linda lee studio

It Takes a Village

2012-01-16T23:06:00.001-06:00

It has been said that it takes a village.

We’ve all heard that in regards to children, right? But I am learning that it takes a village for adults, too.

The power of prayer and positive thinking, along with positive actions and results, can multiply exponentially when shared across friends and family.

I’ve mentioned here and there in my blog that I’m in a difficult spot financially. There have been times—like right now, for instance—where I am not entirely sure where my next meal is going to come from. There have been times when I wasn’t sure how a bill would get paid. And of course, times when I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay my rent, either.

So far, things have sort of worked out. I’ve got a growing stack of bills that need to be paid, but the critical ones—my phone, electricity and rent—have been paid by doing odd jobs here and there, or by my writing coaching (individual as well as our writing group).

And I’ve been looking for jobs, with a very recent focus on getting a job as a server (aka waitress). I have a second interview later that I hope turns into an offer, and a hopeful start date of sometime next week. And I just heard back from another restaurant that wants to interview me for a hostess position, too.

Until the job thing pans out, though, I need something bigger, and I need it fast. In times like this, one tends to have a lot of time to think. And when I looked really hard, I started to get really creative with my thinking.

I realized that I could sell my one and only asset: my car.

That’s a tough one for me… because I love my car. Any of you who know me at all know this. I have loved that car since the day I drove it off the show room floor, back in December 2002. I love driving it, I love the way it looks, I love the interior—I love everything about it, really, except that it’s now getting old and things are starting to go wrong with it.

I’d be looking at buying a cheaper and likely older car, and then using the difference as a buffer to carry me through until I can make enough job waitressing to keep me afloat.

So, knowing how much I love my car—for me to be fully willing to sell it… that should just about tell you where I am.

I am on my knees. And willing… to do whatever it takes.

Selling my car and hopefully getting a job as a server don’t solve my immediate need, though.

I am out of money. I don’t have a way to pay February’s rent, and even if I started a job waiting tables next week, I don’t think I could get enough money together in time for the February 1 deadline.

I am going to ask my property manager if I can have a grace period. I feel hopeful without feeling expectant. We’ll see what she says.

And the rest of this week, I’m volunteering for Pathways as a TA at The Walk, so I will be totally out of pocket as far as looking for work or even following up on potential jobs.

In other words… for now—this is out of my hands.

I find myself in a very uncomfortable position. I am posting this at the urging and encouraging of friends, who have said it can’t hurt.

If you are willing to help, I would be forever grateful.

I am willing to clean your house, wash your car, or do other odd jobs to earn the money. I’m not really looking for hand-outs… I’m not that type of person. I will of course sell you jewelry, or make something custom (if I have the materials on hand, or if you don’t mind paying upfront).

Just putting this out here is… well, humbling, to say the very least. There are so many tapes that play in my head when I think about hitting “Publish” on this post: other people need it more, I can figure this out on my own, there are so many others in need… I don’t deserve it, and on and on…

But all those tapes playing in my head aren’t doing me any good, so now I am trying something different and something that is very difficult for me. I am asking for help.

If you would like me to do an odd job for you (like cleaning house, washing your car, etc) then please email me at lindaleetritton [at] gmail [dot] com.

Or…

And if you have nothing to give in the way of funds, then positive thoughts, prayers, a lit candle, good vibes, positive energy—it all helps.

Thank you.

Ask For What You Want

2012-01-15T11:51:00.000-06:00

“What are four walls, anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably good things can happen, even late in the game. It’s such a surprise.”

Watching the movie Under the Tuscan Sun makes me want to up and move to Italy.

Or, at the very least, go back for a very long visit.

That time back in March 2008 was quite the awakening for me. I realized how unhappy I was, and I realized just how asleep the artist inside of me had been. I was living too fast—all of my days being soaked up by commuting, working hard, worrying, eating too much, sleeping too little, and generally not taking care of myself in any tangible way.

Murano, Italy - 2008

But in Italy, it was so easy to care for me.

I woke up each morning to rustling trees, birds singing, people talking, and bright sunshine gleaming through the windows of my room.

I leisurely got dressed and walked all around Murano, sitting in a different bakery or restaurant each morning for my cappuccino and pastry. I watched people. I wrote. I listened to the lovely lilt of Italian, spoken all around me.

I spoke what few words I knew, and the shop keepers were more patient with me than they should have been, helping me when I fumbled a word.

When you’re in Venice in the early spring, it’s difficult to feel angry, sad, exhausted, frustrated, or lonely.

It’s easy to walk for hours at a time, stopping here and there to snap pictures, take in the sights and sounds around you, or to just breathe. It’s easy to forget the fast pace and mind-numbing rut of American life.

Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy - 2008

My senses were flooded with life: flower stands with so many bright colors; people of all shapes, sizes, nationalities, ethnicities, and statuses surrounding me; gelato around every bend—and yes, there were times when I had two in one day; quintessential pushy Italian men in black and white striped shirts and red berets trying to get you to ride in their gondola for “a good price”; rustic iron gates with black paint flaking off—

The images go on and on, carrying me into a blissful, colorful, dreamy land where I once lived for two weeks.

Now, it is just a collection of memories.

But, still—that movie urges me to do something a little outlandish—a little silly, a little out of the ordinary.

During the movie, Frances questions her purchase of Bramasole.

She says, “This house has three bedrooms. What if there’s never anyone to sleep in them? And the kitchen, what if there’s never anyone to cook for? I wake up in the night thinking, ‘You idiot. I mean, you’re the stupidest woman in the world. You bought a house for a life you don’t even have.’
“Why did you do it, then?” asks Martini.
“Because I’m sick of being afraid all the time and because I still want things. I want a wedding in this house, and I want a family in this house.”
Martini says, “Signora, between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew someday the train would come.”

I’ve always dreamed of uprooting and disappearing to some unknown land, far away. I’ve even done it a couple of times, in not so many words… with my sudden move to Philadelphia after graduating from college, and then again, when I got a job outside of Boston and moved there—without knowing a single soul.

Back then, I was searching for a place to belong.

My motives are different now… I know that I belong wherever I am. I am where I belong.

If I were to do something so outlandish now, it would be to keep my life moving, to keep my energy expanding, to keep my heart opening, to keep my soul stretching.

I dream of owning a home in Kennebunkport, Maine.

I dream of traveling around the world.

I dream, and yet—I am here… still.

When I was in Italy, my days were blissful and often filled with lots of laughter, dreaming, and connecting. Connecting with other artists, with beautiful towns built on water, and most importantly... connecting to myself.

I collapsed in bed each night utterly exhausted, and I slept harder than I had ever slept.

The first night in my apartment reminds me of the good sleeps I had in Italy. I sleep very soundly in this place. I feel safe here, in my little haven. Dallas is my home, after all.

It may not be that way forever, but for now—it is.

At the end of the movie, Martini gives Frances a knowing look.

Martini says, “I think you got your wish.”
“My wish?”
“On the day we looked for your snake, you said to me that you wanted there to be a wedding here.”
“Yeah.”
“And you said you wanted there to be a family here.”
Frances says, “You’re right. I got my wish. I got everything that I asked for.”

I have faith. And I will continue on the path laid before me, as I traverse only one step at a time.

Ask for what you want. And when you are still... it comes.

Perspective: Shake It Out

2012-01-12T14:52:00.002-06:00

I think that sometimes, all we need is a little perspective.

Last night and this morning, I got just enough space between my brain and the critical issue of I need money now to allow a plan to emerge for my next three years.

Over the past several days, I’ve asked some people who know me well if they thought I would be good at being a hostess or server at a restaurant. The resounding response I’ve gotten is, “Yeah! (why hadn’t you thought of that before, LL?)”

This is an idea I’ve had for a while now, but I’ve had one main judgment. Can I do it?

I’ve never been a server. I’ve never been a hostess.

Yet, I’m people-oriented. I enjoy a fast-paced environment. When stuff hits the fan, I am calm and I can think quickly on my feet. And of course—I love food. Good food of all kinds.

I don’t mind working hard. In fact, it makes me feel good. I would love to not be behind a computer screen all day. I would love the chance to interact with all kinds of interesting people. I bet I wouldn't be bored, either.

What’s more, if I had a role like hostess, or server… I wouldn’t have to take it with me when I walk out the door. I can focus on the nonprofit, I can focus on my writing coaching, and I can focus on making jewelry and volunteering and doing the other things that make me—well… me.

I’m starting with my favorite restaurants, since I can speak to the menu with genuine excitement about the food I love.

Wish me luck?

Lost & Delerious

2012-01-11T17:03:00.000-06:00

I admit that I’m feeling a little lost and completely directionless regarding my career.

The problem is: I am good at many things… but a master of nothing.

I have wide and varying interests and skills, and that makes it all the more challenging to find something that really fits, where I won’t get bored with in a year, and also something that challenges me just enough without overwhelming me… as well as something that pushes my creativity while utilizing my analytical side…

On top of that, I have an entrepreneurial spirit. I want to help people. I want to improve the lives of others.

All the ways I know of doing that… all the ways I’ve tried so far, just don’t pay a lot (or any, in some cases).

So I’ve been feeling a little lost.

Okay, I’ll cut the sugar-coating. I’ve been feeling a whole lot lost.

I know I have valuable skills, attitude, and worth to bring to… something. The question is… what?

I’ve thought about this a lot over the last several months, and I keep coming up with the same answer.

I really want to find a way to make a living as a writing coach and jewelry artist. I even have an idea for starting a non-profit around the writing coach idea, and maybe even incorporating jewelry into that as well. The few people I’ve told about my idea think it’s really good.

The problem is, I’m out of time.

I have a few dollars to my name (really, not exaggerating there), and no clue how I’m going to pay February’s rent. I have bills piling up on my table and no way to pay them. I’ve had some serious motivation issues because of that whole paralysis from analysis thing, and yes—since I do struggle with depression, I am battling that hard right now.

So, what does it mean to have faith?

Faith that it’s all going to turn out all right, even though I’m not exactly sure what that means or what it looks like?

I suppose I am truly learning that, now.

In the mean time, I’m combing craigslist and a lot of other sites, looking for creative and different ways to make income that don’t involve going back to Corporate America. There is really no place my soul is less suited for than within the confines of endless rows of putty-colored cubicles under fluorescent lights.

I know there is another place for me.

It’s just a matter of finding it…

(and fast)

Trepidation

2012-01-10T19:21:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year!

I had a fun celebration this time around, ringing in 2012. And ever since, it feels like time is going even faster than it has in years prior. I’m feeling a little lost at the moment, and a little contemplative, as I often feel in January.

The holidays are over, and yet, I can’t seem to get up the motivation to take down my decorations. Anyone else having that problem?

I’m still out of work and feeling very nervous about what that means for February (rent and other things)… and also wondering what that means for my apartment, since my lease is up at the beginning of March.

And while I know that it will all work out as it’s supposed to, I am also really struggling to continue having faith that I’ll be okay.

Sometimes, when it’s so foggy that I can’t even see the next step right in front of me, everything feels overwhelming.

Sometimes, it feels like things end as quickly as they begin.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell what is real and what isn’t…

And sometimes you need your friends to help you see what you were denying…

I’m talking about David, of course.

It’s over.

I learned a lot from this relationship, and I know that the next time love comes along, it will be bigger and even better.

I’ll write a longer and more meaningful post at some point soon. I’m actually working on one right now, comparing codependency and cat hair. Oh yeah, it will be a fun read!

A very good thing is happening, though. I started a new writing group. I will be writing a post about that soon... as soon as I can locate my motivation. But we have our second meeting tomorrow night, and I'm definitely looking forward to it.

So I guess, to sum up… I’m feeling a little melancholy.

And that means… motivation is eluding me.

How do you motivate yourself when motivation seems to have slipped away quietly in the middle of the night?

2011: Year in Review

2011-12-30T10:32:00.000-06:00

Really? This year is almost over? Where did it go?

Where did December go, for that matter?

I swear, as I get older, time just seems to move faster and faster, and as it speeds up, I find that the stupid little things I used to get so hung up on just really don’t matter anymore.

Tonight when I was going to scrub the sink with Comet, I turned on the water to get the sink wet first—and the spray arm fell off in my hand, and water went shooting everywhere—all the way across the kitchen, on the cabinets, the ceiling, the fridge, and so many tiny crevices between the ceiling and floor that I’m certain I missed some when cleaning it all up.

At first, I was stunned—initially at how long it took me to reach for the handle to turn the water off. But then, at the sheer amount of water that had landed in wholly inappropriate places in my tiny kitchen.

And then… I started giggling.

I couldn’t stop—as I grabbed a towel and started the excavation—a moot attempt to find all the dispersed water in my kitchen, and I laughed harder and harder as I opened cabinets only to discover that the contents were also soaked! I couldn’t believe it!

And then it hit me…

A few short years ago, an episode like this wouldn’t have ended in hysterical laughter. Oh, no. It would have ended in yelling, screaming, cursing, and eventually crying, as I slammed cabinet doors and shoved things out of the way.

It’s not that distant in my past. And I marvel at how much I have changed in such a short time.

This year is no different.

At the beginning of this year, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be at Frito-Lay for all of 2011. I still had a lot more weight to lose. I was living in the sterile suburbs, in the house my ex and I had lived in for almost 9 years. I was still grieving the loss of my marriage, although at that point I was mostly functional. I had no interest in men or in dating—rightfully so, since my heart was still healing. I was going through the tail end of a full-on identity crisis—having realized only a few months before that I had spent my entire life trying to be a Relater (sorry non-Pathways folks…), but recognizing I’m actually an Entertainer/Commander.

It was revolutionary for me, yes, but along the way, I sure did make an ass of myself (at least a few times) as I tried to figure out what it meant for me to be far more outgoing and results-oriented than I had ever given myself allowance for.

And finally, while I leaned heavily on God in times of crisis, I wasn’t sure what it meant to be with God on a regular day.

I also moved to Dallas. Clearing out that house was one of the last things to do before truly moving on with my life, and admittedly—it was one of the hardest. Going through 9 years of stuff, plus all the crap I had from college and even my childhood proved to be too much. I got bronchitis and ended up throwing out a ton of stuff and leaving even more behind. In other words, I did the best I could with the resources I had.

My living room and dining area

Suddenly, I could breathe. I fell in love with my apartment. It’s a little slice of heaven… a sacred, safe place where I could recover and deeply heal.

Then there’s the tiny little step of accepting Jesus.

Somewhere in all of this change, I rediscovered my love of dancing, fell in love with yoga, and tentatively invited piano back into my life.

In May, I had a housewarming-slash-birthday party at my abode to celebrate my new space and my continued changes.

And then, my 44 year-old sister had baby Kasey on June 1st, and I got to experience the joy of becoming an aunt all over again. Seeing that tiny little girl with my hands and feet really threw me. And getting to watch my sister become a mom all over again is actually really cool. She’s so much calmer and more laid back than she ever was before.

Wendy & Kasey

As if I hadn’t had enough excitement… at the urging of my friends who insisted it was time, and that I was ready, I started my adventures in online dating. And I wrote about it here.

Of course, some of the very best stories didn’t end up here in my blog, but they are written, waiting to be put in my memoir. I spent my entire summer doing nothing but working and going on dates. It was fun for a while, yes—but it got exhausting.

Spending those months "turbo dating" as my friend Michael calls it, though, was not only incredibly valuable, but it helped me get my confidence back. It helped me learn what I really did and didn't want in a partner. I got my sassyness back, too. I even came pretty close to falling in love. In retrospect, I'm incredibly thankful I didn't. I am thankful for exactly the way things happened.

David & Me

Just as everything in life, those months got me ready for the man I was about to receive.

In late August into early September, I slowed down and was spending time with one or two guys when David entered the picture—after a long ramp-up time of us shyly getting to know each other.

It took us both by surprise… and it still does. Neither of us can believe the way we feel about eachother, and just how unlike it has been with anyone else.

In the midst of our getting together, I realized that what felt like the last piece of my old life was my job, and it was time to let go.

The timing felt right, and I had a plan in place. Except—my plan fell through, and now I’m squeezing all I can out of the very last of what little money I have.

Still writing every day in my paper journal.

During this time, I had the distinct pleasure of facilitating Writing for Growth with Mark Rogers. In that 12 weeks, I stretched myself immensely, and I watched all the participants stretch, too. This is, without question, one of my biggest blessings of 2011—making Writing for Growth happen, and then thoroughly enjoying the fruits of that labor!

But the last three months of this year have been the most interesting, by far. For the first time in my entire life… I have rested. In October, I mostly slept. In November, I got an awful lot of sleep, too. And December has seen its share of sleep-filled days as well. It feels like I’ve been recovering from years and years of sleep deprivation.

And then, December came along—and during Step Beyond, I was able to finally shed the very last piece of all that had been holding me back. I finally learned how to forgive myself, and I learned what it means to me to give myself grace.

I stripped my contract of all the additional words I had added in during and just after my Pathways training, seven years ago, and I slightly refined my covenant. Now, it’s this: I am a strong, loving, accepted woman, resting in His arms, letting my light shine.

The rest of this month has been a blur of learning what it truly means to trust and have faith in God, that I will be taken care of, no matter what. And in talking with a friend, I realized something crucial. These precious last three months have been the personification of my “theme” for 2011—slown down and simplify.

I’ve come to realize just how little I really need. I’ve come to realize that I don’t actually like living a super-fast-paced life. I have enjoyed this time of rest and reflection. I have been continually amazed at the messages I’ve received, the gifts I’ve received, and most of all—the love I have received in these last three months.

What I see is that I have received these things because my life has slowed down just enough for me to be able to practice being fully present in every living moment. And in being fully present, it’s pretty hard to miss just how blessed I really am.

The space around me is God, supporting me. Everything in my world is here because I chose it. It’s no longer by default. Nothing is here by default! If it isn’t useful, if it doesn’t support me, if it isn’t a positive force in my life… it’s gone.

And even though I have an alarmingly tiny few dollars to carry me into the new year, the fact of the matter is… somehow, I am happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve completely shed the skin of my old life, and while that leaves me feeling somewhat exposed, it’s also a remarkably humble and hopeful place to be, too.

I am thankful for 2011. It’s been a really good year. A year of intense growth and learning what it means to be truly emotionally healthy. I finally learned how to engage my world in a healthy way instead of a codependent way. This year taught me the value of asking for help… the value of stillness and rest… what true peace really feels like… and while money is tighter than tight, I am rich in blessings, love, and connection. Richer than I've ever been!

I am thankful.

I’m not sure what 2012 holds for me. My hope is that it holds abundance.

You see, I have always limited myself so drastically—putting such tight caps on what I think I can earn, the amount and quality of love I give and receive, the depth of my relationships, the courage I have—and in 2011 I got so exhausted with all those limits that I ended up working hard to cast them off. In place of those limits, I am welcoming abundance. Abundance in love… in connection, intimacy, giving and receiving, travel, happiness, and yes—money. I am so tired of starving myself of what I thought I didn’t deserve, and I’m not going to do that anymore.

So, yes—my theme for 2012 is abundance!

What's yours?

Wordless Wednesday - 2012: A Year of Abundance

2011-12-28T14:48:00.000-06:00

My Path to Serenity & Beyond

2011-11-28T12:07:00.000-06:00

You fall apart because you’re growing,
Unfolding slowly towards the light
- from “A Christmas Carol” by The Neld Sisters

I’m sitting here weeping as I listen to Christmas music. Some of it, I’ve sung since I was a little girl (The Vocal Majority, VinceGuaraldi, Elvis, and John Denver & The Muppets, to name a few). I know the words, the melodies and the harmonies.

But it’s almost as if I’m truly hearing these Christmas songs for the first time.

For those of you not in the know, I became a believer earlier this year. If you haven’t read my most popular blog post, it may be worth checking out. It was a very long journey to reach that point of accepting Jesus as my savior, and it was filled with a lot of judgment, resistance, and over-analysis.

It amazes me where I came from, and where I am now.

One of the keystones in my journey of becoming a Christian (even though I was technically raised as one) was attending the spiritual training Pathways offers—called Step Beyond.

Step Beyond is only offered the first weekend of December each year.

I went through the Pathways Core training in August 2004.

So, that means it took me a whopping five years—until December 2009—to lay down enough judgments about the Step Beyond training to finally walk through those doors.

But, you know—everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that. And I knew that if I waited until I felt open enough to go to Step Beyond and feel receptive to whatever training was there for me, I would get a lot more out of it.

For the record, here are some of the judgments I had:

Step Beyond is just for Christians, and I’m not one, nor am I interested in being converted or pursued.
There’s nothing for me at Step Beyond. I’m not a religious person.
I can do it my own way. I've been doing that for years, and it works just fine.
I don’t need that. I’m spiritual enough on my own.
I don’t want anyone to dictate how I should be spiritual.
It’s such a big training, with so many people. How could I possibly get anything out of it?
I don’t know what kind of people will be there. I won't be able to connect with anyone.
I don’t know what we’ll do. How the heck can Pathways training possibly address spirituality?
Maybe I'll try it next year, when I'm in a better place.
I just can't afford it.

Having grown up in the church, I quickly learned to stop asking questions, because the primary answer I got was to just “have faith”.

Faith in what, exactly?

I kept going to church because my parents dragged me, and I felt like it was the “right” thing to do.

But, I stopped taking communion in high school, and for most of the service, I just sat there staring off into space, or staring at the monstrous stained glass window, wondering who Jesus really was. Wondering who God really was, and wondering why I felt so different from everybody else—not just in typical misfit high schoolish ways, but spiritually, too.

I was taught to believe at all costs. Questions were downplayed or even frowned upon. My questions remained, though, and they turned into a whole lot of judgments about what it meant to be a Christian, to be religious, and even to be spiritual.

Of course, now I realize that the reason so many religious folks avoid answering questions about their faith is because they aren’t entirely certain of the answer, either. Instead of engaging in dialog to ask their own questions or explore the idea together, it’s easier to shut down and claim to rely on faith.

To me, that’s blind faith, and I really didn’t want that.

Although I tried different avenues, I think it’s safe to say that I completely pushed any thought of “God” far out of my mind during my college years and into my 20s. For a considerable time, I thought to myself, “I’ll figure it out someday.”

It didn't help that I went through a span of years where I experienced a lot of heartache, loss, and devastation. I thought that if God was real, then those bad things wouldn't have happened to me.

In those years, I often found moments of peace when I’d go for a walk in the woods, strolling along the ocean, or camping in the middle of nowhere.

And when I lived in Boston, I’d escape the city for the coast of Maine as often as I could. It was only an hour or so away, after all. A man I briefly dated introduced me to a section of rocky cliffs along the shore of Kennebunkport, Maine, where the winding road separated a mountainous mass of multi-million dollar homes from a lone wooden two-story house rather precariously plopped on a stretch of smooth coastline. The water smashed delightfully against the large rocks surrounding three sides of the house.

My special place, on the shore of Kennebunkport, Maine

A perfect setting, complete with park benches staring out into the deep blue depths of the Atlantic.

Earth revealed her curve to me there, and suddenly she seemed so small, yet also so vast—not unlike my human form, trying to contain the vast love and pain in my heart. The whole seemed inadequate for all the parts.

I found solace in my special place, but I never really thought of God.

In fact, I didn’t give God much more thought until I went through Pathways.

I witnessed miracles when I went through my training, of course, but at the time I didn’t think of what I saw as God.

I didn’t think at all, really. I was mostly shocked and envious and mystified and confused and utterly in awe. Shocked, because I’d never witnessed anything like what I saw in the Pathways training room. Envious, because it seemed like other people “got” something that I was so obviously missing. Mystified because I couldn’t explain it, and confused because with me, being a “head case,” I really needed an explanation.

I discounted that it could be God, or anything supernatural. It just didn’t register. The miracles I saw in the training room were something along the lines of coincidence. Just like the beauty I saw in the woods, on the rocky Kennebunkport shore, and at times in the faces of friends or even strangers— was all just chance. It was all confusing. I didn’t process any of it as spiritual.

That’s how far away I was from feeling any sort of spiritual connection (let alone God) when I went through Pathways.

My spiritual path has been at best—tenuous, long, and slow.

Through my journey volunteering as a TA (training assistant) with Pathways, I started to acknowledge that the miracles I saw happening before me, time and time again, were God. I became more open to the idea of God, and that’s when my path started to change course.

And then, I came to a point in my path in December 2009 where I felt a tap on my heart.

I felt pulled to attend Step Beyond. I didn’t even understand why, but something inside of me recognized that it was time. And for once, I listened.

It was God doing the tapping, of course—sitting patiently, waiting.

Waiting for me.

During Step Beyond, I realized that even though I finally recognized seeing and feeling God all around me, I had never thought to allow God into my heart. I had kept God at bay with all the judgments I had about what it means to believe in God, accept God, trust God, and yes, "have faith".

And realizing that is exactly what helped me break wide open. At the heart of it all, I felt like I’d let God down. I wasn’t sure there was anything truly good inside of me. I felt like I wasn’t good enough to show my own light. I felt like I didn’t have it in me to continue on, trying to find my own way—especially since my spiritual path looked so different from that of a Christian, a Jew, a Pagan, a Buddhist, a Muslim, an Atheist, an Agnostic… my spiritual path had no clear definition to anyone. Especially not me.

At the time, I didn’t realize that was enough.

When the time came during Step Beyond for me to open my heart fully, I did not fold. I moved into the light, and I let that light into my heart for the first time.

At that point in my journey, God was a loosely shaped being represented by warm, yellow light. Light, representing a collection of all that is good, humble, and reverent.

I crawled into the light’s long, warm arms, and I curled up to rest, like a little girl.

That light is God. My light shines from the inside out. And when I let my light shine, I am a being as close to God as I can ever be.

That’s the covenant I made in Step Beyond… I am a Godly woman, letting my light shine.

Even when it’s hard. Even when I don’t think I can. Even when my heart feels weak. Maybe especially when my heart feels weak.

I believe all of us have the capacity to shine brightly, from our hearts out into the world.

Each of us contains light… each of us contains God.

For the first time in my life, God took up residence here, in my heart. And it made me realize how beautiful life really is.

It’s incredibly difficult to describe exactly how my life has changed since attending Step Beyond. But my life started to change in unexpected ways. I took a harder look at who I had really become, who I was becoming, what I had settled for, the direction in which I was moving, and I evaluated all of that (all at once, of course. This is me we’re talking about, after all).

And then I started to see God showing up in my day to day life. I started talking to God more… but more importantly—I started to listen.

I learned what it felt like to receive grace—from people, and from God. I realized that if I allow myself to be vulnerable, I’m never alone. I am always carried… by the love of others, and by the love of God. I learned what serenity really feels like.

One of the many inexplicable moments I’ve had in the last two years occurred in September 2010, when I was in my special place, in Kennebunkport, Maine. I sat on my favorite bench, watching the sunset, and grieving the loss of my grandmother, the loss of my marriage, the loss of everything I was familiar with—and finally, I said out loud, “I’m yours, God. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

True surrender.

In that moment, I felt serenity for the first time in my life.

And then I realized I was hungry. I started heading back to the town center, I parked the car, and then I started walking towards a local eatery, when suddenly I felt myself walking left, instead of right. I couldn’t understand why I was walking around the corner. I couldn’t understand why I felt drawn to set foot in a little gift shop I had overlooked so many times before.

I didn’t understand it, until I walked in and without any hesitation, I walked straight to a table and rested my hand on a smooth rock of sea glass that had a word etched into it: Serenity.

With the goofiest smile and tears streaming down my face, I bought the sea glass stone and then enjoyed the best lobster bisque I’ve ever had.

I could cite so many more moments like that. Numerous. I can’t explain them, but that gives you a tiny peek into the last two years of my life. I don’t think I could do justice here to the way my life has changed in the two years since I went through Step Beyond. I owe this story more than I could possibly address in a blog.

I know—certainly, I know—I would not have made it through the last two years of my life if I hadn’t been to Step Beyond in December 2009. Sometimes, you go to a training experience like Pathways to cleanse you of all you’ve been through and all you’ve done.

Sometimes, though—it’s to prepare you for what’s coming.

And with all the changes I’ve made, and with all that’s happened in my life, I needed to have faith in God. I needed to have a solid foundation on which to lean. I needed to have a light to cling onto, when all I saw around me was darkness, as I fought through the muck of the life I had created and have since worked very hard to shed.

This year, I am taking another step in my spiritual journey by refreshing the Step Beyond training.

I’m a little nervous, a little excited, and I honestly have no idea how it’s going to turn out.

Please believe me when I say that I’m as surprised as anyone to have accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. I really never saw that one coming! Step Beyond doesn’t turn people into Christians, by the way. Like any of the other Pathways training experiences, you get whatever it is that you need.

And as far as those judgments I mentioned earlier? Sure, I could have allowed them to get in the way. It's a choice, after all.

But a unique thing happens when you get a room full of people together, when everybody wants something and is willing to open themselves just enough for judgments, fears, and walls to fall away. What's left are true intentions, deep needs and desires of the soul, and miraculously... a willing spirit.

One thing is for sure. I’ve stretched, grown, and changed so much in the two years that have passed since attending Step Beyond, and although I'm not yet sure how I'm going to pay for it, I cannot imagine a better way to close out 2011 than willingly stepping closer to God, to Jesus, and to my inner light.

If you need "something" but can't quite identify what... Step Beyond might be just the right place for you this weekend. Would you like to join me?

Three Wishes. No, Four. OK, Maybe Just One...

2011-11-27T18:01:00.001-06:00

"Forgiveness is not much of a concept without something for which to forgive and be forgiven. Healing has no meaning in the absence of illness. Peace is no treasure at all to those who have known no war and no strife. Saying hello has no joy in it without the saying of good-bye."
--Robert Benson

I have three wishes for myself.

I would really like to stop being so damned hard on myself. I’m so tired of it, and it’s just not working for me anymore. The payoff I used to get (of getting to be the victim) isn’t something I want anymore, even in the short term. So now, it’s just painful.

You’d think that would be easy to change, right? Well, it’s proving to be a little more challenging than I originally thought. I’m not sure how to work hard and live my life well in an entirely positive way, where I’m not beating myself up at every turn. What I’m afraid of is that I’ll slip into lazy-ville. It’s so easy to do, after all. If I’m not working hard, then I must be lazy.

Extremes… black and white… don’t exist in reality. Life is colorful and yes, there is even gray mixed in as well.

So how do I find the balance?

After all, this is a life-long habit I’m trying to break.

The other thing I’d like to do is directly related to not being so hard on myself. I’d really like to state an intention, and then once I recognize that intention as feeling right and good—follow through with it.

No more balking, no more fear, no more hem-hawing, no more doubting myself, no more trash-talking myself and/or my abilities or worse—my self worth, no more not trusting me.

In other words—I want to cut the drama and just do it.

You might have ascertained by now that I’m what’s referred to as a bit of a “head case”, meaning I spend a lot of time analyzing myself, my actions, my inactions, my thoughts, my feelings, etc.

In fact, and I think I’ve mentioned this here before, but the rather amazing therapist I saw last year during the heat of the divorce said I’m the most self-analytical person she’d ever met.

That… says a lot coming from a therapist.

So, getting out of my own head is not only something I want, it’s something I need. It’s something I absolutely crave.

Yoga helps me with this. If I’m not fully present during a class, then I can’t do any of the poses. I can’t even come close. And the only time I can even attempt yoga at home is when I’m fully present.

What I’m noticing, though, is that I also really limit myself. Yoga practice has really brought that to the forefront of my awareness. I’ll sometimes automatically swear off a pose just because I don’t think I can do it.

So, the third thing I’d like for myself is to kick my self-imposed limits to the curb. I’d like to set myself free from the bondage and chains I’ve put myself in.

I’ve worked really hard on all three things over the past year and a half, in big areas of my life. And I’ve done well with shedding fear, limits, and being overly critical of myself in big, important ways.

It's the day-to-day where I need a little work. What I’ve recognized is that the habits of succumbing to fear, being overly critical of myself, and limiting myself, are well-engrained in me. And, like anything, a lifetime of practice doing something a certain way is not broken with a single monumental action to the counter. After that action, it takes diligence, practice, and effort.

And, one other very important ingredient…

Grace.

Most of all, I would like to learn how to give myself grace…

“Grace means more than gifts. In grace something is transcended, once and for all overcome. Grace happens in spite of something; it happens in spite of separateness and alienation. Grace means that life is once again united with life, self is reconciled with self. Grace means accepting the abandoned one. Grace transforms fate into a meaningful vocation. It transforms guilt to trust and courage. The word grace has something triumphant in it.”
- Yrjo Kallinen

“Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self.”
- Saint Francis of Assisi

So, how exactly am I going to do that, you ask?

In the great words of Philip Henslowe, as quoted from one of my favorite movies, Shakespeare in Love: "I don't know. It's a mystery."

Dr. Jeff's Holiday Fare Project

2011-11-26T18:59:00.001-06:00

I wanted to share an evolving story about a guy named Dr. Jeff. I’ve “known” him for several years now, online-only. I’ve never actually met the man in person.

But, he’s a good guy, and he likes to do things for others, even though he and his fiancée are raising 5 kids and at times, it’s just, well—hard.

This story especially hits home for me, as I am continuing to run out of money with no income in the near and foreseeable future.

So, what’s he doing? He’s collecting ticket books for Portland’s TriMet (public transportation system) and donating them to those less fortunate in the Portland, Oregon area.

And now, this story is getting some notable press around town, and around the web. Check out the blog for Oregon Live. He’s also been featured on the TriMet Diaries website, and he's getting more press by the day.

For details about Dr. Jeff’s efforts, to find out how to donate, and for updates on where the tickets are going, please go to the blog he set up for this project: Holiday Fare 2011.

I wanted to share it here, too, because this kind of gift giving is something that speaks to me, and to the spirit of my blog, rather directly.

In fact, Dr. Jeff’s efforts even helped me spawn my own idea that I’m currently working on, as a way that I can help others in need. I found myself poking around different services, organizations, and shelters in Dallas to see where there's a need I can help fill, and I found it. I’m keeping my idea under wraps for now, until I need help and the idea is fully developed… so stay tuned for that. I am filled with a ton of inspiration and awe at the moment, and I’m excited to carry out my idea.

How do you typically reach out to help others during this season, or in any season, for that matter? You all know I’m involved with Pathways, which is a special organization near and dear to my heart because it helped me make significant changes in my own life, and I have seen Pathways help thousands of people change their lives for the better.

But I’m curious about the ways you directly contribute to your community.

And if you haven’t thought about it in a while… perhaps this post will give you a little boost of inspiration to snoop around your community to find a good way to help those in need.

And if you’re prone to depression this time of year, like some of us are… then volunteering is a great way to combat that. We can all make a difference. We DO make a difference. Each pair of hands is a pair that wasn’t there before.

I hope you never underestimate the influence you have on those around you.

What you do matters. Who you are matters. And in times like these, it's vital for us to stay connected, to help each other.

Loving Me, Even When It's Hard

2011-11-23T12:17:00.000-06:00

With every bit of progress comes the slightest ease into comfort. At that moment, I know I'm about to be stretched again...

I felt angry all day yesterday, and it was actually in a writing session with a client late in the afternoon when I realized why I was angry.

I’ve spent all this time trying to figure out how to let love in… what love really means to me… and what I realized is that fear still has a tight hold on me when it comes to love.

And now I understand why…

When I was a little girl, there was a lot of turmoil in my house—some of it caused by my sister and a lot of the behavior she engaged in. My sister, being 8 years older than I am, made a lot of mistakes as a teenager. To compensate for that, I tried to be perfect.

That set a precedent, because then it seemed like my family started to expect me to be perfect.

If I wasn’t perfect, my perception was that I wasn’t loved. But if I did everything just right, if I was perfect—then I would be rewarded with love.

That’s a classic codependent mindset, and I’ve worked hard to shake that. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it, until it hit me that I still do this to myself.

If I am not perfect, if I do not act perfectly, if I don’t do everything I want to do (and everything I “should” do) perfectly, then I don’t get love. I don’t get to love myself… I don’t honor and nurture myself, I don’t get to have the good that comes from allowing love into my heart.

In other words—I don’t actually know how to love myself when it’s hard, like when I screw up, or when I am not perfect.

How often are you not perfect? All the time? Every day? Every moment?

Yeah.

So it goes deeper than that, even… because when I’m spilled open—like I am right now, tears streaming down my face as I write—I realize that I actually do love myself. In the moments when I am vulnerable, honest, and real, how can I not love myself? I know in those moments that I am beautiful, worthy, and accepted.

It’s only when I’m trying to force my own hand, trying to be perfect, trying to do it my way (in Pathways terms, “running my numbers”), that I realize I withhold love from myself, until I do it perfectly, and if I can’t do it perfectly, then I somehow manage to love myself a little less..

In the past couple of years, I feel that God has been teaching me how to accept love—from others. First, I had to accept His love. Then I had to learn how to accept it from family… and then friends… from myself… and finally—a romantic partner.

The big missing piece is how to love myself when it’s hard. When whatever I’m doing doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, when I’m not happy with my behavior, or when I’m not doing something I know I should be doing—in other words, when I’m absolutely imperfect. I'm so quick to beat myself up, which of course plummets me further down the hole.

That is my challenge, and tonight, it’s a big one.

But, as they say… awareness is the first step. And I got a big ol’ dose of awareness today, that’s for sure.

Words I heard about a year ago spring to mind right now:

“God made me. God doesn’t make mistakes. I am perfectly imperfect.”

Yes, indeed…

I want to teach myself how to love me, even when it's hard. I want to notice the progress I've made, how much sooner I become aware, and then, for crying out loud... move forward.

Life is just too damn short to beat myself up all the time...

"I'll never finish, so why begin?
...I must be crazy to beat me
I'm letting it go"
- from "Speak" by Gary Go

I don't know what it looks like or feels like to give myself grace. But now, I want to find out.

P.S. I Love You

2011-11-22T10:42:00.000-06:00

The first time I watched P.S. I Love You, I cried during the whole movie.

At that time my marriage was on the rocks, and I had never known the kind of love that Gerry and Holly had. I had never known what it felt like to be truly, deeply desired. To know that I was adored, loved, and accepted, just for being myself and no one else—I’d never understood what that felt like, and watching that movie the first time was heartbreaking, because it held up a mirror to my own life, to my own marriage, and I felt a deep, gaping hole in my soul. A hole I had created by giving up pieces of myself, by turning myself into someone I thought my then husband wanted me to be, by trying to live up to some invisible standard, some invisible expectation of perfection: fake it till you make it, to the extreme, as if living a perfect life and upholding an empty image for long enough would finally will that perfection into being, and everything would be ok.

Then my life fell apart… and I fell apart.

A couple of months after my ex-husband moved out of our house, I was walking through a used DVD store. I found myself feeling some—I don’t know—instruction, almost, to purchase P.S. I Love You.

I remembered how that movie made me feel. I walked away from it, but kept circling back. The insistence was relentless. I didn’t understand it, but I picked up the movie, set it on the counter, paid for it, and then it proceeded to sit on my shelf for another month or two before finally, one day, I felt myself tearing off the plastic wrapper and signing up for two hours of crying.

But this time it was different.

This time I understood where the gaping hole was—where it had been. I understood the choices I’d made that had led me to settling, and I recognized my accountability in those decisions and the behavior I exhibited that solidified my bad decisions.

And I knew that I had made the right move, by setting myself free, and by setting my ex free, I was really giving both of us permission to be happy.

I cried for that two hours, yes. But that time, I no longer felt the desperation and hopelessness and regret that I’d felt before.

This time, I felt sadness. I watched that movie at just the right time so that it was yet another step in my grieving process.

I didn’t only feel sadness, though.

I also felt hope.

Hope that I could, one day, have a love that ran as deep as the love between Gerry and Holly. I finally realized that I deserve that kind of love. That I’m worthy of it. And I knew that one day soon, I would be ready for it.

Tonight, I felt a calling to watch P.S. I Love You, yet again.

I had tried journaling, and I touched on what I was feeling in my journal. I tried playing piano, and I touched on what I felt while playing. But I knew I needed a good, hard cry to accept my own feelings, and to embrace them.

I wasn’t sure why that particular movie tugged at me, though… I wasn’t sure, until I started watching it. Most of the movie is overflowing with sadness—sadness from grief and also from the depth of love that Gerry has for Holly… And I wasn’t feeling sad.

Then it hit me… and the feelings overwhelmed me, and I spent the next two hours crying.

My favorite letter in the movie is the last one Gerry sends:

Dear Holly,

I don't have much time. I don't mean literally, I mean you're out buying ice cream and you'll be home soon. But I have a feeling this is the last letter, because there is only one thing left to tell you. It isn't to go down memory lane or make you buy a lamp, you can take care of yourself without any help from me. It's to tell you how much you move me, how you changed me. You made me a man, by loving me Holly. And for that, I am eternally grateful... literally.

If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you're sad, or unsure, or you lose complete faith, that you'll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my wife. I'm a man with no regrets. How lucky am I. You made my life, Holly. But I'm just one chapter in yours. There'll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one.

Don't be afraid to fall in love again.

Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends.

P.S. I will always love you

My life, as I’ve always known it, has ended, and a new life has begun.

I knew it the first time David and I kissed.

But I knew it before that.

I knew it when I saw his smile for the first time. I knew it when we started flirting. I knew it when he asked me out, and when he told me I have an intoxicating smile.

And when he first held me, I thought I had never been held before, by anyone, because it had never felt like it feels with him.

It’s unnerving and overwhelming and most definitely more than I bargained for. But I knew, the minute I laid eyes on David, that he would move me.

So, yes…

I am in love.

It’s so much more than that, though.

I trust him.

And most phenomenally—

I have given him my whole heart.

It feels good, and naked, and scary, but honestly, the fear is so pale at this point, and continuing to shrink every single day.

‎"There are two energies on this planet: fear and love. Fear contracts, love expands. Her Holiness Sai Maa Lakshmi Devi teaches to think of fear and love as two plants—you're always watering one of them with your thoughts. All thoughts fall into one category—fear or love—so which plant are you choosing to water and grow?" - Katharine Sise

I choose love.

Nostalgia in a Wine Bottle

2011-11-19T11:49:00.000-06:00

I remember drinking this bottle of wine.

It was 1998, and I was living in Philadelphia, with 7 other people in an old house. A couple lived in the basement, I shared a room on the first floor with a guy who was only there for another month, a guy and another girl had their own rooms on the second floor, and two more guys had their own rooms on the top floor.

One of the guys had this bottle of wine that he’d been waiting for an occasion to drink.

It was my first time to have red wine, and my first weekend living in Philadelphia, and that was occasion enough.

I took a sip and liked it immediately. As it turns out, only I and my roommate liked it. So, he and I split the bottle. That was an interesting night, for sure…

I have a lot of stories I could share about that house, that arrangement, and those days in general, but I’m hanging onto those for my memoir.

(You know, the memoir I’ll write some day.)

I’d completely forgotten that I’d kept this bottle until I was unpacking my apartment back in March.

I of course drink red wine on a regular basis, these days. Oddly enough, the type I always gravitate to is… pinot noir from Sonoma. I thought nothing of it when I took up drinking wine a couple of years ago, and I certainly did not recall this bottle from my first taste of red, back in 1998.

Imagine my surprise when I cracked open the box containing this bottle, as I sipped some La Crema pinot noir (which is of course, from Sonoma), and I came across this Quatro bottle.

It’s interesting how we so often forget the origins of the fibers of our being...

Note: The beautiful, handmade leather journals in the background of this photo are from Mind's Eye Journals. Check out Teresa's Facebook page to see her latest designs... you will be amazed with her work!

Wordless Wednesday - Worded Edition

2011-11-16T08:36:00.000-06:00

This is the organization I volunteer for. More than anything else I have ever done, I have witnessed the Pathways training teach people how to let go of baggage, PTSD, and personal trauma as men and women learn how to heal, love themselves and redeem their souls.

I have written several articles for Pathways news letters, including:

Ryan Lynn, a soldier who appears in this video. In fact, Ryan was so moved after his Pathways experienced that he started the organization, Soldiers Serve with Heart!
Anthony and Courtney Dagenais. Anthony was also a soldier.
Laura Davies and Josh Linze. Josh was also a soldier.

These stories will give you insight to what each family was dealing with before going through the training, and how they have put their lives back together after Pathways.

Pathways isn't only for soldiers. It's for families, individuals, and anyone who wants something better in life!

(Note: Pathways is not a religious or spiritual training, although they do offer a spirituality training, which is coming up December 3-4.)

A New Beginning...

2011-11-15T09:51:00.000-06:00

Did any of you wonder why I stopped all of the Adventures in Online Dating posts?

Standing outside my apartment.

Yes... well, read on, and you'll find out.

I moved to my apartment in Dallas back in March.

Shortly after, I discovered that the fish counter at the Whole Foods near me is pretty darn nice. Not only that, but there was a pretty nice-looking guy working there, too.

It’s important to note that I live in Oak Lawn.

Oak Lawn is affectionately known as the “gayborhood” or the main area of Dallas where gays and lesbians live, work, and hang out.

Parts of Highland Park (usually these residents are Old Money, and definitely upper crust of Dallas society) butt up next to Oak Lawn. Dallas neighborhoods are kind of confusing that way… but while the Whole Foods is technically in Highland Park, the clientele is a pretty even mix between Highland Park residents and Oak Lawn residents.

All this to say, it’s actually a fair assumption to make that if one sees an attractive male in the Oak Lawn area who isn’t wearing a wedding band, there's a good chance he's gay.

So, when I saw this attractive guy at the fish counter, I thought nothing of it, and I assumed he was gay.

I went on about picking up fish a couple of times a week from Whole Foods.

I saw him most evenings I came in… and over time, we started engaging in friendly conversation. He smiled wide each time he saw me, and I smiled back, thinking he must now recognize me as a regular, always ordering fish for one.

He asked me about the Pathways t-shirt I was wearing one time… another time he commented on the necklace I was wearing (and yes, it was one of my own designs)—and yes, I’m a little slow on the uptake, not realizing that he was actually looking for his “in” to get to know me better...

The real connection happened when I went into Whole Foods the night before doing the Run for Heroes in September.

I went in to get some halibut and veggies, so I could have a nice and light but healthy dinner, since I was eating pretty late. I think it was around 9pm when I went into Whole Foods, and the race was at around 8am the next morning.

I mentioned to fish counter guy that I was running my very first 5k.

His eyes lit up…

(He finally had his in!)

He mentioned that he was a runner as well as a weight lifter (and if you think I hadn’t noticed his broad shoulders and his beautifully thick arms, think again), and he was excited for me to run, especially since this was my first race. He wanted a full report on how I did.

I was a little surprised (dare I say, this slow girl was actually confused?) at his enthusiasm, but as our interaction ended, I found myself smiling very wide.

I felt a little giddy inside, too.

The next time I was at the fish counter, I gave him a report on how I did, including my time (which worked out to about a 13 minute mile—not bad for a non-runner).

All right, I’ll cut the crap…

He’s not gay.

(Obviously.)

He asked me out, and I said yes.

But even before our first date, I found excuses to pop into Whole Foods. Luna bars were on sale, or I was out of almond butter, or I wanted to check, one more time, to see if they had magically started carrying the yogurt I eat…

David. Isn't he handsome?

But mostly, it was just to see his smiling face and to get a chance to chatter with him for a little while.

We went out, and well… we’ve been together ever since.

By the way, his name is David.

I felt drawn to David from the moment I first laid eyes on him, back in March.

And even over time, when we slowly started talking to each other and flirting, I realized that something was different with this guy. I was different—healthier than I’ve ever been… and getting healthier and happier by the day.

David is a different sort of guy than I’ve ever been with before.

He is an amazing man who rocks my world. I’ve hesitated posting anything here about him, because I could gush on and on about what he does for me, and the way he makes my life better just by being in it.

In this moment I remember one of my professors in college, Kate Daniels, who is a talented modern American poet. She only ever liked a few of my poems. The rest?

If you can imagine, a tiny waifish woman standing barely five feet tall, with short jet black hair with wiry gray hairs sticking out here and there, and huge black plastic-rimmed glasses that took over her entire face, and she often stood with her hand on her hip, the other hand disdainfully dismissing the majority of my poems as “emotional fluff”.

So, anytime I write something emotionally charged, I end up visualizing Kate Daniels waving off whatever I’ve written as emotional fluff.

Because, apparently, nobody wants to read emotional fluff.

Or maybe she just doesn’t want to…

(And so, all of the emotional fluff has been written in other, non-public places. Trust me, you are thankful I am sparing you on those emotionally fluffy details!)

What is both a little scary and very refreshing is that David is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, and more. I feel like a damned school girl around him—giddy, giggly, silly…

He knows how to deliver a compliment, and he does it so well and so often… and I appreciate that more than he will ever know. Remember my post on learning how to receive love? I am practicing that, or trying to. David gives me lots of practice, which I have to admit I enjoy.

He makes me laugh—which, as anyone who knows me understands… that’s vital.

He’s intuitive, and intelligent, and there are times when I swear he can read my mind.

One thing's for sure. We took each other by surprise. I wasn't expecting to connect with anyone so strongly. I wasn't expecting to meet someone who would become special in my world so quickly.

He wasn't, either.

We were both just going along, working on ourselves, dating here and there (well, I spent my entire summer Turbo Dating, as my friend Michael calls it)... and what brought us together was time and circumstance (and... fish!).

To say I’ve never had a connection or level of chemistry quite like what David and I have is quite the understatement. I didn’t know the type of connection we have was even possible.

But I’m learning, more and more, that it’s so much more than “just” the physical chemistry. There’s a soul connection that I can’t quite articulate. It’s on a deeper level than I understand… and I felt it the moment I met him.

I love his deeply soulful blue eyes. There’s so much there… so much behind those eyes, and I am slowly learning what is there, and savoring every moment of it…

I may post more about him in the future, but suffice it to say—

I am happy.

(And yes, it is possible to meet someone special at the grocery store!)

Shedding More Than Just Weight

2011-11-06T21:59:00.000-06:00

In searching for the best “before” photo I could find, I discovered this one from June of 2007.

I can’t quite describe what exactly is significant about four years, but I will try.

Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was the heaviest I’ve ever been. Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was almost completely sedentary. Maybe it’s that four years ago, I was making a ton of money but also incredibly unhappy—and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

Four years ago, I had no real clue how to fulfill my own needs. I still relied on others to do it for me, which meant that the majority of the time, I felt more empty than full.

(Do I even need to mention that I tried filling that void with food?)

And of course, four years ago, I had no clue how I was going to begin changing my life—one step at a time, and sometimes, one giant leap at a time.

I didn’t yet know that I would take the trip of a lifetime to Murano, Italy in March of 2008. A trip that would re-awaken the artist within me, a trip that would remind me what happiness feels like, a trip that reminded me just how unhappy I was in my day to day life, a trip that ended up becoming a huge magnifying glass. When I came back home to Texas, I finally realized just how much I didn’t like my life. The life I had chosen, the life I had committed to, the life I had vowed to uphold.

I didn’t realize what a black hole my own home had become, until I came back from Italy in April 2008.

Up until that point, I had refused to acknowledge that my marriage was not in a good place. What’s worse—it hadn’t been, for years.

2008 began the confrontation of all that wasn’t working in my life, starting with why my marriage wasn’t working. He went to Pathways, and we did a little bit of work together to repair the deeply traversed ditches of damage, but after he finished the program, things pretty much went back to the well-established bad habits and patterns that we had practiced as a couple for the entirety of our relationship.

I held out hope that things would get better.

But in 2010… I finally realized that I was continuing to grow and change, and at that point in time, he really wasn’t. We had been moving in different directions, and we really began wanting different things.

But 2010 also marked the beginning of the major transformation that is so evident in me today.

If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you can probably recall at least a few of the changes. The most obvious is my weight loss. The next obvious is my divorce. Then, there are the less obvious things… grieving for losses from my past that I’d never grieved; allowing God into my life and then in April of this year, becoming a believer; and one of the most important changes of all… finally learning how to fulfill my own needs.

The biggest changes I’ve experienced in 2011 have been:

Stepping out of the P-R-V (Persecutor – Rescuer – Victim) triangle in all of my relationships. I always played the Victim role, by the way.
Recognizing that I still had codependent relationships, and working very hard to step out of codependency.
Finally learning how to fulfill my own needs and fill myself up, without having to rely on someone or something else to do it for me.

These are significant and important changes, and I am proud of the work I’ve done. I’ve come a long, long way… and looking at those two photos side by side brings up so many emotions—of all that I’ve been through, of all the things I’ve willingly faced, of the accountability I’ve finally taken on, of letting go of old baggage and grieving losses so that they no longer weigh me down… and learning how to live on my own without feeling constantly lonely…

It’s so much more than “just” weight loss.

As my friend Carla said, I’ve spent the last year and a half shedding the person who pretended to be me.

It’s so true. I am no longer fighting so hard to maintain some image of perfection, or the life I thought I was supposed to live. I am no longer trying to live a life that was not right for me. I am no longer pretending to be real.

I am real.

It’s taken years to get to this place, and I feel like I’m brand new.

I recently saw this message:

Anyone can give up. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength.

I disagree.

Whole heartedly.

To me, falling apart isn’t about giving up. Falling apart is about dropping the mask, dropping the pretense, and letting go of the ever-important “image” of perfection.

It is only because I finally allowed myself to completely fall apart that I realized just how strong I am, how many amazing people love me, and how worthy I am of that love.

It is only because I finally dropped the façade that I was “ok” and I was truly vulnerable that I discovered what realness and authenticity feel like.

It was in those moments when people saw the real me, and much to my own surprise, they rushed towards me—not away. I witnessed true grace, love, and redemption when I finally allowed myself to fall apart and let people in.

I was taken care of, every step of the way.

And today, I stand before you as my real, imperfect self.

And when I look at that photo on the right—for the first time in my life—the first things I see are the positives.

I see a beautiful and happy woman. I see a woman who is secure, confident, and who feels worthy.

I am all of those things, and more…

Change: The Only Constant

2011-11-02T23:59:00.001-05:00

It’s chilly nights like this when I remember so vividly my nightly walks from the Boston Commons area down to South Station, in the financial district of downtown Boston. The wind was fierce, coming off the harbor, and the skyscrapers formed walls on the streets that made each step like attempting to walk in a wind tunnel.

I bundled my dad’s Navy pea coat up as high as it would button, wrapped my scarf around my neck as many times as I could. And my fleece hat, while warm, never could handle the cutting chill of the wind.

I always smiled, though. I loved living there. I adjusted to the terrifically cold winters and the super-humanly humid summers.

And, whenever possible, I escaped to Maine.

I’m feeling a little all over the place tonight… a little nostalgic (see above... *ahem*), a little confident, a little sassy, as I dance around my living room to the newest Florence + The Machine album (please, just get it... it's so worth it!), and I am happily alone on this cold night, although I can think of few other greater pleasures than sharing warm covers with a lover.

This is the relaxed and happy me.

Tonight, I think I could write a whole novel, or at least my entire memoir, in just a matter of hours. Tonight, I think I could read the rest of the book I just started, or I could fill up the paper journal I’m barely a third of the way into.

So many thoughts twirling and swirling around in my mind, so many thoughts escaping through my pores, never to be thought again.

I’ve recently stepped through a significant amount of change in my life, and I smile as I reflect on those changes tonight.

One of the most recent changes?

Leaving my job.

A tiny little part of me (and probably a bigger part of you) thinks I must be crazy, to take a leap like that without having a "secure" and "certain" net to jump into.

All the thousands of people out of work, and I had a great job that I actually chose to leave. Crazy, right?

Believe me. That thought, and many more, scrolled through my head before I made my decision.

The reality is, there's no such thing as "job security" anymore. I'd been thinking about it for a long time, and now was as good a time as any to make the jump.

I’m working on what my business will be. I’m working on what I’m going after and what my aim will be. Don’t worry—you’ll be the first to know, once I get the plans all laid out.

In the mean time… I've been catching up on what feels like two and a half years of sleep deprivation. I am remarkably relaxed, and I'm doing fairly well with letting go of control, taking one day at a time, and I'm actually getting pretty good at living in the present.

Instead of [indulging my old habits of] facing the potentially daunting near future of finding gainful employment with fear, anxiety, procrastination and reluctance, I am practicing positive thinking and positive action. I am working through books that are helping me create my vision for my business, and eventually a business plan and concrete steps to take to turn those plans into action.

For the first time in my entire life, I feel like I'm finally working towards the career I've spent the entirety of my working years aiming towards.

And in some ways, I feel more grown up right now than I have ever been.

I hope to post some writing soon. I hope to feel like doing some more public writing. I do have a lot to say… a lot to tell.

Paradigm Shift

2011-09-28T12:47:00.000-05:00

Perspective comes in its own time. You can’t rush it, or it won’t be real.

After all of the soul stretching over the last week, a few things occurred to me. I realized that while I’ve been thrown a couple of big things to work on at once, I also have a much faster “recovery time” than I used to. Recovery time meaning, the time after I have the epiphany, to the time when I’m applying tools (new, borrowed, or old) to address the issue.

My “recovery time” used to be months… then weeks, and now—days. Sometimes I can even turn it around within a day.

After realizing that I didn’t know how to receive love, I thought about some tools I gained through a pretty amazing self-improvement course I took last fall. I knew exactly which one would work best, too. I recognized that if I started practicing what I should do (in other words—taking action), I would create a new habit of responding better. And then, I would actually feel better.

Here’s an example…

When someone gives me a compliment, my first instinct is to shrug it off. Sometimes I pretend not to hear it, or I just nod and say thanks—but in my mind, I have already dismissed the compliment with an assumption that the giver didn’t mean it, or he or she has an ulterior motive.

When I started dropping weight, I learned pretty quickly that I needed to get used to receiving compliments. Something was still missing, though. I figured that because I was in transition, and I had lost so much weight, it instantly gave people something nice to say as a way to open a conversation.

I still couldn’t receive kind words at face value.

So, I’m practicing. This goes right back to the value of living in the moment.

I am practicing acknowledging when I have received the gift of a compliment or kind sentiment… and I am practicing really hearing what that person is saying, so that I can actually receive it and accept it as real.

One step at a time—but what’s interesting is that since I have chosen to shift my attitude, I have been inundated with compliments over the last few days.

I have to wonder… how many compliments have I been given, that I never actually received? It’s possible I’ve been inundated with compliments over the last 36 years, but I’ve only truly heard the last handful.

One thing is certain.

In truly hearing those kind words spoken to me, I understand that I am worthy of those words.

And that... is a pretty damn big step.

My Exhausted Soul, Unfolding...

2011-09-25T18:08:00.001-05:00

This is setting out to be the most personal blog post I’ve made to date. I have to think, though, that I’m not the only one who feels this way or has this particular struggle. So I thought I’d throw it out there and see if anyone can weigh in with their experiences. And if you don’t want to talk about it publicly, feel free to email me at lindaleetritton [at] gmail [dot] com.

I’ll ask that you “put your filters on” for what I’m about to share… to draw whatever meaning you can out of it.

My soul is so exhausted… to the core.

I just want to be.

God seems to have other plans.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had several significant “light bulb” moments that I’d never quite put together before. Truths about me that have struck me all the way to my core.

Are other people so much more together, or well-adjusted? Am I really that—I don’t know… deficient, maybe—emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, socially, etc? It feels like I struggle so much more than others do with the universal, eternal truths of this life, while others seem to have it so much more figured out than I do.

Or is it that everyone else is just faking it a lot better than I can?

I can’t seem to fake anything, anymore. I’m mostly thankful for that, because it’s exhausting to fake being okay all the time. It’s exhausting to try and shove myself into a box I clearly don’t fit in.

I’m realizing that no one can ever be as hard on me as I am, and that I am so practiced in the act of punishing myself that it’s proving to be a very difficult habit to break.

I’ll go way out on a limb and share one of the truths I learned about myself, just this morning.

Last night I was up late finishing some jewelry, and as I fell to sleep, a thought popped into my mind. I’ve been feeling somewhat disconnected from God and from my spiritual path in general, and I wasn’t sure why. I also wasn’t sure how to remedy that… but the thought popped to mind that I should try and get up in time to go to a place where I love the music… Bent Tree Bible Fellowship.

Sure enough, my alarm went off and I managed to get up and out the door in time for the service.

Only, I stumbled into a service that was unlike any other I’ve ever attended. It was kind of an on-stage drama of what it might be like for the second coming of Jesus Christ.

It’s a little overwhelming to think about, mainly because I’m not entirely certain what my idea of heaven is, or who I think will or won’t be there, and what my thoughts are about “judgment day”, etc. My ideas of what heaven or judgment is really all about don’t fall into typical Christian beliefs, I guess. (A lot of what I believe doesn’t fall into “typical” Christian beliefs, but I’ll get to that in a minute.)

None of that really mattered. There was a special message for me this morning, and all it required was my presence in a building where the music tends to open my heart wide, and where I tend to allow that to happen.

I think you can open your heart at any time, in any place. But sometimes, you need a nudge. And this morning, I got much more than a nudge… I was pretty much shoved off a cliff.

I realized that the reason I’ve felt so distant from God lately is because I have rejected the love He has for me… because I don’t feel worthy of it.

Ouch.

Even worse… I realized I’ve been ashamed of my faith. Ashamed of becoming a Christian, trying to excuse myself from the bad name Christians have given themselves, instead of just striving to live by example.

Anytime I speak to anyone about my beliefs and my faith, I'm pretty apologetic. I say, “Well, I guess that since becoming a believer earlier this year, that makes me a Christian, but—”

But, what?

But, I believe gays and lesbians should be able to marry and adopt children.

But, I believe creationism has no place being taught in public schools. It’s a religious story that needs to be told within the structure of religion.

But, I believe each person has his or her own path to walk, and for me to assume or even wish that everyone ends up in the same place is not only pompous, but it defeats the purpose of spirituality, which, to me, is potentially the most personal, intimate relationship anyone can have with the divine—whatever you believe the divine to be.

But, I believe you’re not damned if you never accept Christ as your Savior. Actually, I don't know that I even believe in hell.

But, I believe developing kindness, nurturing love within yourself, giving your love to others, and recognizing how we are all connected is vitally important—far more important than how often you go to church, how involved you are in church, or how much money you give to your church.

But, I believe that humans, including (but certainly not limited to) Christians can crush others with their judgments. I think we judge out of fear, and out of what we’ve been taught, or out of limited knowledge, experience, and unexamined beliefs.

I think many of us place judgment first, and ask questions later—or worse—never ask questions at all.

In many places, judging is not only accepted, but it’s expected—even encouraged. I’ve witnessed this inside the walls of many churches, and it saddens me that judging is still so supported and even encouraged.

And I think I’ve fallen into this judgment trap, too.

Except, I’ve been judging myself and assuming that when I say the word “Christian”, I will immediately be judged by others.

Instead of surrendering, I’ve remained lost. What? I’ve actually chosen to be a victim in my own spiritual journey?

Ouch.

Instead of allowing God’s love to being me closer to Him, I’ve been rejecting that love—a way of trying to maintain control. Control of my own faith, control of my journey, control of my love.

What I’m getting at is… I don’t know how to allow someone to love me... I don't know how to receive that love without trying to do something to explain or excuse it away, because some part of me believes I don't deserve it.

Even if that someone (who is trying so hard to love me) is who I believe to be the most divine spiritual force in the universe.

Again… ouch.

Of course, awareness is the first step, and now, I am certainly aware…

my soul
it's dying to be free
i can't live the rest of my life
so guarded
it's up to me to choose..
what kind of life i lead.

cause i don't wanna go on living
being so afraid of showing
someone else my imperfections
even though my feet are trembling
and every word i say comes stumbling
i will bare it all... watch me unfold
unfold

i will allow someone to love me
i will allow someone to love me...
- from “Unfold” by Marie Digby

There is something positive in all of this awakening. I recognize that this is really just another step in breaking free of all the confines, shackles, and chains I’ve kept myself bound in over the years. I know I’m in the process of breaking free. I know I’m in the process of unfolding.

That doesn’t mean some of those steps along the way aren’t painful…

But unlike before, I am now willing to share some of those moments. I’m not entirely certain what compelled me to share this one with you.

All I know is that we are all connected, and certainly I am not alone my thoughts here, or, if I am—then I simply offer you this piece of me, as another part of my journey, unfolding…

I’m in repair,
I’m not together but I’m getting there…
- from “In Repair” by John Mayer

Kinesthetic, Auditory, and Visual Sensory Preferences

2011-09-18T20:47:00.000-05:00

It’s funny how learning something seemingly ancillary can change the way you view your whole life.

I always thought I was a visual learner. I am a visual artist, after all. I love taking pictures, I love creating jewelry and glass beads, I love looking at sparkly, pretty things, I love to draw and paint and create—I love the process of creation almost as much as I love the end result.

And I love the way aesthetically pleasing things make me feel. Whether it’s the home I’m sitting in, the building I’m approaching, or a presentation I’m watching—if it looks great and if it just “works”, then I feel good.

I didn’t really get it.

Until just a few days ago, I didn’t understand that the way something like an article of clothing feels on me has very little to do with the way it looks, when I’ve got it on and I’m looking in the mirror.

It doesn’t matter how great a shirt looks on me, in other words. If I don’t feel good while I’m wearing it, I won’t buy it. I won’t wear it.

And there are times when some of my favorite clothes make me feel icky, or exposed, or uncomfortable. In those cases, I have to pick something else to wear, or it throws off my whole day.

That’s a kinesthetic approach.

When I’m sitting at my desk all day, not moving, I feel imprisoned. Now I understand why.

My close-second style is auditory.

I’ve definitely never thought of myself as auditory. I always struggle with just hearing instructions and retaining anything that was said. I struggle with remembering details that someone told me. I thought I needed to see it printed, thought I needed to somehow visualize it in my head.

What I was actually visualizing, though, was the whole scene—including the way someone’s voice sounded when that someone was telling me those details, including the way I felt, the position I sat in, and what I was doing with my hands—which usually involves some sort of manipulation of fabric or another object(s) I’m wearing, or if it’s a soft pillow, I’m running my fingers across it. Constantly.

I’m very sensitive to the sounds all around me. If someone nearby is smacking their gum, or smacking while they chew food, I’ll hear it and it will drive me to near madness.

Another clue: music is vital to me. I listen to it all the time, and there are certain types of music or artists I’ll listen to when I need to feel a certain way, or when I want to express a specific mood. When I’m writing, I’ll listen to different types of music to help deepen my writing mood. There are some songs that actually cause me to dance… and I certainly can’t have the same music I’d be dancing to in the background while I’m trying to write.

The truth is, it’s all about how that music makes me feel. It’s about how I feel when I’m sitting on my couch, or when I’m sitting in the middle of Starbucks. It’s how I feel in my surroundings… it’s why I can’t sit still for very long.

It just… It all makes sense now.

It’s the reason why running means so much to me. It’s the reason why yoga has been transformative for me. It’s the reason why MovementMontage has so profoundly affected me. It’s why writing by hand is far more productive for me than typing on the computer.

The other piece to this puzzle is human touch. I had no idea just how important it is to me, but it really is...

And so, with this boat-load of new knowledge, I am immediately working to find ways of incorporating movement into each hour of the day.

Want to take the test? Have you ever really thought about whether you’re a kinesthetic, auditory, or visual sensory person? Well, then:

Baby, You Were Born to Run

2011-09-11T20:23:00.000-05:00

Ok, that may be a stretch (pun intended), but I will tell you that this morning’s 5K run was exhilarating, exciting, and of course, challenging. I signed up on a whim, because the thoughts about running had been there for a long time. All I needed was a little nudge to get me to sign up, and it was done.

Let's do this, yo.

On this, the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, what did I do? Honestly, if Future Me had shot back in time to 9/11/01 to tell me I would be running 5K this morning, I would have laughed and immediately fallen back to sleep.

I debated watching some 9/11 specials, but I knew this run would be more tangible to me than watching more footage about the stories and lives connected to all the events of 9/11. I knew I needed something major and something tangible for this day. And I pretty much stumbled into this run, thanks to my friend Candriann. I immediately knew it was just the thing to push me to my next level.

I knew I needed good rest, but I couldn't sleep last night. I kept waking up, anticipating getting up for the race. I knew I needed to get some good fuel into my body (early, but not so early that I was hungry again prior to the run). I knew I needed to start with yoga, so that my muscles would be nicely stretched out and warmed up.

Not only did I get up early (I mean, really early) on a Sunday morning, by choice… but it was to run. It was a good cause—the Run for Heroes, and that was my reasoning—well, really, my excuse. It was the only excuse I needed.

I did this to do something tangible, to feel connected to those whose lives were lost.

I did this because a friend encouraged me.

In the end, though—I did this for me.

And I know that at least a handful of you thought I was completely nuts, to just wake up one morning and run 5K, when I haven’t run on purpose since junior high days. But this is the way I do things. If I’m in—I’m all in.

What’s important, though, is that I did this despite all of the little judgments I picked up on. I did this because I knew I could. I did it because it was something I wanted so badly, I could taste it.

And this morning, I realized a few really important things.

When I listen to myself (instead of the voices and judgments of others), I can do more than I ever expected

Following my heart is the only way to go. Others may not understand it, and often—others really can’t understand the motivations lying deep inside a soul—and sometimes, I don’t even understand my own motivations until after the fact… but the important thing is following my heart. It never steers me wrong.

At one point just before the 1 mile marker, I realized that I wanted to start running again, but I felt conflicted because I also wanted to stay with my two pace buddies. In the end, I started running again.

It felt good to go my own way, knowing that I had support to make my own choices, know my own limits, and take care of my own needs.

When I accept things happening in my surroundings as motivation (instead of as something negative), it helps me push myself harder

There was a group of very young Navy ROTC men and women running in loose formation for the entire run. They did chants (the same one over and over…). It was cool to have them as background noise, but it was annoying to run behind them. They ran very slowly and deliberately. And I had to constantly be on alert because at any one time, one of them might stop mid-stride to grab an ankle, bend over and stop suddenly, or cut across runner traffic suddenly—and without looking.

So around the halfway point, I managed to get in front of this group. And even though it was halfway through the run, I used them as motivation. When I heard them coming closer up behind me, I started running again, or if I was already running, I ran faster.

I can do more than I thought I could

I really surprised myself. I set very low expectations. I expected to not be able to run for more than the first little bit and maybe the last little bit. But, I ended up running for more than half the race.

Feeling downright giddy. I did it!

My time was 41:24. Not bad for my first 5K.

I am in better shape than I thought. The problems I had that caused me to slow down weren’t related to my lungs or my asthma at all. It was all about how much energy I had, how much my muscles hurt, or needed to go back to a fast walk to shore up some more endurance.

Mostly, it was the endurance issue that slowed me down. And that is something I can definitely fix, with time and practice.

I was more ready than I realized

I have put off starting the running thing. It’s something I have wanted to so long, but I didn’t want to give it a try too soon, because I know myself well enough to know that would have been too big of a defeat for me. I needed to wait until I knew I could handle 3.1 miles before I tackled it.

Having a cheerleader at the very end, when I was hot and tired and on my last bit of fuel, helped push me even harder and then, I realized—there’s still more in me

My friend Candriann was right there at the end, and she ran the last bit with me, cheering me on, pushing me to run faster and harder for the last little go. At first I bucked… “I’m not quitting!” As I tried to start walking again… and then I went with it, and found that I still had a little more in me. I surprised myself, but it was thanks to my friend who spurred me on.

Rubber legs will not stop me!

I was #811 on 9/11

I still managed to have a coffee date today, get some chores done, and get ready for tomorrow’s work day, all the while with rubber legs and an intense desire to collapse in bed.

I think I’ll sleep really, really well tonight…

It occurs to me that on this big day... 10 years after America's worst tragedy... I am born, all over again. Is there any better way to not only honor myself, but to also honor all those who lost their lives on 9/11, than learning how to love on a deeper level?

Today, love meant getting up too early, running (slowly), and seizing a dream I've seen dangled too far ahead of me for the majority of my lifetime.

This is the continuation of my own personal revolution. I picked a very big date to begin running. It's not coincidental, although it felt that way last Tuesday evening, when I signed up.

Nothing is coincidence.

Every event, every moment, every encounter in our lives has meaning. It's up to us to find that meaning.

We were all born with all the wisdom and grace we will ever need in this life, and through the violence of the birthing process, we forgot.

We spend the rest of our lives rediscovering that wisdom, shining light on the places where we didn't know we needed grace.

And by nature, shining light on ourselves—and by doing so—helping others shine, too.

Shine on, my friends...

Dear Asthma, You Don't Own Me Anymore

2011-09-09T12:17:00.001-05:00

I was talking with a friend recently, telling him about some of the things that happened in my childhood that led me to be less and less active.

Say hello to my new friends!

When I was a kid, I loved to run. I loved the sound of my feet slapping against the concrete, and sometimes I would purposely exaggerate that noise as I ran.

I could never run for long, though. It felt like I had a dragon breathing fire in my lungs. I tried describing it to my mom, but I was using kid language, and I don’t think she quite believed me, anyway.

I also loved to play soccer. I played soccer at recess in elementary school, until the bully kicked me out. Then, I would play soccer by myself, kicking my soccer ball against the one brick wall in our back yard that didn’t have windows. I kicked as hard as I could. I was even pretty good at dribbling.

And another sport I loved? Tennis. I was decent at it, too.

But the pain in my lungs was too much. After losing patience over and over again because I couldn’t run the way I wanted to, I gave up trying to play sports. I gave up running. I gave up tennis, and I gave up soccer.

I resorted to riding my bike, and sometimes even then, I had problems.

The main culprit was exercise-induced asthma, which went untreated and undiagnosed for the duration of my childhood and well into adulthood.

In fact, I wasn’t diagnosed with asthma until I was living in Boston. I got sick for about 6 weeks with bronchitis, an upper respiratory infection, sinus infection, and both ears infected. I was so sick that I probably should have been hospitalized. It was a desperate time for me. I was lonely and miserable, with no one there to really take care of me. If I needed medication, food, or anything else, I had to find a way to make myself go out and get it.

For about two weeks I literally could not sleep because I was coughing so much. I was so exhausted that I became weak and delusional.

At that point, my doctor realized that the reason I wasn’t getting better is because the exercise-induced asthma that had always been lurking in me had finally tipped the scales to become chronic.

He put me on a daily ritual of taking medications to try and get the asthma under control. It took months to become stabilized, but I did.

And my asthma has been under good control for years, now.

I occasionally have bad days, when the air quality is particularly bad, or when it’s particularly humid and hot outside. But on most days, thanks to modern medicine, my lungs behave just like a normal person’s lungs.

Last September, when I had hit about the 35 pound mark in my weight loss journey, it occurred to me that I wanted to become an active person. I wasn’t sure what that really looked like yet, but I could see it on the horizon.

Over the next months, I started exploring that. I began incorporating more walking into my day. I also began dancing again, and I started practicing yoga.

Now, I am a regular with yoga practice and dancing, and I’ve started incorporating some light weight training into my workouts, as well.

After a really great hard workout earlier this week, I realized a few things:

I need to remember that working out relaxes me, clears my mind, and empowers me to take action on real and important things in my life.

This is my holistic approach… work hard to take care of my body with exercise, yoga, and listening to what my body is asking for (usually sleep, rest, and movement, and sometimes food, etc…) and then taking care of my Mind*, with writing, writing, writing…

And really, what I need to focus on is taking care of my body. My body helps me take care of my mind and spirit… it’s NOT the other way around!!! My body knows more than the Busy Mind does… almost always.

If I am too busy moving my body around to loud music that I love, assuredly annoying my neighbors, then my Mind has no room. My Mind simply has to go with the flow…

And then I am clearer, and my Mind has relaxed and let go of the reigns ever so slightly, and I can then think with a clear head, and do whatever needs to be done.

Maybe it was the realization that the more active I keep my body, the more calm my Mind feels… maybe it was the endorphins making me a little loopy. But, on a whim, I saw a friend’s Facebook posting about a 5K run on Sunday, and I decided to sign up, too.

I haven’t run on purpose since the 20-minute mile run back in junior high, when I had to wear ridiculous day-glo orange shorts and a plain white t-shirt, and the gym teacher also didn’t understand that I couldn’t run because of my stupid lungs…

But I have a lot of inspirational friends on my Facebook, and I constantly see them posting about running, biking, and pushing themselves to new limits. I’ve been wanting to run for a long time. I remember loving that feeling when I was a little girl, and I’ve been aching to experience that again.

Finally, I feel like I’m in decent enough shape that it won’t be a lost cause. I might actually be able to do it.

And, as usual, the easy way isn’t how I attack things. If I were going to do the easy way, I would do a program like Couch to 5K. But that’s just not my style.

Instead, I’m just going to dive in.

My goal with this 5K is to finish. Even if I have to walk most of the way, I just want to finish.

Asthma may have stopped me from being active years ago, but it definitely doesn’t stop me anymore. I’m determined to continue exploring and pushing myself to find new and meaningful ways to bring more movement into my life. Movement of my body equals movement of my mind and spirit.

I am thankful for what I have learned so far.

And as for Sunday? Well, we’ll see what I do…

*When I say “Mind”, I don’t mean my actual brain… I mean the parts inside of me that spin… the spinning wheels that keep thoughts constantly whirring, like the sound of an old hard drive spinning (and blowing just about as much hot air, too).

Wordless Wednesday - My New Favorite Song...

2011-08-31T11:08:00.000-05:00

Gary Go - Speak

It's about surrender...

Wordless Wednesday - Family

2011-08-17T10:42:00.000-05:00

Writing for Growth - Starting Tonight!

2011-08-17T07:11:00.002-05:00

I wanted to take a moment to talk about a class that Mark Rogers and I have put together. It's called Writing for Growth, and we are offering the class beginning tonight... Wednesday, August 17th.

Are you a writer who's currently blocked or having trouble pushing through the next stage of your writing?
Have you ever been curious about taking your journal writing deeper, but not sure how or where to start?
Are you into personal growth and looking for a new and more effective way to grow?

Writing for Growth is an exciting prospect, full of possibilities. And to prove it to you, we are beginning this class with a freebie! Join us tonight, August 17th for a free class, to see what you think and see if the techniques provided will work for you.

Check out the three posts Mark has written about how Writing for Growth can help you. And, check out my posts about how passionate I am about this project, and what skills I bring to the table.

Please go to the About page on the website to sign up.

And of course, we have a Facebook page!

Just a note... If you aren't interested, or if you can't participate, but you know someone who would-- please do pass this message along!