All posts by dotyness

I'm a mother, a hockey fan, a photographer, a sugar and nicotine addict, a non-smoking smoker, a struggler, a connoisseur of the absurd, a reader, a traveler, a writer, a student of light and shadow, a foodie, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a crazy cat lady. I talk to myself more than I care to admit and perhaps even more than is healthy. I'm in a time of great change and turmoil so now I'm talking to you as well as to myself.

The Cassandra Effect

Cassandra by Evelyn De Morgan (1898, London)Recently, I’ve been identifying with Cassandra – you know, the daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba.  With her fair skin, curly red hair, and blue eyes, Greek mythology portrays her as intelligent, beautiful, charming, and elegant.  Check, check, check, and check. She is also shown as friendly, gentle and a great Scrabble player.  Oh, yeah – and insane.  I made up the Scrabble part, but the insane thing is totally there.  But, wait! She was insane for good reason.  Apollo.  (Wouldn’t you know that a man would be involved?) Because of her beauty, he gave her the gift of prophecy. But, he hit on her, she blew him off, he cursed her.  Her curse was that, although she could foresee the future, no one would believe her. Cassandra is the original queen of I Told You So.

Maybe it’s middle age. Maybe it’s new knowledge. Maybe it’s conceit.  Whatever the root, I seem to spend a great deal of time these days thinking, “If I had only known then what I know now.” With my new career, I have the zeal of a convert.  This new knowledge is fascinating and so very useful that I feel compelled to share it with people I know. Everyone I know.  Even the ones who don’t want to hear it. It’s possible that I’m the tiniest bit obnoxious about it.  Just the tiniest bit, mind you.

When I quit smoking, I never really became a non-smoker.  I didn’t become one of those who crinkled their noses at the smell of smoke or gazed condescendingly at smokers. Six years later, I sometimes gaze at them with jealousy, if you want to  know the truth, but never with condescension.  Oddly enough, I can’t say the same thing about food. I’ve gotten really weird about that.

Last month, I went to the Renaissance Festival because I still like to play dress-up and because they have Scotch eggs there. While there, I was nearly physically ill with what I saw – whole families of obese to morbidly obese people eating turkey legs, funnel cakes and fried potatoes.  The lines for the food vendors were ridiculous all day even though authenticity wasn’t on the menu – I’m pretty sure Elizabethan Brits didn’t wander around noshing on chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick.  I watched as America’s future disabled stumbled around with hands holding literally thousands of calories.  Worse than the adults eating garbage were adults feeding garbage to already overweight children! The view from my high horse was truly amazing.

I’ve told you all I struggle and I lose (these days as often as I win, it seems); so, I’m seated squarely in the middle of a glass house here as far as food goes. I see health insurance rates rising. We all see the panic in the media; but what we don’t see are things we can actually do about it.  Losing weight and eating more wholesome foods are two things we can do to reduce our healthcare costs.  I don’t suspect it – I know it.

Before making these massive changes, I was in the doctor’s office at least once, if not twice, a month.  I didn’t feel good.  Various complaints, but the common thread was feeling tired and run down. Since changing my diet nearly two years ago, I have been to my family doctor…once.  For a rash on my nose.  Once.

We’ve got Medicare and Medicaid helping the retired and the needy in our society and we need those.  I wonder, though, how much health care for avoidable disabilities is costing those programs. I’m talking about people who are disabled because of poor lifestyle choices, not by genetics or misfortune but from diet and exercises choices they made.

The country is getting fatter.  This is a health crisis now; but, if we don’t address it, it’s going to be a financial one in the near future, as well.

I Have To Be My Neighbor

When I worked at an air charter company in Latrobe, PA, we once had the opportunity to fly Mr. Rogers – yes, THAT Mr. Rogers – cardigan, sneakers, the whole nine. Everyone in our organization who dealt with him that day was a professional, not wet behind the ears and we had all dealt with celebrities before.  Still.  When Mr. Rogers walked into that lobby, we were all instantly five, peeking at him around corners, scuffing our toes on the floor.  I KNEW I was being ridiculous; but, I couldn’t seem to stop myself!  When I spoke with Mr. Rogers’ brother-in-law some weeks later, he assured me that it happened all the time and that Fred loved it.

safe placeI suppose he would have, wouldn’t he?  In the instant that we all became children in his company, he knew that he had a special place in all of our hearts and memories.  He was a positive point of reference. For many children, he was likely their ONLY positive point of reference.  In abusive and neglectful homes, the words coming from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood may have been the only kind ones those children heard all day.  What an incredible thing for him to know! And what an incredible man to continue to do it for so many years in the face of so much mockery!

The older I get, the more aware I am of the toxic recordings in my own mind. Even though I didn’t start them, I’m the one who keeps looping them. “You can’t do it.” “You’re not good enough.” “You don’t deserve any better.” “You look too much like Ann-Margaret.” (Okay, that last one isn’t real but I’m trying to start it).  These negative recordings are all variations on a theme that I am coming to believe nearly all of us fight with. We all feel (as my friend Laura used to say) Less Than – less than someone else, less than expected, less than enough.

When we are young, we are limited in how we can control or change an unsafe, unkind or unhealthy environment.  However, once we are grown, that control shifts a great deal.  I won’t say that we can always control or change those environments – to say that would be to presume I know everything and I’ve already told y’all that: 1. I don’t have all the answers, 2. I’m not even clear on all the questions, and 3. The knowledge I share comes from what worked and what didn’t work for me.  However, I will say that we can control or change more of those environments than we usually give ourselves credit for.  We are often quick to snap up that Victim title when we are more accurately Volunteers.

Those toxic recordings?  TURN THEM OFF!  I have to remind myself to do this all the time.  All. The. Time.  Like a dog with a squirrel, my mind heads right back to the bad thoughts and I have to jerk it around again. I am the only one who can do that for myself and it’s a nonstop process.

However, to be successful in anything, I have to be kind to myself, to make my mind a safe place and to be my own neighbor. And I have to continue doing that as long as I have breath and lucidity to do it.

The Ox Is Slow, But The Earth is Patient

….well, the Earth may be; but, I’m not!

High_Road_to_ChinaIn the 1983 movie High Road to China, Patrick O’Malley (Tom Selleck, not Phil Harris in the Aristocats), is advised by a local to remember that, “The ox is slow, but the Earth is patient.”  I saw the movie in theaters; so, I don’t remember exactly what the man was telling O’Malley to cool his jets about.  Regardless, the adage is a good one and one that I must remember all the time.

Progress takes time.  Rome wasn’t built in a day. All the flowers of all of the tomorrows are in the seeds of today. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

But, don’t we all want Mr. Rourke to work his magic?  Don’t we want to go to sleep fat and wake up thin?  We’ve made up our minds, after all, shouldn’t the commitment be enough? Well, sugar, there’s a reason that show was called Fantasy Island.  That little trick worked only for Adrienne Barbeau and, even then, only for the weekend.  For lasting results for everyone, we have to work and we have to work hard.

We have to work on our food choices.  We have to work on our exercise habits.  Mostly, we have to work on the Why.  We have to identify and neutralize our triggers.  Stress, boredom and depression are huge triggers for me, to the point where you might actually find me sitting in the ice cream freezer at the grocery store if I’m dealing with more than one of them at a time. Wave as you go by, won’t you?

I watch for signs of any of these three triggers; but, I’m finding that just watching for the signs isn’t really enough.  To be most effective, I have to suss out the triggers’ triggers.  Let’s face it, for people who have only ever been five pounds overweight, they likely have holiday food issues. Step away from the cookie tray and they’re back to normal in no time.  But, for those of us who have been 20, 40, 90, 150 pounds overweight, food isn’t REALLY our issue.  We have to find out what that issue is and deal with it.  Until we excise that spiritual cancer, we aren’t really going to make any permanent progress.  And sometimes even a great support system isn’t enough to help us identify and neutralize the issues.  In that case, consider consulting a mental health professional – holistic, TCM, Western medicine, whatever.  Talk to your priest, your pastor, your minister.  Red Baron and Lorna Doone are not going to be able to help you. Use every weapon you can get your hands on when fighting for yourself.

It’s a difficult, life-long fight.  I know that.  I know I didn’t put weight on overnight and I know that it’s not going to come off overnight.  I know that I have to cut  myself some slack and count all progress as good.

It just sounds a lot more zen to talk about oxen and Earth.

Eating Locally and Seasonally

Eating closer to the ground – that was one of the things I decided to do early in my lifestyle change.  No more processed food (or very little). No frozen pizza. No canned spaghetti sauce (although Newman’s Own makes some good, reasonably priced options). No dinner in a box.  Whole foods.  Doesn’t that sound so earthy and precious?  The truth? At first it was a huge pain and sometimes it still is.  Whole foods mean a whole lot of planning and preparation.  Regardless of the inconvenience, whole foods are better for us. Period. And probably a lot less inconvenient than daily insulin injections.

Food is more nutritious when picked closer to ripeness and when eaten in season.  Here are a couple of handy guides for seasonal fruits and vegetables in Tennessee: Tennessee Seasonal Fruits and Vegetables and TN Harvest Calendar.  You can Google and find other guides appropriate to where you live.  I include these because: 1. I live in Tennessee, and 2. it’s my blog, I can do what I want. 🙂

I love going to the farmers’ market.  I love meeting the people who grow my food, knowing that my money is going to support someone locally, and knowing that the food is fresh and just recently harvested.  I’ve read some articles that say that frozen food has just as many nutrients as fresh food.  I think that has a lot to do with the fresh food you compare it to.  Are we talking vegetables and fruits that ripened on the vine or are we talking stuff that was picked early, packed up and shipped halfway across the world?  I’m pretty sure that what Trish brings to the Franklin Farmers’ Market has a whole lot more value to my system that what I can pick up from my grocer’s freezer (which, incidentally, is still miles ahead of the stuff in cans).

Back in April, we talked about keeping a variety of fruits and vegetables in your diet and how that helps with success. I encourage you to find a farmers’ market close to you and take a tour.  Go see everything they have to offer.  Try something new.  Buy something that scares you a little, even!  Kohlrabi still creeps me out; but, I’ll make you a deal – I’ll try it if you’ll try something new.  Tell me what you tried, how you prepared it and what you thought of it in the comments section.  C’mon!  Let’s eat something interesting!

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Spiderwebs and Blog Goddesses

spiderwebI have felt like the biggest fraud for the last couple of days.  I am the self-proclaimed Positive Thinking Blog Goddess and I have been covered in and permeated by negativity.

There are at least two kinds of negativity: malicious and incidental.  This week, I have been touched repeatedly by incidental negativity – sadness and tragedy of friends and friends of friends.  Two dear friends buried the grandmothers to whom they were both extraordinarily close.  One friend buried her husband. A woman’s 11-year-old only child was killed in a car wreck. Another woman began chemo for breast cancer. While my own family and friends’ bodies were safe, many of their spirits received nasty blows.

We’ve spoken many times about how your support system is there for you when you need them.  Turnabout is fair play and this week is was my turn to be someone else’s support system, to be a part of their community.  The weight of emotional pain can be crushing.  When we give our love and support unconditionally, we take some of that weight onto ourselves, sparing our friends from being completely ground down.  The cost to us, of course, is that we carry that bit of weight for awhile.

The weight is beginning to shift for me, going from a burden to something more like a spider web that I’ve walked through and that has stuck to me.  I don’t feel it all the time, but every now and again, the stickiness reappears, bringing that little bit of negative energy back with it. For my friends, the weight is still great; so, those who love them will check in again and again, shifting a little more weight off of them, carrying it away with us and transforming it into sticky, but light, spiderwebs that will eventually float away, taking the negativity with them.

We just have to get to that point in the process. Until then, I’ll just be the Positively Oriented Blog Goddess.

A Frayed Knot

Today, a precious young friend will bury her husband of just less than two years.  There’s no punchline there. No silver lining. Just a horribly tragic turn of events for two young people looking forward to the rest of their lives together, not realizing how little was left for one of them.

While it may be irresponsible not to plan for the future, living each day like it’s your last, it’s such a waste to keep watching the horizon, too.  If we are always looking for tomorrow, we are missing today. Everyday is a gift.  Time with those we love is a bonus.  Those may be the simplest (and costliest) things in the world to lose sight of.

Odds are, you’ll have tomorrow; so, plan for it.  Plan to live a long while.  Take care of your wills and the business of your family.  But, in case you are don’t have tomorrow, appreciate this day. Hug those you love. Forgive those you don’t. Smile at a stranger and appreciate the gift you have.

old couple walking

When Do You Give Up?

I had a discouraging morning at work the other day.  It happens to all of us, right?  I was sharing my thoughts with a colleague who encouraged me to keep my chin up and not to give up.  In truth, I hadn’t considered giving up; so, his words caught me by surprise.  Surprise led to contemplation (like it does).  Since  I tend to be hard-headed persevere, surrender is not normally a top-five option.  However, I began to review those times in the last few years when I have either wanted to or actually have given up.

What is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for me?  What is it that leaves me feeling like throwing in the towel is really the only viable option left to me?

Isolation.

Bad Lands silhouette

In a word, that’s what it boils down to for me.  Professional frustration peaks when I believe that I am not receiving the support I was either promised or need to meet my goals. Personal frustration reaches a breaking point when I feel isolated in general.  Friends are busy and I spend too much time in my own company.

Nobody cares.  That is one of the most destructive two-word sentences in the English language.  The despair, isolation and anguish packed into those two words is immeasurable.

I’m a single mother.  People often say things like, “That must be so hard!”  I don’t really see it that way.  For one thing, I don’t know how it works any other way; so, I have no point of comparison.  For another (and really the most important) thing, I may be single, but I am not, nor have I ever been, alone.  Friends and family have always been there with encouragement, sympathy and even money and a place to live when we needed it.  I have not reared a son by myself.  That extraordinary young man is truly the product of a village.

Similarly, people have expressed admiration that I “lost all that weight alone.”  I know what they mean – that I didn’t use a structured program – but, again, I’ve never been alone.  LoseIt posts my exercise, weigh-in losses and gains to Facebook where friends and family have been the whole way with encouragement.  So, I did have a support group.  We didn’t meet in the basement of a church on Tuesday nights: we met daily on Facebook.  I had a group of people already assembled who were at the ready with an AttaGirl every single time I needed one.  They were there with encouragement every time the numbers went the wrong way.  They were there.  I was never alone, never isolated, and never wanted to give up.

You have a support group.  You may not have identified it yet; but, you do.  To identify it, you have to put it out there that you are working towards this goal to lose weight, make healthier food choices, go back to school, or whatever. It’s a little unnerving at first to do that publicly.  What if people mock you? What if you fail? What if? What if? What if?

If people mock you, then they are emotional vampires.  How nice that they will identify themselves for you so that you can begin to limit your exposure to them!  (Kinda like the guys who self-identify as Jerks with the “No Fat Chicks” stickers on their trucks.)

If you fail, then you are one failure closer to success!

All of the other “what ifs” can be diffused and dispatched in a similar manner.  If you want this, do this.  Somebody does care.  You are not alone.  Don’t give up!

Satan Invented Sweats, Yoga Pants and Stretch Denim

..and in related news: Tennessee woman buried in clothing avalanche, sizes 6 to 20.

We all know better.  We know that it is physique awareness suicide to wear stretchy pants more than three days running.  After that, you might as well wrap yourself in an elastic muumuu and call it a day.  It is over. So, during my unemployment/knee recovery/eat-a-thon, I stayed away from the sweats and the yoga pants like I should.  I kept on slipping into my blue jeans, thinking that they were an accurate gauge of size during the time which shall be known henceforth as The Great Regain.  Pah!  More the fool me, right?! (Say “yes.”) My trusty denims weren’t denims at all, but were STRETCH denim.  (Gasp in horror.)

messy-closetI’ve heard Oprah say that she has every size in her closet from eight to elastic.  Mine was the same, making my room look more and more like an episode of Hoarders.  That kind of clutter has a deleterious effect on my mood; so, this weekend, I tackled it.  I had a box for clothes to give away, one for winter clothes to go into storage, and one for adorable summer clothes from last year that are a little bit too small.  Actually, I had two of those and some of those clothes are a lot too small.

I tried most everything on until I started berating myself for gaining weight back. The head trash wasn’t doing me any good; so, I adjusted to keep from generating any more of it by not trying on any more, just guesstimating the rest.  I divided the clothes that didn’t fit into two piles – the ten pound pile and the twenty pound pile.  Some things should fit me nicely in ten pounds, others will have to wait twenty.  Regardless, they are all going to have to wait and, in the meantime, I have to be able to breathe; so, they cannot be hanging in my closet looking at me accusingly day after day.  pile of clothesNobody needs that kind of attitude, not even from natural fibers.

The bad news is that I do have clothes that don’t fit.  The good news is that I conquered head trash generation while sorting them and I’m working on getting back into them in a calculated and orderly way:

  1. I have committed to walk 25 miles each week from now until 8.31.13 for the 501st Support Battalion 300 mile challenge.
  2. I have only good, nutrient-rich food in my refrigerator and a menu planned out for the week.
  3. I have a support system in person, on Facebook and here to keep me honest and on track.

Exercise, diet and support – the three keys and they’re all right there.  By the end of June, I’ll be into the clothes in the Ten Pound Box and by the end of July, I’ll be in the Twenty Pound Box.  I just have to keep my eye on the prize, my head in the game, and my rear out of Satan’s fabrics.

First World Exercise

“Kentucky Fried Movie,” “The Meaning of Life,” “The Gods Must Be Crazy” – I can’t remember which movie has a scene showing a person driving down a short driveway solely to get their mail.  Absurd!  Preposterous!  Who would do such a silly thing?!

Friday, I got home earlier than usual and was walking to my car in preparation to drive to the gym to walk on a treadmill.  During the day. When the sun was shining. When the cool temperature held no humidity.  Huh.  I’m a big fan of the absurd – even when the absurd is me.

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Ultimately, I opted to go for a walk in the real world.  It was a trade-off, really.

Treadmill: I would have caught up on some inane television show.

Sidewalk: I was able to review and order my thoughts after a chaotic week. Plus, I saw a bunny!

Treadmill: I would have smelled a whole bunch of sweaty people (including myself).

Sidewalk: I enjoyed the perfume of honeysuckle and privet. The breeze ensured that someone else smelled the invisible goatherder that was apparently walking with me.

Treadmill: I could have stopped anytime I wanted.

Sidewalk: I was forced to cowboy up since there was no one to carry me home.

Treadmill: I would have been listening to my playlist.

Sidewalk: I connected with my world.

Since my bias is so cleverly hidden, I’ll just tell you that the sidewalk was the better route.  I got to enjoy the sunshine, feel the breeze, see where the Walgreens kitty really lives, hear the birds chirping and the leaves tapping together in the wind. I ended up walking 6.2 miles (thank goodness for the Cardio Trainer app on the phone) and I enjoyed all of the 93 minutes…..well, except those last five.