangaroo?!)
with solid protein so there won't be much room left for fruits and veggies which, according to the poster, are slider foods that should be limited to a few spoonfuls or so.

Limit fruits and vegetables???

Ahhh, feel it, that lovely rush of motivating anger.
I'm Dexter clutching my heart with gratitude for being able to FEEL something.

I'm not even going to go on a rant about how important fruits and vegetables are for a healthy life.
I'm not going to babble on and on about how solid protein is another way of saying "dead animal" and the spiritual implications for overconsumption of meat.
Not a word about nutrition support for recovery from sugar addiction (sugar meaning refined white sugar NOT a blessed piece of Godly fruit fresh from a tree in Eden).

No rant necessary.
Let my life be a testament.

Last year I was half dead.
This year I'm more alive.

What do you think next year will bring?

I'll be strong, healthy, lean and ready to get up on my soap box.
But for now, I'm Darkly Dreaming Dexter, happy to be alive.

Join me for a free LIVE TELESEMINAR TUESDAY NIGHT AT 9:00PM (Eastern time).
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Hmph. I guess I'll be on a soapbox sooner than I think! lol

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*Movement for Motivation*
Especially for folks who suffer from arthritis...

Yesterday's activity: one full hour of yoga (not easy).

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choosing

"...the most important,
warm fuzzy,
sentimental connection ever:
Respect for yourself.
Caring for yourself.
Giving yourself - through good food,
high-quality fuel- the gift of health.
Regaining control of your life by
making your own choices,
not having them made for you by a hot-dog manufacturer
whose only goal is to sell a billion dogs a year."
~ Susan Powter in Food

I am such a stickler about making my own choices.
I reacted today when I read Kaye Bailey's Living After Weight Loss Blog post called When Surgery Does Not Work.
She talks about WLS being a tool that we work for rather than a tool that works FOR us.

I bristled.

My autonomy is too precious to me to verbally surrender it to that kind of thinking. I don't work for this "surgery". I'm a human person who works for wellness in all areas of my life. The surgery is something that I chose to correct a problem: My stomach was too big.

After years of compulsive binge eating I had stretched my stomach to an unhealthy capacity. It growled and rowled and demanded to be fed more food than my body needed. I chose surgery to correct this malfunction.

Now, I have a 'normal' sized stomach.
Having a smaller stomach has helped me to heal from a severe binge eating disorder.

I am a person not a surgery.

Kaye, a well-meaning, intelligent woman, writes in her blog about the medically endorsed, post-op lifestyle. God bless her. She's doing what works and sharing her experiences. I have no qualms.

But I DID have a reaction to her claim that patients should work FOR the surgery.
Maybe it helps her and her readers, but it's not the mindset that works for me. I don't think I'm alone.

Surrender to a surgery or a program or whatever may not work for someone who wishes to gain control of their life. Self-empowerment might work much better.

Choice.
I am all about choice.

Yesterday I chose to go to the gym.
I chose to do 45 minutes of cardio.
I chose to do 20 minutes of weight training.
Today I'm choosing to take a Yoga class with Crystal Dodson up at school.

I chose to eat brown rice for breakfast.
I chose to wake up with movement rather than misery.

These aren't rules that I'm following.
Not part of a program, except that it's a lifestyle of MY choosing.
Maybe choice is my program.

The change of weather is getting to me.
I'm in pain.
When I did my morning stretch I felt my back aching, my knees hurt, my ankle was sore and the last remnants of my shin splints were yanking at me.
I could have chosen to get back under the covers, but I didn't.

I thought about my old ways of beating myself up for being 'lazy'.
Looking back, I wasn't lazy, I was in pain.
It's understandable that someone would avoid moving to avoid pain.
The problem was that I didn't acknowledge my choice to avoid pain. Instead I judged myself, blamed myself and let that self-defeated thinking ruin me.

Today I chose to think differently.

I came into the living room and sat on the couch, put on the Weather Channel and took a deep breath. I chose to do what I could.

Starting with the clothes that had burrowed their way between the cushions on my sofa, I took one piece at a time and folded them neatly.
Still sitting, I folded the blankets on the sofa and arranged them attractively.
Carried the folded clothes into my bedroom and sat on the bed.
Put them away in drawers where they belonged.

After that gentle, productive, self-caring activity I felt better.
The aches and pains were lessened. My body felt more lubricated and pliable.
I did a few more chores before coming in here to eat breakfast and Blog.

Had I got caught in blaming and judging myself for not wanting to spring out of bed and go sprinting around, I would have had a very different morning.

We should feel what we feel without judging ourselves.
Judgment always landed me in a cycle of blame and made me even more sick and sedentary.
Choosing keeps me moving.

I can eat well.
I can move.
I can do good things for myself.

I can choose.

“To live is to choose.
But to choose well, you must know who you are
and what you stand for, where you want to go
and why you want to get there.”
~ Kofi Annan, Nobel Peace Prize 2001

*Movement for Motivation*
Don't have an 8 pound ball? Use a can of tomato sauce or even a pillow.
You can do this one in your bed, on your sofa or sitting at your desk.


Yesterday's activity: 30 minutes on the upright bike, 15 minutes on the recumbent bike, 20 minutes of weight training.

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leaving Sin city

"Once I understood what I was using food to do, I could ask myself if there was a more direct way to have what I wanted without hurting myself in the process."
~ Geneen Roth

It's nice to eat just enough.
It's a great feeling to make half a turkey sandwich on sprouted grain bread with honey mustard, pack it in my lunch box, eat it during the day when I'm hungry, have an apple for dessert and stop eating when I'm full.

The making-of-the-sandwich-and-eating-it-later is a HUGE deal for me.
It shows incredible progress.

Taking time to pack a food bag requires having food in the house to pack, anticipating my food needs for the day, carrying that food bag with me and NOT feeling the overwhelming anxiety to dig into it and devour everything all at once.... like I would have back in the day.

Taking time to pack a food bag requires forethought and self-care. Coming home with uneaten food inside the food bag is nothing less than a miracle, a miracle of wellness.

I wish there were a magic bullet answer that I could give people to get them to this state of calm around food. The closest thing to a magic bullet is to say "it's a process" and leave that process up to the individual. Either that or tell my story.

I was offered a piece of gourmet chocolate cake last night. A student brought in a chocolate masterpiece from the Whole Foods bakery where she works. She carefully cut the cake into small pieces to share with the class. When she offered me some I said, "no thanks."

"Are you sure, not even a little piece?" she asked.

"No, thank you though," I smiled with sincere gratitude.

How I wish I had a better story to tell about declining the cake. I wish I could talk about the battle of an angel and devil on my shoulder arguing about the effects of one tiny piece of chocolate cake and the angel winning, but that's not how it went.

Truth is, I didn't want any.

I got queasy just looking at it.

The main reason for my not wanting any cake is most likely biological.
The aversion reaction I had came from having eaten a similar food (Smart Ones chocolate muffins) shortly after surgery and becoming severely nauseated. (I'd probably feel nauseated now, too. I don't think my body will ever be able to process that kind of food without trauma.)

The 'yuk' reaction was at the heart of my declining the cake.
Can a non-gastric surgery patient have the same 'yuk' reaction??

I believe so.
I think a body that has been deeply detoxed and fed good, whole foods without white flour, white sugar, processed food and without excessive meat and dairy will naturally be sick if you attempt to feed it rich sugary foods.

Take the guy from SuperSize Me for instance. He lived with his girlfriend. She's a vegan chef. Imagine his beautiful, pristine, healthy, home-cooked diet. The first time he pulls up to the McDonald's drive through and eats his first value meal, what happened? He puked out the door of his jeep. All the fat, chemicals, poison and animal byproducts hit his stomach like a dirty bomb. Of course he puked.

I watched a video last night about the Rice Diet Residential Clinic, the wellness community in Durham, North Carolina. Many folks have great success in weight reduction during their stay. BUT they refer to the row of fast food joints lining the highway near the health resort as 'Sin City' and lament its constant temptation. I understand.

I understand because I LIVED in 'Sin City' for years.
My school/work is walking distance from Taco Bell, McDonald's, Burger King and Subway.
That's what I ate every day for yeeeeeeeeeeeears.
Too fat and sick to shop for myself.
Too fat and in pain to walk into a restaurant or store for something healthier.
Too fat and tired to delay gratification until I could get home and maybe order some Chinese food (bean curd with vegetables, brown rice, miso soup, yum!)
Too addicted to even WANT anything better for myself.
Too depressed to take care of myself properly.

I hope the Canyon Ranchers spend plenty of time eating good foods. I hope their bodies learn to reject the demons of Sin City.

I'm giving a talk today in an undergraduate health class. I'll be telling my story.
They'll inevitably ask HOW I changed from fat, sick and addicted to on-my-way-to-well.

I'll tell them there's no magic bullet, no simple 'how'.
I'll say it's-a-process.
Good thing I have over an hour to talk about it.

*Movement for Motivation*
When I was too fat and sick to do much I thought I couldn't exercise, but I COULD HAVE DONE THIS...

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minutes of walking, 4804 total steps on the pedometer (improving!).

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What the Bleep

"Acting to achieve a goal involves more than just a wish or a dream; it involves a decision to initiate the process of reaching the goal...
Acting as if unknown forces caused events, the person relieves himself of responsibility for his actions in order to satisfy impulses without guilt."

~ Wendy di Rodio in
An Exploration of the Concept ‘Motivation’
as a Tool for Psychotherapeutic Assessment

I'm ready to give up my condition of addiction.
I'm not talking about addiction to sugar or carbs or overeating, though that's part of it.

I mean the current quality of my life.
It's time to take things to the next level.
Time to end the victim-cycle.

There was a time in my life when the phrase "I have a disease" relieved me of responsibility for myself, specifically for my overeating (call the disease an 'eating disorder' or 'depression' or whatever the disease du jour happens to be).
"It's my coping mechanism" was another off-the-hook phrase.
Sure, I coped, all the way up to 400 pounds and crippling immobility.

What was there to cope with that was so difficult?
Feelings.

Feelings are hard.
They're hard to feel.
They're so hard to feel I chose going numb through food for most of my life rather than face them.
But things can change.

For the past year I've been feeling more and numbing less.

Less coping mechanisms to keep the feelings at bay and more facing up to myself.
I've developed new ways to cope with the feelings
and the thoughts.

Moving helps but it's not enough on its own.
There's no point in my trying to condition my body without also conditioning my mind.
Addictive actions and addictive thoughts go hand in hand.
Handling one necessitates handling the other for lasting healing to occur.

"...someday, you have
to love the abstract...
as much as you love
the condition of addiction.

The only way that I will
ever be great to myself...
is not what I do to my body...
but what I do to my mind."

~ JZ Knight in What the Bleep Do We Know?

I wore my pedometer for the first time yesterday.
They say 10,000 steps per day is a healthy walking-for-fitness goal.
(click here for an article)
That was going to be easy, I thought.
My girlfriend and I walked a nice flea market at the marina in Kearney, we parked farther than necessary from the front door of the restaurant, we took a GLORIOUS walk in the cool November night air in between our shows and watching Down the Rabbit Hole.

My total steps for the day??
3700.
Only 3700.

I was crestfallen.
How could this be??
I thought I was so active.
I didn't even reach half my goal for the day.

This morning I woke up in pain. My legs hurt. The shin splint on my left leg was burning so badly it woke me up. According to the Mayo Clinic website,
"The pain is the result of an overload on the shinbone and the connective tissues that attach your muscles to the bone."

At 250 pounds I am not surprised that my connective tissues are crying out from the overload.
The pain was so bad I had to take something for it.

Now what?
I'm in this much pain and not even halfway to my walking goal for the day?
What's with all this halfway anyway??

I'm halfway to my weight loss goal.
I'm feeling my way, groping along toward a career.
Trying to take care of myself in all aspects.
Suffering as I go.

Life has GOT to be better than this.
Halfway living isn't the best there is!
Pain can't be a fact of life.
I can imagine better.
I can dream up a better life.

What's stopping me?

Habit.
Pain is a habit.
Anger is a habit.
Debt has become a habit.
The condition of addiction is a habit and it must end.

Gotta get a hold of my thoughts.

BUT...I don't want my intentions to make me feel constantly guilty or worried about the content of my thoughts. Rather, I'd like to become aware of what I think and how I think so I can make better choices.

Becoming aware is different from worry.
Having a desire to choose differently is different from guilt.

Guess I have to give up my addiction to worry and guilt, huh.

Please help me to choose compassion, joy and wakefulness over worry, guilt and anger.

Even as I'm sitting here now I'm looking forward to my day and feeling dread rather than joy.
Working, moving, doing chores, being alive feels like it's going to be unpleasant.
WHY??

Pain.
But the pain has been diminished to a dull ache by the medicine.

Fatigue.
I feel sluggish, draggy, not peppy.

Hopelessness.
Another day of 'maybe' feeling happy, fulfilled, ambitious, motivated but more likely counting the minutes till I'm home on the sofa with my cats and my clicker watching TV.

That's not the life I want.
That's halfway living.
I want better.

My second favorite prayer is from the film What the Bleep Do We Know!?
In the film John Hagelin, Ph.D. , a world-renowned quantum physicist says he wakes up in the morning with intention and says,

"I'm taking this time
to create my day...
and I'm infecting
the quantum field.

Now, if in fact the observer's watching me
the whole time that I'm doing this...
and there is a spiritual
aspect to myself...

Show me a sign today
that you paid attention...
to any one of these things
that I created...
and bring them in a way
that I won't expect...
so I'm as surprised at my ability
to be able to experience these things...
and make it so that I have no doubt
that it's come from you."

Now THAT'S discipline.
The hard part is figuring out what I want my day to consist of.
Maybe I should give that some thought.

*Movement for Motivation*
The mind moves, too.
Move with intention.

Yesterday's Activity: 20 minute night walk.

Moon walk

"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant, total amazement. "
~ Patricia (Meg Ryan) in Joe vs. the Volcano

My favorite prayer is from that film, Joe Vs the Vocano. Tom Hanks is dying of thirst, afloat for days on a makeshift raft in the middle of the South Pacific. It's nighttime and the stars are swimming in front of his eyes. The moon rises over the ocean, huge and luminous.

Overwhelmed, he raises his arms, falls to his knees and prays,
"Dear God whose name I do not know,
thank you for my life.
I forgot how big...thank you, thank you for my life."

I get chills every time I see it.

When I take my walks at night I remind myself of that moment. Whatever petty nonsense, worries, concerns, imaginary slights are preoccupying me at the moment, they all disappear the moment I look up. All it takes is one star to remind me of "...how big..." Then everything falls into perspective and I'm grateful.

Grateful for my legs walking underneath me.
Grateful for the air filling and leaving my lungs.
Grateful that I can walk, and move and breathe with 125 less pounds tied to my heart.
Grateful for my life.

I was at my ladyfriend's house last night for dinner. She's a widow who lives in a big house in Caldwell with her 23 year old son. I've known her for 10 years or so. She says she only eats real food when I come to visit. She says there's no reason to cook for anyone but her son and by the time his steak is ready on the George Foreman grill she has no appetite.

When I come, she cooks AND eats. We ate scallops, asparagus, baked potato and a gorgeous, leafy green salad with walnuts and apples. She can't believe I eat baked potatoes without butter or sour cream and salad with no dressing. I tell her I like the taste of food now. All it needs is some salt and pepper, maybe a spritz of lemon juice. I ate every bit of that asparagus, stems and all. The potato too, skin and all. I had raisins and cashews for dessert while they ate Coconut Sorbet.

After dinner my ladyfriend had a cocktail and entertained the 12 year old neighbor girl who had dropped by for an ice pop. Her son went to his room and did his homework. My comforter spun around in her dryer (she insists I bring laundry when I visit) as I sipped some red tea. It was almost 10pm and I hadn't taken my walk.

While everyone was distracted I slipped out the front door. I HAD to walk. It was cold. The wind felt icy on my bare ears. I probably should have worn a hat. My sneakers were nice and tight. The autumn stars blinked across the night sky. I breathed deeply. It was nice to walk in a different neighborhood. I watched my feet on the unfamiliar sidewalk. I looked up and thanked my nameless maker.

When I arrived back at my friend's place she was sitting at the computer with the little girl.
She heard me come in and said,
"Lisa, you sure are disciplined!"

I smiled with my whole being.

Thanks for noticing.
It feels good to be acknowledged.

I sit here at my computer and write every morning. Every single morning.
I move, walk, take an exercise class or go to the gym every single day.
Manage a blog for someone else no matter how busy I am, where I am, what mood I'm in or how late they send it to me,
e v e r y s i n g l e d a y.
Called Success Hotline (973) 743-4690 every day since December 8, 2006.

Sometimes my readers will say something WONDERFUL and uplifting to acknowledge me for doing all that.
Sometimes a reader will lash out and say something rotten and critical as if daily habits weren't difficult.
Sometimes I feel like no one even notices.
No matter what people do or don't say, it shouldn't affect me, right?

When I walked into that house last night and my friend told me that I was DISCIPLINED it affected me. It made my night. I smiled with my whole being.

Maybe it shouldn't affect me, but it did.

It felt good.

*Movement for Motivation*
These arm exercises are GREAT for folks who want a toned, strong upper body.




Yesterdays Activity: a little Chi Gong, a 25 minute hilly night walk.

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Throwing Sneakers

“For me, running is a lifestyle and an art.
I’m far more interested in
the magic of it
than the mechanics.”
Lorraine Moller, Olympic Marathoner

I can't wait to run. It was great doing little jogging laps around Kops lounge last Tuesday during Butts and Guts class at MSU. I lagged behind the other girls but it didn't matter so much. I was running. Although I was last I was keeping up. I felt like I fit in. Not such a sideshow freak anymore.

Since my temporary break from the gym (I miss it) I've been doing a lot of walking. At first my knee ached, my shin splints burned and my ankle hurt like hell. But for these past couple of nights I've noticed a change. My legs feel feather-light. After a few minutes of walking I feel like I'm floating along on automatic, like I'm being driven around, free to look up at the night sky or sightsee all the pretty fall decorations on people's pretty suburban lawns.

It was almost 10pm when I took my walk last night. I had been working on a research project for a client (with the awesome byproduct of learning new subject matter in the process, in this case the science of rational decision making) and time got away from me. The usual demon started yapping in my head trying to convince me that I didn't HAVE to go for a walk, that it was late, that I had done enough walking around that day, etc. Having shouted down the demon before I knew I could make the healthier choice and take my night walk. I did, though I was kinda tired as I bent down to put on my sneakers.

I didn't stay tired for long. Turns out the sunny pedometer lady was right. Once you start moving, you feel energized. I have heard that Action Creates Energy but it is so much more meaningful when you hear it from someone who is DOING it, actually making positive changes in their life rather than just passing on information.

I bought my pedometer yesterday, too. This week at school I'll be sure to visit my little ladyfriend and show her. Folks should know when something they're doing sets a positive example for others to follow. We doers have to stick together, ya know?

I'm still hanging on to my dream of being a runner. Yes, yes, I know how hard it is on the joints but I'll be sure to tie my sneakers tight...

My friend is a basketball coach for 3rd and 4th grade girls. During a recent practice two kids hurt their ankles while playing. He blew the whistle and halted practice then instructed them to sit down as a group in the middle of the court. He went around grabbing the sneakers off their feet and tossing them across the basketball court. Little sneakers were flying across the gym as the girls sat and wondered what their coach was up to.

When he was done grabbing and tossing he said, "Now go find your sneakers and put them on correctly. If your sneakers are so loose that I can grab them off your feet without untying them you're not tying them tightly enough. That's why you keep hurting your ankles. Sneakers provide support for your feet and ankles but only if you wear them right."

He got his point across.

I remembered him when I was tying my sneakers last night.
You know what?
My ankles didn't hurt one bit.

Who knew that tying your shoes could be so important?

*Movement for Motivation*
Another great program for seniors that's also perfect for beginning movers.
Chi Gong helps with balance, circulation and vigor.
Activate your chi!

Yesterday's Activity: morning Tai Chi, 25 minute late night walk on feather light legs!

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Steps!!

"They had understood at the beginning that giving up dieting was a revolutionary act, but they had not understood the extent to which they had used dieting and body hatred to cope with the central issues of their lives...
Unfortunately, we live in a culture that accepts body hatred and dieting as normal components of femininity."
~ Hirschmann & Munter in When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies

I met a woman who works in my dean's office at school.
She looked to be in her early 60's or so.
She was friendly, pleasant and helpful.

She said she knew everyone in CHSS and was surprised she didn't recognize me.
I told her I had just lost 125 pounds so maybe she "remembered" the old me.
That got us to talkin'.

She just lost 15 pounds and felt great, but demurred that it was nothing compared to 125 lbs.
It's INCREDIBLE! I told her.
Imagine something that weighs 15 pounds, like a sack of potatoes or a bag of cat litter.
It's heavy!
Now imagine carrying that around all day. You never get to put it down, even when you're sitting.
When you finally put it down for good, it's a huge relief!!

How did you do it? I asked.
She told me about her personal trainer who advised her to get a pedometer.
That pedometer changed her life.

The pedometer made her aware of how many steps she took in a day. Her goal was 25,000 steps. That sounded like a lot, I told her.

It wasn't as hard as it sounded, she said.
Return your shopping cart to the front of the supermarket.
Go INSIDE the bank rather than using the drive-thru.
Park farther than you have to from your building.
Take the stairs.
Take walks.
Take the long way to the rest room down the hall.
Go to the park for lunch and walk to the farthest bench from your car.
Walk your dog.

She told me how her personal trainer got her "fit" first before working on helping her to lose weight. That sounded backwards, but she explained that it helped her to take off the weight and keep it off.
Her trainer didn't believe in restricting calories, rather she taught balance between food and activity.
For instance, a three pancake breakfast meant a 90 minute aerobic workout was necessary to achieve energy balance.
Smaller meals throughout the day keeps a metabolism active and keeps energy flow even and constant.
A moving body creates an active, calorie burning metabolism that naturally goes to the body's fat stores for energy.

Simple but beautiful truths.
The best part of this woman's story was her 'revelation'.
She said, "You know what I found out? When I think I have no energy, moving actually gives me more energy but sitting still makes me more tired. I find that it's better to move when I'm feeling sluggish. It makes me more energetic instantly."

Amazing.

She was sunny and happy.
She made my day.

I'd like to be like her, sunny, happy and active.

I've been paying attention to my steps.

More steps = more energy.

"Research has shown that it doesn't matter how far you travel in a day it just matters how many steps you take. An average person takes a 2½ foot long step; if they do that 10,000 times (2.5 X 10,000 = 25,000 feet), the distance is just a little less than 5 miles! You can get all your activity steps in your home or office and still be active enough to meet the daily health goal of being "physically active."
~ from Good Moves for a Good Mood

Yesterday's activity: 5 minute morning stretch with Rodney Yee, walking on campus (steps!!), 25 minute brisk walk in the cool evening air.

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Addiction and anger

"An addict is someone who uses their body to tell society that something is wrong."
~ Stella Adler (1901 - 1992)

"Addictive behavior functions to repair (an) underlying feeling of helplessness. It is able to do this because taking the addictive action...creates a sense of being empowered, of regaining control over one’s emotional experience and one’s life."
~ Lance M. Dodes M.D.

I wake up pissed off every morning.
The first thoughts in my head are of some real or imagined scenario where I'm not being treated with the dignity and respect I deserve. I imagine the offending person and how pissed off I feel at them. Sometimes, in my imagination, I'll yell at them, scold them, assert myself, put the offender in their place. Get even.

I'm not sure if my daily rage is genuine or if I'm caught in a cycle of addiction originating in childhood.
My childhood was troubled. I was under almost constant psychological attack by peers and my mother. When I lashed back I was punished or further humiliated. I learned to internalize my rage. I learned to hold my anger in to avoid further abuse. Unexpressed, my rage turned into a severe binge eating disorder and depression.

As an adult in the present, I'm rarely under attack. Once in a while I allow myself to be the victim of someone's explosive rage, but usually, things are pretty calm. I receive more praise and adulation than criticism.

Yet, I wake up furious every morning.
The morning rage doesn't dissipate.
I catch myself going through my day playing real or imagined scenarios in my head where I permit myself the "luxury" of outward anger, of lashing out, of fighting back.

Sometimes I'll keep inappropriate people in my life just so I'll have someone to be angry with, someone who deserves my anger, some impaired person who is unable to function emotionally or socially, someone to be mad at. Someone like my mother or someone who's a narcissistic bully like the kids at school who tormented me.

Jeez
Is that what my karma is all about?
Working out my childhood rage?

Now that I'm not overexercising to the point of exhaustion I'm noticing my unexpressed rage.
Whether it's food, exercise, or obsessive relationships the addictive behavior serves as a way to avoid, suppress or indirectly (thus inadequately) express my roiling anger.

"The AA injunction to avoid being tired or hungry might be useful to some people by giving them a sense of well-being ... But ... avoiding noticing when you are angry, or trying not to feel angry when you are, is just the kind of thing that can launch the drive toward addictive behavior."
~ Lance Dodes, M.D. in The Heart of Addiction (2002, HarperCollins, p. 62)

I don't have this all figured out but I recognize the folks who do (like this guy Lance Dodes).
Their insights can help me and I'm open to them.
I believe it's important to be teachable and not delude myself that I have anything figured out once and for all.

Feeling uncomfortable feelings seems to be at the heart of addiction recovery.
So if that's the answer, why do we have so many folks who suffer from addiction?
Too many people remain in perpetual "recovery" without ever getting well.
Why?

Not everyone is strong enough to feel their feelings.
Or maybe they're not ready.
Or maybe they're just not brave.

I dunno.

I DO know that in my adult life, in my present life, the folks who have attacked me are either unconscionable jerks who take advantage of my kindness OR folks who abhor the penetrating nature of my insights and wish to silence me to protect themselves from having to hear about themselves. Keep in mind I don't always address my insights at THEM. Mostly I share my insights about myself and still they don't want to hear it. It strikes too close to home for them. Read some of the attacks I've received on this Blog and you'll see what I mean.

Folks have also cut me off because I couldn't be complicit in helping them stay in denial.
Maybe I wasn't willing to stand by and yell 'Hooray' for their dysfunctional relationships.
Maybe I wasn't willing to let them criticize me so they wouldn't have to take a hard look at themselves.
Maybe I DID stick up for myself and change the locks on my apartment (I've had to do this twice in the past 5 years) to keep out people who were taking advantage of me (stealing meds, money or both) and when I finally drew the line and said NO MORE, they no longer had use for me.

Sheesh

I have a lot of work to do on myself.

Lots of rage to process.

Lots of karma to work out.

I wonder if I'll get it all done in this lifetime?

*Movement for Motivation*
Ah, my boy Rodney Yee made me yawn, groan and sigh with relief!
Keep your spine juicy!


Yesterday's Activity: 5 minutes of chair aerobics with Paul Eugene, 25 minute brisk walk in the moonlight.

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