Giving Back: Part of My Wellness Routine

Ever since I was a little kid I've been a morning person.  "Rise and shine! Its wake up time!" was my dad's mantra in the morning.  If my brothers and I weren't up and dressed by 9 am on a Saturday, my dad would get after us to dress.  We were wasting the day if we weren't "up and at 'em."  As a result, I'm usually up between 5 and 6 am, depending upon my exercise routine, and I'm dressed and in my office by 8:30.  If I don't get my exercise done in the morning, I'm not likely to do it later in the day.  Yesterday was one of those days where the day got away from me, and I was faced with the dilemma to exercise or not to exercise.  That was the question.  I exercised....well, tried to anyway.

At 5:30 in the afternoon, I stepped outside of the back door, without falling I might add, and decided it was way to beautiful outside to go to the gym.  Instead, I would walk a couple of miles around town and be back by 6:15 in time to feed the pups.  It was a well laid out plan, and I looked forward to my brisk walk.

I was a quarter mile into my walk when a local restaurant employee stopped me to say hello.  The next thing I knew he was pouring his heart out about his childhood, his mom, brother and his life now.  Instead of getting inpatient about "my" stuff (my walk, timeline, cardio routine), I listened with intent.  In other words, I was there...really there and listened.  In the end, I hugged the man and went off to continue my walk.

Down by the water front, the sun was shining brightly and the breeze was blowing in way that made me wish I  had long flowing hair like the Clairol ladies on the TV commercials.  For the first time in a long time, I noticed the plethora of really good looking men on the River Walk.  Yay!  Just as I was admiring the scenery, I looked up to see a tall, handsome, blonde man.  I've always had a thing for tall, blue eyed blondes.  The man stopped, said hello and gave me a big hug.  It was Todd, the man who sold us our first house in the Wilmington area.  After we caught up for a bit, I continued on my way; all the while I practiced my MBSR and was in the moment.

As I passed The George restaurant, I listened to the duo guitar players on the deck.  When they finished their song I was the only one who clapped and appreciated their music.  We exchanged contact information, and I offered to help them get a YouTube channel up and running for them and continued my walk. By the time I finished with the musicians, I was only half way done with my walk.  Oh, well.  It was nice to enjoy the weather and the people.

On my final approach into town and back home, I stumbled upon a group of young people performing dance and puppetry on the sidewalk.  When the young women asked me for a donation I literally had not one cent on me, but I stopped to listen to what they were doing.  It was a company called Messenger Productions Universal Records, and for nine weeks out of the year they stop production and donate their time, money and resources to provide a Summer Dance Camp for kids in the area.  It's free, and the only thing the parents need to provide is a bag lunch for their kids.  It's a place to learn dance, puppetry, exercise, and they even work with the kids to help with academic improvement.  Immediately, this struck a chord with me, because this is what I  am trying to do with Chow Bella Cooks for Kids...a place for kids to go after school to learn cooking, arts, crafts and improve their academic skills.  In other words, to help keep the kids off the streets in the summer and after school and give them a safe and nurturing place to learn great skills. The women and I exchanged contact information, and I have a check going out to support them today.

By the time I walked through the back door it was nearly 7 o'clock.  Max was furious, as he had not had is five o'clock meal on time!  He gave me a few strong "woo woo's!"

Yesterday I was feeling a little down and unfulfilled in my life.  I was feeling like I hadn't helped anyone, contributed to the community or focused on anything else but myself lately.  However, after my evening walk, I felt re-energized and part of life once again.

Many of my friends are Tri-athletes, "Mudders," Ironmen, marathoners etc., and I commend them.  It's great to have a hobby and give so much to one's self.  I guess I need a little more balance in my life, and if I was on a hard core training session yesterday and got de-railed, it may have pushed me over the edge.  Instead, I came home much happier than I did after I completed a 15 mile run.  Just as much as exercise, a good diet, and fun at work are important to my well being, so is being part of the community and giving back.  

Pi and a Rainy Day to Soothe My Soul

Nothing is better than a rainy Monday morning.  Of course, it doesn't do much for motivating me to get out of bed and to the 5:30 cycling class. But a rainy morning does something to really soothe my soul.

Over the past few months, I've had abdominal surgery, my mom passed away (family drama included); I was promoted at work and went from managing five people to managing 15.  Needless to say, it's been challenging, but I just move through the adjustments with ease.  Most people experience one of these three life changes one at a time.  However, looking back on my life I seem to handle things like this in clusters.

In 1987, I was married and had a new job; in 1989 I had another new job, a pregnancy and miscarriage.  In 1992 my marriage ended, I was fired from my job because I wouldn't sleep with the boss, and I lost my dear friend, George, to lung cancer.  Within a year in 1993-1994, I had a new home, new job, pregnancy, miscarriage, and marriage.  Whew.  So, I guess it's true that God doesn't give me more than I can handle.
So, why should 2013 be any different?

Last night I finally watched the critically acclaimed film, Life of Pi.  I bought the DVD yesterday morning in order to try out our new, gigantic, 3D television with Blu-ray. Although I didn't know anything about the film, I did hear that it was a film to watch on the big screen or on Blu-ray.  Well, since I'm not much of a movie goer, theater viewing in my home was in order.

As soon as the film started, I was drawn in by the cinematography, but what caught my attention was when the character, Pi, told the person interviewing him that he found God on his journey, and by the end of his story the interviewer would either believe there is a God or not.  Hmmmm....I looked over at Chow Fella and wondered if he was going to tell me to switch to another movie.  We kept watching the film.

The story takes us on Pi's fantastic journey that tests his strength and faith. In the end, God gives him all he can take but no more.  When I went up to bed the film weighed heavy on my mind; I felt sad, conflicted, yet inspired.

When I awoke this morning my leg felt much better, and I couldn't use my "boo boo" knee as an excuse to blow off the gym (I took a spill down our back steps Saturday afternoon). However, I decided to do another type of exercise and take care of my heart and soul this morning.

Even before I watched Life of Pi last night, I have made some decisions and positive adjustments for myself over the past few weeks.  The movie just helped inspire me to keep improving my life and stay on track with my positive adjustments.

It may be a rainy day outside, but inside my heart, soul and spirit are shining bright.  

Missing Mom: It Hits Me At The Darnedest Times

Today is my first Mother's Day without my Mom.  For some reason, I thought today would weigh heavy on my mind and I would have a complete breakdown, but the day hasn't hit me like that at all.  In fact, missing my mom comes to me at the oddest times.  Below are just a few of the situations in which I've found myself missing my mom the most.

The grocery store:

Growing up, it seemed Mom went to the market every single day.  As kids, we would call "front seat" of the car, but whoever was oldest usually got to sit with Mom in the front seat.  At the grocery store, Mom knew all of the check out people and the workers behind each counter.  However, Mom was most fond of the mentally challenged kid who collected the carts in the parking lot.  Even in Mom's later years she would go to the market every day.  Mom would tell me about all of the workers and how the kid in the parking lot would smile at her, because she talked to him like she talked to everyone else.  She made him feel special and like everyone else.  Mom would tell me she found solace in her daily trips to the market in order to get away from the daily routine of her life and she treasured those trips.

Today I as go to the market I am reminded of my Mom.  As soon as I enter the Harris Teeter, the manager, Steve, greets me with a big hello.  Everyone from the deli counter clerk to the people at the register greets me and knows me. I am my mother...the only thing missing is the kid in the parking lot who collects the carts.  

Pilates class:

When I was going for my Pilates certification I introduced my mom to Pilates, or as Mom called it: Pilate (no "s").  Mom was really diligent at her Pilate practice and would boast to me how tall and straight her spine was.  "Mrs. Barker, at church, commented on how good I look and how straight and tall I stand!  I told her it is all Pilate!"  Not wanting to hurt Mom's feelings, I never corrected her Pilate (with an "s").  

When I moved to North Carolina and began teaching classes at our local club house Mom would come to visit me.  She was the star of my class and a great example of how Pilate was good for people of any age (Mom was about 73 at the time).  Mom did great and took pride in doing everything perfectly.  In one class, I demonstrated "rolling like a ball."  Not knowing Mom had not practiced this move, I asked her to do it.  She was clearly frustrated with me and not being able to the move absolutely perfectly, she gave me a cross look.  Mom turned to the class and explained it was the first time she had done this move.  I felt badly about introducing the move and would have never done that had I known it would have caused her frustration.  But that was Mom...she wanted to do everything to perfection.  The apple did not fall far from the tree.

In Pilate(s) class last week, I finished my private lesson and burst into tears.  My instructor and friend, Jenny, hugged me and let me know it was okay.  Pilate, go figure.  Like I said, it hits me at the darnedest times.  

Yesterday, Chow Fella and I visited our friend, Liz, in the nursing home/rehab center.  As we walked down the halls, I realized it was the same exact configuration, color scheme and set up as the facility Mom was in when she died.  Like a giant wave crashing over me, all sorts of feelings came flooding back from the last time I saw Mom.  I never have been one for hospitals and nursing homes, but I mustered up everything I had and continued down the hall to Liz's room. When we left the nursing home Chow Fella turned to me and said, "Good job, Sweetie. You did great."  Without saying anything, he knew just how I was feeling.  

This morning I awoke to an arrangement of some of my favorite things from Max, Winnie, Jack, Nomey, and Mia (via Chow Fella).  He knows just what to do to cheer me up.  I'll also visit Liz today, since her family is unable to visit for Mother's Day.  Mom would do the same thing.  For Mother's Day and always, I am my mother's daughter.

Happy Mother's Day.

The Passing Of An Old Friend: Another Nudge Forward

There's nothing like hearing from an old boyfriend (from over 30 years ago) that your mother and brother insisted he was the man hiding behind our rec room couch in the buff back in 1981.  I'm sure this conversation with this former boyfriend took place in the parking lot of the local Stop & Shop where my mother visited daily.  After so many years, I could feel my face turn beet red as I read my private message.  Is nothing sacred!?  Little did Mom and my brother know, he was not the man in the buff.  It was his good friend, Bill.

Yesterday, I learned that Bill had passed away about 10 years ago after a long battle with cancer.  Although I hadn't seen Bill in over 20 years, I felt very sad to hear of his passing.  Bill was not only my first real boyfriend, but he was "my first."  Oh, my first time wasn't anything special or romantic.  In fact, it was probably one of the most unromantic experiences of my life.

In my mind, my first experience was going to be a romantic, deep and moving experience; I couldn't wait to get to his school and see Bill and stay over at his frat house.  With a brand new diaphragm in hand, I drove 15 hours to his college.  When I got there I was in desperate need of a shower and some sleep.  Bill, however, had other plans and whisked me off to his room where the Brothers had converted a closet into a "room" for him.  If I had fallen out of bed, the door would have literally stopped me from falling to the floor.

I won't go into details, as it's not nice to speak ill of the dead.  Suffice it to say, if it hadn't been for my friend, Ann, who insisted sex was the "BEST THING IN THE WORLD!," I would have never, ever had sex again in my life!

The ride home from his school was a long and cold one, because we argued about something (I can't remember, as the indelible mark from the night before was probably short circuiting my brain).  We didn't speak to one another during the entire 9 hour trip home to New Jersey for Thanksgiving break.

Bill and I never did really get back together, but we did reconcile.  The last time I saw him was probably in the early 1990's at the local gym. He moved away, and the last I heard of him was from my friend yesterday.

Learning about Bill's passing made me think of all of the other people who have touched my life in some way.  I wondered if they were okay, and if there was anyone with whom I needed to reconcile.

In the past year, I have reconciled with some people I had eliminated from my life or who eliminated me.  I have forgiven and have been forgiven, and it makes me feel good that we were able to resolve our issues and put the past behind us.  Although the some of the relationships are in need of repair, we are on the road to recovery.

Recently, a friend of mine asked my advice about how to go about reconciling with a friend with whom he had a falling out.  I'm not a therapist, but for me I started with forgiveness.  I had to forgive myself for what I had done, before I apologized and asked for forgiveness from others.  I still have some work to do with forgiving and being forgiven and learning about Bill's passing just gave me another little nudge forward.

Thanks, Bill.  I hope you're having fun.  I'm sure my mother has greeted you by now and knows YOU were the naked man behind the couch!

Living My Truth

Every once in a while a thought or memory hits me like a ton of bricks, and yesterday contained one of those moments.  During my massage yesterday, I had a flashback to my former massage therapist in NJ.  Her name was Annie, and I had received massages from her for over 13 years.  She was intuitive and a kind, gentle and genuine person.  My friend, Ed, and I used to call her "killer."  Oh, yes, there's the old joke, "because she slays me," but "killer" had nothing to do with that..it was because Annie would get right down into where the knots were killing us, work them, and we would come out bruised and better for it.  Often times, I didn't have a relaxing massage; it was more like torture.  In the end, however, my body received what it needed; a great, relaxing massage.

My friend, Ed, started to see Annie for massage back in the late 90's.  They didn't know it, but they had known one another in an earlier life.  For some reason, I knew introducing them was the right thing to do even though Ed was married. Nothing "bad" or "wrong" ever happened between Annie and Ed, but there was definitely chemistry between the two of them.

Ed had been our veterinarian for several years, until retiring at the age of 50.  He and his wife seemed to have it all:  a palatial home in New Jersey, two handsome boys, fancy cars, a home in the Caribbean, and a booming business outside of the veterinary hospital, and the profits from selling the hospital.  On the surface, they had it all.

Three days before Ed died he and I had lunch together.  Ed told me how unhappy he was with his life.  He was not in love with his wife, and his wife was not in love with him. His children were in high school and ready to leave the nest, and he was telling me how unfulfilled his life had been.   As I sat across from Ed, I told him he was in control of his life. I pointed out all of the abundance he had in his life and all that he had accomplished.  I told him that all he had to do was look at things in a different perspective.  I asked him why he just didn't leave his wife and get on with life with the person I knew should be with (and so did he).  Ed looked at me, and with a mouth full of pizza, told me, "Susie-Q, you just don't know.  You are so naive....it's not that simple...there's lots of money involved.  It's complicated, and you just don't understand."

Stunned, I just stared at Ed in astonishment.  How could anyone let money control them so much?  How could anyone let money dictate their happiness?  I just didn't understand.  I told him to leave his wife and get on with his life with Annie.   Ed scoffed at me, and became belligerent, and I backed off from the subject.

For the next few days, it pained me to think that Ed would rather be "stuck" in an unhappy life than move on to a happy life, but it wasn't my call or my life.  I needed to butt out, and I did.

Several days later I stopped into the veterinary hospital, and I joked with the staff about needing Amoxacillin for "Amoxa Molly (our mini schnauzer, Molly)."  Molly was in constant need of medical care, and the Amoxacillian was among the newest of the litany of drugs.  Our new vet came out and said, "Sue, haven't you heard? "  The entire staff stopped and stared at me.  Right then and there I knew something bad had happened.

The new veterinarian brought me into his private office and proceeded to tell me that Ed had shot himself with a shotgun full of buckshot that morning.  All I remember was falling to my knees and crying.  How could I have missed his cry for help?  The burden of Ed's suicide was clicking through my head.  I could see how all of the pieces fit together, but why didn't I see them at the time?  How could I have been so blind?

At the funeral, Annie and I sat in the very back of the church.  Ed's wife and her new beau sat right up front in a public display of despicable affection.  Annie and I decided to skip the re pass and head to the grave site even though the headstone had not yet been delivered.  We wished Ed a  farewell, and Annie placed some massage oil on his grave; I placed a small miniature schnauzer figurine on the ground. The last time I checked the figurine was still there.

For the life of me, I will never understand why Ed would want to take his own life instead of telling his wife the truth.  I'll never understand why he couldn't live his truth and run away with Annie and live happily ever after.  It took me years to get over the fact that may have been able to do something to prevent Ed's death. The fact of the matter is I couldn't have prevented his suicide.  Ed had his mind made up at our lunch, and I just didn't know it.  Our lunch was his way of saying good-bye.

I still think about Ed, and I still yell at him, too. The memory of Ed's death still haunts me, and no matter how hard I try I will still think of Ed and other people I'll never be able to help. I have to let it go and realize it is not my responsibility, and I cannot help everyone with whom I come in contact.  The best I can do is be a good friend and try my best to be there for that friend.

After a negative dump from one of my sales guys, he asked how our meeting went, and I said, "You're bumming me out."  My apologies if I am "bumming you out" tonight.  The fact of the matter is that my blog is about being positive and about living my truth.  My truth is that I am not perfect, and I suppose that's the positive way of looking at things...I am human.  I would like to be able to help everyone with whom I come in contact, but I can't.  I would have loved to have helped Ed, but I couldn't.  He, like all of us, have free will., and with free will we live our lives.  I can only do what I can do and live my life and be true.

My Bursting Happy Heart

It's Friday night, and I'm sitting in the San Francisco Airport Marriott overlooking San Francisco Bay.  As I enjoy my glass of "non-filtered wine" and my view, my thoughts wander to the events of the past week.  I realize, for the first time in a long time, I'm the happiest I have been in several years.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I haven't been unhappy in the past six or seven years, I just feel happier than the happiest times of my life.

In 1998, all was right in the world.  I had a fun and fullfiling career, my love life was in full bloom, and all was right in the world.  The only thing that was keeping me awake at night was the fear that if I enjoyed myself too much and all was too right in the world. My fear was that it would all go away, and I would be left with disaster and despair; emptiness and longing.  Fear of having and enjoying a good life was paralyzing me.

Part of my paralysis was the thought that I didn't deserve to be happy or have a happy life.  Another part of me thought that if I enjoyed my life too much I would be punished by all of it going away.  Then it struck me. So what.  So what if my house, my cars, my money, my shoes, my THINGS went away.  So what? I could and would always make more money; that wasn't the issue.  However, if my relationships (my lovey, my friends, my family) went away, now that was a different story.

My life is not extrodinary, but it is fun and loving. If my heart is bursting with compassion and love (like I am feeling tonight), I have succeeeded in my life.  Who cares if I have a big or small, expensive or inexpensive home? So what if I am the King Shit at work or not?  Who cares if perceive myself to the smartest person in the room.? Who really cares about that?  Who gives a rat's ass if I know blah, blah, blah or so and so or am connected to whogeeeba?  It's not about the car, the place, the position, the prestige or being seen.  It's about love, kindness, happiness and being true to myself.

In the last few years, I didn't think it was possible to feel as good as feel today. My heart is bursting with love. And as I fly home on the red eye tonight, I will wish for my hear to break wide open and share love, happiness and compassion throughout the universe.

Namaste.

Ours Is Not To Reason Why...

Well, my weekend retreat to learn about Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction took a little bit of a detour yesterday.  On Saturday night when I returned home, the sore throat that I felt during one of the meditations was in full bloom.  It was not going to be an allergy attack after all.  It was going to be a full blow head cold.  Using the skills we practiced on Friday night and Saturday, I approached my sore throat with "interest, curiosity, and compassion."  I accepted I was sick, took my Tylenol, and knowing I had to travel this week, I decided to stay home and care for myself yesterday.  

Self-care is something I value for myself, and when my body tells me to rest I do.  For some reason, this part of being mindful is not difficult for me.  It's a "no-brainer" for me to say, "Hey, I have a little head cold.  I don't want to get REALLY sick, so I'll take it easy today, putter around the house, rest and just be.  I suppose not having children is a big part of WHY I can do this, and the other part is knowing I don't have to attend the workshop.  Ah, choices.  The choice to not put that extra stress upon myself and feel even worse at the end of the day.

During my day of rest, I did break out the worksheets our MBSR leader gave us and read over the text.  Although there is always room for improvement, I felt I had a pretty good grasp on "Mindfulness," being in the moment, being kind to myself and my stress levels are certainly not what they used to be.  

One of the things I did learn about myself was that I like to make up stories about what might happen, why it's happening, and what is the reason for what’s happening. For instance, instead of just accepting I'm stuck in traffic, I have a tendency to rationalize it with, "Everything happens for a reason."  I could be in a car wreck or I'm supposed to be late for my appointment, because the office building is going to be under attack at 9:30...precisely the time of my meeting!  Our instructor told me this was not good, and that is adds stress instead of calming my mind.  I'm paraphrasing, of course, but you get the idea.

I felt a little badly about my stories causing stress...there I go again...causing stress about causing stress for myself!  No stories, huh?  I’m supposed to just accept and be there in the moment and meditate?  Okay, but somewhere in the recesses of my mind I like to think there’s a greater reason, mystery or complexity of WHY things are happening. 

Why?  “Why,” was my favorite word when I was a little kid, so I'm told.  It probably it still up there with the other “W” words, too.  “Why” was plaguing me all day.  Why is it bad to rationalize what’s happening?  Why is it bad to make up stories?  What (another of my top “W” words) if I am the heroine and save dozens of people from a burning car (the accident that happened and that I missed, because my flight was delayed).  Why?  Why? WHY?!

I felt like the little girl in the ATT commercial about “More.”  She is desperate for more.  As she sits on floor, holding her legs and stress of, “I want more.  I want more!” I can feel her yearning for more.  I felt the same way…I wanted to know WHY!?  Why are my fantasies so bad?  Why?  Why?! Now, THIS was causing me stress!

Today I embark on a weeklong business trip, and I will try to approach each stressful situation with “interest, curiosity and compassion.”  I will do my best to accept things for what they are and just be in the moment.  I will try to be mindful in my practice of life, from flight delays, traffic and eating my meals.  However, if my mind starts to wander, and I can get a good story out of it, I may just have to surrender and accept that my mind is wandering and approach the situation with intense interest, curiosity and acceptance.  Got it.