Preparing for NANOWRIMO

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Novel_Writing_Month

I have decided to try to do this this year. It is basically a way to get people writing and through their first rough draft. It is drive forward and keep the words flowing.

I decided to do this last month. Announced I would do it at my writers group. Then tore my office apart. I have been going through boxes, and organizing things, and throwing things out. I have moved all the lamps around, and gone through closets and looked at old tax records. I have buried myself in paperwork, and even downloaded a very complicated writing program to teach myself. I have in essence done everything in my power to put up obstacles so that I don't write.

Yesterday, after thinking about a blog article for a week I finally wrote it. I have written a couple of tiny  articles for the Website at my store. I have started a play, that I have not finished. I have thought about all the stories I have begun, or just done drafts of, or outlined. I have a jumble of creative crap in my head and I need to start writing it down.

I submitted a play I wrote years ago to a friend who is a Mucky Muck at a local theatre. Just the first act. She read it and asked for the rest of it. I am scratching at the surface of what I really want to do. Just with my pinky finger. And only just a little scratch, maybe not even a scratch, a little rub with the tip of my pinky.

I have friends who are Bloggers! One friend has 3000 blogs. He writes every day. Another friend who has twin 5 year olds and posts and wins contests. Another friend is doing re-writes on her novel and has others in the fire. Another friend has and agent and has finished her second book.

I watch movies and TV on DVD. I swim. I go to bed early and read. I work. So why am I not carving time out...

NANOWRIMO is the time I am going to carve. Every day for a month. And if that doesn't bring me back to writing, then I will rethink my belief system around this.

Sounds like a plan. Like a plan made by a ex-junkie, but a plan none the less.

Water Aerobics, not for the meek.

I have begun swimming again. I have always loved swimming. And now that I have tons of body heat from being a menopausal woman, the coolness of the water does not bother me as much as it used to. The pool I go to is lovely, close, and you get two towels! What more can a person ask for. It is my happy place. There are times when I even have the pool to myself, and I just float, happy Mona Lisa smile on my face, my pink cap filling with water, my limbs relaxing.

I have started taking a Water Aerobics class on Wednesday morning. It is a senior water aerobics class. The first week I wanted to leave 15 minutes into it. But I struggled and stayed. I was exhausted and slept for 3 hours after I got home. But now I can keep up. It is great for my ego. I look horrible in my suit, and yet, in comparison, it ain't all that bad! Everyone there is cheerful and kind. They talk to me. They even invited me to come to the once a month lunch they have. Everyone smiles. It is my happy midweek delight.

So I have been doing this for a month. And I am thinking, "I should try the evening class."

I am an idiot.

I worked a full day that day, which is about 10 hours on my feet. Then I went home and didn't put my feet up. Then I went to class. The minute I hit the water I realized I was in trouble. The water buoyancy  usually keeps me protected. But this was not the case. The minute I hit the water my feet began to swell. Then the other women arrived. Large powerful Russian weightlifter sized women. I thought, "Ok, I can do this. They are all bigger than me."

Wrong. They have been doing this class together for months and were like a synchronized tsunami. They moved the water and their bodies in such powerful graceful ways, all I could do was be amazed. They were like Dolphins! Or Killer Whales. They were sleek, and strong. It was amazing, and daunting.

And this is where I had my epiphany.

These women, who I judges for their big bodies, and bloated stomaches. Who I judged for their body shapes and sizes. Who I judged for their hair and makeup. These women who I JUDGED, were strong, powerful, confident, graceful and BEAUTIFUL. And I was wrong. So so Wrong!

I did my best and bounced as I could. I made it through the whole class. One woman gave me tips as we went along. But I lasted 10 minutes doing the work, then spent the rest of the time just trying to stay in the water and not run screaming into the night.

Judging people is one of the things I do best. It is my fall back. That and Gossip. And this time I had my Judging slap me in the face. A good thing, 'cause it is bad and I shouldn't do it. But here I am a full week after the class, and all I can think about is how amazing those women are. And I am also amazed at how hard it was to write this. And what weird feelings I have when I was trying to explain what these women reminded me of. I am aware of how we have equated big with bad and clumsy and lazy and wrong. I am not alone in this.

But one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen is a Beluga Whale in the water. Or an elephant swimming. So I want to apologize to those people I have judged. And especially to myself. And I want to embrace the Me that is the Elephant in the water.  Because I am beautiful.

it's the end of the world as I know it,

and i feel fine............

I asked the universe for some help with my body. I asked for help from Camille, and Laura, and Deb, and MGT. I asked for help from Cedar and Efarr and Phoebe.

I got an answer from all of them. Bits and pieces of help. And now I am facing a huge change, challenge, mountain. And Now I am REALLY afraid. All these years I have said I wanted to be thin, and healthy. All these years I have done nothing to get myself there. And now I have the option of doing something about it and I am terrified.

What if I fail? Well, that is what I have done, what I have always done.

But what if I succeed? That scares me more than anything I can think of. What if I find a way to be healthy and happy and strong and successful and healthy. What if it works, and not just for the short term, but for the rest of this life I have to live. What if this is the change I need to finally be able to lay down this burden of unhealthy and sad and broken. What if I move into health, something sustainable. Something that I can live with.

What if I stop paying the "fat tax"? The books, the pills, the cures, the fads, the next thing that will make everything happen easily and quickly? What if all it takes is me listening to my body. Feeding it what it needs and exercising it. What if this is all I need?

What if I succeed? It would be the end of the world as I know it.

Shifting...

I have been stuck.

Stuck in a rut. For days, weeks, years. I have had some things I have let stop me from moving forward with my life. And amazingly, as I look around, I realize, the things I thought had me stuck are not really there. I am stuck because I am Choosing not to move forward.

Had a couple of dating false starts two weeks ago, and then crashed physically for a week.  I know my emotions are tied to my physical, but Holy Crap! So I let myself sleep for 4 days. And all I thought about was feeding myself regularly and with quality food. I am going to keep that up. And I am walking more, and moving more. Pain or no pain.

I am also working on clearing out the clutter that is my life. Lots of clutter. Even cluttered with books about how to bust out of clutter.

I am taking 4 days off around the 4th of July to write, walk and eat well.

It is the little step thing.

The thing I have never been good at.

Mission statement

Today I began the process of writing a mission statement for myself. I am using a book and it is a little more "god-centric" than I probably would have liked, but it has some interesting exercises, so like AA I take what I need and leave the rest.

The statement that I read that threw me for a loop today was, "Nothing influences the environment of a child so much as the unlived life of a parent."

It makes my head spin.

I think of my mom, who wanted to be a fashion designer/artist in Paris. My father was going to be a vet for ranches in Wyoming.

Housewife. Cop.

Miserable.

Even staying together was more out of momentum and habit than anything else.

Here I am at 51, and I am trying to write a mission statement for the life I want to live for the next 51 years. And I tell ya, it is terrifying.

51

On the morning of my 51st birthday I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. It was stunning. I looked like hell, in so many ways. So I went and got my camera and took a photo, then I posted it on face book. Along with 9 other photos of me from kindergarden to a couple of years ago. I am proud of myself for revealing myself. I am also amazed that I was brave enough to do it.

I am coming to grips with the fact that I am on the downhill slope. And that is amazing, and scary, and exciting, and exhilarating, and terrifying, and DEPRESSING. I look at where I have been and realize that I am nearing the end. An end I never thought would happen to me. But with the death of both my parents there is nothing standing between me and my own death.

I know the next part of my life is mine to control and to live in a way that I want. I also know that I am moving into a time when I will no longer accept things because I am afraid, or allow things to happen to me. I also know I couldn't give a flying fuck what people think of me, because that is what freezes me in my life. Having my sister in Seattle has proven that to me. So worried about what she thinks of me that I am frozen. There is a reason why I like traveling alone, no one knows me or judges me.

So with the posting of that picture I think I have taken some of that "who cares what you think" attitude and presented it to the world.  As I stated in the posting, "This is the face of 51. Ah, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

The end of the world as we know it...

And I feel.....

I wish I could say fine, but I can't. This new year January was one of the most impossible months I have ever experienced. I have had illness, injury, emotional break down, anger, fear, rage, hatred, sadness, and all the other things I want to avoid, pile up on me.

I work too hard, I always have. This pattern has decided to come home to roost. And I am paying for it.
When I have gotten sick in the past I just pushed through it. Pushed Through! In my forties it began to push back. I joked that I was like a wildebeest getting hit with a tranq dart. I drop to my knees, fight a bit and then hit the ground with a thud. Being that I have lived most of my life alone, I just sleep until my blood sugar drops and I become dehydrated. Then I sit on the floor in the bathroom and chug gatorade, and eat crackers. There is always intestinal distress and a face on the cold porcelain of the tub.
This goes on for a couple of days. Then I drag my ass back to work and recover completely a month later. I never get a cold without a sinus infection. My Doctor just calls in an antibiotic. I never get a flu without loosing 10 pounds and having a fever over 101 degrees. I never get through the winter without going down to illness. One of my friends gets a cold once a year for a week. And he can still work.

I work in retail in a video store during the day. I am the place people stop on the way home from work as they are sent home for being too sick. I am the place where parents bring their plague riddled children who are home from school. I am the place where people come to sneeze, snot and generally infect me with the outside world. I want to put up a sneeze guard at the store, and if someone comes in sick, I want them to walk through a decontamination shower first. I wonder if I would get as many viruses if I was a receptionist in a doctor's office? Or was a kindergarden teacher? Or worked in hospital inCalcutta?

This year was particularly difficult. During the holidays we are very busy. And my back up person came down with a plague like illness that put her out of the store for the worst of the busy times. I had to handle terrifically hard days alone. And I had that Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon realization that I am officially "too old for this shit"! I wore myself out in the name of making people happy with 2 videos and a bit of candy. I exhausted myself to the point of making myself sick every night.

I have a Theatre background, so when I say I can usually deal with stress, I am not kidding. But this was like Finals week in college and tech week for a musical put together. It was terrible. And I suffered a lot. As I look back on this, I realize the wildebeest analogy works best if I think of myself as a newborn kitten, running as fast as I can ahead of the herd. Their thunder shaking the ground, the noise is terrible, then I feel the heat and dampness of their breath on my neck. The first wildebeest has arrived  and it steps on the back of my knees, and drops me. I then just curl up, trying to protect my head as the herd tramples over me. Kicking up so much dust I can barely breathe. The noise and motion unbearable. And it goes on from November 15th to January 15th.

When I attempted to emerge from this chaos this year, my legs did not work. I had a series of massages and physical therapies that left me crippled ( having to use a cane). I am recovering from legs swollen to the size of basketballs, and hips that snap and crackle when I move. I broke my arm 3 years ago, but not being able to walk is devastating.  I have had to sit. And mull. And be with myself. And that has opened an even worse kettle of fish.  Fear.

So on this first day of February, 20 days before I turn 51 years old, I am trying to cut myself some slack. Give myself permission to be a fuck up. Unpack the word Fear into smaller more digestible words that I can process and rid myself of. Today I sit in my living room, wrapped in a blanket, and I sneeze and my legs throb, but I also think the worst part has passed.

I have to think this, or the stampede will have won.

Narcissism

I wonder if this crop of fifty year old women who are recovering from growing up with narcissistic mothers should have a sit down with Gloria Steinman. Thank her for paving the way for our sisters, but wish that she could have helped our mothers find the strength to move into themselves, without leaving us as the collateral damage.

Slowly I turn... step by step...

This is what was in my head this morning. Something I remember from my childhood, but have absolutely no context for. None.

And yet, it feels right.

I had a 2 hour massage yesterday. Seriously. The woman who does these massages actually changes your life! She did mine anyway.

Three years ago, on my mothers's birthday, I fell down some steps and broke my arm. It was one of those moments in your life when all things around you crash in on you, and you just sit there and think, "nothing is ever going to be the same after this." I was right, it wasn't. It was far enough into my mom's alzheimer's that she could barely carry on a conversation with me on the phone. It makes my stomach hurt to even think about that conversation. I went out that day to walk over to the gym, I was working on getting myself healthy. As I started down the steps, this voice inside me told me not to do it.  I ignored the voice, and fell down the steps.

Three years have passed and though my arm is strong and recovered, the rest of me is not so much. The massage yesterday was a force of change that I still cannot believe. In releasing my muscles, she was able to realign my femur, which was trying to poke out my butt. Then she released the knot in my knee, my shoulder, and both my feet. When I went to stand up I was overwhelmed by this feeling I had forgotten, standing in my body and not being in pain. I had forgotten that you can actually be in your body and not be in pain. I FORGOT THIS! How is that possible?

And so, slowly I turn, and step by step I move myself into a place where my body and I are not at odds. Where I can walk again, and be in the world again, and not have to pretend that everything is alright and that I am just like everyone else, except that I am miserable.

I actually smiled yesterday, while I was standing up.

Awesome.

January 3, 2013 Holy Crap

This morning I woke up with a little more hope. A little less pain. A whole lot of anxiety. But a feeling like I may be able to survive.

This is something I have not had in what feels like a long time.

I HATE that I am an Eeyore. I want to at least be moving toward Rabbit or Piglet. I understand anxiety and fear. But this Eeyore hopelessness is just draining.

I wonder what it would be like to be a natural Tigger? Or just a comfortable Pooh Bear?

Did I work at the Disney Store too many years?

Here is why I don't Blog more often....

.... I do it so rarely, that when I want to blog I can remember how to get on line and then create a new entry...it is VEXING!

I have cried a  lot today. Happy new year, crazy crying lady. I think it may have just hit me that:
1. Like Danny Glover in "Lethal Weapon" I am too old for this shit. Being that working 10 hour days in retail with only one potty break and not eating actually makes me sick for a few days.
2. That it is already 2013 and I did not do anything to celebrate or acknowledge it's passing, besides
calling my sister at 3:30am to hold my head as I threw up and shook from exhaustion.
3. That there was actually someone in my life for the first time in WELL over 20 years who would do that for me.
4. That no matter how well I do at work, I have a belief that everything is going to drop out from beneath me and that I am going to be homeless, jobless, and have to tape my shoes together with duct tape and hold up signs at intersections that read "have a degree in theatre, music, film and yoga. totally, unemployable, please help".
5. That my parents are dead. Now this is not news. Dad died 8 years ago, Mom a year and change. But for some reason this just kinda snuck up on me and hit me like it was new today. Might help explain the crying. Or some of it. But suddenly I feel very old and very mortal and very sad.
6. That I am afraid of being old, mortal and sad. I am afraid of the pain I feel in my body and in my heart. I am afraid that I will wake up tomorrow and not know how to answer my phone, or I will be confused about how to reply to e-mail....

.....or worse, I won't be able to figure out how to use my blog. And that will mean I am old, broken, and a waste of viable human organs.  This is not a happy spot for me. And I have decided that I am going to try to get myself acting "as if" I was happier. With the idea that acting will actually lead to being.

So today, I am sad, and leaking from my eyes and my chest hurts and my brain is foggy. But tomorrow when I wake up it will be a little better. See, I said, "when I wake up"! Things are getting better already.

z