Weight

My personal trainer makes me do a bunch of different variations of farmers carries twice a week. Sometimes supinated, sometimes racked, and most recently bottoms up. I mostly hate them, but I trust him so I do it. One day, though, he let me just carry the weight. No special hold. I was able to carry 44 kg (97 lbs!) in each hand across the room. I felt so strong and powerful. It was weight I wanted and needed to carry. 

Most people who know me remember about two years ago I made a decision to withdraw my application for a full-time, tenure track teaching position. It was the 6th or 7th time I had applied for that specific job, always to be passed over for someone else. Nothing I ever did was good enough, and I didn't know how to prove I was worthy. I was so, so weary of trying to prove my worth. So I gave up. Not all dreams are meant to come true.

Since then, I have been experiencing a rather low point in my life. I have recently come to believe that I was experiencing depression and beyond that grief. My entire identity for the last 20 years had been wrapped up in the dream, the goal of being a full-time professor. When I gave up on that dream, I lost my life's purpose. I didn't know who I was any more. 

Withdrawing my application was absolutely the right decision for me at that time. I did not make that decision lightly, nor do I have any regrets. But after that I lost interest in all things I enjoyed. I didn't feel sad, but I found no joy in anything. Just about everything I ate was either ordered from a restaurant or something I could microwave, and I was only showering about once a week. With few exceptions, I spent my time in my recliner or my bed scrolling through my newsfeed on social media in a coma-like state. I lived in a void. I was only going through the motions of my life.

Then last March, I fell and broke my arm. At the time, I just viewed it as a freak accident. It sucked, but I dealt with it one day at a time. In hindsight, I don't think it was an accident at all. I think the Universe gave me a violent, purposeful shove to wake me up, to shake me up and out of the trance I was living in.

Once I was cleared to take off the sling, my shoulder was frozen, and I started physical therapy to recover mobility. I don't think any depth of depression could get me to be okay with the loss of function of one arm, much less my dominant arm. Suddenly, I had a goal again. 

When physical therapy ended after two months, I was still experiencing about 50% loss of mobility, so I hired a personal trainer at my gym and have been working with him two days a week ever since. Most days, I still don't want to go, but I want to move like I used to, so I force myself to do it. 

Working out twice a week has significantly improved my mobility--right now, I'm only at about a 5% loss of normal function--but it also started improving my mood. As my mental health improved, I started showering more frequently and eating healthier meals. The pandemic had me feeling rather nervous about strangers preparing my food anyway. In December, I added a Wednesday morning yoga class, which the pandemic blessed me with the ability to attend since I could just flip my Zoom session from yoga class over to my job in half a second at 9:00 a.m. when the class ends and my work shift begins. I also signed up for a 50 squats a day challenge through the American Cancer Society. (Thank you to the couple people who donated!) 

I was taking rather good care of myself, and I slowly started losing weight and feeling better. As I have been lifting weights and strengthening my body, a weight has been being lifted from my heart and my mind. 

But my work life was still pretty blah. Don't get me wrong. I like what I do. And I'm really good at it. But since I'm not working toward a full-time faculty position anymore, I have no goal and therefore no purpose in my work, no achievement to work toward. 

Lucky me, stars are still aligning in my favor. Most of the administration has turned over in the last several years, and the current administration seems to have a growth mentality. The new dean of my department initiated a review of the area I work in, so I've been spending my down time at work researching, reading, and discussing ideas with colleagues. I was engaged in such work this past Thursday when I felt a breakthrough in my spirit. These intellectual exercises are getting my mind back in shape.

I feel mentally alive again. In all areas of my life.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I don't have a new career goal. Yet. I don't even know if I want one. But I am open and willing to find what fulfills me, what gives a larger meaning and purpose to my work life. A growth mindset is an intrinsic part of who I am, and I finally feel like this will be supported and encouraged in my work life. This is a weight I need and want to carry.

The athletes in a critical reading strategies course I taught several years ago coined a slogan for our class: Get Smart; Get Swole. That simple slogan has forever endeared that group of young people to me because they understand that in order to be fully functioning humans, we need to exercise our entire being. We need to lift weights to strengthen our bodies, but we must also exercise our intellect to strengthen our minds. I want to be strong--not just my body but my entire being. I thrive when I have opportunities to flex my muscles...in all areas of my life, not just at the gym.

In short, I'm back and excited to be so. 

More Thoughts on Karma

People rarely get what they deserve, but we always get what we choose. In most cases, I think that is bad enough. Our worst problems come from not acknowledging our part in whatever is happening to us--the choices we made that led us to this specific and perhaps unpleasant circumstance. Instead, we humans often prefer to find someone to blame for our pain. In some cases, there is a perpetrator and a victim, but most often, we play both roles to our own demise.

There are very few "bad" choices in this world. There are only choices and the consequences of those choices. The consequences one finds painful, another may enjoy. The point is to learn to stop making choices that have painful consequences, so we can make more of the choices that bring us peace and joy.

I'll Be Your Good Karma If You'll Be Mine

Like a lot of people, karma--basically, the idea that people get what they deserve, good or bad--has been very appealing to me. I watched patiently, diligently for people who have wronged me in heinous ways to get their inevitable visit from karma. I have been disappointed thus far. They haven't gotten what I think they deserve for their crimes. Meanwhile, I've watched good people I love and care about suffer circumstances that there's no way they deserve.

The only logical conclusion is that there is no universal karmic justice. When I think about karma, I'm usually focused on how "bad" people deserve to be punished and how "good" people should be showered with blessings or at least be spared from suffering. Life isn't fair, and quite frankly, if we want to discuss what people deserve, none of us deserve anything...except maybe death. We don't deserve love, forgiveness, or kindness. We do, however, need these things.

I don't really believe in good and evil, but for the sake of keeping things simple, there is both good and evil in all of us. That may be difficult to see sometimes--especially the goodness in the people we've determined are evil. Most people don't do bad things to hurt others on purpose. All that pain and suffering we think others have inflicted on us is simply a byproduct of those people trying desperately to ease their own suffering, to appease their personal demons. Judgment and punishment will not cause some epiphany that changes them or their behavior. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, and if we all got the karma we deserved, we'd all be dead.

I propose another way. I propose that we forgive others the wrongs we think they have committed against us. (That doesn't necessarily mean restoring those relationships. More on the difference between forgiveness and restitution some other time.) I propose that whenever possible, we shower each other with kindness. I propose that we give love without conditions or ulterior motives and with no thought of what we want, expect, or think we deserve in return. Not because any of us deserve forgiveness, kindness or love, but because we all desperately need forgiveness, kindness, and love.

This is how we make the world and our own lives better and happier and more fulfilling, not by waiting for karma to give us our just desserts.

I'm tired of watching people I love wonder what they've done to deserve the hardships in their lives. I'm tired of watching the people I love senselessly suffer because they think karma is paying them back for the wrongs they have committed against others in the past. I'm tired of watching people believe their somehow superior to others because they hit the luck jackpot and have a relatively easy, pain-free life.

Redemption arcs are my favorite character arcs, and while none of us deserve redemption, we all need it. The only karma I see in this world is what we dole out to one another. I for one am tired of playing judge, jury, and executioner. From here on out, I'll be your good karma if you'll be mine. And even if you won't, I won't be your bad karma delivery service. If it turns out karma is real, why not sow as much love as you can to come back to you?

Filling Holes

You know that hole people talk about? The one we're all trying to fill with something we think will make us whole, happy? Some try to fill it with a significant other or sex, drugs, alcohol, work, exercise, food, religion. Religious people will try to convince you that only god can fill that hole, but that hole inside you isn't god-shaped, or food-shaped, or any other shape. Maybe I'm late to the party of understanding, but I realized today that hole is an absence of love, and the only way to fill it is with love. 

I've been desperately wondering my whole life why my family doesn't love me, why my romantic partners over the years haven't loved me, why my friends don't love me. The truth is they just don't know how, and quite frankly I'm tired of trying to earn other people's love. Nor am I interested in trying to explain to people how to love me. For the most part, I'm not even sure any one of these people is capable of loving me the way I need to be loved. The only person who can do that is me. I'm a little bit resentful about that right now, but I imagine I'll come around eventually. I'm already starting to just a little bit.

There's a lot of talk these days about self-love, but I haven't encountered very many people who seem to actually know how to do it. Apparently, it's pretty simple. You think about what you'd like other people to do to show you that they love you. Then you do those things for yourself. I'm still pretty new to taking care of myself, and this sounds like a raw deal to me. The whole point is that I want someone else to love me and take care of me. At some point, however, you have to face the truth. Well, I do, at least. No one is going to do it for me. In 39 years of life on this planet, no one has stepped up and loved me in the ways I feel loved. So it's gotta be me. It's me or nobody. I might not like it. I might hate it even. And trust me, I do. But these are my options. 

I Better Not Hear You Complain About It

Have you ever made a choice willingly, knowing how hard it was going to be? Maybe you decided to start running or lifting weights because you knew it was good for your health. Does that mean you necessarily like that choice and suddenly enjoy going to the gym? Probably not. Getting fit sucks. It's hard, grueling work. You will sweat. You will be in pain. A lot of pain some days. And you'll probably complain...a lot. 

Humans love to complain. We complain about everything. Even if our lives are going really well, and we have nothing significant to complain about, we'll find something to complain about. If we can't find something, we'll invent something. It's part of our psychological makeup. 

Despite that little fact that our brains are hardwired for complaining, other people get sick of hearing us complain, especially when we complain about situations we are actively choosing. 

     Person 1: "Ugh! This class is so hard. I hate it."
     Person 2: "You chose to take it. I don't even want to hear it."

     Person 1: "The gym is killing me. I'm so sore all the time."

     Person 2: "Then stop going. You choose to go. Stop complaining about it already."

     Person 1: "I'm so fucking exhausted from all this overtime."
     Person 2: "Stop complaining. You signed up for OT."

     Person 1: "My boyfriend is so irritating. He _____ again."
     Person 2: "I've heard you complain about that at least half a dozen times this week. If you don't
                      like it, break up with him. Otherwise, shut up about it."

Guess what? You are allowed to make choices that you think are the right choices for you and still complain about them. Let me repeat that. You are allowed to complain about your choices. Just because you choose something, doesn't mean it won't be difficult, overwhelming even. Parts of the situation may feel impossible to bear at times, but we make the choice because we know that however much we might be suffering now, it will be worth it in the long run. We're chasing an end result that is important to us for whatever reason, but that doesn't make enduring the hard parts of that choice any easier. We complain because we are suffering and sharing what we're going through with our friends and family, the people who are supposed to love and support us, is what helps us get through those really tough parts of the choices we want to make for ourselves. 

I admit I could be wrong about this, but to my knowledge, I have never told someone that they weren't allowed to complain about something difficult in their life just because it was a result of their own choices. That, in my opinion, is just being a shitty friend. I know that class is hard. I know the gym feels like torture. I know you're doing everything you can to overcome the financial adversity you're facing. I know your boyfriend is a complete goober sometimes. I also know that all your goals are worth the pain you're going through. So go on and complain. We all need our loved ones to simply lend a listening ear and offer encouragement that we can get through it.

If there are people in your life you simply will not or cannot do that for you, then maybe choose not to share those parts of your life with them. Why go looking for support where you know you won't find it. I can promise you, though, that you will find it in me, and I hope I can count on you to be someone I can lean on when my choices are hard to get through. 

Love & Trauma

Today, I spent the day at a workshop focused on applying spiritual principles to relationships that was specifically geared toward people who have experienced trauma. I didn't know this was the topic the speaker would address, but the universe knew I needed to be there.

As someone who has experienced trauma, I have some issues in romantic relationships, and I end up choosing men who have issues related to past trauma as well. It's no surprise, then, that I have not had much luck sustaining long-term, stable, healthy romantic relationships. Today, though, I have tools I didn't have back then. I am learning how to cope with my emotions in a mature way. I have learned that no one else is responsible for reading my mind and giving me what I want, taking care of my emotional state, or meeting any of my needs. This is my job, and I am learning how to do these things for myself.

I don't believe in accidents. Everything happens for a reason. I knew I was going to listen to a speaker talk about applying spiritual principles to our lives to help us get along better with others. I had no idea it was going to be specifically about love relationships. As I walk this path of healing and growth, the universe puts me where I need to be. I got so much out of this day and am so grateful the universe led me to this event. It gives me hope that there is someone out there for me. I don't think the universe would have led me to this workshop if it weren't going to be useful to me later down this road I am traveling.

I know that as a woman in today's world wanting a romantic relationship above all else is somewhat looked down on, but I want what I want. Yes, I can certainly live a happy, full life on my own, but what I want most, more than any of the exciting adventures I have planned on my life's bucket list, is a man to share this life with--someone I love and who loves me in return, someone who is my best friend, someone with whom I feel a strong physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual connection with.

Today's speaker spoke what is in my heart more succinctly than I probably could: "There's nothing better than a relationship where there's love, and there's nothing more painful than when it isn't working. Good relationships require work, but it's worth it. It's so worth it." I firmly believe that this life is exciting and wonderful and worth living all on its own, but that it is infinitely richer when we have someone special to share it with. I know, probably more than most, how difficult and painful relationships can be, but I am willing to put in whatever work is necessary in order to have the treasure of loving and being committed to a man who loves and is committed to me.

I didn't always feel this way. After ending two relatively happy, healthy, serious relationships after my divorce from my abusive ex-husband, I decided that relationships just weren't for me. I always felt unfulfilled. There was always something missing that I could never quite put my finger on. At this point, I spent a few years in a long string of short-term, mostly physical relationships, sometimes more than one at a time. And, believe it or not, I felt happy with this arrangement. What I didn't get from one man, I got from another. I always had companionship and never felt unfulfilled. I really thought I could live the rest of my life this way. I realize now that I used sex as a substitute for emotional intimacy because it allowed me to feel close to someone without ever having to actually be close to someone. I had developed this and other love avoidant behaviors as a result of the trauma I experienced in an abusive marriage and prior to that at the hands of a pedophilic stepdad when I was an adolescent.

I eventually met someone who completely changed my attitude about relationships. For the first time in my life I found a man I felt completely safe with and with whom I connected in every way: physically, emotionally, intellectually, and to my surprise, spiritually. We didn't have a perfect relationship, but it was exactly the relationship I needed in order to want to be monogamous with someone. I thought this was it, my forever guy. But after almost three years, he left. At that point, I started taking extreme steps to "fix" myself, so I could win him back. I started seeing a counselor, reading every psychology book I could find that addressed my issues, and I started attending a twelve step group specifically for family members of alcoholics and addicts.

At first, I was doing all this work for him, to win him back. As time went on, however, and I saw how much better I felt as I started to heal from some of my past trauma, I stopped doing it for him and started doing it for me. As I continued to heal, I finally chose to stop chasing him and turned him down when he finally did want me back.

I am so grateful for that ex-boyfriend who set me on this path, even if it started out as a toxic journey on my part to try to fix myself and win his love, because today I am healing and growing for me and for my future partner whoever he may be, so that I can have a healthy love relationship with that person. I don't know who he is or when I will find him, but I do know that he will be worth the wait and the work. And even if I never find him, I am worth it. Because all of this work is helping me be a happier and healthier me even if I never have a man to share that with.

Obsession

You know that feeling when you have a crush on someone--the rush, the excitement, the constant daydreaming about the person? It feels good, all those happy hormones flooding your body. But if you're anything like me, you might end up wasting hours daydreaming about experiences with that person that haven't happened, aren't happening right now, and quite frankly may not ever happen. You might engage in this thinking at the expense of other things you should be getting done--in my case grading papers, doing laundry, or even just enjoying the present moment by reading a book or going for a hike. This kind of obsessive thinking is not the byproduct of a healthy mind, and I engage in this kind of thinking in just about every area of my life.

The other day I was writing a poem. I worked on it off and on throughout the day and was making really good progress on it, but I as got close to finishing it, I started to feel stuck. I started obsessing over words and phrasing and rhymes. The more I obsessed, the more frustrated I got, the more the last stanza just wouldn't come together, and then I started questioning everything else I had written up to that point. Maybe I would have to scrap it all and start over. I hadn't slept well the night before (one of the many negative side effects of obsession), so I decided to set the poem aside and take a nap. When I woke up from my nap, I was hungry, so I made some dinner. Once I had taken some time to take care of myself, I returned to the poem, and the ending came together in a relatively short time. This particular situation was relatively insignificant, but it shows how easily I can slip into obsessive thinking and how when I step away from my obsessive thoughts and take care of my actual needs, the solution usually comes with little effort.

I don't tend to worry much anymore. It's relatively easy for me to figure out whether I have any control over a problem or not and then either execute a solution or just let it go. Most of my obsessive thinking is daydreaming about the future. Like the example of having a crush, I will take various aspects of my life and engage in seemingly endless daydreaming about things I hope to happen next week, next month, next year. I have noticed that I spend several hours several evenings a week staring at my budget spreadsheet. There aren't any problems with my budget. It has been working well, and I am quite happy with it. The issue is that I wish I could accelerate my progress toward paying off my debts. I stare at the spreadsheet and imagine my next paycheck and the one after that and the one after that and envision how long it will take to pay off each debt. It's as if I think staring and my budget and thinking these thoughts will somehow accelerate the process. Some might argue that visualizing the results I want is a good way to maintain my motivation. (I don't know about you, but I'm a master at justifying ways my bad behavior is actually a good thing.) The problem, though, is that I don't do this for ten minutes. I do it for two or three hours. That's two to three hours wasted that I could have spent getting chores done, reading a book, working on my bathroom remodel that has been stalled out for 10 months, journaling, checking up on a friend, or meditating--things that would actually bring joy to my life and help me grow as a person or just do something productive.

I've noticed that my obsession is triggered by boredom. I really don't want to wash dishes or invest hard work in my remodeling project. It's much easier to sit and daydream. I get a sick pleasure from living in a fictional future space that allows me to escape an undesirable present moment. If I'm being honest with myself, there are a lot of ways in which I am dissatisfied with the present: I'm irritated that I can't make my debt disappear instantaneously, I am disgruntled with the fact that I have 20 more years until I can retire instead of being able to quit working now, I am unhappy with the fact that I don't have a romantic partner in my life. There is nothing I can do to change these circumstances right this moment. And rather than invest my energy into something that I do have control over, I am wasting hours upon precious hours of my life daydreaming about how I wish things were, which ultimately leaves me feeling worse than before I started obsessing.

This evening I had the opportunity to talk to a group of people struggling with this same issue and listen as they shared the ways they escape their obsessions. I can meditate, I can journal, I can read something that nourishes my soul, I can keep my head with my hands and get some chores done that I have been putting off, I can find a way to be of service to someone else. All of these things can help me get out of my toxic habit of obsessive thinking and do something with the present moment that is worthwhile and will enrich my life instead of waste it.

Over-Achiever

Completely unbeknownst to me, I grew up being affected by family members suffering with a variety of addictions including drugs, alcohol, and love. As a result, I suffered trauma that could otherwise have been avoided. Part of that trauma was feeling neglected and unloved in my family. Perfectionism and overachieving were the primary coping mechanisms I developed. Both allowed me to try to earn the love of my family and simultaneously prove to myself that I was completely unworthy of love. Never feeling good enough has permeated my life and my self-image, which in turn, drove me to strive harder. 

In my adult years, this turned into my own addiction. I became a workaholic. While I was working on my BA and MA degrees, I took double course loads. Once I secured adjunct teaching work, I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning grading, over-preparing for classes, and doing extra work I wasn't getting paid for in hopes that it would lead to a full-time, tenure track position. I was so stressed out all the time, that I eventually developed an allergy to stress and started experiencing all kinds of skin problems and compromising my immune system. I knew I was risking my health, and even worse neglecting my daughter, but I couldn't stop working and taking on more and more work.

I don't know exactly how I was able to hit the brakes on this toxic cycle, but after realizing what I was doing to myself and having met someone who inspired me to want to work less and spend more time with him and actually build a family together, I was able to cut out all the extra projects, streamline my teaching and grading load, and cut way back on my work altogether. That person is no longer in my life, but the lessons I learned from him remain in tact. I still have days, even weeks, where I feel overworked and overstressed, but overall I am in a much better place than I was 5-7 years ago. 

Today, I am preparing for a job interview for a position I have wanted and been working toward my whole life. I have been rejected for this position at least half a dozen times before, but each time I get closer to achieving my dream.  My feelings are complicated because being offered and accepting this position would mean more work and more responsibility, but it would also mean more autonomy, more authority, and more opportunity. When I think about why I want the job--why I have always wanted this job--it mostly boils down to the achievement and the love I think it will win me. I'm a professor, mommy. Will you love me now? I'm a professor, brother. Will you protect me now? I'm a professor, daddy. Will you come home now? I'm a professor, grandmother. Will you respect me now? I'm a professor, family. Am I good enough now? 

But for the first time in my life, I am starting to see that I am worthy of love outside any accomplishment. I am worthy of love just because I exist. I have been able to reach this understanding as a result of a lot of hard psychological and spiritual work. To my family's credit, several of them have been doing this kind of hard work too and been succeeding in showing me their love. I hope I am doing the same. 

I don't know if I'll be offered this job. There is still a part of me that longs for this validation from my colleagues and my employer. Overall, though, I know without doubt that I am great at what I do regardless of whether I get this position. Truthfully, a part of me does not want the job. I feel generally exhausted, defeated, and quite demoralized by my work. However, I also feel bored, stifled, and passionless, and I think this position could be the trigger I need to reignite my creativity and passion. 

One thing I do know now, though: I am worthy of love. Whatever others may think or feel, I love myself, and I don't need to achieve anything to earn my love or the love of others. 

On Love...

I keep seeing a post that says “Wait for the love you deserve.” I can’t find it, or I’d reshare it with this post. Let’s talk about DESERVE for a minute. Humans are wretched, repugnant creatures, every last one of us (yes me, and yes you). Don’t get me wrong: there’s a lot of beauty and wonder in people too. But none of use DESERVE anything, much less love. You all know I am not a religious person, but I was raised in the Christian faith, and I think all religions teach some very positive spiritual lessons (albeit some really misguided and terrible ones too, but that’s another post), and religious parables can be incredibly effective instructional tools. In the story of Jesus, god sent his son to teach humans about god’s love—not so you know how much god loves you, but so you know HOW god loves and how god wants you to love. (Yeah, yeah, we all know I don’t believe in god, but the metaphor is still valid.) The whole point of Jesus is that people don’t deserve god’s love but he gave it anyway, and none of us deserve the love of other humans either, but we’re supposed to give it anyway…not because any of us deserve it but because we all NEED it and need it equally. So how about we all stop focusing on the love we deserve and start focusing on the quality of the love we’re giving to our imperfect, wretched, repugnant, and wholly undeserving (albeit beautiful and wondrous whether you see it or not) fellow man (or woman or whatever you identify as). I don’t know about you, but I really want unconditional love, and while there’s absolutely nothing I can do to make anyone love me that way, I can choose to love others that way. It really sucks. It hurts—quite a lot sometimes—but only because my ego cares 1000x more about the love I get than the love I give. The universe has been trying to teach me unconditional love for awhile now. I admit, I have been obstinate in my resistance. I give up. I give in. The only way this love can exist in this world is we choose to be it—regardless of whether or not we get it. Love is how we change the world, and if you don’t believe me, watch these videos:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZl6UjCxfsk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7fh5J_mo5E

https://www.facebook.com/buzzfeedfyi/videos/633308847052790/

On Giving 20%

Earlier today, a former student of mine apologized for not giving 110% in my class. Every time I hear this expression, I cringe. It's become a mantra in our culture for giving one's all, and we're all expected to give 110% to every task we take on. I can't actually recall any specific person ever telling me that I needed to give 110%, but somewhere along the line, this belief was instilled in me so deeply that I didn't need anyone to tell me because I held myself to this impossible standard. 

Who sold us all on this toxic belief?

At this point, it doesn't really matter who's to blame. What matters is that we free ourselves from incredibly damaging cultural values. Hard work is a positive value. Being productive and producing quality are positive values. Giving our all to every task is not.

First of all, giving 110% is quite literally impossible. To give 100% is to give everything you have. No one can give more than they have. If you have 24 hours in a day, you can't give 26.4 hours in a day. If you acknowledge that you can only give 100%, you can certainly choose to devote that 100% as you deem most appropriate, but it is equally impossible to give 100% to any one task. In order to not pass out or fall down dead, you must devote a certain percentage of your time and energy to sleeping and eating. If you sleep the recommended 8 hours per night, you are giving approximately 33% to essential recovery time for your mind and body. With the remaining 2/3 of our time, most of don't want to devote every minute to one single task. There are people we want to spend time with, hobbies that we want to devote time too, and let's not forget about the jobs we have to go to. If I give my job 66%, I leave no time or energy for the people, places, and activities that bring joy into my life.

I propose giving a maximum of 20% to any one area of life. When I'm at work, I can give 20% and make the most of that 20% by working hard and producing quality work. The rest of my 100%, though, needs to be devoted to self-care, investing in relationships with people who matter to me, and participating in activities that bring peace and joy into my life.

The world can take its 110% somewhere else. I value myself too much to give my all.

What Game of Thrones Is Teaching Me about the Kind of Woman I Want to Be

I’ve been thinking about femininity and Game of Thrones. Lol. 

I think in trying not to be a Gilly, many women accidentally turn into a Cersei or Yara. Gilly is weak and pathetic. She is (or was at least) a very real but still quite stereotypical victim in need of saving and being taken care of. Yara is badass but just grossly masculine and crude (and I don’t even mean her language), and while Brienne and Arya are more masculine too, they aren’t trying to be masculine; they’re just being who they are: badass warriors. I wouldn’t want to be them, but they are women worthy of respect, especially Brienne. I still need to see where Arya’s character ends up. I think she is young enough that her character is still somewhat malleable. Cersei and Ellaria are so hell bent on not being controlled by men or anyone for that matter that they just turn into evil, controlling, power hungry cunts. 

I want to be a Daenerys. She is strong, wise, and powerful but also soft and beautiful and feminine. Her strength comes from her wisdom, and much of her wisdom comes from surrounding herself with wise people who aren’t afraid to challenge her and being able to listen to their council and weigh their advice logically. She doesn’t always follow their suggestions, and sometimes she makes the wrong decision (like telling the Lannister army to bend the knee or die and calling that a choice), but she always tries to do what her gut tells her is the right and just thing to do. She slaughters the enemy and does right by good people, and she is capable of giving people opportunities for change. She is ruthless when necessary but forgiving when warranted. 

Weakness: Let Me Kill That for You

I've been thinking about weakness. It is difficult for me to accept weakness in others, especially the people closest to me, most especially anyone I depend on or feel I should be able to depend on. In a recent conversation with my friend and tattoo artist about the challenge of loving strong women, I admitted my attitude about weakness in a romantic partner: "Hey, I see a little weakness there. Let me kill that for you." To me, this has always seemed completely logical. Why would anyone want to be weak? Of course, they would be grateful for my (unrequested) "help" in irradiating any weaknesses they might have.

Wrong.

Today, my ex and I were discussing the time he got a splinter, and I called him a pussy. I claim I was joking. He claims my words were a lot more sinister than that. In hindsight, I don't think I was joking at all. I think I was spewing my resenting and hiding it in sarcasm because I was incapable of identifying and communicating my feelings with others.

I resented anything I saw in him resembling weakness because I depended on him. I had come to view him as strong and reliable and someone I could depend on. If he had weakness, how could I depend on him? Other people in my life who were supposed to protect me failed because they were weak. I had even failed myself at times because of my own weaknesses. Because of these experiences, I had come to view weakness as intolerable and something to be eradicated at any cost.

But the truth is that I am human and flawed. I am incredibly strong, but not all the time. I have weaknesses and flaws and failings. And that is okay. And if it is okay for me to be weak sometimes; then, it must also be okay for others to be weak sometimes as well. Even the people I depend on.

I reject weakness out of fear--fear that I might not survive whatever storms such weaknesses leave me vulnerable to, but I can and will survive them. And even if I don't, I wasn't put on this Earth to live forever anyway. One day, I will die, precisely because I am a weak human. I was not born to be invincible and neither was anyone else.

What I need to kill are not my weaknesses, but my fear of them. I will learn to accept and love my weaknesses and the weaknesses of others.

Searching for My Truth

I was reading about intuition tonight. Part of the reading cautioned against relying on others' opinions and beliefs as guides to personal truths. I think this has been the greatest cause of my indecisiveness about relationships over the last year and a half. I know what is true for me. It hasn't changed since July 4, 2012. But other people's opinions and beliefs sometimes distract me from that truth. I second guess myself: "What of they're right?" Their wisdom is logical and ubiquitous, but it's still their wisdom. What is true for others is not necessarily true for me. My second guessing and constant questioning of what I want and what I should do is the result of not listening for the answer the Universe has for me. Instead, I've been trying to force solutions that don't fit my needs. I think I've been doing all of this out of fear. I don't like where I am right now in my romantic life, and I fear that things won't turn out the way I want them to. Ultimately, though, I have to accept that I can't control the outcome. All I can do is listen to my heart and do what I believe is right for me. The question all this time has simply been whether I trust myself enough to do that. I see now that the answer has been no. Moving forward, I want to learn to listen and to trust myself enough to feel confident and secure in my choices in this area of my life. There is no room (nor reason) for doubt on Wonder Woman's path. There is only the goal and the way to goal. If I focus on my goal, the results will unfold the way they are meant to.

(Un)Comfortably Numb

Yesterday after my a text conversation with my ex, I started to feel the numbness of my love avoidance take its familiar place around my heart. Between work stress, financial stress, car troubles, furnace troubles, and a new relationship, hearing from the man I believe to be my soul mate was just too much. I shut down. The brick walls went up. And I don't know how to take them back down. Truth be told, I am rather enjoying not feeling right now. Disconnecting my emotions from people and events is helping me regain some much needed sanity in the midst of all this chaos. 

So what's the problem?

Erecting my walls usually destroys anyone standing near me. I don't do it on purpose. It happens independent of my conscious will. I become overwhelmed, and it just happens. To save me. To keep me from losing myself. Others don't understand. The just see the wall and don't understand why I am so suddenly unreachable. 

If I'm being completely honest with myself, I'm trying to hold on to him just as hard as I'm trying to let him go. Obviously, that isn't working out very well. I am terrified that whatever choice I make will be the wrong choice. What if I let go only to find out that I could have had everything I ever wanted if only I'd held out just a little longer? What if I hold on and end up spending the rest of my life waiting for someone who will never choose me? 

I've always wanted a love that burned like the sun, a love that if destroyed would take down the whole world with it. But I don't think I have the energy for that kind of love again. The other part of me just wants something calm and dependable. But then I get bored. Maybe I just wasn't made for relationships after all. 

Love Me, Love Me, Love Me

I've never thought I had a problem loving myself because I have pretty high self esteem. It turns out those two things are not the same and having one doesn't mean you have the other. I take a lot of pride in my accomplishments, and I rarely doubt my ability to achieve any goal I set for myself, but lately I am realizing that I haven't been loving myself.

About a year ago, I came to realize that I did not know how to meet my own emotional needs. I expected others to fill that role and provide me with love, support, encouragement, and positivity when I lacked it. If I were sad, I looked to others to make me happy. If I were lonely, I expected the people who said they cared about me to be there to alleviate my loneliness. If I were angry, I expected the person whose behavior had triggered my anger to change themselves to appease me. I have learned that I alone am responsible for fulfilling my emotional needs and that, in fact, others really can't do this for me.

Before my ex walked out on me a year ago last April, he had asked me to take the Love Languages quiz with him, which I did. I learned that my primary love language is acts of service. Last month, the day before I was leaving on vacation, I had an epiphany. I had to mow the lawn that morning. I hate mowing the lawn, but I don't have anyone else to do it and can't really afford to pay someone right now. On my way to meet a friend, I realized that even though my primary love language is acts of service, I actively refuse to let anyone help me. Ever. Had someone offered to mow my lawn for me, I would have refused insistently for two reasons. 1) I believe that asking for help is weakness (even if the help is proffered, and 2) I don't want to ow anyone anything. (I don't yet know how this latter belief was developed.) Besides if someone really loved me, they'd insist just as hard to do it and even sneak and mow my yard behind my back if they had to. Seriously, Tif? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

There have been all kinds of people in my life trying to love me the way I want and need, and I stand in their way and block them from doing it. "Nah, thanks but no thanks. I can do it myself." This was the moment I realized that I don't love myself. Not because I don't want to  or because I think I don't deserve it. I am an awesome person, and I totally deserve love. It's because I never knew how, and if I don't know how to love me, how the fuck is anyone else supposed to know how to do it? It's my job to tell people how I want to be loved, and if I can't do that, I can't get pissed when they don't do it right. And I certainly can't throw a pity party for myself (NOBODY LOVES ME!) when intuitive, discerning people try to love me the way I want and need, and I block them from doing it. And I have to stop standing in their way when they try to offer me the love I want.

Because I never received love the way I needed as a child, I actively put up barriers in my adult life, expecting that someone who REALLY loved me will meet my needs anyway despite my resistant, that they'll "inflict some care" on me as I heard someone say once. But forced love isn't love.

So now I am working on figuring out how to love me, so that I can love myself fully the way I deserve to be loved, and so that when I find my someone to spend the rest of my life with, whether my ex and I eventually work things out or I meet an amazing new someone, I will be able to communicate to them the things that make me feel loved, and so they can do the same with me.

So far, I am making good progress. :) <3

Love Me, Love Me, Love Me

I've never thought I had a problem loving myself because I have pretty high self esteem. It turns out those two things are not the same and having one doesn't mean you have the other. I take a lot of pride in my accomplishments, and I rarely doubt my ability to achieve any goal I set for myself, but lately I am realizing that I haven't been loving myself.

About a year ago, I came to realize that I did not know how to meet my own emotional needs. I expected others to fill that role and provide me with love, support, encouragement, and positivity when I lacked it. If I were sad, I looked to others to make me happy. If I were lonely, I expected the people who said they cared about me to be there to alleviate my loneliness. If I were angry, I expected the person whose behavior had triggered my anger to change themselves to appease me. I have learned that I alone am responsible for fulfilling my emotional needs and that, in fact, others really can't do this for me.

Before my ex walked out on me a year ago last April, he had asked me to take the Love Languages quiz with him, which I did. I learned that my primary love language is acts of service. Last month, the day before I was leaving on vacation, I had an epiphany. I had to mow the lawn that morning. I hate mowing the lawn, but I don't have anyone else to do it and can't really afford to pay someone right now. On my way to meet a friend, I realized that even though my primary love language is acts of service, I actively refuse to let anyone help me. Ever. Had someone offered to mow my lawn for me, I would have refused insistently for two reasons. 1) I believe that asking for help is weakness (even if the help is proffered, and 2) I don't want to owe anyone anything. (I don't yet know how this latter belief was developed.) Besides if someone really loved me, they'd insist just as hard to do it and even sneak and mow my yard behind my back if they had to. Seriously, Tif? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

There have been all kinds of people in my life trying to love me the way I want and need, and I stand in their way and block them from doing it. "Nah, thanks but no thanks. I can do it myself." This was the moment I realized that I don't love myself. Not because I don't want to  or because I think I don't deserve it. I am an awesome person, and I totally deserve love. It's because I never knew how, and if I don't know how to love me, how the fuck is anyone else supposed to know how to do it? It's my job to tell people how I want to be loved, and if I can't do that, I can't get pissed when they don't do it right. And I certainly can't throw a pity party for myself (NOBODY LOVES ME!) when intuitive, discerning people try to love me the way I want and need, and I block them from doing it. I have to stop standing in their way when they try to offer me the love I want.

Because I never received love the way I needed as a child, I actively put up barriers in my adult life, expecting that someone who REALLY loved me will meet my needs anyway despite my resistance, that they'll "inflict some care" on me as I heard someone say once. But forced love isn't love.

So now I am working on figuring out how to love me, so that I can love myself fully the way I deserve to be loved, and so that when I find my someone to spend the rest of my life with, whether my ex and I eventually work things out or I meet an amazing new someone, I will be able to communicate to him the things that make me feel loved, and so he can do the same with me.

So far, I am making good progress. :) <3

Oh, the Terror! Oh, the Beauty!

As much as I'd love to write about my whole vacation, that would probably take all night and the whole of it doesn't really fit the purpose of this blog, so I'm going to focus on one day. The worst day. The best day.

With only one day left of our vacation at the Grand Canyon, my daughter and I decided to hike to Skeleton Point because it sounded way cooler than any of our other options. We didn't know the trail to Skelton Point would lead us down into the canyon. I just figured the trail continued on around the rim another five miles. That notion was quickly dispelled once we started our hike. It was completely by accident that we hiked into the Grand Canyon that day, but we were so stoked that we got this amazing fortuitous opportunity.

As we continued hiking, we saw signs posted warning hikers about the strenuousness of the trail, which was seeming pretty easy to us, so we decided to hike all the way to the Colorado River. We made it probably 3/4 of the way down, and stopped at Tip Off Point (about a mile and a half past Skeleton Point) to eat, hydrate, and rest a  bit. My daughter was ready to give up on our goal and head back up. I was disappointed, but I also didn't want to push her past her limits. I knew going back up was going to be a bitch. But I tend to have an obsessive mind. When I get something in my head, I often can't let it go. I was so close to the bottom. Only another 2.6 miles. How could I quit now? I tried to convince her to wait for me at Tip Off, but she insisted on heading back up. 

This is where I made a bad decision. I let her go by herself, and I continued my trek down to the river. I advised her to go slow, ration her water, and take frequent breaks in the shade, promising to catch back up to her within an hour or two. We set a meet-up location at the trailhead just in case it took me longer than anticipated. 

I guess I made it to within about a half-mile from the trail bridge that crossed the river (about a mile / mile and a half from the campgrounds and Phantom Ranch) when I really started second guessing my decision. It was 3:30 at this point, and I definitely did not want to be hiking up the canyon after dark. I was also starting to worry about my daughter heading back up on her own. 

I turned around. Making it all the way to the river would just have to wait for another trip. 

At this point, I felt fine. I was starting to feel a little tired. After all, I had hiked somewhere around 7-8 miles of steep, rocky trail from elevation of 7,000 feet to about 3,000 or 4,000 feet in 115 degree heat in around 3 hours. I took about ten steps back up the trail before the heat exhaustion hit me hard. I could barely move. I started feeling incredibly faint and nauseated. I slowed down, focusing just on putting one foot in front of the other. I might have made it close to a half mile before I started seriously thinking I might die down there. I stopped every ten steps or so to rest. I started scoping out crevices in the walls that could keep me from falling off the edge if I were to actually faint, which was feeling like an increasing danger with every step I took. 

I started fearing the worst for my daughter and berating myself for letting her head back up alone. At this point, I only had one goal: to get back to her. But I could barely move. 

I remembered an emergency phone at Tip Off Point--the only one I had seen on the entire trail. I knew that couldn't be more than a mile away. All I had to do was make it that phone, and I could get help. I don't know how long it took me to get there, but it felt like hours, crawling at a snail's pace, stopping every few steps. I hadn't seen any other hikers for hours. No one would save me. I determined I would not die down there. 

I was ashamed to use the emergency phone. All those warning signs that I didn't think applied to me, and here I was one of those stupid tourists who didn't know her limitations in need of being rescued. But I didn't have a choice. This was for my daughter, so my pride was irrelevant. 

I picked up the phone and explained my symptoms to the dispatcher and a park ranger. I had this idea in my mind that someone was going to come get me. Ha! The ranger gave me the combination to the lock on the emergency supplies and told me to rest for an hour, slowly drinking water and eating some salty snacks until I felt myself again. I followed orders. 

Thankfully, as it closed in on the end of the hour, I saw two hikers coming down the trail. They had seen my daughter and confirmed that she was fine. When they saw her, she was already back to the more populated portion of the trail. Relieved that she had not suffered as I had,  I started to make my way back. It was a slow, painstaking journey. Every step was a challenge. With each step, I didn't think I could possibly take another. But I did. One more step. One more step. I just focused on one at a time.

As the sun started setting, I started thinking about all the dangers I might encounter. I unpacked my gear, hung the whistle around my neck, strapped my knife to my waistband, got my headlamp out, and tied my jacket around my waist so it would easily accessible when then sun sank and the temperatures dropped. I started thinking about every danger I might encounter. As the temps fall with the sun, snakes and scorpions come out. There were also warnings about mountain lions. Needless to say, I was a bit terrified, but I didn't have much choice. I had to keep going. I had to get back to my daughter. I knew she'd worry until we were reunited. 

Most of the way up, I kept my eyes on my feet on the trail. I was very unsteady, and the last thing I needed was to trip and fall off the ledge. But every once and a while, I'd stop and make myself look out over the canyon. "Don't miss it!" I told myself. I watched the sun set as I walked. I watched the moon rise. I watched the clouds parts and the stars come out. I watched the color palette of the canyon fade--the reds and oranges and greens and browns dissolved into gray shadows and finally a black abyss. 

It was the most terrifying and the most amazing experience of my life. Every moment, I felt more alive than I ever have in my life. And I made it. At 10:30, I took the last step up out of the canyon. I hugged my daughter and told her I loved her. We shared stories. We shared how scared we were and how proud of what we had both accomplished. 

I didn't make it to the river, but I got close. Based on the number of hikers we saw at each point on the way down, not may can say they made it as far as I did, and certainly fewer can say they also made it back to the top in the same day. I can now count myself among a very small group of people in the world who have hiked the canyon at night.

To understand the scale of my hike, just to Skeleton Point was described on the maps as the equivalent of 240 flights of stairs. I hiked 2-3 miles of trail beyond that. Round trip, that's roughly an additional 5 miles of climbing.

There are some people I won't be able to share this story with. Out of a place of love for me and fear for my safety, they will berate me for my choices and diminish the awe and wonder of my experience. I would prefer to have not allowed my obsession to separate my daughter and me on our hike. I would prefer to have been better prepared and taken a lot more water on our journey. I would prefer to have had a better understanding of my limitations before I set out. But I didn't. And that's ok. I learned a lot from this experience, and I wouldn't give it back for anything in the world. 

I am already planning a return trip where I will hike to the bottom and camp and raft the river and explore everything the bottom of the canyon has to offer.