I said goodbye to him the minute I found out he’d had a heart attack and was not expected to make it.

I said goodbye when I called his hospital room and asked that the phone be held up to his ear, even though he was not only unconscious, but probably had no brain activity at all.

I said goodbye when I got the call that he had finally died.

I said goodbye when we went to the funeral home to make arrangements for his cremation.

I said goodbye when I called Arlington Cemetery to make the arrangements for his service, which was held two days ago on May 10.

[Speaking of that, there’s something to be said for waiting four months to have such a service. It gave us ample time to plan and so many of my Dad's friends and family were able to attend and it also gave us time to grieve. It was not a tough day. It was full of laughter and some tears, but mostly fantastic memories.]

I said goodbye several times during service. How he would have loved to be there!! Yes, I know he was there, but that’s not what I mean. The weather was perfect, the U.S. Marine Corps Honor Guard was formal, meticulous, and reverent (as if it could be anything but formal, meticulous, and reverent). The 21-gun salute took my breath away. And then a lone bugler played taps.

As Dad’s urn was placed in the designated niche of the columbarium wall, which runs for half a mile parallel to the Potomac River along Route 110 on the eastern edge of the Cemetery, I said goodbye.

Yesterday, as we drove to Reagan National Airport, I realized that we were driving along the other side of the wall and so I called out the window, “Goodbye Dad!”

And then finally, when the plane took off, I looked out the window, in the general direction of Arlington and I whispered, “Goodbye Dad.” Although I have a small keepsake urn with some of his ashes, Arlington is where I’ll think of him being from now on.

There’s no such thing as a perfect beginning, a perfect mother, a perfect daughter, or a perfect life.

As Dr. Northrup puts it:

The bottom line is that “neither the circumstances of our births nor the actions of our mothers have the power to write the script for our lives or to prevent us from taking the unique journey we were meant to take in life. We do that for ourselves, in partnership with our souls.

Today, Dr. Northup invites us to examine our maternal legacy:

As a woman’s health physician, I noticed something long ago: nothing, and I mean nothing, trumps the influence of your mother on all aspects of your life. And regardless of whether your relationship with your mom is thriving or on the rocks, if she is alive or has passed from this life, I want you to think of at least one great thing about your maternal legacy and celebrate it this Mother’s Day.

It got me thinking about something I wrote on this blog a couple of years ago, and which is now a chapter in my book, “AFTER (the before & after)”. I want to share that today, as it is my maternal legacy:

One thing I never wanted this book to be is a place where I bash or blame my parents – or anyone else – for anything.  I don’t consider myself a victim in any sense of the word, but I am fascinated with the mother-daughter dynamic.  I know that relationship can be fraught with unique and intense pain and love at the same time.

So along with realizing I come from a long line of women who may have had a hard time accepting themselves, I wanted to share this…

I attended a women’s networking event where the speaker focused on the writings of Joan Anderson, author of “A Year by the Sea,” and other books.  The idea is that we are all “unfinished women” who generally give way more than we take, and do more for others than for ourselves.  We’re wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, business owners, caretakers, and so on.

This is something to which I’ve never really related.  In fact, sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me because I’m not “stressed out” and I tend to have too much time on my hands.

As I listened to the speaker talk about how women rarely take time for themselves, and how they’re always doing for others, I realized that my mother was an excellent role model for not being one of those women.  Don’t get me wrong:  she was and is a busy woman and she took good care of me.  She also worked either full or part time; went back to college when I was in high school and graduated with high honors; was involved in the community; played bridge with her friends; and had an active life.  But she also took time for herself.  There was never any sense of being a stressed out martyr.  She taught me that it was all about choices.

For my mother, taking time for herself meant traveling, either alone, with her husband, or with friends.  When I was in my early twenties, she saved some money, sold her house, quit her job, and traveled around the world for about a year. Go, Mom!

Along with modeling the idea that women need to take time for themselves, she also instilled in me the confidence to travel any time, anywhere.  I remember flying by myself from Missouri to New York when I was six, and taking a three-hour train trip by myself when I was twelve to visit my dad.  When I got my driver’s license at sixteen, there was no question I’d be able to drive myself anywhere!  There is such freedom in having the confidence to travel, and my mother set me free in that way!

As I said, I used to feel guilty because I’m not one of those women always doing, doing, doing.  But now, I’m much more grateful than guilty.  Thanks, Mom.

I remember the lemon-wedge hard candies she gave me in the sewing room while she was sewing.

I remember being her flower girl.

I remember when she bought me paper dolls to play with when I was sick in bed.

I remember when she took  me out for dinner and a grown-up movie on my 10th birthday.

I remember when she tried to teach me how to play bridge and I hated it.

I remember the day she let me shave my legs for the first time.

I remember the formal Sunday dinners when I really learned my manners, “just in case you ever eat dinner at the White House.”

I remember her forcing me to eat peas and lima beans because there were starving kids in China.

I remember the wooden spoon.

I remember the night I drove home drunk when I was 17 and she grounded me for a month.

I remember when she saved my wedding dress by sewing buttons on the sleeves.

I remember her teaching me to drive…and it drove us both crazy.

I remember that New Year’s Eve, the day after my boyfriend broke up with me, she took me to a party so I wouldn’t have to be alone, and she didn’t expect me to be in a good mood.

I remember when I wanted Lee denim overalls for my birthday and instead she made me a really ugly pair from fabric that was supposed to look like denim, but wasn’t, and I hated them.

I remember when she made my prom dress and I loved it!

I remember the time she made Beef Wellington for Christmas dinner.

I remember when she taught me to body surf in the very cold Maine ocean.

I remember when she yelled at Chris Reefe after he punched me in the nose on the school bus.

I remember all the times we played Scrabble. My friends who play Scrabble with me now curse her for the competitive, strategic streak she instilled in me.

I remember playing Slap Jack with her and laughing hysterically.

I remember my furry stuffed bunny that she made sure I never lost, and if I did, she got me a new one.

I remember the day she gave me the diamond from the engagement ring my father gave her.

I remember the night we had a huge fight and I moved out.

I remember that she tried to teach me to be self-sufficient and in some ways I am, but in others, not so much.

I remember how she finished college, worked full time and took care of two kids and a husband.

I remember that she called me “sweet.”

I remember when she took me to get an abortion, with no judgment and no questions asked.

I remember when she let me watch kittens and puppies being born.

I remember her showing me what prejudice is.

I remember how she encouraged my intellect.

I remember the day she let me take a shower instead of a bath.

I remember the bike she helped me to get with green stamps.

I remember when she said “I may not always like you, but I’ll always love you.”

There are many variations on this theme, but I like the way Viola puts it. I spent so many years being hesitant. I am not always 100% sure of myself now, but I am a lot more sure than I used to be. I find that the more sure I am about myself, the more others are sure about me too. And that feels good.

_____

All those times I thought others didn’t respect me? It was *me* that didn’t respect me…

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I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that I don’t like to be measured. It’s not news as it concerns my weight, but I’m finding that there are other measurements that don’t matter to me: I don’t care how many visitors I get to my website, I prefer not to wear my colored belt (which declares what rank I am) at kickboxing, and, as of right now, I have no idea how many books I’ve sold.

Maybe it’s because if I love doing something, there’s no need to measure it?

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“Will I ever get back what I’ve lost?” ~ a recent Facebook status update from a friend who has been dealing with some health issues, regained some of the weight she lost, and lost some of the (physical) strength she gained.

My response: “You will get something else that is infinitely better…”

And I believe that will all my heart.

_____

Although it doesn’t matter to me (right now) how many books I’ve sold, what does matter is the feedback I’ve been getting. I’ve heard from those who know and love me that they’ve read the book and enjoyed it…and got something out of it, learned something about me they didn’t know, and so on. I expect that much.

What I’ve been wanting and waiting for is feedback from those don’t know and love me. I’m starting to get some and what I really love is to hear that those who’ve read the book feel as if I understand them.

Like this: “why didn’t you tell me you wrote this book for me? Seriously.”

And this: “it’s like she crawled inside my brain and wrote what I was thinking.”

That thrills me more than anything else!

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Do you have any random thoughts to share or comments on any of mine?

I was pleased and honored when Liane Benedict, one of the founders of Walkabout Chronicles, asked me to write a guest post. As she says, “Eventually a crisis develops that awakens us to the realization that we are no longer our true self. It is at this time that we should (must) go on walkabout to get life back in order.” And that is pretty much what I’ve been doing here on my blog.

So please go on over and read my post, entitled The Journey I Was Going To Take.

Source: http://naturallyalise.com/

As I lay awake at 3:30 this morn­ing a thought crossed my mind: I should write a poem on my blog. I quickly dis­missed it, think­ing, I can’t. I can’t focus. It will sound stupid anyway.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it 63 trillion times: it never ceases to amaze me how hormones affect my mood. And even though I KNOW it’s hormones, it doesn’t change how I feel in the moment. I feel nothin’ about nothin’ right now and, as usual, I’m thinking, what if I get stuck this way? But I never do.

_________________________

Inspiration comes when I need it. Joy Tanksley has issued an invitation that was obviously meant for me: write a poem. She even provides a prompt (which certainly helped me, but I didn’t follow it exactly, and that is okay). Go check it out.

And so, without further ado, my poem:

Karen-ness

Unsure sometimes but sure

Who loves paradox

Who feels deeply, universally, everything

Who gives everything and nothing

Who fears nothing or everything

Who seeks her own truth

Both/and not either/or

This is the essence of Karen

I used to write poetry (and I drew a lot too!) when I was in college and in my early 20s. Over time, I somehow let go of that ability. Actually, no, that is not the case. What happened is that I stopped believing that I could do it well enough. Enough for what? Or maybe it’s more like I stopped believing that I could do it as well as (or better than) others so why bother? I have to believe that this is common…that when we’re children (or in my later-bloomer case, when we’re in our late teens or early 20s), if we want to write a poem or draw a picture, we just do it and we don’t care if it’s better than or enough. We do it just because we want to.

It feels good to have written a poem, just because I wanted to.

Did you know that April is National Poetry Month? Have you ever written a poem? Do you hold yourself back from more artistic endeavors thinking that you won’t be good enough, or as good as others?

“Nothing others do is because of you.” ~ from The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz

A while back someone said to me: “It’s all about YOU!” There was a litany of other accusations and a final statement about being concerned about what I had become.

It brought me to my knees…knocked the breath out of me. I cried. Hard. I was confused, sad, and certainly a little defensive. Was this person right? My first inclination was to counter, point by point, each accusation. As I started to do so, I felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and “why bother?” I realized that nothing would change as a result. Responding in that way would keep me stuck in a life-long and destructive pattern.

I let it set a spell (thanks Tim) and the next day responded that, based on what had been said, I preferred that this person not contact me. Two days later my father died.

Even though I have asked this person not to be in contact with me, not a day goes by that I don’t think of this person.

The other day Hanlie, who writes Ordinary Abundance (my lessons in having enough and being enough), included the entirety of Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s poem, The Invitation. You can read her post about it here.

These lines jumped out at me: “…I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul…”

And I thought to myself, “yes, I can.”

I thought back to what happened. In hindsight I sense that this person was/is disappointed in me and certainly felt/feels betrayed by me. From my perspective, it’s because I was making an effort to be true to myself and not to betray my own soul.

This blog, and my book, ARE all about me. And that’s okay. That’s as it should be, no? It’s one way in which I practice self-acceptance. It’s about exploring my truth. Not anyone else’s.

I get that some people think this is “selfish” (I use quotes to indicate the commonly accepted negative definition of selfish – greedy and self-serving at the expense of others).

Recently Kendra Sebelius, who writes a blog called A Voice In Recovery and who is an active advocate for anyone struggling with an eating disorder, started a movement that I can get behind: Stop Self Hate.

Her passion for her message, which, on the one hand, is all about her, got me thinking, once again, about how…really…it’s also about all of us. It demonstrates just how powerful and un-“selfish” self-love is.

Because when you hate yourself, it doesn’t just harm you, it harms those around you. I know that first hand. When I actively hated myself, I came close to ruining some of the most important relationships in my life.

When I was in self-hate mode, I:

- tended to be overly critical of others

- was often angry and reactive

- didn’t think before I spoke

- enjoyed gossiping and putting down others

- abused myself with food

Now that I have stopped the self-hate, I am much more accepting of others, I am certainly happier, I tend to let it sit a spell before acting, I try and think more before I speak, and I prefer to help others, not tear them down. Am I always successful? No way.

And so I am trying to fit what happened with this particular person into this paradigm: am I still in self-hate mode as it regards this person? Is this why I haven’t yet been able to heal the relationship? I’m not sure.

One thing I do know for sure..it IS all about me…and it’s about you too.

Last week Carla over at MizFitOnline invited me to write  a guest post about about my book – AFTER (the before & after) – for her readers…and to give one away! And so without further ado, the winner is…..

Pretty Pauline, who writes Pushin’ Through The Pain!

When I heard about the word for this month’s Self-Discovery, Word by Word (hosted by the lovely Mara Glatzel at Medicinal Marzipan), I knew I wouldn’t be able to let this one pass me by.

This month’s word is CHANGE.

In and of itself, I am not averse to change. In fact, I rather like it. I like to change my clothes. I like to change my mind. I like a change of scenery. I like to change things up. I feel stagnant if I can’t change things around once in a while.

But I also like certain things to stay the same. I don’t want to change my husband, I don’t want to change my family. I don’t want to change my friends. I am also finding, as I get older, that I like my routines. As much as I love to travel, I prefer my own bed and to eat my own predictable food.

It’s only been in the past couple of years that I have come to understand change in a different way…specifically as it concerns who I am mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I used to think that happiness would only come when I changed myself sufficiently enough to be thinner, richer, healthier, more successful…you get the picture. I didn’t view those things as being possible without significant change.

Then I learned about the paradoxical theory of change, which states: change occurs when we become what we are, not when we try to become what we are not. Change does not take place through coercion, either by ourselves or by someone else trying to change us, but it does take place if we take the time and effort to be what we are – to be fully invested in our current positions. By rejecting the role of change agent, we make meaningful and orderly change possible (paraphrased from Arnold Beisser, M.D., from The Gestalt Therapy Page)

So far, this has proven itself time and again in my life: the most significant and lasting changes I’ve made have come NOT from trying to change – they have come from being at peace with myself.

“We cannot change anything until we accept it.
Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.”
~ Carl Jung

Does this resonate with you? How do you feel about change? What has been the most effective method of change for you?

Guess what? I haven’t exercised consistently in over two months and the world has not come to end!! Nor have I gained weight (well, at least none that I can detect via my waist measurement or by the way my clothes fit). In fact, I think I may have even lost some weight.

I chalk it up to the fact that food and I have an excellent relationship. It doesn’t control me and I don’t need to control it. I’ve been eating less because I need less. Add to that all the nervous/excited energy that I’ve been expending: new book, new grandson, new experiences all around! I’ve probably lost a little ground strength-wise and muscle tone-wise, but overall, I feel great and I know that I will be able to make up that lost ground quickly!

I continue with my physical therapy for my shoulder (which is much better) and my elbow (which is better but not where I need it to be), I take walks, I’ve swung and snatched my kettlebells a time or two, I’ve danced a little bit, and I (mostly) do my yoga two or three times a week. But this is nothing compared to the regimen I used to maintain. As the days get longer and warmer, I am looking forward to getting outside with my kettlebells on a more regular basis, not to mention the fact that I am going to participate in the 2011 Walk Across Southeastern Connecticut in October to support the Terri Brodeur Breast Cancer Foundation…so I need to start walking more.

In other news, I saw both my naturopath and my “anti-aging” doc (the hormone guy…I keep telling him he should use the term “pro-youth” instead) a couple of weeks ago and my cholesterol numbers continue to improve without the use of a statin drug! My other important numbers are continuing to improve, as well.

This is what it means (to me) to have a body in balance.

What does your body look/feel like when it’s in balance?

Related posts:

Catching Myself Sooner

I Accept It

Are you tired of your self worth being tied to the number on the scale?

Do you want to stop the cycle of bingeing and dieting?

Do you long for a life without guilt, shame and deprivation?

The answers to these and other questions are the subject of panel discussion I am participating in at Fitbloggin’ 11!

With the event just about  a month away, I wanted to provide some information about what we’ll be doing there. Christie Inge of Nourishing Circle (holistic health practitioner and intuitive living expert), Shauna Reid (author of “The Amazing Adventures of Diet Girl”), Katie Heddleston of Healthy Heddleston (registered dietician and consultant) and myself will be hosting a panel discussion called Ditch the Diet: Eat Intuitively (click on over and let us know what you think).

• What is intuitive eating?
• “Does it Work?” — panelist share their experiences.
• Why and how has the diet mentality become the norm?
• Discuss the role of self-acceptance.
• What are the challenges of intuitive eating?

The Ditch The Diet panel discussion is scheduled for Saturday, May 21, from 10:45 a.m. to 12:00 noon.

Copies of my book, AFTER (the before & after) will be available for sale! Hope to see  you there!