The Butterfly and the Bear

Mark Twain, Edith Lovejoy Pierce and Justin Bieber

You know how to recognize when you are procrastinating?  How to truly recognize that not only are you procrastinating but you are doing a terrible job of it as well? When you fire up your laptop to write a blog post and naturally you think, “Well just let me check my email before I start writing..."  Then in your inbox, a message from Facebook, "Oh!  Wait, what’s this?  I’ve been tagged in a photo on Facebook, well I must just click on over there and make sure it is appropriate for public consumption".  After reading all 200 status updates as well as perusing other peoples recently uploaded photos (no matter that it is your old co-workers third cousins, friends, nieces wedding photos, you may want to get married at The Island Chateau on Staten Island one day, need to check it all out, right?)  Having then mentally planned your wedding in your head you finally remember you want to check out the photo of you that was tagged, "Ohh, noooo, untag, UN-TAGGG, don’t like the way I look in that one at all, fat beard is in full effect in that shot....hmmm, what was I doing?"  As your brain wanders into and gets lost in the haze that is "Why I turned on my laptop in the first place", you think to yourself  "Oh wait!  I haven’t checked out Dlisted yet today....must get my gossip fix...”. Fast froward another twenty minutes and lo and behold , twenty precious minutes later, you are reading about...God I can’t even admit this , you are reading an interview with JUSTIN BIEBER instead of writing your BLOG?!!  True story folks.  What is wrong with me?  I don’t even like The Biebs, what gives? Perhaps this head cold/stomach bug/virus I have has induced a case of Bieber fever?  Ugh, I hate myself.  

What gives is I am naturally someone who has grown to abhor resolutions, that combined with the fact that I am also a professional procrastinator (in college papers were never started before 11:00pm the night before they were due, the creative juices just couldn’t flow until the pressure was really on).   And as I stated in my previous post, resolutions, meh, deep down I never really liked them.  They always seemed to be an albatross hanging from your neck from January 1st through December 31st, only to be completely discarded the next year or strapped on yet again, this time heavier and more cumbersome than they were the previous year.  Am I naturally rebelling against my aversion to resolutions by procrastinating and not blogging?  I don’t know, I guess it’s time to schedule that therapy session.  I’ve been seeing the famous Mark Twain quote in peoples statuses all over Facebook (See, told you I read your statuses!) "New Year's Day: Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual."  Every time I read it I wonder, why do we make resolutions anyway?  Why do we think that we will commit to some new way of living on the 31st and wake up January first reformed, renewed and ready to magically be a different, better, wiser, more productive version of ourselves?  And I am wondering this all as a reformed bum, as someone who until the last 10 years or so was actually big on resolutions.  I liked the hopefulness of it, the possibility, the potential and promise that the New Year and those resolutions held.  However, in the past I was also one of the many who were paving hell with them the following week, feeling disappointed, sad and angry with myself for not morphing into a better version of myself.

Then on the Today show I heard my beyatches Kathie Lee and Hoda clucking on about how resolutions are so dead, so over, so not worth it.  Then they launched into a whole segment about how people suffer from depression more in January than any other time of the year.  Apparently we realize we are in debt from all the Christmas festivities, we are detoxing from a sugar and/or alcohol overload and summer is still 5 months away.  Well, thanks for the starting the day off on a positive note ladies!  

So I got to thinking, am I feeling down, blase, directionless now that the holidays are over and the New Year is here?  Is that why I am reading about Bieber instead of writing a post?  I guess if I am honest with myself I feel a little...unfocused.  I feel like it's disingenuous to write a positive blog post when truly, my heart isn’t fully buying it.  Sometimes I find myself and my list and my ideas so tiresome, then I wonder, “Woah, if I find it tiresome what must others think?”  I am actually a very positive person, but the treacly, syrupy, self-helpy, “yay, go me!” sentiments don’t jibe well with me, I do have a little cynic under it all that wants to kick the cheerleaders legs out from under her.  And the fact that I had genuinely felt so positive, so focused when I wrote my last post on the 31st yet now felt a little disheartened and weary made me feel like a fraud.  In addition, hearing that according to the Today show and Mark Twain everyone apparently feels positive going into the New Year and then on the brink of hopelessness only a few days later made me feel like a cliche.  A fraudulent cliche.  In addition to that, I know more about Justin Bieber than I should.  Not two things I’m proud to admit and not exactly fun fodder for a blog post.  (I just realised were I to tag “Justin Bieber” as one of my descriptive key words, my traffic would go up immensely, but since I am already sick, I truly can’t deal with rabid hate mail from teenage girls right now so, I think not.)

In October, once I had completed the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer I felt a little bit like, “OK, what now?”  All the months of training, planning, fund-raising, focused on this amazing goal, focused on something that was not only improving my health but also outside of me and for a greater good, and in 2 days it was suddenly...over.  Just like that.  However I didn’t have time to really wallow in my emotions, in no time at all it was Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas.  Time was just speeding by, I was enjoying the ride and not having time to dwell on how I felt.  However, once the holidays were over, it was like on January first someone slammed on the breaks and left me on the side of the road kicking the dirt and wondering what’s next?  

Well, if I force myself to be honest with myself, I have a whole freaking list of “What’s next”, two long lists as a matter of fact.  So, while Justin Bieber is truly riveting and intensely engaging to read about, I have no time, or reason for that matter, to procrastinate.  I have plans, I have goals and I have 5 months left to make my year long list a reality.  So, bear with me, but I am going to be my own cheerleader right now so please don’t kick my feet out from under me as I launch into a verbal “split lift” for “team M-A-N-D-Y!!”  (Too much?  Ok, I’ll stop).  I am going to refocus myself and, while I have tremendous love and respect for Mark Twain (Some would say he was the Bieber of his time!  I KID, I kid.) regarding the New Year I will instead focus on the more positive and hopeful words of Edith Lovejoy Pierce, (Thanks for the quote Jen D!) “We will open the book.  Its pages are blank.  We are going to put words on them ourselves.  The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.”  Thanks for reading my first chapter of 2011. 

A Life Inspired

My cousin Cathy posted this on her Facebook wall with the comments, “So inspiring”.  Right now I am all about anything inspiring so I clicked on the link and watched the video about Ben’s journey and was moved to tears.  I feel like he so simply and yet eloquently summed up how it feels to be overweight. Once he was small, a sweet little boy with endless possibilities, then he grew big. And then he became lonely and sad.  Yet he somehow managed to turn it around and monumentally change his life. 

Stories like Ben’s make me realize inspiration is all around us.  We just have to be open to it.  I am not simplifying this nor am I attempting to make this idea seem trite and Disneyfied.  The words “inspiration” and “inspiring” and their variants have been overused in our culture, the newest self help book, Lifetime original movies, last weeks Oprah, are all touted as “inspiring”.  So many times we are fed some hackneyed, corny story and told we should find it inspiring.  Like if we would just have the right attitude, if we were to walk out the door with a spring in our step humming a jaunty tune birds would alight upon our shoulders and the sun would shine down upon us and we will feel INSPIRED!  Inspiration is a personal thing, what inspires me may not move you.  However, if we learn to recognize inspiration in our lives, or at least what we define it as, and use it to motivate us in small ways it can be the catalyst for huge changes.  

For someone like myself who is actively working on making both small and major changes in her life, clicking onto Facebook and seeing something like this only makes me feel more inspired and resolute.  It motivates and drives me.  It reminds me anyone can make changes, you are never too old, it is never too late, and there is no time like the present.  In the span of a mere year you can make leaps and bounds.  In a year you can emotionally, physically and mentally be a new person, if you allow yourself to be inspired and you use that inspiration as fuel to spur you forward.  I guess for a long time I felt uninspired, I was too old, I was too stressed, too busy, time was running out, I was going nowhere fast.  Now that I am in the midst of changing my life I realize that while the days are indeed long and the years short, it will race by no matter what, so you may as well be doing what you love and making yourself a priority because time waits for no one.

Over the last few days I have been reflecting on the changes I have made over the last 4 months and what does in fact inspire me because my Mother asked me a simple yet loaded question the other night.  She has been one of my greatest cheerleaders in this whole process, every pound I lose she notices, every blog post I write she comments, every mile I walk in preparation for my Avon walk she applauds, she truly is in her seemingly boundless support and pride in me inspiring!  Knowing that my weight has been an issue for me for so many years she asked me, “What is different this time?  Why do yo think you are able to be so successful now?”  I answered that it was due in large part to Terr-bear, chase a toddler around all day and you will find if you aren’t in shape, then you best get into shape fast.  Yet spending time with such a young, lovable and new little person seems to also bring everything into sharp focus.  Potential is everywhere, everything is new, possibilities are endless and joy is pure and simple.  The most mundane and pedestrian of tasks have the potential to be joyful and captivating.  It is impossible to be around a child and not recognize how beautiful life can be.  Additionally, nothing illustrates the swift passage of time like a toddler, over the course of a mere month they will go from crawling to walking, get teeth where before there were only gums, go from grunting to talking, seemingly grow inches before your eyes.  You have a daily reminder of how quickly life moves.  You have to seize the day.  Before I would agonize over the fact that time was running out, my youth was slipping away, and it would have the reverse effect on me, it would paralyze me, fear would keep me in this viscous cycle.  Now seeing Terr-Bear grow right before my eyes reminded what a beautiful gift life is and how I had an obligation to live the best life I could.  

So, while at times the idea of being positive and finding inspiration every day makes the cynic in me cringe, I am finding I am actively looking for it and in fact need it to keep me focused.  Negative thoughts creep in, losing direction is easy.  The road is long and it is littered with self sabotage, I need inspiration to keep going.  Being able to log on to the computer and see my friend Lynn has emailed me a link to an author she thinks would resonate with me, seeing my cousin’s link to Ben’s story, my besty Missy congratulating me for walking 3 miles the other day, a grade school friend emailing me to tell me she enjoys the blog, or seeing the generosity of friends and family who have donated to my Avon walk, they light a fire under me, they remind me that I’m not alone, and life can be rewarding.  We want people to succeed, we want to succeed ourselves, so when we see someone else making big changes, we are reminded of our own limitless potential.  Everyone is looking for inspiration and they are willing to support it, though words, through actions, even through donations. Thank you all for inspiring me, hopefully you found Ben's story as inspiring as I did, and I hope you have endless sources of inspiration in your lives!

Are We There Yet?

The last few weeks I have had this low level feeling of anxiety, this nagging feeling in the back of my mind.  Yet, when I actually stop and try to pinpoint what is making me restless I'm not able to exactly figure it out.  It’s like I’m walking down the street and I feel like someone is following me, I feel their eyes on me, I hear their footsteps, and yet when I turn around no one is there.  Yet, every day for the last three weeks, there it is, this feeling of unease.  When I was on vacation I assumed it was my lack of routine, that I missed having my days ordered around Terr-bear and our structured schedules.  Then I assumed it was the guilt about not writing my blog nipping at my heels.  However,  I’m back from vacation for over a week now and have once again resumed my blogging duties and still, there it is, like a low persistent humming.  I don’t know where it’s coming from, I can’t quite figure out what it is, but it is driving me nuts.  

So today while I was strolling with Terr-bear I forced myself to figure out what this unease is and what was causing it.  I realized it is impatience.  It's these hushed yet persistent thoughts in the back of my mind telling me things aren’t happening fast enough...I haven’t made real significant changes in my life...no matter how much work I put into myself, I can’t control the future...what’s different this time?  You’ll just slip back into old habits again...you still have so much work ahead of you, you still have far to go.  Ugh! Stinkin’ thinkin'!  

How, I asked myself,  after 10 some-odd years of inertia are things not happening fast enough?!  How, after spending so much time with my head buried in the sand, am I now getting impatient, anxious for the new, the next, the greatest?  And exactly what is the new and the next?  I don’t really know.  And perhaps that is what is most frightening to me.  I mean, I know what I would LIKE the next to be.  I want to have lost all of the weight I need to lose, I want to be fit and active, I want to have all the money I need for the Avon walk raised.  And I want...well this is the difficult one to verbalize, I want the husband, the kids, the dogs, and the home.  I want to entertain my family in my home at Christmas, I want to decorate a nursery, I want to train our two rambunctious but lovable labs, I want the controlled chaos, I want to be settled.  Or at least feel settled.  And right now I am the epitome of unsettled, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  I am literally unsettled, I have no home, no “real”  job, no concrete answers, no guarantees.  I have only my ambitions, my goals, my dreams.  The whole of it is completely unsettling.   

 So why the anxiety and disquiet now?  I’ve been at it for four months, and they have been some of the most rewarding and inspiring months I've had in a long time.  I’ve been unhappy, if not unsettled,  for years, why this low grade unease now?  Maybe, just maybe turning 35 in 5 days is contributing to the unease.  Perhaps while I have vowed to eliminate regret and to only look ahead, not back, maybe looking ahead is scary as well.  I guess I want assurances, hard and fast truths and all I have are goals and dreams.  I want a guarantee that if I do A, B, and C I will absolutely get to X, Y, and Z.

Most birthdays I’ve had over the last 12 years I have always silently wished to myself that it was either my 20th, 21st or 22nd birthday.  I would wish that I could somehow go back, get a do-over, wake up younger and yet wiser.  Well the good news is that I was thinking about my birthday this weekend and I realized for the first time in along time I do not wish to go back,  I am excited for the future and looking forward to what life has in store for me.  Then of course the doubts started to creep in.  I went down the rabbit hole in my mind and without steadfast guarantees in place there left room for doubt and uncertainty...I turned 20 15 years ago.  It doesn’t seem that long ago in some ways.  I remember that year so vividly.  Sometimes I don’t feel like it’s been 15 years, I don’t feel like I’ve grown 15 years worth.  Then I thought, how old will I be 15 years from now? Oh.  My. God.  FIFTY!  In 15 years I will be FIFTY!  20 to 35 is the same distance as 35 to 50.  It was this realization that made me want to have all the results, all the glory, all the pieces of the puzzle in place NOW.  I felt like time was running out, I wasted my twenties, I needed to get a jump on the rest of my life.  Now, I know what a therapist, priest, higher power, guidance counselor, shaman, (whatever!) would tell me, “So you’re telling me you’ve put in about four solid months of work and you now expect results?  You are so not in it for the long haul.”  The rest of their sage advice would be drowned out by their uproarious laughter at my clueless naivete.  

I am in it for the long haul!  I have no choice but to be in it for the long haul.  What are my options, wake up at 50 scratching my head and wondering where the hell the last 15 years went?  The prospect of that is beyond disillusioning to me.  So I have to keep reminding myself that “the days are long but the years are short.”  Stop trying to rush this.  Stop trying to fast forward to the part where all the goals you’ve set for yourself have been achieved.  Stop trying to predict the future or control the outcome.  I can control how I treat my body, how I take care of myself, how I prepare for the future, how I create the sort of person I want to be, the type of life I want to live, the rest I have to leave in the hands of God.  Instead of worrying about things that are beyond my control I should enjoy my days with Terr-bear, relish my long walks while I prepare for the Avon walk, savor the freedom of being childless for the moment and having the luxury of being able to focus so much of my time and attention on improving myself physically and mentally.  And besides, once I achieve all the goals I've set for myself, I will just have to set new, bigger, and more outrageous goals.  So I really just need to be cognizant of enjoying the journey.  Because once I have lost the weight, have raised the money and walked the 39 miles, am no longer spending my days with my sweet Terr-bear and have kids of my own who are crying, while the dogs are behaving rambunctiously, the house is a mess, and I am trying to prepare Christmas dinner for 30 guests, I will think back to this time wistfully and say to myself, “Damn, that went by fast.”

A Cold Hard Look

Since it has been over 3 months since I embarked on this blog and my journey of transition I figured  I would do a sort of self assessment, evaluate where I am in terms of achieving my year long goals. Time to take a cold hard look on how I am doing.  Yikes!

LOSE 65 LBS

For the first time in a long time I have been totally focused on what I am putting in my body and getting healthy.  It is no coincidence that losing weight is number one on my list, it has been my primary focus every day for the last three months.  My weight and the issues that accompany it has been a major obstacle for me for a large part of my life.  Overcoming this major hurdle, I feel, is key to facing head on all of the other challenges and goals on both my year list and life list.  If you aren’t healthy how in the world can you ever realistically run a 5K?  Or raise $2000 and walk 39 miles for the fight against Breast Cancer?  And truly, I need to look good if I ever expect to woo Bono away from his wife, right?!  I kid, I kid, but seriously, thanks to the support of my parents and my amazing family and friends I have been able to stay positive and energized about losing weight.  3 months in and I am down over 30 lbs, so for this goal I am totally on track to succeed! 

30 MINUTES OF WALKING 5 DAYS A WEEK

Since I started taking care of Terr-bear we have, weather permitting, always aimed to walk for a minimum of 30 minutes a day.  We have since upped our walks to an hour and weekends I am walking in Waveny park, my new favorite spot in New Canaan to train for my Avon Walk.  As a result walking is officially my favorite way to clear my mind and get my butt moving. 

LEARN YOGA

I had been doing 9 simple yoga poses daily either while Terrance crawled around me or while he was napping, however, on vacation, not so much.  Apparently vacation is my kryptonite.  I restarted my poses on Tuesday.  Writing all this down and making myself accountable is helping me to see a pattern, I clearly am the sort of person who thrives when I have a schedule to adhere to.

QUIT COKE (Diet coke, I am beyond addicted) 

I have to be completely honest, I may be more addicted now to the bubbly stuff than I was before.  This goal I have put on the back burner, I fully intend to quit the sweet nectar of the gods by May and well within my one year mark.  However, for the meantime it is one of my few “treats”.  My sister saw me guzzling a nice cold can of the poison a few weeks ago and exclaimed, “Woah!  You are supposed to be quitting!”  To which I replied in my best exorcist voice, “LAY OFF ME I’M STARVING!!!”  Which isn’t entirely true, I’m not hungry at all, but after eliminating most carbs and sugar based products, I need my D.C!  No bread has passed my lips, no ice cream has grazed my tongue, no chocolate has melted in my mouth in over 3 months, so I am allowing myself this one indulgence, for now.  

DRINK 8 GLASSES OF WATER DAILY

Done!  I actually am averaging a minimum of 90 ounces of water a day.  I know studies have emerged saying we may not need the 8 glasses of water a day previously prescribed.  I disagree, as someone who has worked in the beauty industry for over 11 years, I can honestly say water is one of the best and cheapest beauty products out there.  Drink up to half your weight in ounces a day and watch your skin clear up, appear more hydrated, supple, and radiant.  Just don’t drink it all at once, spread it out over an entire day and prepare yourself for frequent bathroom breaks.  It’s worth it.  Yay water! 

START AND MAINTAIN A BLOG (YAY!)

Started, check, maintained, mehhhh.  Back on track though!  And as previously discussed, I had my vacation, now I am back on a schedule and need to blog.  It makes me happy, it gets me writing and keeps me accountable. 

BECOME MORE TECH SAVVY

Ugh.  Technology!  The bane of my existence!  I switched up the layout of the blog last night, it was so frustrating!  I know there is more I can do, I know there are things I should be able to figure out that I can’t. This is an ongoing challenge for me.  

NURTURE MY RELATIONSHIPS

I think (and hope) I have been making a more concerted effort to be there for the people I love and care about.  I am working really hard at being better at maintaining contact through email and phone with my peeps, but this is something I have to almost remind myself daily to do.  “Email them now!  Not later.”  “Call now, don’t get distracted!”  I hate the phone and apparently have the attention span of a gnat, the combination of the two has made for long periods of silence in the past.  I am in the process of rectifying that.  I am also making sure the people in my life know how much I love and appreciate them.  In fact if you are reading this, I love and appreciate you!  Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and for all of the comments and words of encouragement I have received, thank you!!

STAND UP FOR MYSELF

This seems to be easier for me as of late.  It is amazing how making positive changes in your life and knowing you have the support of the people you love and respect makes you feel a little invincible.  I feel stronger and worthy and therefore I don’t feel compelled to let people get away with bad or abusive behavior. 

BECOME FINANCIALLY RESPONSIBLE

Sigh.  This is slowly falling into place.   Right now I am focused on setting aside money for when unexpected expenses pop up.  I am proud of the fact that I don’t frivolously spend my money, when I get an email about a sale or major discount at one of my favorite stores, I don’t even open it.  I haven’t shopped for myself in months.  Every purchase is recorded.  However, this goal is still a work in progress for me.

RUN A 5K

You have to walk before you run, right?  I am prepping for my Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, after completing that my focus will turn to getting my body conditioned to run and eventually (before the end of May 2011!) participate in a 5K.

GO TO ITALY

The planning has commenced!  All that remains is picking up extra hours selling makeup to the pretty ladies to save up the funds, after setting aside money for unexpected expenses and having a little cushion in savings.  The air miles are set aside, now the fun part begins, planning and daydreaming of all the places to see!  Spring of 2011 Ciao Italia!!

APPLY TO GRAD SCHOOLS

I haven’t begun to crack this case.  I am totally overwhelmed by the process and keep putting it off. People apply to grad schools all the time, people coordinate and get loans, write essays, get their letters of recommendation, they do it all and make it happen.  My sister Sheila did it, my friend Bunny just did it, I can do it but I need to put my fear and anxiety aside.

FIGURE OUT WHAT I'M PASSIONATE ABOUT AND HOW TO MAKE MONEY WHILE DOING IT. 

I’m still figuring this out. I am passionate about Terr-bear!  I love writing, even if it is a major source of anxiety for me.  “Does this sound idiotic?”  “Is my vocabulary frighteningly limited?”  “Does this sound like a baboon wrote it?”  “Does anyone really care to read what I think?!”  Despite all those nasty little thoughts, I love writing and I adore all the funny, kind, and supportive feedback I’ve gotten.  What I need to figure out is which of these favorite activities will eventually pave the way for me to have a career I love. 

RAISE $1800 AND WALK 39 MILES FOR THE AVON WALK FOR BREAST CANCER

This goal has elicited such a conflicting combination of emotions from me and like my goal of losing weight, it is something that is in the forefront of my mind almost every minute of the day.  I am excited at the challenge of walking farther than I have ever attempted to and for such an amazing cause.  I am nervous and yet intrigued about camping overnight.  I’m looking forward to meeting and connecting with all my fellow walkers, and I am elated to be sharing in this experience with my best friend and sister Robin.  I’m touched and grateful for all the generous donations and messages of support I have received from family and friends, and I am so humbled by their generosity. Yet I am totally freaked out that I won’t raise the funds needed.  In order to be able to actually walk you must have raised a minimum of $1800, I am about halfway there with 5 weeks to go.  My sister is about a quarter of the way there.  My daily mantra has become “You will raise the money, YOU WILL RAISE THE MONEY!!”  To achieve this goal I actually need the help and support of anyone reading this.  Every dollar counts, no donation is “small”, please if you can, consider donating to my walk!  Thank you so much to all of you who have donated, I can’t begin to express my gratitude to you!  

So while I work on achieving goals 1-15 and continue prepping for my two days and 39 miles of walking, would you please click on the link below and donate!  Thank you!

If you would like to donate please visit my donation page here.  And because we are both walking and soliciting support from some of the same circle of family and friends, if you would like to split your donation between my sister and myself please visit my sister Robin's page here.

Bad Blogger!

I have been a bad blogger, I let Terr-bears new found ability to walk (and thus fall and tumble into seemingly everything) distract me from blogging.  I think I may have foolishly assumed the older he got the easier and more low key our days would be.  Are all the Mom’s reading this laughing yet?  For those of you who don’t spend your days with a toddler, it only gets more hectic and there is no “spare” time.  And naps are made for regrouping, going to the bathroom, eating, chugging coffee, not blogging so much.   I kept telling myself I would blog while I was on vacation, my sister had two weeks off which meant I too had 2 weeks off.  So while I chased after my little bear I assuaged my guilt over not blogging by telling myself I would be a blogging machine once I was off for two weeks.  

And then vacation came and I....went to New Jersey to visit with my bestie, then worked for a few days selling makeup to the pretty ladies, then up to my sisters beach house for a week, then back for a few more days of putting makeup on pretty ladies, and well, no blogging.  No blogging despite the fact that when I would be hovering over my laptop doing important stuff like checking facebook my Mother would cheerfully chirp, “Oh!  Are you writing your blog?”.  Or that while I was on facebook trying to silence my inner voice telling me what a disgrace I was for not blogging, my sweet sister had posted on my wall, “I miss the Butterfly and the Bear!”  So did I!  I just felt like I couldn’t make myself write anything.  However, I did find I truly missed it and despite my sabbatical from the blog I received some funny and kind comments while I was away which made me feel enthusiastic and brought a smile to my face.  

So, I am recommitting myself to number 6 on the list, “Start and maintain a blog.”  When I was visiting my bestie Missy she said, “You can just post a picture and a few comments, it doesn’t always have to be a beautifully crafted essay.”  I know this but I have trouble writing just a small snippet.  However, after 3 weeks of silence I realize that a simple observation would be better than nothing.  So I am back and recommitted, if you’ll have me!

So back in the saddle!  And since I am taking a cold hard look at myself and my obvious tendency towards procrastination, ( this has always been an issue for me, in college I would start 15 page papers at 11:00pm the night before they were due, in theater I would frantically try to memorize my lines at dinner before heading over to practice, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?  Right?!) I am going to devote tomorrows blog to assessing my progress thus far in achieving my goals on my year long list.  Yikes.  Don’t get me wrong, the goals are on my mind daily, some are more in the forefront than others, but I know them all and I am actively working towards achieving them all.  However, as the last month has reminded me, time waits for no man (or woman) and the clock is ticking, the months are passing.  Am I were I want to be?  Where I need to be to achieve these goals in the time frame I set for myself?  So tomorrow’s blog will be all about accountability and assessing where I am and what I am doing to make my dreams a reality (GULP!).  Wish me luck!  

Put 'Em Up!

 When I was younger my Mother bought me and my sisters beach towels, each one had a different cartoon character on it so there would be no arguments over which towel belonged to who, we would know our towel by our character.  My towel was Bugs Bunny, my sister Robin’s towel was Yosemite Sam.  My older sisters and I thought this was hilariously appropriate considering the fact that Robin had red hair and a “mean” temper, similar to Yosemite Sam himself!  The fact is she didn’t really have a temper, however, tell a ten year old redheaded girl she resembles a small, angry, mustachioed man firing his pistols in the air and you will see someone blow a gasket.  I mean really, what little girl doesn’t want to look like that?!  

The fact is I am the one who feels like Yosemite Sam today.  I feel as if I am walking around half cocked with my pistols in the air ready to fire.  Forget a case of the “mean reds”, I have a case of the violent reds.  That man at the grocery store who parked in the space clearly marked “reserved for people with small children”, well as he nonchalantly and cavalierly strolled into the store I slashed his tires.  All of them.  The lady in the frozen food section squawking loudly on her phone?  I ripped it from her hands, threw it to the floor and even though it was smashed to pieces, I ground the heel of my shoe into it for good measure before stomping away.  Then the teenage boy who strolled past me and my Terr-bear in his stroller, carelessly swinging his lacrosse stick perilously close to us...well I tore it from his hands and cracked it in half over my knee.  Then for good measure I threw the two splintered halves out into oncoming traffic.  

Ok, I didn’t actually do any of the above.   But I did imagine indulging in these aggressive acts, vividly.  Acting out on these wonderfully wicked fantasies would be insane under any circumstances and particularly disturbing considering I have a 13 month old in tow.  As I sit here writing about how truly insane I feel, I hear my Mother’s voice in my head admonishing me to keep the blog positive.  Some days it just isn’t there.  There are days when I feel much more Yosemite Sam than Pollyanna.  What is amazing to me is I can be in a completely foul mood but one smile from Terr-bear can lift my spirits.  Luckily he is literally the apple of my eye and even though every stranger I encounter seems to be eliciting my ire, he is like a salve for my soul.  

Despite the fact that I have valium in the form of a 13 month old boy to calm and soothe me, I was trying to figure out why I am feeling so ferocious today.  I settled on two reasons, the first being the simple fact that it is the first day of my monthly gift and as cliched as it sounds, it does sometimes make me more on edge.  The second reason is not so easy to pin down.  I am still getting used to feeling emotions that previously I would have pushed down or soothed with food.  Before if I felt angry or anxious, I would tranquillize myself with a “treat”.  I would literally numb myself with either something sugary or something doughy.  Now, that is not an option.  Exercising, doing some yoga poses, writing, venting, these are my options now.  However, none seem to feel as immediately gratifying as eating ice cream or a slice of pizza, at least at first.  We all know this cycle, many people struggle with food being a crutch, at first it tastes great, you feel better, then you feel awful.  Either you feel too full or just polluted.  The last three months that I have been trying to make lifestyle changes (Ugh I sound so Oprah-y here) I have had to come to terms with my relationship to food and the way my moods are affected by food.  I have to actually allow myself to feel and experience what is bothering me and then work through it, not numb it down with food.  I guess I figured that since I had admitted I used food as a crutch I had won the battle.  In fact I have previously posted about how throughout my life I have medicated myself with food.  However, I am clearly still a work in progress, I suppose it will always be an issue for me, not something I can easily fix and forget.  

So, since it is 95 degrees and humid out, I simply didn’t feel like going for a long walk or doing some yoga poses right now.   And I’m afraid if I were to go all renegade on a bunch of rude and oblivious strangers I may end up in the clink, (and while Terr-bear looks good in stripes, I simply do not) instead I sat down and wrote this.  And I feel better!  The guns are back in their holsters, Yosemite Sam has left the building.  

Hurray For Hollywood!

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, growing up I was somewhat of a nerd.  I was chubby, wore my older sisters hand me downs and was shy and skittish.  So, you could say I wasn’t the coolest kid around.  Despite the fact that I knew I wasn’t cool, and the fact that all the other kids at school reminded me on a daily basis how very uncool I was, I still firmly believed that I was destined for greatness.  I knew, just KNEW, that one day someone would discover me and see past the mousey hair, the too tight and worn thin hand-me-down corduroy overalls, the last years Buster Browns and proclaim, “Now this kid has got MOXIE!”  and thus I would be discovered.  

Whenever we had a school talent show I was there, enlisting the help of my friend Stephanie we would lip sync to Madonna and I would spend weeks perfecting my moves and planning my outfit.  Because I wasn’t allowed to dress remotely fashionably, let alone like a child prostitute, the fact that I had an excuse to dress up in lace leggings, studded belts and wear makeup made the whole Madonna thing even better.  I HAD to dress that way in order to get into character!  And for the whole day of course, not just for the show!  Surprisingly my Mother actually let me do this on several occasions.  And was it any surprise I dressed as Madonna for 2 Halloweens in a row?  I fantasized about my Mother taking me on “go-see’s”, a term I heard Jacob use, a boy in my class who did some children’s modeling and whose father was a photographer.  I day dreamed while the teacher prattled on at the front of class of being the star of a sitcom, of belting tunes out on Broadway to enraptured audiences, or a talent scout hearing me audition for the school play and proclaiming, “Who is she?!  She has the voice of an angel!”  In the fourth grade I asked for a Casio keyboard for Christmas so I could hone my skills, which unfortunately never progressed further than me making ear piercing songs based largely around incorporating the key that sounded like a dog barking.  Genius.  I actually “wrote” a song for the end of the school year, some atonal drivel about summer coming and leaving school behind, when I stumbled through the painful piece for my sister Robin, she having full knowledge of my social status at school replied firmly but kindly,  “Don’t play that at school.  That was really awful.”

 So you can imagine how elated I felt when in fifth grade Jacob announced to the class that his Father was coming to school to shoot a cover for Spotlight magazine, and we were all going to be on it!  “THE” Spotlight Magazine!  The very one in doctors offices everywhere, pored over by millions!  Ok, maybe not millions, but to me back then it was the equivalent of me landing a Vanity Fair cover today.   It was to be called “Johnny Applesauce” with Jacob as Johnny and the rest of us were going to be the other kids in the background.  In the picture Jacob/Johnny has spilled and slipped on his applesauce in the cafeteria and we other kids are all around him pointing and laughing.  Easy enough, right?  Now, I knew this was my big break, I HAD to make the most of the situation.  So while I was usually the type of kid that followed direction and listened to adults, this day I decided I had to take my fate into my own hands.  So when Jacob’s dad told us all to look at Johnny, point and laugh, when the shutter of the camera went off I stared directly into it and flashed my biggest, cheesiest smile.  After a few pictures his Dad stopped and said, “Sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at Jacob.” Ok, I got it!  Whoops, sorry.  So once again the camera starts clicking and I turn to the side and flash my big dumb grin right into the camera.  At this point he gets ticked off, so he looks at my teacher like, “DO SOMETHING” So Mr. McCabe bellows, “Mandy!  Look at Jacob! POINT!  And LAUGH!”  Easy man, I got it, OK!  So we resume taking the picture and what do you think my 10 year old self did?  Well, naturally I looked directly at the camera of course and gave it all I had.  At this point my teacher and Jacob’s dad are ready to blow a gasket.  Looking back I am amazed that I persisted with my little plan, clearly I had lofty aspirations and I fancied this as my one way ticket to hollywood.  Eventually they barked me into submission and I looked down at Jacob and laughed and pointed, it was nearly impossible for me to resist the urge to turn my face towards the camera, but out of fear of the wrath of my teacher I finally did.  After all he was in charge of casting for the school play, didn’t want to piss him off too much.  

Eventually the magazine came out and suffice it to say, I never did get that big break.  I actually tried to google that Spotlight for Kids magazine recently, I’d love to see it, alas, I had no luck finding it. When I was retelling this story to my sister a few days ago I was both amazed at the audacity of my 10 year old self and also kind of proud of her.  Despite the fact that I was painfully shy, had few friends and was bullied, I always had some level of confidence in myself.  Every year I went out for every talent show, I sang the loudest in chorus, I tried out for all the school plays.  I had faith in myself and even though I sometimes felt like a loser, I liked myself.  I DID have moxie!  And while I always say I wasn’t a very funny child, looking back, clearly I did have a pretty twisted sense of humor.  A few months back I was singing show tunes to Terr-Bear and Robin chuckled and said to me, “Mandy, you missed your calling, you would be excellent on one of those children shows.”  And I thought, dang it!  Why wasn’t that one of my responses to the Myers-Briggs questionnaire?!  However, for now I am content just performing for an audience of one little bear and proud of the fact that under all the stress, anxiety, fear, and doubt, I always really did like myself and knew my own self worth.  

Trout and Marge

Marlene Dietrich said, "It is the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter". I know it may sound like a second grade mentality but I strongly believe everyone needs a “besty”.  You know, your very best friend, your BFF, if you will.  Your soul sister, sista from another motha? Granted my four sisters are all my best and closest friends, but you still need your besty!  The girl who you can disagree with like you are sisters and she won’t hold a grudge, the one who will laugh at you and herself when you bring up all those cringe worthy stories from the past.  The girl who will tell you if those jeans do in fact make you look fat, but in the kindest way possible.  The gal who will champion you and support you when you decide that you are going to change your life for the millionth time.  She always has your back and she can always make you laugh even when you feel like you are losing it.  

My besty and I met in college, we bonded over our love of obscure bands from the ’80’s, all things anglophile, James Bond, Euro trash, and our disdain for our current situations.  We assumed we were both destined for greatness.  We were like Gail and Oprah, Lucy and Ethel, Blanche and Dorothy.  To this day we will marvel at how we feel we are funnier, more outgoing, more confident and more ourselves when the other is around.  Like together we can charm a room, win fans and influence people, whereas apart our powers are diluted.  We travelled around Scandinavia together, survived an all womans Catholic college together, and were roomates the year after college in a dismal flat in London.  When I lost my job just before heading home to the states for Christmas and couldn’t afford my rent, she was the one who lent me the money.  When a nasty little trollop called me a name in a pizza place on the upper east side of Manhattan, she read that girl the riot act.  

I was in her wedding party, saw her walk down the aisle, move into her first apartment.  When I moved into Manhattan she convinced her hubs to move into the city within 6 months, less then 10 blocks away from me of course. I cried when she left New York to move abroad, rejoiced when she became a Mother for the first time, marveled when I saw how amazing she is with her daughter.  We were always a team, our names often synonymous with each other.  So rarely were we apart that often our other friends would ask where the other was if we were not together. 

 I was lucky she married a man with immense patience who tolerated me being a constant third wheel in their life and who endured our dance off sessions in the middle of her apartment, our American Idol duets, (I would always make her sing the male parts as I insisted she had a deeper voice than mine.) endless games of M.A.S.H and “would you rather”, and our constant rehashing of our “glory days”.  Now that she lives 4000 miles away I miss the late nights in college and later in Manhattan spent chatting, gossiping, laughing and conspiring.  It has been 16 years of friendship and I am so blessed to have someone who I never have to explain myself to, I never have to feel like I have to be someone else around, and I know will always make me laugh until my stomach hurts.  Every girl needs a besty, someone who always has her back and will kick some ass in a pizza parlor if need be.  Miss you Con!

The Deep End of The Ocean

 

This weekend I set up my Avon Walk for Breast Cancer fund-raising page.  Doing that made me realize that this is real and I am in fact doing this.  Lazy ol’ me is going to walk 39 miles in two days, camp out overnight and raise over $2000 for a cure for breast cancer.  After I set up the page and linked it to my Facebook profile and my Twitter I thought to myself, “Ok, no turning back now.”  Not that I would ever want to put the brakes on something like this, however, it is totally and completely out of my comfort zone.  I was thinking about training and raising the funds for the walk and I realized it has been forever since I have felt this particular mixture of emotions; fear, excitement, exhilaration, anticipation, pride, and hopefulness.  All these little butterflies are swarming around in my rib cage, in a good way, and I registered the fact that for so many years I was numbing myself by playing it safe.  By staying with the routine and not allowing myself to take chances I had paralyzed myself both physically and emotionally.  I had shut the door on chance, hope, opportunity, and of course failure.  Because as we all know, if you don’t even try then you can’t fail.  And what is so awful about failure?  I honestly don’t know, but I do know for a large part of my life I have been afraid of failure and ridicule.  This foolish avoidance of failure had boxed me in, and made my world smaller.  Gone were the big ideas, the hopes, the dreams, the grand plans and schemes, in their place was doubt, monotony, restlessness and ennui.  

When had I allowed this to happen? When had I become this timid, gun-shy, candy-assed sissy? In an attempt to trace back when this faint heartedness emerged I tried to remember the last time I felt that cocktail of emotions,  trepidation and exhilaration over the future.  It was before heading off to college, then the christmas break before I studied abroad, and then finally the summer before I moved to London.  That was 12 years ago.  Why had I allowed myself to be emotionally asleep for the last 12 years?  I’m still not completely sure, was it not becoming a mega-star in England?  Having to come home penniless and before I was ready to?  Not being a millionaire by 30?  Not realizing so many of the dreams I had as a young woman and a 20-something?  Perhaps, but shielding myself from failure by playing it safe clearly didn't serve me well.  I wasn’t stepping out of my comfort zone, I wasn’t challenging myself, I was babying myself emotionally and numbing myself.  Yet once you take one leap it is easier to keep jumping, I left my job, my apartment, I gave up everything I felt defined me.  I started this blog, I became more open and honest with my desires and hopes and dreams, I verbalized emotions and goals that I had let lay dormant for years.  I started exercising and watching what I ate, this time without fear of failure or ridicule.  Before when I would start a new “diet” I would often keep it a secret,  not this time, I let everyone know what I am doing, I tell everyone I am focusing on getting healthy, on living the best life I can.  And then I made a commitment to do the Avon Breast Cancer Two Day Walk.   I feel like all these years I was standing on a beach watching everyone else dive into the ocean and I was too cold and scared to join them, I worried about my hair getting wet, of looking foolish, of not being a good swimmer.  Then one day I dove head first into the oncoming waves and it felt...great! Electrifying, refreshing, and perhaps a little scary, but it felt good!  

It also made me realize how selfish being lost in your own head and closing yourself off can be.  I let friendships languish, I missed connecting with people, I was emotionally unavailable, I missed out on fun experiences, I wasn’t contributing to the community, to the world. Yes I gave to charity, but I wasn’t really DOING anything.  You can’t give yourself over to anything, be it another person, a dream, a project, to life, if you are lost inside your own thoughts and fears.  I saw on the local news last week a story about a group of second grade school kids who shaved their heads in solidarity with a little boy in their class who is battling leukemia.  Every single little boy and girl and their teacher in his class completely shaved off all their hair.  So he wouldn’t feel alone, so he wouldn’t be teased, so he wouldn’t feel different.  They did it seemingly without trepidation, without fear, they just did it.  Because it was the right thing to do, and because they weren’t thinking about themselves, or how they would look or feel, they were thinking about him and helping him.  Read the story here, but be prepared to get weepy, or if you are my Father get a “really bad headache".  Have you ever noticed at the beach, no matter how cold the water is, kids are always the first to jump in?  To run fearlessly into the surf, with their heads thrown back and their arms out?  As I discover from Terr-bear every day, we can learn a lot from the children in our lives.  Who knew everything I needed to know about being adult I learned when I was seven?  

If you'd like to donate and help me in my fund-raising efforts for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer please click this link to my personal page.  And if I know you and have your email address you should be getting   a fund-raising request in your inbox within the next few weeks.  Thank you all for your love, support, and encouragement!

 

 My sister Robin and I will be walking together!

Summertime

One of my favorite places in the world, Manor Park, down the street from the house I grew up in.

 

Summer has officially arrived!  And in a big way up here in New York, today I feel like I am melting, yesterday we had a tornado watch.  I was driving home with Terr-bear after running some errands and to our right we had bright blue sunny skies, to the left black clouds and lightning bolts.  I was waiting for Dorothy’s house to swirl over our heads.  Yes, summer is here and it is hot, school is out, kids are everywhere all of the sudden.  It used to be when Terr-bear and I took our midday walks it was us and other Moms or Nanny's with strollers and the retirees all quietly strolling, now...now there is hollering, and laughing and kids running and shouting at each other.  I vacillate between feeling like a total oldster and wanting to shush them or yell, “Slow down!  Watch out!” and completely envying them.  Remember that feeling?  When summer FINALLY arrived and the freedom you felt?  There was this element of magic that the summer brought.  Spending morning til night outside soaking up the sun, swimming until your fingers were prunes and your lips were blue.  Catching fireflies at dusk: an insect whose back lights up, looking like it has just flown out of a fairytale, could only belong to the summer season.  Playing ghost in the graveyard with the other children in the neighborhood, listening for the siren song of the Good Humor truck .  It was all so different from the routine of the rest of the year and yet so familiar.  Even parents seemed to relax into the enchantment of the season, I remember one warm night we were all on my fathers boat and us girls were chanting, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ICE CREAM!!” in an attempt to get my father to give in and take us to Carvel.  With a glint in his eye he replied, “NO!!! No, it will be an orange moon before I take you to carvel!”  We all looked heavenward and sure enough a huge lovely orange July moon hung in the sky!  During the summer months my father would get home and change out of his suit and tie and would leave “Businessman Daddy” behind and become "Fun Daddy”.  We would all sit on our porch, which was like an outdoor living room and dining room.  My Mother set it up beautifully so it had two seating areas and a dining area, potted pink and white impatiens hung from the eaves and hurricane lamps with candles hung from hooks and adorned the tables.  We’d review the days activities, eat dinner al fresco, and talk until the mosquitoes chased us indoors.  That porch was utterly enchanting and is still one of my favorite places in the world.  

As I got older summer became less fun and it seemed all the magic was sucked out of it.  When I was in my early twenties and starting out in my career there were times I missed out when the whole family would head up to Cape Cod for the week and I would be stuck going from one over air-conditioned ice box store in the mall to the next checking in on all my accounts.  Then when I was commuting in and out of the city I REALLY grew to dislike summer, waiting on the hot train platform in my dark work clothes with the morning sun beating down on me, taking the train that may or may not have AC that day, walking 10 blocks from Grand Central to the store in the thick muggy pea soup that was Manhattan in July.  I had always been a summer girl, I love the heat, the beach, lounging by the pool, wearing sun dresses, bright colors, sandals, summer was MY season.  Not anymore, now it was a hindrance, too hot, too humid, the grimy city smells were amplified in the muggy humidity.  

So today as I was walking with Terr-bear through the park and humming Fresh Prince’s Summertime I asked myself, “Can summer once again feel magical after a certain age?”  I think so.  Now that I am no longer commuting I feel confident I can absolutely start to find some of the old summer magic.   Additionally, less stress and more Terr-bear time equals many opportunities for joy and fun.   However, I also have to be cognizant and aware that while the years fly by, the summer months seem to pick up even more speed.  It is already the end of June, I have to remind myself to savor the warmth, the changeable weather, the breeze off the water.  Therefore, indulge me while I wax poetic on all the wonderful summertime rituals and traditions, new and old, that came time mind while we strolled along the seashore today:

The healing feeling of saltwater on your skin.  BBQ’s with family and the smell of a charcoal grill. Terr-bears joy when his feet first touch the water and the sight of his little legs and arms splashing wildly.  The intoxicating smell of honeysuckle in the warm air and sudden bursts of wildflowers along the road.  Ice cream.  The beautiful act of just floating in the pool.  Lobster rolls and cold beer.  My niece burying my feet in the sand.  The sound of sea gulls overhead.  The sweet tiredness one feels after a day spent in the sun and water.  Hydrangeas and sunflowers exploding into bloom.  The constant symphony of cicadas.  Cool, prickly grass under bare feet.   Bonfires on the beach and bundling up in a sweatshirt while fireworks explode in the sky.  The briny smell of the salt air, the sound of the sea sloshing against the side of a boat and it’s gentle rocking.  The way voices mysteriously carry farther over water so the wind will suddenly carry a far off conversation and whisper it in your ear.  The romance of a sudden and enveloping fog rolling off the sea, the hopeful entreaty of a lighthouse at night and the mournful wail of a foghorn.  A flag proudly and gracefully blowing in the breeze.  Joyriding with all the windows down and the sunroof open while blaring the summer jam.  Adirondack chairs facing the water.  The unique and ubiquitous smell of Coppertone.  Water fights, running through sprinklers and squealing down a slip n’ slide.  

Terr-Bear enjoying the invigorating spray of a few wayward sprinkler showers today: 

 Post cards from friends in far-flung and “exotic” locales like sleep away camp in the Berkshires or vacations at the Grand Canyon and Disneyland.   “Summer Friends”, those friendships forged between Memorial Day and Labor Day that while they lay dormant between September and June were no less important or treasured. 

  

It seemed like so much could happen during those two and half short months, first crushes, first kisses, first heartbreak.  It was as if the break from routine left the door open for a little more frivolity and dalliance.  First summer jobs and the camaraderie you felt to be among “the big kids” and the Independence that came with making and having your own money.  The hum of a fan in a window, the sound of the tides rolling in. Being lulled to sleep in the cozy cocoon of a hammock.  

Ahhh, Summertime, time to sit back and unwind.  Happy summer everyone and may we all experience a few lovely pockets of magic and bliss this summer!

 More from Manor Park.