Royal Fever? or Can I please be allowed to like pop music?

87/100

Okay I know... 3 posts in 3 days, right? *laughter*. This one is going to be short. I am just getting over my case of royal wedding fever. I am. I admit it. And I'm tired of other people feeling they need to (excuse the language) pee on my parade. I heard some people talking about how horrible this whole "royal wedding" fiasco is on Friday when I was in my office. I wasn't part of the conversation so I just listened. They went on and on about how much money it cost and how a small island in Fiji could have lived off that money for 10 years (okay I *might* be making that part up) and how we fought to get away from England, why should we give a damn about a stupid wedding??? What about the tornadoes? What about Don Trump? What about the starving children in Ethopia (okay I might be fibbing about that part as well)...

Um. At first I was embarrassed. I was quietly watching the ceremony on a break during my classes. I was practically in tears watching William turn to Kate at the altar and tell her she was beautiful. I held my breath when they kissed on the balcony. YES I DID! AND I am not ashamed.

You know what? I *love* romance. It's taken me WAY too long to admit that and I am not sticking it back in the closet because someone might think that makes me shallow. And for ONE day, I am going to be okay with princesses and princes and pomp and circumstance. And tradition. And I am going to marvel at the human being and the things that make us tick. I am going to marvel at the intricateness of being human.

The thing is, I look at that wedding with hope. Say what you will about the royals, I believe Diana made a difference in this world, and I believe Kate and William will follow in her footsteps. But setting that aside? For just one day, can't I believe in love? And romance? Can't I look at her dress and hold my breath at how beautiful and happy she looked? And grin about how beautiful her sister looked and wonder if it is *ever* a good idea to let your bridesmaids wear white? *smile* I want to laugh at the silly hats Fergie's kids wore. I want to get caught up in the whole damn princess drama. And, for one day? Yes, I'd like to forget about the tornadoes. And death. And starving people. And misery. For one day? I want to wash myself in hope and happiness and laughter. I want to watch that wedding over and over and smile *EVERY* SINGLE time.

Honestly? I already feel that joy fading a bit. I turned off the tv to clean today. But? I bought the new CD Shout it Out by Hanson for that fresh injection of pop silliness and happiness and it seems to be doing the trick. Cleaning today is actually fun as I dance around the house doing laundry and riding the end of the wedding joy to silly pop music :). I'm just in an incredibly delicious mood!

So yes... if you don't care about the wedding, okay. I respect that. Can you maybe return that favor? Can you maybe let me enjoy it and not roll your eyes at me or think I don't give a damn about the world? Because I do. And after a steady diet of Donald Trump and tornadoes and misery? I need a break.

Peace (and hope!)

MaryKate

I want to be Elaine...

86/100

I had a couple of experiences this week that made me deeply wish I was Elaine. You know... in Seinfeld? She and Jerry had a lusty romance, decided they weren't really meant for each other, so ended up being 'buddies' and spending all their spare time with each other (well when they weren't dating someone else) and on occasion, sleeping with each other, no strings attached.

I want to be Elaine.

I was talking to my friend A. about it today. I was telling him what had upset me this week and that I was feeling frustrated with myself about the situation. Essentially, I had the opportunity to spend some time with an ex. Actually, two different occasions to 'hang out' with men I had once been in a deeply committed relationship with. Men that at one time I had surely been friends with before being romantically connected. A. told me a story of a woman he had been involved with that took him 20 years before he could be 'buddies' with her. He said they are lovely friends today, but it took a long time.

The thing is? It apparently is only taking ME time. The other men in the situation have already moved on and I feel like I am left sitting in this situation where I am 'not' okay. I am 'not' ready to 'hang out'. I am not ready to be buddies. I am not ready to see them all cuddly with their new partners. And I keep asking myself what's wrong with me that I can't do this.

A. was kind enough to say to me today, that he thought that it might be that the less invested in the relationship one is, the easier it is to move on from. At first it made me smile to think that. To think that I just feel things deeply. Then I thought... hold on. What does that say about the people I choose to be involved with?

I want to be Elaine.

I want to be able to salvage a friendship from a defunct relationship. If I was once friends with someone, and we get romantically involved, and the romance doesn't work... shouldn't I be able to return to the friendship space? So far in my life, that has not happened. I mean I still 'chat' with some people I used to be involved with, and that is nice... but I'm not sure I'd say we were 'buddies'... most of those people live on the other side of the country or in another country entirely. That makes it tremendously easy to simply chat online or whatever...

Is it simply that men have an easier time of it than women? My friend D says that men tend to put things in their minds in filing cabinets. Once they are done with the drawer they simply close it and move on to the next drawer.

I don't know. What I know is that right now? I'm still not Elaine. And I wonder, what is more healthy... taking time to process how I am feeling, or to just get over it and move on?

Peace,
Marykate

The Mystery of it All...
85/100

About eight years ago, I gave up believing in magic and mystery. I put those ideas away like the dreamings of little girls. I chided myself for ever thinking that sort of thing existed in the first place. I determined growing up was necessary and that meant giving up the belief in magic. Or more... giving up the possibility of magic.. of mystery. Of the Great Mystery.

I found myself getting involved with people who were also convinced that there was no great mystery. There was no god. There was death. The end. And even though a great part of me screamed out in sadness... I shoved it away behind my walls and plodded along with my 'there is no god' relationships.

But it didn't last. It couldn't. Because I do believe in something more. I realize, for me? There is no real way to know what the 'something more' means, but I believe in that connection that ties all things together. That thread that weaves and connects the story. That strand of spirit that travels back to the very beginnings and reminds us there is more.

I do not claim to know what that 'something more' is. And I do not feel the need to convince those that don't see it that way, that there is, in fact, a god. I think that is something you find on your own. You are led to that awareness. You are compelled by it. At least, that is the way it worked in my life.

But I know? I will not be without it again. And in a partner? I am not sure I can connect with someone who doesn't see it. Yes, those who do not believe are compassionate. They are kind. They are loving. One of my friends who is certain there is nothing but death, is one of the most giving, honest, trustworthy and humanitarian people I know.

But just like I realize that setting the bar on McDreamy is something I am ready to seek in my life, I also realize that although I can enjoy, befriend, laugh and love someone who is sure there is no god... I do not want to partner with someone who has that belief. Because shared connection? Is magic. A shared belief in the interconnectedness of life, of some sort of divinity that ties it all together? Is part of the Great Mystery and it is who I am. When I look at someone? I want to see that shared truth. We all have our own truth. Truth doesn't have to manifest itself the same in a partner as it manifests itself for me, but I desire a partner who connects to that space in me. Because that space is important.

And while I do not know that I can bring myself back to a structured and rigid set of beliefs, I know that the wall of defense I built that kept me away from my spirit is crumbling. I know that part of why my past relationships didn't work, is because I chose men who refused to believe in any connection to Divinity. Who had no belief in Grace. Who didn't see the world as magical or mystical.  And at the time? That worked for me because I had my own issues with Grace and Divinity. These guys were scifi guys, or gameplaying guys, or comic book guys or myth-loving guys... but that is where their connection to something outside of themselves ended. They would say "there is no god" and I would concur or at least act demure.

I do not claim to have answers. I realize thinking that I somehow 'know' who/what God is for myself (and especially for someone else) is laughable. Part of the Great Mystery is that I do not know. I suppose that is what makes it faith. But I know I have a connection to that energy. And I cherish that energy and that connection. It is who I am. It is important. And it is worth seeking in myself and in a partner.

Part of my being healthy is being open to divinity and trusting the way I hear and feel god in my life. To trust in those feelings of magic and mystery is the first step in seeing myself and my connection to all there is. How that experience manifests itself? I am open to exploring. Even if that means in order to find the type of partner I seek I must let go of potential relationships to hold out for someone with whom I can share that exploration.

Peace,

MaryKate

The Tao of Brisket

84/100

Sooo... this weekend I was going to clean my house. Top to bottom I had it all planned. It's Sunday right now and my house is a *bigger*disaster than before I started on Friday. I spilled brisket broth all over my kitchen. If you don't know? Brisket broth is mostly fat... I've been cleaning up grease now for 20 minutes and it isn't even 9am.

I was pissed about the brisket anyhow. Stupid 20lb brisket was WAAY more brisket than I needed. I had promised someone I'd make brisket in exchange for Windows 7 and *maybe* the new Office Suite software. The only brisket available without going all over town was a 20lb brisket. I was irritated that I couldn't even fit the stupid thing on the grill. So I cut it in half, wrestled the 10 pounds of beef and spice onto the grill, closed the lid, finished spicing the other half to put on the grill 12 hours after the current piece came off and started to clean the disaster a 20lb brisket made in my kitchen (notice how I blame the brisket for making the mess, not the person cooking the brisket?). That was the moment the 'intended recipient' texted me to inform me that work was quite busy and that brisket was probably out for the weekend. I stood looking at the disaster of a kitchen and thought... "Really? REALLY? I couldn't have gotten that message, oh I don't know... maybe 15 minutes earlier before I started wrestling with the dead cow in my kitchen??????"

I fumed. I was put out! I felt sooo disrespected. It pulled up a lot of deeper issues and I could feel my frustration level escalating. But as is wont to happen lately, I'm roiling in my anger about the whole situation getting a good hatin' on and I hear a voice... well... maybe I shouldn't write that. Admitting to occasionally hearing voices in my public blog might *not* be the best choice. Still, that doesn't change what happened. I heard the sweetest, gentlest voice say to me, "MaryKatherine, stop. Just stop. Be still a moment and listen."

When I hear a voice? And that voice tells me to stop and listen? I tend to do that. And what happened when I stopped and listened was worth it. Because a feeling came over me (no, no more voices :) ) of being grateful. It started with a feeing I needed to stop being angry at the poor cow. It had already given its life, I didn't need to heap on any more anger at that poor beast. So I took a moment to thank the cow for sharing its life and its meat. Then? I got this picture in my head of what to do. Instead of being upset by who couldn't eat the brisket, I decided to be grateful to those who could. First? I invited over my friend Leanna and her husband Mike. They took care of my cat while I was gone for 2 weeks in Ohio with my dad. I invited them over for dinner and they happily accepted. Then I started to think about the 15 pounds of brisket I'd have after I trimmed off the fat and it cooked down... I decided to take some over to my friends F and R. They have been so wonderful to me and supportive. We always have a wonderful time when we get together. Another friend just had a beautiful new baby... what new mom doesn't want someone to bring them fresh brisket and the trimmings for a dinner? I realized I could take the remaining brisket to work on Monday. Every single person at my job had to make a sacrifice because I was in Ohio for two weeks. My sister and I had talked about doing something nice, and I realized this brisket? And taking all the fixings for lunch? Would be just the thing. I didn't realize when I started cooking the brisket that it was going to end up being an exercise in grace more than an exercise in cooking.

I know that life doesn't always take the path I think it is going to take. When it doesn't? I get frustrated, probably because the unknown makes me nervous.  Part of the idea of Tao is learning to go with the flow of life instead of fighting against it. And a big part of going with the flow of life? Is remembering to stop and listen and let grace in. When I do, I see the bigger picture. It turns out, this story wasn't about who didn't want the brisket, it was actually about who did. And I miss that sometimes when I get stuck in my own self and forget the bigger picture.

Being healthy means having grace when I think of others. When I take a moment of grace, I remember they are struggling as well. Often their issues are hidden and it is easy for me to jump to conclusions that aren't accurate. And as important as it is to have grace with others, having grace with myself is just (if not more) important. Not being harsh on myself, not being overly critical or perfectionistic is a way of remembering to have grace. If grace starts with me? It is easier to hold that space for others.

So, thanks 20lb brisket! Thanks for reminding me to be grateful... from the life of the cow? To the lives of the people I love and love me in return.

Peace,
MaryKate

And? 

83/100

I had thought I'd be angry or sad or something today. I'm sort of empty I guess. One year ago, a choice I made a few months earlier, came to its end.

I'm not blaming or pointing the finger. I was hurt by how quickly another's attention moved on. I was sad about the lack of passion or determination to shift the dynamic. I was shocked by declarations of new beginnings before official endings...

I suppose in the end, I don't always want to know that I was correct in some decisions. I want to think I am worth fighting for... that being loved by me and my loving is worth the risk. I try hard to take the high road. A year later? I feel that I am still doing that. Taking the high road. Even when I have had my moments of anger, frustration and out and out humiliation, I still say positive things and hold to some difficult but accurate truths.

And in the end... I still think it was worth the risk. I still think there was great potential and honest affection. In the end, I have days where I still wish for a different ending. But in the end, I wouldn't go back to the situation as it was... because in the end, I'm not the same person who walked down the aisle nor am I the same woman who walked away.  I have learned and continued to learn a great deal about myself;  I have learned and continue to learn a great deal about others.

I do not believe much in regrets. Wallowing in self pity or martyrdom isn't my style. In the time from beginning to end, I met some wonderful people, loved some wonderful people and today, I miss some wonderful people. Some, to be honest, were not so wonderful, but I suppose that is how life works. Some people you connect with some people you simply don't.

Today, I believe I am more loving, more capable of being loving, and more connected to my spirit. I have come a long way in a short time. I'm grateful to every single person that held my hand, laughed with me, cried with me and loved me. It's been a roller coaster year. There were many days in the last 364 when I wished I'd had a hand to hold. The nice thing, all of you that volunteered.

It's good to know that true love does exist. And it is in the hand of every person that was willing to open up his/her heart, willing to be vulnerable and honest with me and love me for who I am. I hope, in some small measure, I was able to return that to all of you.

Thanks y'all, (and you know who you are) that made a difficult year so endurable, so enjoyable, who helped me see truth for what it was (even when I wanted to make it rosey) and who helped me back on my feet to face the day with determination and a smile.

:)
Peace,
MaryKate

The Good Daughter

82/100

I'm struggling today with the concept of what it means to be a 'good daughter'. More than anything, I want to do the 'right' thing, although I know that in life, 'right' is purely perspective. I realize my struggle with making choices is often determined by my issues with perfection and with struggling between self care and being selfish.

My dad is going into surgery again today. He didn't do so well last surgery. This surgery is to remove the rest of his thyroid. I flew back to Seattle on Thursday and was just settling back in when dad called me upset on Friday to tell me they found cancer in the tumor they removed last week. I? Felt sort of numb. He told me what the doctor had said and also told me the doctor would be calling on Saturday afternoon to talk to me. After I hung up I called my sister. I couldn't get her on the phone so I started looking up plane tickets. I had planned on flying out on Sunday to be with him for his surgery on Monday (today, actually right now as I write this). Dad told me not to go. He told me he was fine. He told me he didn't think I needed to go when I had just flown home. I didn't care, I felt like the "RIGHT" thing, the "GOOD" thing to do was to be there. Isn't that what a good daughter would do?

I stopped looking for plane tickets for a moment and I sat and looked at my house. It was a disaster (still is actually). All I could think about was how tired I was. I want to state for the record... I am not a very good caretaker. I am a good manager, I am a good  cook. I am very loving, but I am not a very good caretaker. Plus? I hadn't had sleep for almost two weeks. Or spotty sleep at best. The thought of getting on that plane and flying back across the country felt overwhelming. I felt like any capacity I had to be a good caretaker was empty. But not going? Felt horrible. It felt like I was failing as a daughter. I already feel like I am failing for being so far away, now dad was about to face surgery again (after not doing so well after the last surgery) and all I could think about was how much I didn't want to get back on a plane? I kept thinking about all the 'stuff' in my office from the week I wasn't there. All the lesson plans I needed to read through all the progress reports I needed to write. And mostly? I just thought about how exhausted I was. And then? I felt bad for thinking about me. Dad is the one going through surgery. Why should I be feeling bad, what were my issues in the face of dad's upcoming surgery? SELFISH SELFISH SELFISH.

I spoke to my sister a little while later. She and I talked about my wanting to go out to Ohio and her feelings about why it wasn't necessary and why it was okay to be staying here and not flying back. And while I was relieved on many levels I still had that voice in my head that said "A good daughter would be there."

I spoke with dad's doctor Saturday morning. He explained that the surgery should be an easy one and that dad should recover pretty quickly. Assuming his heart and kidneys function okay, he should be home by Thursday of this week. His doctor is wonderful and I already wrote about how I admire and respect him, and the doc said that treatment wasn't difficult and iodine radiation was a two day process - not like chemo or other more drastic forms of cancer treatment, Most thyroid cancer cells retain this ability to absorb and concentrate iodine. This provides a perfect "chemotherapy" strategy. Radioactive Iodine is given to the patient with thyroid cancer after their cancer has been removed. If there are any normal thyroid cells or thyroid cancer cells remain in the patient's body (and any thyroid cancer cells retaining this ability to absorb iodine), then these cells will absorb and concentrate the radioactive "poisonous" iodine. Since all other cells of our bodies cannot absorb the toxic iodine, they are unharmed. The thyroid cancer cells, however, will concentrate the poison within themselves and the radioactivity destroys the cell from within. No sickness. No hair loss. No nausea. No diarrhea. No pain. 

I feel better about the treatment and the prognosis after talking to the doctor, and I feel like getting healthy myself (continuing my triathlon workouts, eating better, etc.) is one of the best things I can do right now... but as I sit in my office during my lunch time, writing this while dad's surgery is taking place, I realize taking care of myself is important... but I still feel bad I am not in Ohio. And I suppose that is just part and parcel for this sort of thing.

I think recognizing my guilt and not denying it, but not letting it run my life is important. It is part of getting healthy. I'm not sure I am doing the 'right' thing by not going to Ohio, but what I know? Is that continuing to see things in a RIGHT vs. WRONG or GOOD daughter vs. BAD daughter duality is not healthy. Life seems to come in shades of grey and as I learn to let go of punishing myself for what I perceive to be 'bad' I am gaining more confidence and self awareness about who I am and letting go of that image of 'perfection' to become the healthy, amazing person everyone but me seems to recognize. *smile*

Peace,
MaryKate

A league of my own...

81/100

Two of my dear friends got married several years ago in Mexico. I was asked to be the minister and to sing their wedding song. It was a lovely wedding in one of my favorite places - a romantic, island beach resort. A couple of nights before the wedding, the bride, her Maid of Honor, and I were sitting downstairs at the pool and the little pool guy was bringing us drinks. We were laughing and having a good time. Both my friend and her Maid of Honor are stunningly beautiful. Not to mention just lovely ladies. I believe she told me her Maid of Honor was a swimsuit model and I believe it. Anyhow, we were sitting there and we were talking about men. I was interested in a guy at the time who was very handsome and I was talking about it to the two ladies. I said, "Yeah this guy is super hot... you know how it is when you like someone who is out of your league." and both ladies looked at me and said, "No". No malice or snarkiness... Just "no".

I remember how floored I was at that. They didn't know what it was like to date someone out of their league or they just didn't think that there *was* someone out of their league? Or? They had just never considered it before? All I knew is that most men I wanted to date I thought were out of my league.

Eventually I got married, divorced and now once again find myself single and back in the dating world. Well, I did, until I took my profile down.

And why did I take my profile down? Because I realized I still think most guys are 'out of my league'. I had a conversation with my sister the other day. It was one of those hard conversations that stick with a person. I'm not even sure how to express what I realized. And it is a hard realization to explain and share. But what I realized is that I still feel like I have nothing to offer in a relationship. So I almost feel like I should just be grateful to any man that would want me. It's more complicated than that, and I don't want to emotionally vomit all over this blog...

But I realized as long as I don't believe I am a solid, intelligent, emotionally healthy, funny, attractive and active person? I won't attract that into my life.

Which brings me to Dr. McDreamy - my dad's neck surgeon. He's so funny. He and I laughed, played, joked with each other. It was fun. He's married and  I want to be clear that I am not 'interested'  in Doc McDreamy. But one night, after my dad's surgery, my sister said to me, "That's it, MK. You are not allowed to bring home another guy that is not McDreamy." I looked at sis and said, "Oh my god, Marge he is SOOO out of my league." She shook her head and said, "Are you kidding me? You are so wrong." and it hit me. Once again that chronic low sense of self worth showed its ugly head. Except this time? I realized I WAS wrong. Believing that someone like McDreamy is too good for me? Is a problem. And it is why I took down my profile.

I realized it is time to believe I can attract someone like McDreamy. Someone warm, funny, loving, intelligent, compassionate with a killer smile and self confidence. Someone who is good at his job, comfortable with his maturity (McDreamy was 52) and not emotionally immature and unavailable like the last few guys in my life. In the meantime, for me to feel ready for a healthy, fun, emotionally available relationship? I have to believe I am worthy of it. And to do that? I have to take care of myself.

Part of that taking care of myself is getting ready for the triathlon. I'm nervous. People know I am doing this... but it is motivating. It feels good to have made the commitment... And I've been losing weight and I feel this  determination to be successful at both getting healthy and completing this mini triathlon!

So yeah... maybe not Dr.McDreamy, he didn't come into my life as a possible guy to date, but as a bar to set for myself as to what I'd like to find in my life in a partner.Without coming across as narcissistic, it's time to recognize my own value, to see my worth and, when the time is right and I know my own value, I will be ready meet someone who meets  Doc McDreamy's bar.

Peace,

MaryKate

CRISIS!!!

80/100
My fortune today read: "You will be made strong by adversity."

Luckily? For once? I am not in crisis. *whew* I think I have had enough of those over the last two years. I'm ready to relax a bit from crisis mode.

However, someone I love a great deal is in crisis. And I know there is nothing I can really do to help. Being in the midst of crisis makes it difficult to see the world outside of the crisis. And as much as it can seem like it, crisis isn't the end of the world. It's from my moments of crisis, I have tested my mettle. Although it is often an 'end' that brings on a crisis, crisis can also be the crucible for a new beginning.

Crisis presents itself in my life as an opportunity for me to grow, to conquer fears, to push on. I hit that point in a situation where I am forced to make choice. Sometimes? I stay or I go, I choose to love or to leave, I break or I bend... but I go forward. Luckily, I have never broken. I remember in one particularly poignant crisis I thought I was broken. I was in my mid twenties and got a phone call that crushed me. I remember I curled up under the kitchen table at my parents house and started crying... well... sobbing is more accurate. My mother was still alive at the time. My poor father was beside himself. I could hear him in the living room - although it sounded to me like he was speaking to mom through layers and layers of water. He said to my mom, "Wanda, what do we do?" and my mom was silent for a moment and I remember hearing her say, "We let her cry, Bob. Just let her be." It was one of those times, when only a mother really understands. And I loved my mom for that moment. And I did stay under that table until I felt cried out. But? As much as I thought I was broken, that my spirit was crushed? Turned out, it wasn't. And not only did I survive, but I realized I was grateful for the experience because I *knew* I had the capacity to love. Deeply. It may not have worked out the way that I hoped, but even in that moment when I felt so completely crushed? I wasn't broken.

I think that is part of what happens when I go into crisis. I find myself questioning my very core. But the key to surviving and emerging stronger from the situation, is learning to own what part of the crisis I am responsible for, and what part of the crisis I am NOT responsible for. For so long? When I was in crisis? I was sure it was ALL my fault. I had f*ed up. I had made stupid choices. I wasn't good enough, smart enough, strong enough, compassionate enough, kind enough, courageous enough... It was all me. But with each crisis in my life that I have navigated through? I have realized I *am* enough. I am all those 'enoughs'. Often crisis involved more than just me. But to navigate a crisis together, both people have to be willing to look at their share of the crisis. Both people have to be able to say, "Okay... I can own my share of this situation." And if it is a crisis of faith? Well, I don't suppose I can expect "God" to own any share of my crisis, but I can look inside and seek my own understanding of my faith and how I see the world and God usually has very little to do with a crisis of faith. Those usually have much more human hands and beliefs clouding my connection...

And a word about prayer. I believe in the power of prayer. It isn't essential for anyone to agree with me. But my experience has shown me that there is something powerful about prayer when I am in crisis. However, I have learned not to pray for the outcome *I* think should happen. I suppose that is partly what 'faith' is... to make the best decision I know how to make in the situation and then have to courage to face the outcome of my crisis - whatever that may be. My father is about to go into neck surgery in two weeks. It makes me nervous. But I don't get to tell God what *is* going to happen. I can however, ask God for the strength to get through what *does* happen. And I don't think there is a thing wrong with hoping that everything goes smoothly and easily with a minimal amount of suffering possible.

In the end? Crisis sucks. The experience is painful, feels overwhelming and leads to feelings of desperation and at times, self derision. But I have found that each crisis I have had to navigate through, I have come out the other side a stronger, more loving, compassionate person. Crisis reminds me I am alive. It isn't by any means 'fun' and it can take months... even years to fully emerge from crisis, but in the end? The crises in my life have unquestionably been a benefit to my growth as a human being.

I think it is healthy to be humbled by crisis. It is healthy when I am reminded I don't have the answers. It seems that when I finally let go of trying to control my crisis and accept that I don't have the answers? I find them.

Peace,

MaryKate

Tri what???

79/100

I have wanted to do a triathlon for seven years now. I get excited about it... I think I can do it on my own. I start to train. In a week? I've given up. I tuck away those feelings of failure and just move on. People just smile now and I am sure they think 'oh sure she's talking about that triathlon thing again'. I know I like to dream. And I know, I like to imagine me having already DONE the thing... but I actually SIGNED UP for one!

One of the wonderful things about my life, is that when I really put the energy out to the Universe that I want to do something? Wheels starts turning and *boom* it pretty much happens. Not always in the way I thought it would happen, but when I am open to life and let go of control? It really seems to work itself out beautifully.

So... about two weeks ago, I decided it was time to get back to working on my weight and my exercise. It's been a lifelong issue with me. My struggles with weight. I remember about seven years ago, I had lost a bunch of weight. I went with my sister shopping. I tried on a pair of tight leather pants. I walked out and my sister told me I looked *hot*. I went back into the dressing room, panicked, started to cry, took off the leather pants and within a month put the all the weight back on (and then some for good measure)... that was sort of the last time I really invested in losing weight.

But since I started writing this blog, since I really started digging into my 'stuff', I've realized I like myself more. I still have issues (don't we all?), but I realize I have made some shifts in how I see who I am. At lunch the other day with my friend Lori, I said that within a relationship I often have a difficult time speaking up for what I really need. She just shook he head and said, "I don't get it MK, how is it *you* can't see what everyone else around you sees? That you are this amazing, strong, wonderful woman?" I couldn't answer her. For most of my life I did *not* see that. And heaven knows, my self confidence and self image took some beatings over the last year. I had few reserves to pull upon to boost myself back up - I mean I have amazing friends who never let me fall *too* far. But finding that resolve within myself and that confidence inside has taken me a while. But within the last month or so, I have realized I feel like I am back on track. I feel like I have found that spark inside of me again - I feel alive and I feel back in the flow of my own life, not trying to swim against it.

So when I said to myself, I'm ready to get back into an exercise program, *poof* two days later my friend Trish mentions to me that she has signed up for a triathlon to support breast cancer! SCORE! Next thing I know? I have signed up as well. I'm excited about it. It's sort of a baby triathlon, but it's perfect! And I am not doing it alone, I'm doing it with someone who isn't counting on me, but *is* excited to share the journey with me.

So, things are moving in my world. I feel like I was stuck for a while... but here I go, back on to my next adventure. I didn't make it up at 6:30am today to workout, but I will either go tonight or go swimming at my place. I think the important part is to do something every day, not get hung up on when the plan for that morning takes a left turn. My goal is to do *something* and keep working towards it. I have to get to the point where I can swim 1/2 mile, bike 12 miles and run 3.1 miles! I can do this! If you think you might want to come with? Let me know :).

I'm excited and nervous, but I think this means I will *finally* get a bike that I like! *laughter*

Peace,

MaryKate

Feeling that Emooootion
78/100

So... I've found my motivation to get back on the weight loss train. Lately, pretty much since my dad's heart attack, I've been working a lot on dealing with emotions. I know it has been healthy for me. I feel like myself again - and now I feel like I'm even more myself. How much more selfier can I get? I don't know but I'm enjoying finding out. This blog? Has helped... so has all your support and love.

What I realized this past week is that I am ready to get back to the whole 'letting go of weight' issue. I don't know about you, but for me? I have to be motivated. And motivation doesn't come from some external source. I've had plenty of wake up calls in the last few months, the last few years really. But I had to find that space inside to get back up on that weight loss horse and get going again. Honestly? I have spent my life feeling like a failure when it comes to weight. I know slow and steady is the way to go, and I feel like I have had some real insight into life since this time last year and I feel more like myself than I have in a long time.

So, believe it or not this is going to be a short entry. Just to say I haven't given up. I'm still moving forward and still working towards my goal. Small steps, I know, but steps none the less. In the past? I would have just quit blogging because I felt like a failure. This time? I don't feel like a failure, just a person doing her best on her journey. I feel like I am 'feeling' more about it instead of 'thinking' about it. In my life I have spent a lot of time escaping in 'thinking' about weight.

Feeling about it? Well, that seems like a really good start.

Peace,

MaryKate

That Day... that day...

77/100

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. I remember when I was young I loved Valentine's Day. I can't say I love it now, but I feel like I have cycled through a lot of different feelings about love, romance and 'that day' in my life. I recall how, when I was in college I was sure I hated Valentine's Day. On 'VDay' I wore black and screamed my anger at the 'Hallmark' advertisers that forced stupid romance down my throat for a WHOLE month! Oh how I hated the 'holiday'! I raged against it. How I hated the commercialization and I sent the evil eye at all the kissing couples. I rode my high horse, hard.

But at night, when I was alone,  I sat and cried. And I hated myself not the holiday. Hated that I was alone. Hated that every guy I liked always seemed to end up with my room mate. Hated that I was always the 'friend', but not the 'date'. One Valentine's Day? I brought my current crush to my house, we had dinner and watched a movie. It was late and he didn't want to drive so he slept on the couch... until I woke up the next morning and he came out of my roommate's room! AND I MADE THEM PANCAKES. Yep. That was my story.

In my mid twenties, I stopped hating Valentine's Day. Funny how my hatred for this 'BS holiday' seemed to disappear with falling in love. I hoped every single year for a ring. And every single year I got a funny card. Even though I was in a relationship, I was still the 'friend'. In my mid-thirties? I left and started all over again.Without going through my dating, my marriage and my divorce, I came to some sort of peace with this holiday. I realized my anger and frustration may have had some validity, but railing against this holiday wasn't the answer for me.

I had a date this weekend, I sort of wanted it to be a way to celebrate Valentine's Day since I knew we weren't going to be able to see each other again for a while. I really liked this guy and thought maybe there was a future unfolding... We were talking together and he started railing against the upcoming "Valentine's Day" holiday. I listened. He had his reasons for not liking Valentine's Day, and he really got upset talking about rings and spending so much money on blood diamonds and stolen gold. I said that I agreed, although, if I got married some day, I still wanted a ring. It didn't need to be fancy. But I wanted a momento that I could look at during the day and think of the person I was dedicated to being with. Let's just say we didn't see eye to eye on the subject. I appreciated his position. I respected his points. I couldn't really even argue with the points he was making about blood diamonds, and gold taken from land that was stolen. I understood why he would be so frustrated and angry. Some horrible things have been done to people and to the earth in the name of "gold" and "diamonds" and "wealth".

But in the end, I don't hate Valentine's Day anymore. I don't need to do something 'crazy' with it, I don't need flowers (that are jacked up in price) I don't need a fancy dinner, I don't need some 'big display' of diamonds, or gold or anything really. But I have spent my life fighting that I am romantic. I have not wanted to believe that I like sunsets, and magic, and beauty, and desire. I have spent my life NOT letting myself believe in those. Now? I want to believe in those things. Actually, more than 'want to', I do believe in those things. I want to be with someone who also believes in love and romance and joy and magic. I could live with someone not liking Valentine's Day, but anger over romance, is a deal-breaker for me. It's okay not to like all the commercialized trappings, but in many ways, I do like some of those things... and if I am going to spend my life with someone? I want to spend it with someone who can respect and share a connection to romance. Being romantic doesn't mean a $15k ring, or expensive house or any of that. But I do want to be with someone who wants to talk about rings together. Who wants to design them together so that they represent a shared connection that means something to both of us. I want to be with someone who thinks that there is something beautiful about love and romance... I asked a friend of mine what he and his wife were doing for Valentine's Day. He said, "We don't celebrate it on Feb. 14th. We think that date is expensive and stupid. We celebrate it on the first day of Spring, that was our first date."

I thought that was such a lovely answer.

So Valentine's Day, I don't "love" you. I recognize that really you are an overpriced, hyped, commercialized excuse for those who have someone to recognize them and those who don't to wish they did, but the 'idea' of you... the idea of romance, of love, of connection, of joy... well.. I think it is healthy to celebrate that every day...

Peace,

MaryKate

Because you're special in every single way
Because you're special no matter what you're parents say...
~Captain Wonderful and the Less Than Perfects

76/100

When I was a child, I wanted more than anything to be special. I would make up stories that I pretended were true to impress people. I wanted ESP sooo badly! I thought if I could tell the future I would be uber special. I wanted to sing better than *anyone* so that people would know I was special. I mistakenly thought that being special meant being loved.

As I got older, I began to seek out ways to be special. I had a knack for reading tarot cards and I found that people, indeed, thought I was special. I loved that feeling. Some people liked how I read the cards, some people? Not so much. But using tarot cards was a wonderful way to meet people, to learn about them and more, to learn about myself. I was good at it, and people liked me for it. And hey, I liked feeling special, so throughout most of my twenties and early thirties? I was your girl if you needed a card reading. I was deep in the New Age movement. I thrived on it.

I'm not sure when all that changed for me. What I am about to say may offend some of you. I apologize now if I do, that is not my intent. This has been a journey of discovery for me, a journey of being healthy. And one of the ways I have found to be more healthy, is to realize some of the beliefs I have held on to, didn't really promote my mental health. Some of my beliefs were simply a way to make me feel special.

I think the switch started with the whole 'Indigo' child movement. I was very into the Neale Donald Walsch "Conversations with God" movement. I do not regret that time, I derived quite a bit from his perception that God can speak to you from your own heart. Until he became the 'guy with all the answers', I really liked what he had to say. Then? He started to think he was 'special' and pretty soon? His teachings and such reflected that belief about himself. He isn't the only one who fell off his pedestal in my eyes, all the teachers I sought, Mary Summerrain, Hank Wesselman, Dan Milleman... they all sort of fell off the pedestal I put them on and became human. Nothing wrong with that. (Ted Andrews is perhaps the one exception to this story. He understood that he was no more or less in 'touch' than any other and somehow he shared that idea in every class of his I took. Although he has passed, I will always have a sacred place for him in my heart, because he showed me what a true teacher could be like.) I remember I was at a conference for 'Light Workers' in Columbus. I was in a workshop called: "Indigo Child: Raising and being around these special children". I found myself getting upset. The leader of the class (I can't remember her name now) was going on and on about how special these children were. How they were more 'elevated' than others. How they were 'old souls' come to 'move the planet into its next phase of evolution'. How we needed to pay special attention to these very special children. I think I might of gotten up and walked out. I was so frustrated. I remember asking why THESE specific children were more valuable than the REST of the children being born. And the instructor looked at me with 'pity' in her eyes. Sad that I couldn't embrace this important information. How could I not understand? I must not be 'special' enough to understand how 'special' these specific, cherished children were. I was angry. I was angry because I believed then and I believe now that NO child is more special than another child.

But I think that is when I started listening to some of the verbiage that not only 'new age' people used, but many religious people in general. One thing in particular that started to frustrate me was this concept of 'new' and 'old' souls. I think it really hit home with me when I was in Hawaii taking a 'Shamanic Training' class. We were doing journey work. We were supposed to go to see where new souls were being 'born'. And I remember thinking, very clearly, "I don't believe in old and new souls!" When I expressed that sentiment, I was told I was wrong and that there are definitely  old and new souls. I thought... says who?  How do YOU or anyone else KNOW that? You can have 'faith' in what you believe, but it doesn't make it the ONE RIGHT WAY. I have been told my whole life that I am an 'old soul'. But what I realized? Is that it is just ONE more layer of "I'm special" seeking behavior. What does the phrase, "I am an old soul" mean? To me it says, I am wiser than you are. I know more than you do. I am 'evolved'! You poor 'young' soul, if you were an older soul you'd be part of my more 'knowing' group.  How incredibly condescending. Of course my being frustrated by it could very well mark me as being a young soul. *chuckle* Methinks I do protest too much, perhaps?

I suppose I may come across as being angry or harsh, but really? I am no wiser or older than anyone else doing his/her best to navigate life on this planet. Saying you are an 'old soul' or WORSE looking down on me because I do not agree with you and therefore must be a 'YOUNG' soul is just one more level of separation we put between us. How is that different than saying, "I am a Baptist, you are a Hindu. My view of God is right your view is wrong." Is saying you are an old soul, not just a way to make yourself feel special? We want to believe we have a unique voice among a sea of voices. I get that. What I don't understand is why we have to be special by being 'apart from'... why can't we be special by being 'a part of'?

I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to feel special. I don't know that we can truly step outside that desire. We all have a place in our hearts that cries out to feel our own unique place in the world. I suppose I wouldn't have an issue with 'Indigo' children, or 'old soul' or any of those terms we use to classify ourselves except I think just being here on this planet at this time is special. Each human is special merely by the act of making choices, doing the best we know how to do and living the best we know how to live.

I don't care if you think of yourself as an "old" soul, an "indigo" child or whatever, just don't tell me I am less because I am different. I seek finding the things that bring us together, not divide us and keep us apart.

Peace,

MaryKate

Ohhh SHINY thing...

75/100

I watched a show last night on PBS called A.D.D. and Loving it! I can't decide what to do with the information. This tv show, in an hour and a half summed up most of my life.

My whole life I have struggled with the effects of being ADD. I have tried to make excuses, I have tried to 'be quiet'. I remember my grandfather offering me $5 if I could sit still for 5 minutes. I couldn't.  All I know is that I laid on the couch last night, watching the video thinking... 'oh wow'. It was like a check list for my life. Is it a failure to have ADD? I mean, I know my whole life I have often been told if I'd just listen more, if I didn't talk so much, if I was quieter, if I could JUST organize my office/desk/life I could be so much more productive, if I just stopped fidgeting, if I didn't ask so many questions, if I could just quiet my brain down a little I could think better, if I could just focus more I could do SO much better on my tests/quizzes/studies, if I could only finish the things I started I'd be so much more successful...

The list? Goes on and on. My favorite though is the struggle I've had with my creativity. I have lived with people who get upset when I dream about possible futures. No, seriously, they would get really upset! Just because I dream something doesn't mean I have to make it happen. I LIKE to dream about things. I like to share those dreams and play with them. Does that mean I HAVE to make them happen? NO. And the person would get upset with me that I shared my dream and would consider me a failure because I never DID anything about it. Then? I'd feel like I was a failure. And all those joyful hours of fantasy and dreaming? Suddenly seemed shameful and 'unproductive' instead of affirming and happy. I loved all those hours of dreaming about owning land on Orcas Island or opening a soup shop. But just because I never did those things, doesn't make me a failure. It makes me a dreamer. That dreaming has led to my creativity. It is what makes my stories shine and my world livable. I like being a dreamer. I don't want to feel bad about it anymore...

Does our society have room for dreamers in this day and age? And is taking meds to help me focus and not spend so much time dreaming a good idea? I mean, it might make me more productive, but what about my writing? What about my dreaming? I have long railed against taking 'meds' to 'fix' people with ADD, but I wonder now if meds help a student/an adult be successful in an environment that isn't likely to adapt to the person. Is that really such a bad thing? I don't know. All these ideas are swirling around in my head. Like the ADD person that I am, I can't pick just one and focus on it...

Even as I realize I'm struggling with these questions today, I also realize I have struggled with them my entire life. I am trying to navigate understanding how my mind works and its creativity while balancing that notion with the reality that being more focused would make it easier to figure out my finances."Creative" financing? Has not been really productive in my world. ;).

So what is the next step? I'm not sure. I know I need to do more research about the topic. I know that perhaps I should go get 'tested' for it, but what I do with that information? I don't know. I know that the healthy thing to do is to not ignore the situation any longer, but look at it as a part of who I am and go from there.

Peace,

MaryKate

All Too brief
74/100

Today I found out that a student at our school perished in a car accident. Details aren't in, but I don't suppose they are important to this blog, or, in the end, to the pain people left behind are experiencing. I don't care who the young person is, or the story, any death of a young person feels tragic. This young man however? Was simply a delightful young man. He was a young man with a scholarship to a fantastic university next year for lacrosse. He had an incredible smile. He was dedicated and was working so hard at his studies to make it in college. He was focused and a bright light to everyone that knew him.

When I heard the news, the first thing I thought of wasn't him, but his parents. How do you wake up one morning and everything is amazing, then wake up the next morning and nothing is? Yet you have to somehow keep going forward when a part of your heart, your spirit, your soul is absent. I have no children, I truly can't imagine the grief. But I can hold the space of those two people who will wake up tomorrow where nothing is amazing.

I have no story of my own past grief to tell. I suppose I could tell about the day I found out my mom died. But there is no comparison. There is no way to begin to touch the grief that family is experiencing. I will not try. That would somehow take the grief that belongs to them and make it my own. I didn't have him as my student, but I find myself crying for the loss I feel and for the teachers I know who deeply respected and cared for him. I cry for the family and friends that somehow have to wake up tomorrow morning and face the shining sun, the clear day and the beautiful weather when everything in their world is a storm of terrifying thunder and darkness.

I will say a prayer tonight. For the family, for the friends, for the teachers, for the crossing of such a bright light. And I will say it again tomorrow night. And the night after. Because, like my father having a heart attack, things came into focus for me today. I got some needed clarity about what is important. There is no joy coming from a situation like this, but it does remind me to hold close those I love and appreciate every moment of life I have with them.

Peace,

MaryKate

The Best Medicine
73/100

Laughter. I think sometimes I forget how healthy it is to laugh. Looking back I can see that the friendships in my life that have lasted have been ones rich with laughter. I was thinking about why laughter is so important in a relationship.

Laughter implies ease. It shows connection with another human being. It shows delight and devotion. If you feel safe enough to laugh with another human you feel safe enough to cry with that person. My sister says, "It's that moment when you know someone 'gets' you. When you experience being heard." Within that delight at life, that recognition, that pure joy shared for a moment with another, a bond is formed. A bond of connection. Trust, built in moment of joy, is a foundation that can last in moments of sorrow.

I can remember being with someone where I was constantly apologizing for laughing. I'd be watching the television and something so funny would come on... or I'd be watching a movie (Galaxy Quest is my favorite for just pure laughter) and I'd laugh so loudly with such pure delight. And I'd be laughing alone. And I'd find myself apologizing. I suppose the fact that I wanted to hide my laughter was a signal that it wasn't going to last. I'd look over to not even see a smile.

Laughter to me says "I live a passionate life!" Now... I will admit that there is certain laughter that I don't include in this category. Nervous laughter, for one. That laugh you do when you feel so uncomfortable, or when someone laughs at a funeral or some other sad occasion. It's that 'laugh so I don't cry' that sometimes seems so accurate. Or when someone laughs when an animal gets hurt, it's a reaction that I truly don't understand.

Another type of laughter that isn't joyful or kind, is laughter 'at' someone. At first, it may seem like it brings two people together to laugh at someone else. It gives that false sense of connectedness to another person, but there is no safety when you are in a relationship with someone willing to be cruel to another.. 'Trust' built on moments of cruelty is a foundation that cracks and crumbles at the first sign of trouble. And friendships that are built with laughter that is cruel? Are the friendships where one day you are laughing at others and the next? That person you once laughed with is now laughing at you. It's why I never liked shows like "Candid Camera" and shows like "Punked." Those shows make people laugh at the expense of another person. They make it seem like humiliation is acceptable when the person being humiliated laughs. Except it isn't. And that kind of laughter isn't the type lasting friendships and relationships are built upon.

I'm not perfect. I've been known to make a joke or two at someone else's expense. I'd like to say I've never made fun of someone... heck I'd like to say I've never been made fun of but I'm not perfect and neither is life. And heaven knows if I can't laugh at myself I'm  in deep doo doo. I have to be able to laugh at myself sometimes. I can't take my life too seriously. I am a mistake maker and sometimes the only way to lighten my own mind is to remember to laugh. Not to dismiss the problem, but to help put it in perspective. Because even when life is difficult, it's still a joy to be alive.

But laughter? Laughter matters. And I know, as I seek fulfilling relationships in my life, that I will seek relationships where laughter - the nurturing kind- is effortless. Because the joy inherent in laughter is the joy reflected in the relationship.

Peace,

MaryKate

The dog ate it... 
Ok
Wait, you don't have a dog!

72/100

Deep breath. Hi, my name is MaryKate and I lie. Or. Well. I used to. All the time. I'd like to say that I am above all that now and I only tell the truth. But. Well. That would, you know, be a lie.

In my life, lying made me feel like I had some sort of control. If I lied, surely the lie was a much better excuse than "I forgot" or "I'm irresponsible". Plus, lying made me think I looked so much better. I felt that if I lied, people wouldn't know I was really a screw up and not worth loving.

Seriously. That is how I lived most of my life. Well into my 30s, I thought lying was the best way to handle conflict. But even when I lied and justified it to myself? I knew I was lying.

I can remember, when I started to work on being a person with integrity, that I started to acknowledge when I lied. I always *knew* I was lying and started to recognize that situation in my life. It started with no lying to myself. I'm a work in progress I suppose. It is amazing how often in the day it would be easy to lie, but through diligence I have reached a point where I feel like I live in my integrity.

I think, in general, people don't take responsibility for their own actions. Perfect example is something that happened to me a while ago when I went to Safeway. I parked, ran in to the store, got some juice and other sundry items and headed back out to my car. I loaded the back of my car and realized that the SUV parked next to me was *really* close. So close in fact, that I could not get IN to my car. Now, I drive a Saturn Vue, so it isn't that my car is small or anything, but I was parked perfectly between the lines. The woman who owned the Ford Explorer next to mine finally arrived and started unloading her groceries. I came out from between the two cars and said, "You parked pretty close to my car" She replied in a snippy tone, "Well YOU... (she then proceeded to look and see that *I* was parked well within the lines and SHE was not)she stammered, then went on, "Well you just don't understand how difficult it is in these parking lots with the small lines. It's just ridiculous, I have a Ford Explorer and it is very difficult with these small spaces! Really, the people who make these lines should make them wider apart, the person next to me was very close I didn't have a choice... blahblah blah". It was EVERYONE's fault but hers. SHE parked poorly and there was no one parked next to her. 

Actually, all I wanted her to say was, "Oh my gosh! I'm sorry. I will load up my groceries and move my car ASAP." I would have smiled and said, "No problem, it happens" and life would have gone on... but the more she blamed everyone else, the more she stammered on about how it wasn't her fault... the more angry I became. Lady? Just own your stuff!

I am not innocent of being disrespectful - I struggle with my own type A personality issues. I sometimes speed ahead and don't let in cars that have tried to move to the front of the line and bully their way in... I could just relax and let them in, but I think "you are no more special than I am" and then I end up being an idiot and almost causing an accident because I won't let them in... so I own that I am not perfectly innocent nor am I perfect, but for the most part? I own my stuff. 


It's part of living an authentic, healthy life. Lying and not owning one's own responsibility is something I see in so many of the kids I work with. This inability to own responsibility for something they have (or in the case of homework) haven't done. I understand the fear that the 'adult' in the situation (me as their teacher) will be disappointed. I understand how scary it can be to own up to your stuff and not lie about it... and I try to have patience with the process of growing up and finding one's own authenticity. But it still frustrates me and I wonder if it is my responsibility to call them on it... is it my job to say, "Enough!"... I don't know. To accuse someone of lying is a touchy thing. Especially without any proof. With just that gut feeling that the person I am talking to isn't being truthful. 


In the end, if I care about you, if we consider ourselves friends, I ask you to be honest with me. I am doing my best to be honest with you. I understand we are all on the 'self awareness' journey and that means occasionally you'll tell a little white lie... but I want you to know that usually I know it. And I am guessing you know when I tell one of those stupid little white lies that seem like they are no big deal, but too many of them whittle away at the trust between two people. Pretty soon? There is no foundation left to trust. And with no trust? There is no friendship.


Peace,


MaryKate

Uncomfortable is uncomfortable...

71/100

I seriously don't like feeling uncomfortable. Feeling uncomfortable causes me to rush into decisions I then second guess because I find myself feeling even more uncomfortable.

Feeling uncomfortable can be anything - feeling too hot or too cold, not wanting to take a walk in the rain, not knowing how to 'fix' a situation, knowing someone is upset with me and not knowing what to do... Uncomfortable is not my friend. I know a great deal of my weight issues come from not wanting to feel uncomfortable.

I think successful people learn to navigate 'uncomfortable'. They learn to take the time that is necessary to sit with the anxious feelings until they are able to move through the discomfort. They know that discomfort isn't permanent. They know that they are not in danger when they feel uncomfortable. They realize that discomfort is the only way to grow as a person.

I... don't usually feel that way. When I feel uncomfortable I want to rush in to fix those feelings of anxiety and insecurity. Being uncomfortable can often lead to feeling unsafe. Unsafe always equaled unacceptable growing up, so I rush to try to regain control and exert some external sense of safety before things get out of hand.

The other night, I was at Central Market. I purchased a 5lb bag of spelt flour and was getting ready to put it in the back of my car. When I went to take it out of the basket, the corner of the plastic caught. I pulled, felt resistance and instead of stopping and taking a moment to resolve the situation? I just pulled harder and forced it out of the basket. Of course when the plastic tore and spelt flour covered my legs, my shoes, and the pavement I cursed at said $10 torn plastic bag of flour... loudly. I took a deep breath. I went in, explained to the cashier that the way that the bagger had packed my cart caused the bag of flour to catch on the edge and when I pulled out the bag it broke everywhere. He was very nice, let me get another bag with extra in it to make up for my trouble and I left the store... On my way home, I thought about how I lost my patience at the bag. I then dug through one of the bags I had purchased at the organic store, found a candy bar and ate a couple bites of it. Looking back at the situation, I see how easy it was to blame the poor kid that packed my cart. It might partially have been his fault for packing it so tight, but where was my part in that? You know, the part where I lost patience and pulled really hard instead of stopping for a moment and assessing the situation?

Feeling uncomfortable for me usually has to do with the ability (or should I say inability) to be patient. Part of feeling safe and working through discomfort for me is to learn to recognize my feelings of discomfort and NOT eat about them to numb myself from those feelings. By learning to recognize discomfort I can assess the situation without blame. No blame for the bag, the bagger or me for getting upset. Just taking a moment to see the situation with some clarity. By processing the situation, it might be easier not to reach for the candy bar (even if it was sugar free and organic) to make myself feel better! This seems very existentialist - to see the situation only as an event. Wayne Dyer says, "How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours." 


Sadly, not all situations are so easy to assess. It is easy for me to to see that my getting upset with the bag and losing patience (thus spilling the flour), and eating the two bites of chocolate to release the chemicals to calm/numb me are related. The situation makes sense and is logical. Isn't that the root of almost all addiction? The desire to shove away discomfort?

Learning to manage discomfort with 'things' is easier than learning to manage discomfort with people. It is not simple. It is not easy. And I often rush into and out of relationships because I don't know how to process feeling discomfort with someone. The relationships in my life that last are the ones where the person I am with acknowledges my discomfort and is willing to own his/her part of that situation - just as I had to own that it wasn't fully the bagger's fault for the flour debacle. When the person I am with has the ability to empathize with my discomfort, together we create a safe environment where we can begin the work of processing together. That has generally been the case in my friendships, but not been the case in my 'relationships'. I tend to walk away (or run, depending on the situation) when things get emotionally unsafe. By the time I find myself feeling unsafe it is almost impossible for me to return to simple discomfort. They are directly related. I tend to terminate relationships/friendships with people who do a lot of blaming and denying of their own part in the story of their lives. I am generally willing to own my part in the situations in my life that are causing discomfort and I am open to hearing about it if I am not seeing it directly. I ask only that the people I am connected to are open to seeing their own part in the discomfort in the current situation and in their lives in general. If they can see the choices they made that got them where they are, there's a good chance we'll be friends for as long as we know each other - no distance, rain, sleet or snow will stop us from remaining connected. If they are blamers and finger pointers? I'm generally not interested in continuing the connection between us.

Being able to walk in strength and still feel discomfort and own my share of why I am feeling discomfort (or causing discomfort in others), is directly related to the concept of Emotional Intelligence. I think there are ways I can become better at being able to diagnose discomfort. Emotional vulnerability and feeling discomfort in a safe situation is a good way to grow and mature; when the situation moves from discomfort to 'hazardous', emotional vulnerability isn't really possible and my sense of self esteem suffers instead of builds.

One of the ways that is recommended for better regulating Emotional Intelligence is learning meditation. The tiny buddha blog has some ideas on meditation. I have told myself over and over that I want to learn to meditate, and I think that is the next step in my process of living a healthier more emotionally fulfilling life.

Peace,

MaryKate

Sometimes, There's No Good Side 

70/100

This is my third blog about breaking up. Apparently, I've been doing a bit of that lately. I realized this weekend that there is no good side to be on when breaking up.

No one wants to be dumped. No one wants someone to say to her, "Hey you're nice and all, but I need my freedom..." or whatever platitude you get when someone wants to kick you to the curb. It's painful and you can't help but ask yourself (especially if the 'other' person has conveniently moved on to someone else before even telling you the curb is waiting) what was wrong with ME?

And who the heck wants to be the dumper? Unentangling yourself from the arms of another is not easy. For me it is doubly difficult. Because I am terrible at it. I end up writing a letter that I spend HOURS pouring over until I finally write something clear and honest. The letter says, "Hey, I don't want to be with you anymore. I am looking for something different in my life. I wish you all the best and I think it is time for us both to move on to a new experience." The letter? Is great. But then? The person calls/emails/messages me. And I stumble - and all that great clarity I had? Seeps away and I am left a quivering ball of jelly. I hear/feel the hurt in the other person and all that clarity disappears. All those solid boundaries with another person melt and what ends up coming out is, "Hey, I don't want to be with you anymore (unless you want to be with me, then let's talk." or "Hey don't call me anymore (unless you do because I'll pick up the phone and try to make you feel better and find myself deeper in this relationship I don't really want to be in)" or "I am looking for a different experience in my life (unless you say you will change although we both know you won't, but I'll give you another chance just in case)." And I end up caving. I question my intuition that told me I wanted out in the first place. Especially if the other person throws in some guilt. I cave. And I regret caving. But I think... well maybe *one* more chance.

Meh. I think breaking up with someone is hard for me because I struggle with my own sense of worthiness. I feel so fortunate that someone likes me that I dismiss the warning bells or the reality that just because someone likes me, that isn't reason enough to stay with someone if I know, in my heart, that my needs aren't being met. I'm willing to work on things and work on things, but perhaps, in the end, the reality is that people don't change much. They can alter things (looks, gain/lose weight, new place to live, new friends, stop/start using drugs etc) but at the core? People are who they are. At my core, I am still, at times, a frightened girl who lies to try to control everything around her. As a more healthy adult? I work hard to *not* lie. I work hard to remember that I can protect myself and I am a strong woman. But I admit that even now, even after all these years of *not* lying, my instinct? Is to lie sometimes. It is the first impulse. I have to really struggle with it on occasion, because I swear at times lying just feels like it is so much easier. But it isn't. And I don't. And if you don't lie? You probably have no idea what the struggle is like. It's a core addiction just like drugs or food or alcohol. Lying gives the false sense of making things easy. But it never does, because most of the time, the other person knows you are lying and they lose trust in you. So I have learned not to lie. Has my core changed? Perhaps not. Perhaps at my core I am a truthteller, and I just learned to lie to protect myself. What I know? Is that my behavior about lying has changed, but my desire to lie? Has not changed.

My sense of being a worthwhile person has also changed. Growing up I didn't really believe that about myself.  Today? I have a better sense of self, a better sense of what I have to do to be healthy. I have a better sense of what I need to do to take care of myself, to be in a healthy relationship with myself and others and I have a better sense of what I seek in a partner.

Having that sense of self, however, doesn't make it any easier when I have to move on - ending a relationship no matter what side of the equation I am on, isn't easy.

Peace,

MaryKate

Something's Wrong...

69/100

When I was in high school, there was only one thing I truly ever wanted. Well, besides a boyfriend and to like myself. More than anything I wanted to be in our show choir. I had zero self confidence and I could be difficult to get along with. I had a few good friends, but mostly the other kids were okay to me, or they were horribly cruel. Either way, the one thing I always thought I had going for me, was my singing voice. I could sing two and a half octaves. I had clear pitch. I had (and I would like to say, still have) talent. And more than anything, I wanted to be in show choir. Somehow I felt that if I was in show choir I would be 'okay'. It would somehow make me feel like I belonged somewhere. It would make me part of a group of people I admired. I think it made me think I would be special. Anyhow, I auditioned with the idea that it was a forgone conclusion. I auditioned knowing there really wasn't anyone with a better voice or better attitude for show choir. I was a Gleek before anyone even knew what Gleek meant!

My audition was awesome. I hit every note, smiled, showed my enthusiasm. I pretty much worshipped the woman I was auditioning for... and at that time, I still believed that life was fair. I had talent, therefore I would make it. When she posted the list of people who made the show choir and my name wasn't on it? I was... well... crushed is kind of an understatement. I went to her office, determined to be 'okay' with it. I asked her why. And? She said all kinds of platitudes. She fed me lines like, "You don't blend very well. Your voice is too loud." I didn't understand. I was first alto. I HAD TALENT. Damn it. But I started sobbing. I couldn't stop - and I had this vague feeling that something was wrong. That something wasn't true. That I was being lied to.

As I am a teacher now, it must have been so hard for her to watch me cry like that. I want to think that anyhow. I want to still think that about her. I don't want to think that her image was more important than the devastated child in front of her.

I went home. My dad knew how excited I had been about show choir. He asked me how it went. I started crying again. I told him I didn't make it. I told him what she had said. And in a moment that changed my life forever, he gently, but clearly said, "Honey, it has nothing to do with your voice. You didn't get in because you are fat."

"NO!" I screamed. "She isn't like that!! She TOLD me it was because of my voice!" I screamed at him that he just didn't understand. I think I accused him of lying. My dad realized it was a losing argument and just said in that wonderful but slightly condescending voice, "Okay, honey."

But I knew he was right. It was like a lightbulb exploded in my head. I went back to school the next day and watched the rehearsals for show choir and pretended everything was fine. But I knew something was wrong. I knew I had been lied to. I was never able to shake that feeling. I'm not sure I ever really got past it. It has given me a pretty high bullshit meter. Ask my students, they'll tell you. They often *think* I buy their stories about dogs and homework, but they know and *I* know... BS is BS.

Today, when I start to feel that "something is wrong" feeling, I've learned to trust that on some level I  know something isn't right. I'm probably being lied to or more accurately, either I am being inauthentic or someone around me is. Something doesn't 'feel' right. The problem isn't recognizing something is wrong, the problem is figuring out exactly what that 'wrong' piece is. Part of the problem is that often the lying isn't intentional. The other person perhaps believes what he or she is saying. But the net result is that feeling that 'something is off base. Something is wrong..."

Without going into too much private detail, toward the end of my previous relationship, I had that feeling. I couldn't put my finger on what was 'wrong' but I knew something was.  I was crying a lot, I was frustrated. I was in therapy. I had all these pieces but none of them gelled. I had the frame of the puzzle but no box to guide me in putting together the image. Then, one day my best friend, in one succinct sentence said more or less to me, "MK, what you are describing isn't friendship, it's dating!" and all the issues going on in my situation became clear. It was the reality I didn't want to see. That the person I was with was dating... but it wasn't *me*. The same thing happened the next time I got into a relationship. I was sooo invested and then I had another one of those... 'something is wrong' feelings. This time? I had, without the feedback from friend or father, a shining moment of clarity that I could not doubt or look back on. It was only a month later when I was proved correct and the relationship ended.

It seems like once I establish that something is wrong then have that 'ah-ha' moment, I can't pretend I don't see. It is clear and it is a light bulb moment from which I can't turn back. The stark truth. Unsweetned. Bitter. Unavoidable.

I'm having one of those moments in my life again. A feeling that something is 'wrong'. I both dread the moment of knowing and ache for it to show up. That moment when I can't look back and pretend I don't know what's wrong. But I don't know what is worse - knowing that I am about to have one of those moments, or when the moment actually arrives and I say to myself... "oohhhh... crap. That hurts, but now I know the truth of it. THAT's what I am feeling!"

As painful as that moment in high school was, it forged who I am. It taught me to trust that 'something is wrong' feeling. To figure out how to slice through the bullshit to find the authentic self and the (often painful) truth of things. I still lie to myself at times. I think we all do. But as hard as the truth is to hear, I have learned to honor it and respect it - even when it isn't what I want to do.

Honoring my truth is healthy, even when it hurts. Trusting that voice (even when I'd rather ignore it and hide under the covers of my new, comfy bed) takes courage. I'm glad I have people in my life that hold me up and remind me that healthy? Isn't always easy.

Peace,

MaryKate

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

~Mother Teresa

68/100

I wonder sometimes why the word 'love' is such a loaded word in my life. How is it, a species so designed to love has such a complicated relationship with such a basic need.

I am amazed at how complicated love is. I think about how easily that word comes from me. I love food, I love friends, I love a book... and how difficult it is when someone says to me, "MK, do you love him?" Suddenly? That word changes complete meaning. A word I toss around like candy at an Easter Parade, suddenly seems precious. Almost hoarded. And I think to myself... I don't know, there is so much pressure with that word. And I think when we add the word 'in' to 'love' the whole situation becomes loaded with expectations and pressure that makes just 'loving' someone seem easy.

Recently, I had to contemplate love. I think it is one of those words that has changed meaning as I have grown. What 'love' meant to me at 15 is not the same now. Much like the word home which I talked about before.  I remember about 6 years ago, I dated a guy I called the cowboy. He was 6'7", well over 300 pounds and I was pretty sure the most handsome man I had ever met. After ten minutes? I was smitten. We went on a drive to Deception Pass. I remember kissing him and thinking the world was spinning so crazy! *laughter* Anyhow... a date or two later, he said to me, "MK, I think you care too much about me." I laughed. I said, "Cowboy, I'm probably inlove with you, but *you* don't have to do anything about that! You aren't responsible for how I feel. Just let me love you." But he felt obligated. If *I* felt that way, he felt like *he* needed to feel that way.

Of course admitting to the joy and abandon I was feeling was too much pressure. Eventually, about two months later, the cowboy and I went our separate ways. I was sad, but life goes on. I didn't regret *how* I felt, but I suppose some part of me regretted *telling* him how I felt.

I'm not sure what to do with the word 'love' now. I've realized in my life it isn't so hard to love someone, but sometimes it is really hard to *like* someone. And I find I have become more stingy with the word love. Someone close to me told me the other day that she was the first one in her relationship to use the word 'love'. She said it changed the whole mood of the relationship. They have been dating a few months now and I was surprised they hadn't said it before. But he wasn't sure what to do with that word. And I remember her saying to me, "Dang it MK, I was NOT going to be the first one to say it!" Huh? Why is it that if you feel that you love someone, it is a bad idea to tell them? It's part of this dating game I don't think I get.

I started thinking about how I hoard the word "love" these days. I hand it out pretty freely with my friends, but with guys? Not so much. What *is* that about? Why should I be afraid to say I love someone? Just because I love someone doesn't mean I expect to spend the rest of my life with that person. How is it I have become so unwilling to just 'love' and see where it goes?

I have no answer for these questions. I just know I have been thinking a lot about it. About the weight of the word love, and I wonder if that word deserves so much angst surrounding it.

Because in the end, I wonder if it isn't "love" we are afraid of, but being vulnerable. And somehow the word 'love' seems to open up that door to our hearts. Then? What do we do with that love if circumstances change and we are no longer with the person? One of my dearest friends D and I went our separate ways several years ago. It was a misunderstanding that wasn't able to be healed. For a long time I was so angry. How could he just walk away from such a long friendship? How could he 'toss' me aside? How could he not be willing to talk through it? After all, we loved each other. Why couldn't we make it work? Then, when I realized he really had shut the door, I didn't know what to do with all that love that once belonged to him. It was a big pile of the stuff and I didn't want to throw it away. It sat, mocking me in my living room. I'd see a photo of him or an old email and that big pile of love would torment me.

Then one day, I realized that love wasn't going to go away. It would always be there. Instead of being angry I felt it, I welcomed it back into my heart and made peace with it. It is still attached to him. And someday, I still hope he and I are able, again, to be friends. But for now? There is no need to toss away that love or deny it. I feel the same way about others in my life that I have loved and that are no longer part of my life. Even if the expectations I had for that love have shifted, the love itself is still there. And being angry or bitter about those lost expectations really serves no purpose.

I guess, in the end, I am working in my life to be more present with loving and vulnerability. I don't have the answers to the difference between love and 'inlove', and I still find myself more 'careful' about using the word 'love' in relationships, but the reality is that I am a person that loves. And instead of thinking that is a bad thing, I'd like to shift my perspective a bit. I realize that being a person that loves might mean I get my feelings hurt, but in the end, I'll be better off for having let myself love, than I would if I hoarded my 'love'. Besides, I've watched that tv show 'Hoarders' and if that is what happens when you hoard things? I don't want to know what I'd end up like if I continued down the path of hoarding love like it came in some limited quantity.

I'd probably truly end up that 400pound, single, crazy cat lady with 40 cats and photos of all of them in my wallet. There ain't nothin' healthy about that image.

Peace,

MaryKate