You're Welcome
91/100
Short little story:
A woman who works at our school is very into physical fitness. I've been wondering if she is a personal trainer, but wasn't sure and hadn't bothered to ask her. I'm really anxious about this triathlon. I'm doing 'okay' at training, but don't really feel like I am getting anywhere and I certainly don't feel I am in any way ready. August will be here in no time, and I am still 'dancing' around training without being very serious.
Today I walked by the front desk where she was working and I heard that 'voice' in my head. It said, "Hey go talk to K about personal training."
I ignored it.
"Hey, GO ASK K ABOUT PERSONAL TRAINING!!!!!" the voice was SO loud and insistent it was difficult to ignore, I felt almost 'compelled' to turn around... so halfway to my office I listened, turned around and went back to the front desk.
I talked to K and asked her if she did personal training. She said, "yes" and we started talking about this mini-triathlon I am doing and how I feel like I need more accountability to get myself ready. I feel like I can do all the little pieces individually, but am not sure about putting them all together. We talked about strength and endurance training, etc. We talked for about 5 minutes or so and she said she'd email me with some thoughts and costs for what she could offer to help me really get ready for this nutty choice I made to do a triathlon, even if it is a small one :).
I thanked her and turned and started walking to my office.
Halfway to my office I heard that same voice say, "You're welcome."
I stopped walking, laughed out loud a little, nodded my head in acknowledgement and walked the rest of the way to my office.
I <3 days like today.
Peace,
MaryKate
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Another day another rapture...
90/100
I woke up this morning. That in and of itself is probably fantastic, although I figured I'd be here in the morning no matter what the outcome of yesterday's Rapture.
I had some time to think this quiet Sunday morning about the whole mania over the 'big event' yesterday. I realized how fascinating it is that a human being would desperately cling to the notion of such a cruel god. Of a god that would slaughter so many for a handful of 'chosen' people. It is why I have always had an 'issue' with the idea of some big "God" event where some people would be more loved than other people. Perhaps it is why I end up with a more 'new' testament view of divinity than old testament. Of course... my view of god is bigger than either of those tomes...
I'm not a parent, although I sometimes play one on tv... or well at least at work. I find that while I like working with some of my students more than others, I don't 'love' some of my students more than others. As a parent, you may like some of your children more, but do you love some of your children more? As a healthy parent, do you play favorites with your kids? Do you refuse to love them if they don't follow everything you say? Do you hate them if they go off and live a lifestyle you may or may not choose to live yourself? Do you condemn them because they are different or they want pink hair? Do you resent their freedom and the beauty of life that they get to make crazy choices you wouldn't make if it was you? Do you deny them access to their home because they are different than the way *you'd* like things done? When they come to your door hungry and perhaps even strung out on poor choices, do you throw away the key and say "you aren't good enough to come into this house!" Now, I am not saying that if you bring in a child that is strung out that you give that child more drugs, but when the child is ready and asks for help, do you not find them a place or a person to help them? Is that not the weight of love?
My god is a god that doesn't throw me out at the door when I come home. My god is a god that if I don't live quite the way my god would like, my god knows that I am a child and I have to make my own choices. My god has given me some solid suggestions on how to live my life, but in the end? My god has also given me free will. My god loves me. My god says, "Hey, wanna sit and talk for a while? No? Too busy? Okay MaryKate, well I love you and I'd love to chat with you when you have some time." And I realize I am neglecting that part of myself and I sit down and have a chat with god. I don't blame my god for the bad things that happen in my life, any more than I blame my dad for that time I fell riding my bicycle or my mom for that time she didn't come get me from school when I was sick. Or my cat, who just brought a bird into my house, played with it but didn't quite kill it. And as I sit here holding the bird wrapped in paper towels to comfort it in its last few moments of life, it's tiny little black eyes not quite yet empty of whatever it is that makes a bird a bird and not just moving feathers and feet... I do not hate my cat. I do not throw my cat out for doing what a cat does. Granted, we humans can make different choices than cats, but in the end, I can not get angry at my cat for its very nature.
My god doesn't love me and smite all the others, my god loves. There is a difference.
Peace,
MaryKate
90/100
I woke up this morning. That in and of itself is probably fantastic, although I figured I'd be here in the morning no matter what the outcome of yesterday's Rapture.
I had some time to think this quiet Sunday morning about the whole mania over the 'big event' yesterday. I realized how fascinating it is that a human being would desperately cling to the notion of such a cruel god. Of a god that would slaughter so many for a handful of 'chosen' people. It is why I have always had an 'issue' with the idea of some big "God" event where some people would be more loved than other people. Perhaps it is why I end up with a more 'new' testament view of divinity than old testament. Of course... my view of god is bigger than either of those tomes...
I'm not a parent, although I sometimes play one on tv... or well at least at work. I find that while I like working with some of my students more than others, I don't 'love' some of my students more than others. As a parent, you may like some of your children more, but do you love some of your children more? As a healthy parent, do you play favorites with your kids? Do you refuse to love them if they don't follow everything you say? Do you hate them if they go off and live a lifestyle you may or may not choose to live yourself? Do you condemn them because they are different or they want pink hair? Do you resent their freedom and the beauty of life that they get to make crazy choices you wouldn't make if it was you? Do you deny them access to their home because they are different than the way *you'd* like things done? When they come to your door hungry and perhaps even strung out on poor choices, do you throw away the key and say "you aren't good enough to come into this house!" Now, I am not saying that if you bring in a child that is strung out that you give that child more drugs, but when the child is ready and asks for help, do you not find them a place or a person to help them? Is that not the weight of love?
My god is a god that doesn't throw me out at the door when I come home. My god is a god that if I don't live quite the way my god would like, my god knows that I am a child and I have to make my own choices. My god has given me some solid suggestions on how to live my life, but in the end? My god has also given me free will. My god loves me. My god says, "Hey, wanna sit and talk for a while? No? Too busy? Okay MaryKate, well I love you and I'd love to chat with you when you have some time." And I realize I am neglecting that part of myself and I sit down and have a chat with god. I don't blame my god for the bad things that happen in my life, any more than I blame my dad for that time I fell riding my bicycle or my mom for that time she didn't come get me from school when I was sick. Or my cat, who just brought a bird into my house, played with it but didn't quite kill it. And as I sit here holding the bird wrapped in paper towels to comfort it in its last few moments of life, it's tiny little black eyes not quite yet empty of whatever it is that makes a bird a bird and not just moving feathers and feet... I do not hate my cat. I do not throw my cat out for doing what a cat does. Granted, we humans can make different choices than cats, but in the end, I can not get angry at my cat for its very nature.
My god doesn't love me and smite all the others, my god loves. There is a difference.
Peace,
MaryKate
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Oprah 100 x 100
89/100
I'm watching a show on Oprah. I don't watch Oprah that often. But for some reason I caught the beginning of tonight's show and found it very inspiring. It's a show of 100 people who have lost over 100 pounds.
I started watching the show and the first thing I wanted to do was go into the kitchen and eat. I suppose that probably sounds funny, but really? Not so much. I sat here processing the anxiety watching this show made me feel. It brought up a memory in me from about eight years ago. I was with my sister and one of my dear friends doing some clothes shopping. I had lost about 50 pounds. I tried on a pair of leather pants and came out of the dressing room. They were in a size I hadn't worn since I was in my teens. I have been heavy since I was eight years old. So, for me? Getting back into a size I wore when I was a teenager was amazing.
So, there I was... in HOT, new, black leather pants. I walked out into the store and Lori and my sister had this look in their eyes. It's hard to explain it. But it was joy, happiness. Love. They both went on and on about how amazing I looked. How sexy, how beautiful. They had tears in their eyes. I started to get anxious. I went back into the dressing room and started crying. Full on sobbing. Couldn't stop. Took off the pants and within six months I had gained back all the weight and didn't lose it again.
Tonight, watching Oprah, feeling that anxiety and the desire to eat it bought up, I realized I still have some issues with food. The difference in my life is that tonight? I didn't get up and eat. I didn't get out of my chair. I'm working my way to a triathlon. I'm trying not to obsess about the scale. I've given up my pretty solid diet of wheat, white sugar and dairy. On occasion I have those foods, but I'm not making those staples in my life anymore.
I had someone say to me the other day that he felt fat people were just lazy and undisciplined. In his defense? He did say he was realizing that it was much more complex. I know it is for me. It is so easy to pigeon hole my weight issues as my being 'lazy' and 'undisciplined'. It's so much more than that.
And here is the best part. As the Oprah show finishes up, I feel more excited to keep on my journey. Tonight, I moved past the old desire to eat over feeling anxiety and am now just enjoying her show and finding it motivating.
I know I have a long way to go. I know this isn't my 100th blog post. I still have 11 more of the first 100. I'm excited to focus those last ten on how much I have grown and changed in the eight months I have been writing this journal. And the best part is that I'm not stopping at 100, the next set of 100 will be continuing my journey to be more healthy and sharing whatever twists my life takes next.
It's important to know the original issues I had with food and weight haven't just 'disappeared'. Anxiety/Emotional eating are still a part of my life. But by paying attention to what I am feeling and by recognizing the desire to eat that isn't hunger based but emotionally based, I can stop myself from mindlessly going into the kitchen and eating something to numb myself.
I have awareness, determination and a belief that I can make a change in my life. It's already happening.
Peace,
MaryKate
89/100
I'm watching a show on Oprah. I don't watch Oprah that often. But for some reason I caught the beginning of tonight's show and found it very inspiring. It's a show of 100 people who have lost over 100 pounds.
I started watching the show and the first thing I wanted to do was go into the kitchen and eat. I suppose that probably sounds funny, but really? Not so much. I sat here processing the anxiety watching this show made me feel. It brought up a memory in me from about eight years ago. I was with my sister and one of my dear friends doing some clothes shopping. I had lost about 50 pounds. I tried on a pair of leather pants and came out of the dressing room. They were in a size I hadn't worn since I was in my teens. I have been heavy since I was eight years old. So, for me? Getting back into a size I wore when I was a teenager was amazing.
So, there I was... in HOT, new, black leather pants. I walked out into the store and Lori and my sister had this look in their eyes. It's hard to explain it. But it was joy, happiness. Love. They both went on and on about how amazing I looked. How sexy, how beautiful. They had tears in their eyes. I started to get anxious. I went back into the dressing room and started crying. Full on sobbing. Couldn't stop. Took off the pants and within six months I had gained back all the weight and didn't lose it again.
Tonight, watching Oprah, feeling that anxiety and the desire to eat it bought up, I realized I still have some issues with food. The difference in my life is that tonight? I didn't get up and eat. I didn't get out of my chair. I'm working my way to a triathlon. I'm trying not to obsess about the scale. I've given up my pretty solid diet of wheat, white sugar and dairy. On occasion I have those foods, but I'm not making those staples in my life anymore.
I had someone say to me the other day that he felt fat people were just lazy and undisciplined. In his defense? He did say he was realizing that it was much more complex. I know it is for me. It is so easy to pigeon hole my weight issues as my being 'lazy' and 'undisciplined'. It's so much more than that.
And here is the best part. As the Oprah show finishes up, I feel more excited to keep on my journey. Tonight, I moved past the old desire to eat over feeling anxiety and am now just enjoying her show and finding it motivating.
I know I have a long way to go. I know this isn't my 100th blog post. I still have 11 more of the first 100. I'm excited to focus those last ten on how much I have grown and changed in the eight months I have been writing this journal. And the best part is that I'm not stopping at 100, the next set of 100 will be continuing my journey to be more healthy and sharing whatever twists my life takes next.
It's important to know the original issues I had with food and weight haven't just 'disappeared'. Anxiety/Emotional eating are still a part of my life. But by paying attention to what I am feeling and by recognizing the desire to eat that isn't hunger based but emotionally based, I can stop myself from mindlessly going into the kitchen and eating something to numb myself.
I have awareness, determination and a belief that I can make a change in my life. It's already happening.
Peace,
MaryKate
Sunday, May 08, 2011
What's Next?
88/100
I've been watching people change their facebook icons to photos of their mom. My mom died long enough ago that I don't believe I have any digital photos of her. I always think about my mom on days like today. About the good memories and the difficult ones. I wish I knew where the eulogy is that I wrote for her. I thought it was beautiful and I remember I sang at her funeral. She died on my sister's 30th birthday. It was a difficult time for all of us, she had suffered a long time and in many ways we were grateful she passed so she could find some peace.
I remember about a year before my mom died, when she was still mostly lucid, she told me about a dream she had. In it, she was dressed in a beautiful ball gown. There was music playing and she told me there were candles everywhere. She told me that God came up to her and asked her to dance. She told me she refused and walked away. "By god I sure showed Him who was boss!" I remember her saying. She wasn't ready to die. In fact, I remember my mother said that she wanted to be cremated an put on the fireplace so she could watch everyone. I think she was only half joking.
I think a lot about that. About her fear of dying. About her anger at God for asking her to dance. It makes me sad. Sad for all the pain and sadness that came after that dream. That long year that she, all 82 pounds of her fought, raged and ultimately lost the battle with death.
I remember when I was learning to do journey work (sort of a form of meditation). For some, journey work is about going outside of yourself to connect with forces to get insight. At first, that is what I thought it was as well. Going to speak to my guides to get 'answers'. Because I somehow felt some entity outside myself actually had answers for me. Now? When I look at journey work, I realize it is to go inside myself. To look at my own mythology, my own patterns, my own stories and find my own answers. In training, one of the first journeys we did was to create a 'garden'. A 'sacred space' in our spirit that we could go to grow and learn. I loved my 'sacred' space. All the items I found there were items that had personal meaning to me. Once we learned about our sacred space, we had other journeys to learn different techniques, etc. During the second round of training, I remember one journey in particular. I think about if often. In the journey, we were to seek the 'boat' that would come for us upon our deaths. One that would meet us at our sacred garden space and take us forward into the journey of death. One that we were not afraid of, one that was sacred to us. It may appear different to everyone, but one that we knew was there to help us with our crossing.
As I've aged, I've realized how terrified of death many people are. I'm saddened a bit that as a culture we don't have some 'death' awareness that eases the fear and anxiety that the thought of dying engenders. I met a friend recently who told me he had plans to live until he was 120. I smiled. I listened. I could hear his determination. He had THINGS TO DO. He asked me how long I wanted to live. I said... "oh... as long as I live I suppose. But not over 100. That doesn't really sound appealing to me. Maybe 90 or so. As long as I am healthy, that's fine." He couldn't understand why I didn't want to live as long as possible. I couldn't answer him but to say that I want to be healthy, I am taking better care of my body, I am spending more time with spirit, but I have no desire to live forever. Not even close. I see my dad watch all the people he loves pass away, and I think to myself. I don't want that. That isn't the end of life I want. I don't want to fight like my mother did. When death comes I want to feel like I have lived a full life and that I'm okay to leave it for whatever comes next. If death comes suddenly? I want to know that everyone I love knew that I loved them. I tell them all the time and I know if I love you? You know it. I don't wait for a special day or a special moment, as if love is some 'limited commodity' and I can only share it on given days and in given ways. Love is a gift and one I give of freely.
My best friend Candace has a gift. She can sit with people while they die and hold their space for them. I don't know how else to explain it. She talks to them, encourages them, comforts them. Even if they are in a coma or in a medical haze, she has the capacity to surround them with love. She can look at their feet, look at their eyes and tell you how soon they are going to cross. I wish she could get paid to simply sit with people and help them make the transition between living and passing. It is a rare gift and I cherish it about her. I wasn't able to do that very well with my mom and I hope, when the day comes, that she will hold my hand and comfort me while I cross into whatever I find to be next.
For me? I like knowing in my spirit that there is something next. I'm not sure I understand the people that insist that when you die, that's it. Game over. I do not claim by *any* means to KNOW what is next with some absoluteness, but I do believe there is something. What a long life it would be to think.. well I live this and then *poof* I'm worm food. (Or in my case, fish fertilizer. I'd prefer they just burn and scatter me on the lake somewhere. I see no reason to bury my hollowed out skin that has been pumped full of toxic chemicals that will pollute the soil around for an extended period of time. Ew.) But I wonder, if there is nothing more, if I do simply die, where is the harm in having lived a life where I believed there would be more? If I'm dead and now fish food, I won't know so it isn't like I'll have some big regret that I was 'suckered' into thinking there would be more, right? I guess it is a mystery to me.
I didn't think I would be writing a Mother's Day blog on death, but in some ways it turns out that is what is on my mind lately. I certainly don't want to die, I have such a wonderful, fulfilling, happy, frustrating, delightful life. I'm not ready to be done with it. But? I don't live every day fearing it might be over tomorrow. Fearing I haven't left my 'mark on the world'. My life is what it is and where it is. I don't believe I let life live me, I believe I live life. Sometimes I take silly chances, sometimes I play it safe, but no matter how I play it, I am grateful for it. And when the end comes? I hope I can die with some grace. I want to meet my boat and feel a sense of contentment and joy that I was fortunate to have walked on this planet as long as I walked.
I hope my mom found peace and joy in her passing. I want to believe that 12 years ago, God was there waiting, and this time, she took His hand and smiled and said, "Why yes, yes I would love to dance."
Peace,
MaryKate
I remember about a year before my mom died, when she was still mostly lucid, she told me about a dream she had. In it, she was dressed in a beautiful ball gown. There was music playing and she told me there were candles everywhere. She told me that God came up to her and asked her to dance. She told me she refused and walked away. "By god I sure showed Him who was boss!" I remember her saying. She wasn't ready to die. In fact, I remember my mother said that she wanted to be cremated an put on the fireplace so she could watch everyone. I think she was only half joking.
I think a lot about that. About her fear of dying. About her anger at God for asking her to dance. It makes me sad. Sad for all the pain and sadness that came after that dream. That long year that she, all 82 pounds of her fought, raged and ultimately lost the battle with death.
I remember when I was learning to do journey work (sort of a form of meditation). For some, journey work is about going outside of yourself to connect with forces to get insight. At first, that is what I thought it was as well. Going to speak to my guides to get 'answers'. Because I somehow felt some entity outside myself actually had answers for me. Now? When I look at journey work, I realize it is to go inside myself. To look at my own mythology, my own patterns, my own stories and find my own answers. In training, one of the first journeys we did was to create a 'garden'. A 'sacred space' in our spirit that we could go to grow and learn. I loved my 'sacred' space. All the items I found there were items that had personal meaning to me. Once we learned about our sacred space, we had other journeys to learn different techniques, etc. During the second round of training, I remember one journey in particular. I think about if often. In the journey, we were to seek the 'boat' that would come for us upon our deaths. One that would meet us at our sacred garden space and take us forward into the journey of death. One that we were not afraid of, one that was sacred to us. It may appear different to everyone, but one that we knew was there to help us with our crossing.
As I've aged, I've realized how terrified of death many people are. I'm saddened a bit that as a culture we don't have some 'death' awareness that eases the fear and anxiety that the thought of dying engenders. I met a friend recently who told me he had plans to live until he was 120. I smiled. I listened. I could hear his determination. He had THINGS TO DO. He asked me how long I wanted to live. I said... "oh... as long as I live I suppose. But not over 100. That doesn't really sound appealing to me. Maybe 90 or so. As long as I am healthy, that's fine." He couldn't understand why I didn't want to live as long as possible. I couldn't answer him but to say that I want to be healthy, I am taking better care of my body, I am spending more time with spirit, but I have no desire to live forever. Not even close. I see my dad watch all the people he loves pass away, and I think to myself. I don't want that. That isn't the end of life I want. I don't want to fight like my mother did. When death comes I want to feel like I have lived a full life and that I'm okay to leave it for whatever comes next. If death comes suddenly? I want to know that everyone I love knew that I loved them. I tell them all the time and I know if I love you? You know it. I don't wait for a special day or a special moment, as if love is some 'limited commodity' and I can only share it on given days and in given ways. Love is a gift and one I give of freely.
My best friend Candace has a gift. She can sit with people while they die and hold their space for them. I don't know how else to explain it. She talks to them, encourages them, comforts them. Even if they are in a coma or in a medical haze, she has the capacity to surround them with love. She can look at their feet, look at their eyes and tell you how soon they are going to cross. I wish she could get paid to simply sit with people and help them make the transition between living and passing. It is a rare gift and I cherish it about her. I wasn't able to do that very well with my mom and I hope, when the day comes, that she will hold my hand and comfort me while I cross into whatever I find to be next.
For me? I like knowing in my spirit that there is something next. I'm not sure I understand the people that insist that when you die, that's it. Game over. I do not claim by *any* means to KNOW what is next with some absoluteness, but I do believe there is something. What a long life it would be to think.. well I live this and then *poof* I'm worm food. (Or in my case, fish fertilizer. I'd prefer they just burn and scatter me on the lake somewhere. I see no reason to bury my hollowed out skin that has been pumped full of toxic chemicals that will pollute the soil around for an extended period of time. Ew.) But I wonder, if there is nothing more, if I do simply die, where is the harm in having lived a life where I believed there would be more? If I'm dead and now fish food, I won't know so it isn't like I'll have some big regret that I was 'suckered' into thinking there would be more, right? I guess it is a mystery to me.
I didn't think I would be writing a Mother's Day blog on death, but in some ways it turns out that is what is on my mind lately. I certainly don't want to die, I have such a wonderful, fulfilling, happy, frustrating, delightful life. I'm not ready to be done with it. But? I don't live every day fearing it might be over tomorrow. Fearing I haven't left my 'mark on the world'. My life is what it is and where it is. I don't believe I let life live me, I believe I live life. Sometimes I take silly chances, sometimes I play it safe, but no matter how I play it, I am grateful for it. And when the end comes? I hope I can die with some grace. I want to meet my boat and feel a sense of contentment and joy that I was fortunate to have walked on this planet as long as I walked.
I hope my mom found peace and joy in her passing. I want to believe that 12 years ago, God was there waiting, and this time, she took His hand and smiled and said, "Why yes, yes I would love to dance."
Peace,
MaryKate
Saturday, April 30, 2011
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
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
Friday, April 29, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
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
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
Sunday, April 17, 2011
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
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
Thursday, April 14, 2011
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
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
Monday, April 04, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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
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
Monday, March 07, 2011
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
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
Monday, February 28, 2011
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
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
Sunday, February 20, 2011
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
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
Sunday, February 13, 2011
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
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
Thursday, February 10, 2011
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
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
Monday, February 07, 2011
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
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
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
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
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
Sunday, January 30, 2011
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.
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
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
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
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
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
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