Sexy=Self Care/Wish I Were an Oyster

I think I need Mr. Alexander more than I thought - you know the guy who wrote Mr. Alexander's Four Steps to Love.   Last we visited the topic, I had made THE LIST of all the attributes I want in a mate. I still haven't sent it out to sea in a glass bottle, or attached it to a helium balloon.   I think I need a bit of ceremony to launch that list into the universe - maybe this weekend.  Step #2 is inhabiting my body in an attractive way.   I think that, despite my excess weight, I present myself in a sexy and confident way....I have a loving relationship with my body these days.   I treat it well and it is very happy with me and rewards me with off-the-chart healthy statistics when I go to the doctor, abundant energy and a good libido.

And yet.....when I went to sing last night, I ran into my friend Janet, who I hadn't seen since my birthday party.  The minute she saw me come in, she knew I had broken up with Patrick, just by looking at me.   She said I exuded such sadness that she was sure the relationship was over.   James, who I dragged along, confirmed that these days, I have lost the spring in my step.   He says I walk slowly and sadly, looking at my feet, shoulders stooped - in contrast to the "I'm hot shit" attitude I conveyed pre-Patrick.   This will NOT do!    I didn't know my heartbreak had visibly changed me!   I didn't know I look broken.

You know what's sexy? - people who are taking care of themselves.  I've ranted about this before and made myself annoying to some of my friends who don't understand why they can't move forward and why they can't attract others.  If I have a "type" it's really pretty simple -  a man who is taking care of himself.  Conversely, when I see a man smoking or hugely overweight, or eating fried foods, or drinking too much, or whining about the same shit they've complained about for years but refuse to change, or when I learn they haven't been to the doctor in years, or filed taxes, or done anything to nurture their passions - it's a huge turn off.   People who are firing on all cylinders, who are successfully juggling their fitness, relationships, health, finances, career, friends, hobbies, community, and who are passionate and curious are intoxicating....and attractive.

There are men I am close to who would be woman magnets if they would just do some hard work on themselves - if they would stop looking for a woman to complete them and take stock, make a list of what "home improvements" they need to do and get busy with the renovations.  One man desperately needs therapy - his alcoholic mother is still pulling strings and he dances to her commands even though he cut off ties with her years ago.   Another friend is lazy and won't get off his butt to do the hard work he needs to do to be fit and vital.  Two other friends of mine are stuck in unsatisfying relationships that bring them no joy and yet they will probably never leave them...they are, in my opinion, cowardly.   Ah....Sarah is being judgmental today!.

So of course, this brings me back to myself.   I used to be sexy....it was a state of mind.   I was firing on all cylinders, taking care of myself on all fronts - and it showed.   I was the flame and moths danced around me...lots of moths that I mostly ignored.   Then someone came along and broke down my defenses....he moved into my head and my heart and for a while I experienced a joy that had eluded me my entire life.  And while I was blissfully happy, I worried - I suspected it would end badly.  I look back into my journal and I read: "And oh..who knows what may happen.  How will this end?  Is there tragedy in my future with him? …maybe but I don’t care.  I am loving this moment, this time, being adored, being in his arms, and I will trade my future happiness for this time with him."   I bargained badly for what ended up being only a sliver of happiness.  And sure enough it did end badly - he left and I am not the same....it wasn't worth it.  I want my old self back.  It WASN'T better to have loved and lost than never to have loved.   This whole love thing is a mother fucker....it has the ability to destroy us, to kick us to the curb.   I hate and resent it.

Barbara Steisand had it right when she was presented for the first time with the song, People Who Need People.   She sang it and said this is the stupidest song I've ever heard....it's people who DON'T need people who are the luckiest people in the world.   She sang it under protest and it went on to be a huge hit.   I think being a human being is torture....we are born with an innate need for others and yet it is others who make us so unhappy and who can destroy our spirit.  If we could just be autonomous, self contained, like oysters who impregnate themselves, if we only had ourselves to take care of, it would be such a relief.

So I'm pissed.  He walked off with my heart, said he didn't want me and yet he kept my heart as a souvenir.  I have nothing to show for our relationship - not one picture of us together, no keepsakes, no heartfelt writings, nothing.   He on the other hand has my heart.  I want it back.

My challenge today is to think about taking care of yourself - making a list of the stupid things you are doing that are holding you back and that make you less attractive to other people.  If you know you should quit smoking then have the balls to just do it - be a "man"!!   If you have high cholesterol, then WTF!, why are you eating french fries and burgers?   If you need to exercise, then JUST DO IT. If you are an emotional mess, then swallow your fears and find a therapist and put that work behind you.    Make a list.  Work the list.   Life is not a dress rehearsal.  As for me?   Putting one foot in front of the other, living with a fucking hole in my chest where my heart used to be - without blood, my veins are full of tears, but not giving up, ever.  And today, I will stop looking at my feet and walk with purpose with my head up and look people in their eyes even though  they may be a heart thief - disguised as a lover.

Peace,
Sarah

PS.  Picture is of a "female" oyster impregnating herself with her own sperm.

Attachment/Grade Yourself

Today I'm thinking about attachment.  It's a big topic, one that I'm sure to revisit here.  It's interesting and simple to understand Joey's attachment disorder.  He is struggling to be OK - if he were a person he'd be on the couch.  And it makes sense that he's a mess - his puppy-hood appears to have been full of abuse, being branded on his back, the scar on his shoulder that could have come from a cruel owner or a fighting dog.  Who knows?  The aftermath of all that is that he is desperately anxious and he can't bear to have us out of his sight - me especially.  It's my job to be a rock for him the way Kaveh is for me, always there, consistent, loving, understanding.  In time he will relax as I have.   It's also my job to introduce discomfort to him and challenge him to be better.

I remember visiting my sister and her toddler (he's now a big strapping Marine).  He was about three. She and I were talking while he napped, and then a peep - she knew he was waking.   She bolted into the kitchen and quickly heated a cup of milk for him and got to him with the warm milk just in time before he started wailing for her. I remember being horrified that she wouldn't let him experience one second of discomfort, that she felt her job as a mother was to shelter him from all unpleasantness.  It seems there is a lifelong struggle to find balance between attachment and independence, the need to be securely and appropriately attached to people you love, but also have the capacity to endure times of detachment - to self comfort.  If parents do a good job they allow more and more discomfort into their children's lives, in therapeutic doses that can be tolerated. A newborn baby should only be allowed to cry a little.  An older baby should learn to comfort himself in the night.   A toddler shouldn't be rushed to, unless his wounds are grievous.   A teenager should be held accountable for his own actions and forced to suffer consequences.  But always there should be a sense of security - a sense that there is a safety net - that there is someone there ready to catch you if you are falling to jagged rocks.  And that is healthy attachment, right?  Appropriate attachment - knowing you can count on someone - that their bottom line is that they won't neglect you and they won't leave you even if you are impossible sometimes.   That is healthy love.

And speaking of love, I love Joey.   A lady at the beach today asked me if he was a "forever dog".   I didn't know what she meant - I asked her what a "forever dog" was, to which she replied, "You know - a dog you will have forever. You won't give him back."   I answered, "He and I will grow old together....we have a lot of work to do, but we are bonded...I would never give him away."   Now we just need Joey to understand that, so he can relax and go about the business of being a dog and not be so anxious.  Today after our early morning walk on the beach, I made him stay outside in the back yard by himself for the better part of an hour while I showered and got ready for work.   He was miserable and wailed ...I was resolute and didn't go to him. I introduced appropriate discomfort.

What astounds me is how much attachment disorder and pain there is in the world. It appears to be a miracle when a kid gets a good solid start in life with two parents who give him the right mirroring. Even good parents screw this up - they are busy, stressed, self-focused, bring their own baggage, whatever.   Let me correct myself - HUMAN parents screw this up - it seems animals know instinctively how to raise their young.   OK, correction again.  I did have an inbred Siamese cat who refused to acknowledge she was giving birth - the fact that there was a kitten dangling from her, swinging back and forth as she paced up and down my bed. I had to midwife her babies, they would have died without intervention - now she was a pathetic animal mother!

Attachment....we do such a shitty job with this.   Buddhists tell us the greatest gift you can give someone is to not be attached to them.   But Freud describes the lifelong problems that plague those of us who formed insecure attachments as children. It seems we can live our whole lives dancing around this need - the need to be connected while surrendering to and accepting the impermanence of relationships.

The challenge today is giving yourself a grade on the important relationships in your life.   Are your relationships characterized by healthy attachment or do you struggle to meet each others' needs? Are you distant and disappointed  because you don't feel seen and appreciated or are you the person who fails to see and appreciate?  I know I score a big fat "F" in most of my relationships. Certainly we should think a lot about this topic with the thought that we can do A LOT better.

Peace,
Sarah

PS.   Please comment.   I'm craving some healthy attachment these days.

Necessary Losses/Homework Assignment

I think I will be writing about this theme a lot in this blog.  Kaveh introduced me to a book, Necessary Losses by Judith Viorst. The full name is Necessary Losses  The Loves, Illusions, Dependencies and Impossible Expectations That All of Us Have to Give Up in Order to Grow.   Jeesh - that's a mouthful!  I read this book a few years ago and it's time to read it again - it got under my skin.   Don't you hate the title? - Necessary Losses?   It sounds medicinal, like having to take castor oil - I almost didn't read it for that reason. One Amazon reader describes the book -  "Ms. Viorst normalizes the inevitability of loss and rightly observes how our growing capacity to hold ourselves open to these losses deepens our human experience...Buddhists meditate on the vase already broken.  In truth everyone we love will be lost to us...it is not morbid to recognize that....opening one's heart to loss is a sure way to open to love." 


And it's not just the loss of loved ones - there is the loss of the oneness of the mother-child connection when a child realizes with horror that they and their mother are not the same person - we spend the rest of our lives trying to recapture that infant sense of oneness, the biggest loss of all.   There is the loss of innocence, of childhood, of youth, of beauty, of dreams - the list goes on and on.  And of course the final loss that is death.  Another reviewer points out that, "life is full of losses from the moment we are born. It is how we are taught to deal with them that enables us to become well adjusted adults."


I struggle with all of this.  Kaveh asks me what I'm running away from...then postulates that it is myself I am running from.  There is the age panic and the fact that the childbearing married years were the dead years. I had a stock phrase I said back then.....that I was happy with my life and accomplishments and as far as aging and dying, everything after forty was a gift...that "if I had been born a Pilgrim, I'd be dead by now".   Easy to say when you're already dead inside.   And then the renaissance...the rebirth and can I remind you that birthing is ugly and painful?  A too big head forcing its way through a tiny aperture, a commitment to the future because to be stuck during birth is certain death - pain, blood, tears, shrieking, slime, incisions, sutures, hemmorhoids, violence. And once you're born, everything is too "too".   Too bright, too cold, too hot, too noisy, too difficult.   A newborn baby spends the first three months of his life just trying to be comfortable, fighting discomfort and misery - fighting for equilibrium and balance.   And if that resonates, then you are where I am. Maybe you are James starting a new life.  Maybe you are Tom, starting to date again.   Maybe you are Dinah having just undergone surgery for breast cancer and feeling like you dodged a bullet and finally accepting your mortality and vowing to make healthy life changes. Maybe you are Pam reinventing herself, determined to get a good job.  Or maybe you are me, Sarah who is in the vortex of love lost, a financial meltdown, career ennui, and divorce.


I told most of you I am going to start working on a one woman show called, what else, Necessary Losses.   I am counting on all of you to be in the audience.   I've never done a show before but I think I can do this successfully.   If I am successful, I will take my audience through the arc of their lives and highlight the losses and joys of moving from one stage of life to another - that without the good-byes, you don't get to pass go and collect $200 - you don't get to graduate to the next step.  I will enjoy scripting this show and picking songs to sing that will support the script.   I'm thinking by this time next year I will be ready for prime time!


And let's face it - everything comes down to aging and dying and how we handle it. And this whole aging thing?   I've seen the enemy and they ain't pretty.    The enemy shuffles, creaks, has big noses, is blotchy, has big ears that don't hear very well, smells bad, eats soft food, has only two talking topics - the weather and their health, clips coupons and goes out of their way to save a buck, drinks too much, wears loud clothes, wears outlandish jewelry,  takes too long at the checkout line, forgets their own birth year.  And the bad part is that the battle is already decided - we will lose to the enemy.   We will become them.


So, hmmmm....what to do?   There is another book for us to read.....Dorothy gave it to me years ago and it is ever present in my mind.   It's called, Younger Next Year.   If you and I are going to take on the enemy then we have to study him and learn his ways.   We need to evaluate our options..are there things we can do today to stave him off?   The answer is yes.   The concept behind this book is that, on average, people live for a good long time.  The unhealthy ones wish they were dead for the last 10+ years of their life - like an analog watch, they wind down slowly and their quality of life worsens and worsens.   But...there is a way to be like a digital watch which runs perfectly and reliably until one day it just stops.   We can give our bodies a constant springtime message of growth (versus decay) and enjoy living like we're fifty for the rest of our days.   It's really possible - takes a big commitment though (plan on doing an hour of cardio six days a week).   Get the book and read for yourself!


Let's talk more about this aging thing again....let's decide -  When should we fight and when should we accept the necessary losses that come with getting old?   Should we congratulate ourselves for living life fully, cramming the most into the time we have left or should we accept our aging gracefully and not push so hard?    What is the right balance here?  There is something appealing about just giving in - no worries about pudgy tummies, wrinkles, thinning graying hair, loss of libido, staying technology hip, embracing the grandmother and grandfather in us - being age appropriate.  Saying "yes" to a rocking chair!   Seductive, huh?   But I am starting to suspect that before you're OK with all of that, you have to feel satisfied with your life up to that point - you have to feel like you weren't short changed.  And what do you do if you feel short changed - if you still have too much to experience?   Hell if I know.

So the challenge today is getting those two books and reading them.  I hope you do.

Peace,
Sarah

Habits/Guard Your Portal

I'm all about new habits these days.  Really these last five years.  It's pretty simple really, once you get the hang of it.   I think humans derive comfort from routine, and yet those same routines, done day in and day out, often lose the ability to soothe us and worse, they can become killers.   It's hard to change, I know (even though I just said, "it's simple really").   It's the thought of changing that is so anxiety producing and then the implementation of change is uncomfortable and unfamiliar - destabilizing.  I get it.

And yet, without change, we atrophy and decay.  We become dull - we even bore ourselves!   So what should stay the same and what needs mixing up?   And how do we get there?   People often ask me what it was that made me take action and make hard, heroic changes in my life.   Sometimes I say, "it was my daughter's sickness", other times I answer, "I met someone who reached a life-saving hand to me and I grabbed it”, and sometimes I respond, "I just decided to choose life."   All these answers are accurate - a combination of adversity, professional help and a will to survive came together - a confluence that fueled change, petrol in my engine.

Do you wake up each day with a head of steam, thinking that today is the day you will take positive action, only to go to bed that same night with no forward movement to show for the day?   What happened?  Why are we so often unable to hold ourselves accountable?   Why do we disappoint ourselves?   What happened during the day that dulled the desire for change and neutered our will?   What happened during the day to deflate our dreams?

Patrick used to ask me, when I was in a tough spot, "What would you tell one of your children?" That is a perfect thing to ask because we want the best for our kids and we are full of sage advice for them - always.  We also understand their fears and limitations better than anyone, having seen them grow and take shape, but we also believe in their capacities - that with discipline, education, courage and compassion, they can accomplish just about anything.  So why can't we apply that same lens to ourselves?  - look at ourselves realistically but compassionately and apply a sprinkling of moxie, bravery and discipline and then go out and conquer the world if that's what we want?

I think the thing that happens during the day, that causes that day to get away from us, is a combination of  a bunch of things:  insecurity, self-indulgence, bad habits, filters that are too porous, lack of discipline.   Filters that are too porous - the need to guard the portal of your life- what should you let in and what should you keep out?   For about the last five years I have not had a TV in my house.  I'm fussy about who I spend time with.  I don't read trash.  I don't answer phone calls out of obligation.  I don't go to parties that don't interest me.   I don't always say yes when I'm asked a favor of.  There is just too much coming at us these days, hundreds of e-mails in our inboxes, news on the TV that crushes our spirit and causes incessant worry, too many phone calls, constant text messages.   It’s too much!!  It robs us of time, focus and the will to get the things done that are important to us!

Habits that don’t serve us well…we all have them.  I don’t think it’s all that hard to change habits.   It’s the gearing up that’s the hard part.    OK, so every now and again you take stock and make a list of habits that are standing in your way.   If you tell yourself, “I just won’t do X anymore” that doesn’t work, right?   You have to replace the habit with a new one.  It works.   Adopt a “do” and not a “don’t” mindset.   There was a time when I loved taking a cordial glass of Grand Marnier to my bath with me, but in time it was stalling my weight loss, I had to stop that beloved habit.   I got some great orange tea which tasted similar and on the first night of drinking tea versus the liquor, I wasn’t so happy.  The second night I thought, “This is good tea.”  By the third or fourth night I was all about the tea and when I visualized my bath it was with a delicious cup of cozy tea.   Lately I’ve swapped my maudlin morning coffee for hopping out of bed, brushing my teeth and grabbing Joey and then off to the beach with a stop at Starbucks for a latte.   It’s a brand new habit that was strange at first but feels more right every day.  

The challenge today is taking stock and deciding what you can do to support your dreams.  Script your day and then guard your portal so that you can stay focused.   If you have slipped into habits that are not shoring up your life, think about what new habits could replace them:  a walk with a friend versus beers with him, bringing a healthy lunch from home versus fast food, shutting your Outlook and only opening it to read e-mails three times per day, telling your waitress as you sit down, “don’t bring me a bread basket and I would like one glass of wine followed by hot tea”.  

Our dreams – they are worth working for – every day and with focus.   Don’t let our crazy busy modern day life nibble away at your resolve.  Guard your portal and only let in those people and information that support your efforts.  Evaluate your daily habits – are they contributing to your welfare or sapping your will?  If it’s the latter, replace them with new, better habits.   Everything should be evaluated.


Peace,
Sarah

Mr. Alexander's Four Steps to Love

Liza bought me a 25 cent hokey little book a few weeks back:  Mr. Alexander's Four Steps to Love  - The Simple Way to Find Your Dream Partner.   It's one of those little books that one receives graciously and never looks at again.  But...I'm grasping at a lot of straws these days, looking for signs, looking for messages directed specifically to me.  Every day, looking for a reason to keep swimming and not sink to the bottom.   I will be a shark - did you know that they have to swim, always, or else they would sink? - even when they sleep?   The girl who jogged by me with a T-shirt that she put on just for me that morning - It read, "Have Hope".   The car I passed on the expressway yesterday with a spare tire cover that read, "Life is Good".   And yesterday the angry, scolding robin who sat on the rail of my deck and yelled at me - he took me to task as if to say, "there'll be no more sobbing when I start throbbing my old sweet song...wake up, wake up you sleepy head, get up, get up get out of bed, cheer up, cheer up, the sun is red, live, love, laugh and be happy!"   I've never had a robin scold me before. I listened respectfully - he was not to be denied.

So, Mr. Alexander told me to start by making a list of all the qualities I want in my perfect partner and then think about which qualities are most essential.  He says, "Go for it - list EVERYTHING! asking for the moon gives you a much better chance of actually reaching it.  Sometimes we think our luck will disappear if we ask for more, that if things are going okay, we should stay small and quiet so we won't be disappointed or thought of as greedy.  Think instead, that the world's generosity knows no limits."   Or as Kaveh says, "It' OK to want more."   So here is my list in no particular order.   My next step is to release it to the universe - I could burn it and send the smoke upwards, or put it in a bottle and throw it into Lake Michigan when I walk Joey.   Remember when the Banks children wished for the perfect nanny?  They wrote their list which their father discovered and burned in the fireplace, unwittingly sending the wish out into the world - to Mary Poppins.  I will do this incredibly hokey thing and even have some fun with it - it's harmless.

Smart, sexy voice, a career he is good at and likes, good social skills, clicks with me, finds me sexy, is good in bed, takes care of himself, loves literature, likes playing games, has a good sense of humor, is manly, will say "no" to me, is a one woman man, likes theater, opera, cabaret and jazz, is gentle with criticism, likes my kids, has a good work/play balance, is handy, takes charge - is confident, makes me feel girly, makes my heart leap when I see or talk with him, loves my cooking, likes entertaining, is financially sound, is a great kisser, is not vain, doesn't flirt with other women when I'm with him, dresses well, smells good, is not insecure, doesn't cry readily, is helpful to everyone, is a bit edgy - not a pushover, is a man's man, is fair, is honest, is generous, has good money management skills, likes animals, is patient, is even tempered, is not moody, doesn't have too much baggage, is affectionate, is a good driver, is brave, matches my energy, has hobbies/interests, is not overly religious, loves holidays, is a gentleman, has good table manners, takes care of his appearance, picks up the tab, tips well, is neat but not overly so, doesn't sweat the small stuff, is good in a crisis, is comfortable in his own skin - likes himself, doesn't demean, has no addictions, doesn't drink too much, cares about healthy eating, exercises regularly, is healthy, is optimistic, is patriotic, is liberal.

Liza read this list and said it sounds just like my ex-boyfriend and I took exception to that, claiming that this really IS my list - the same list I would have crafted even before meeting him - and there are some things on my list that he doesn't ace....so there, Liza,

Next Mr. Alexander will have me take stock of myself and learn to inhabit my own skin in a way that is sexy and appealing (I think I already do this, but I'm open to improvement!)

Humans were not meant to be alone - it is unnatural.   If you know someone who is single, it's a safe bet they are suffering.   Most days I feel like one of those baby rhesus monkeys they did experiments on who died from a lack of being touched. We are pack animals and we're meant to be in close proximity to others, fussing over each other, loving and being physically affectionate.   When our kids are little, there is so much touching, constant contact.  And then they pull away and physical boundaries are established - just an occasional hug and often an awkward one at that.   Why is that?   Are we programmed to worry about sending incest messages or something?  Weird.   Why aren't we holding our teenagers on our laps and holding hands when we go shopping together? I don't get it and yet I'm as guilty as the next parent.   This morning Elizabeth left to go camping. As she left, she called out, "Goodbye I love you."   I was so touched and surprised and I quickly said, "Have a good time...I love you too."   And then I realized she had been talking to Joey, the dog. Heart sank a little even though I know she really DOES love me.

My challenge today is to show physical affection, to make skin on skin contact with another person. You need it - they need it.   And when you see me next and we're sitting on the couch together? - don't be surprised if I start grooming you like a chimpanzee, looking for delicious little bugs in your hair.   I will be embracing my true primate nature.  We were meant to touch each other.

Hugs,
Sarah

Creativity/Make Something

Creative writing is a passion of mine.   I especially like a group I go to every other Wednesday at Barnes & Noble in Evanston.   It's a peer led creative prompt group - the idea is, the leader for the night provides some kind of creative stimulus to get the writing flowing.   It can be a first line, a picture, an object, a situation.  We are given 10-15 minutes to write which isn't a lot of time, especially when it usually takes several minutes to come up with an idea!   So the writing is quick and it's raw and unedited, sometimes it's brilliant, often it's crap.   When we like what we've written, we share it with the group and read aloud.

On Wednesday, the prompts were very specific which annoys me.   I like it when it's just the merest suggestion, like a picture of water or a first line pulled from a hat.   I did what I could:

Creative Writing Piece #1


"I love her so much..she is the reason I'm alive."

"I know, you've told me that already, over and over.  I get that she is your reason for living, but I'd like to move this along.  You're seeming stuck in the present.  We should talk about your childhood."

"Do we have to?  It hurts to think about it."

"Yes, lets.  We need to revisit the past.  Only revisiting  it can you avoid making the same mistakes over and over."

"OK, but really, they weren't such bad mistakes..I didn't hurt too many people."

"From what I heard, you were out of control, you showed no impulse control whatsoever.  You were rude and pushy, your hygiene was terrible and you exhibited aggressive tendencies."

"I think I did pretty well considering the abuse..I had an abusive childhood you know...they hurt me...I have the scars to prove it."

"Yes and then the authorities found you.   I know all this..it's good you ended up adopted by her."

"She is my love, my compass needle's north, my north star.  Have you seen her?  She is so lovely isn't she?  I never let her out of my sight.  Have you smelled her?  Ambrosia!!!"

"She is worried about you..she says you might need some cognitive behavioral therapy.  She needs you to get better, to be a dependable man of the house, to be trustworthy."

"But I AM trustworthy!  I would kill for her!  I DO kill for her."

"That's the point..the killing needs to stop..there can be no more killing."

"She doesn't like the killing?  Seriously?  Doesn't she know I do it for her because I love her?"

"No..no more killing."

"Not even a possum?"

"Not even a possum."

"What about those bitchy cats who don't appreciate her?"

"Especially not the cats."

"Crap!"

"Yes, let's talk about crap...that's a problem too.  You should be housebroken by now."

"I know, I know...it's all to hard.  I'll do better.  Really."

Creative Writing Prompt #2

Tonight is the night..finally.  Tomorrow will not come for me.  I won't wake up tomorrow as I usually do, happy in the few moments before I am fully awake, only to have despair kick in seconds later and do its soul crushing thing it does, day after day.  Tomorrow I will cheat despair when it wakes and looks for me to inhabit.  I will have already left the room, so to speak.  So, is there a proper way of writing a suicide note?  I know, I'll Google it.  I'll see what Emily Post has to say.  Ah..here is one.  OK. I can do this.

"As I write this note, I am looking at the back of your head.  I love the back of your head.  When I first started working here, I didn't see the front of you for a week.  It got so I didn't want to.  I was afraid you wouldn't be as lovely from the front as you are from the back.  I love your silver hair, the way it frizzles down your back.  When you put it up with chopsticks, I love the back of your neck - did you know you have a mole?  Some may say your earlobes are pendulous - I know they grow with age, but I think they look fleshy and adorable... I want to nibble them.  I worry about your back - it looks like you might be sprouting a bit of a dowager's hump.  I fantasize about massaging it.  Does it ache?  You don't even know I exist.  To you I must seem like one of your grandchildren, a silly boy.  It kills me not to be seen by you.  And so, that you will finally see me and recognize the depth of my affection, I am going to bring this tragedy to its fitting conclusion. Tonight I die with a picture of you in my arms..a picture of the back of your head."

Now I'll print this...oh, crap...wrong printer!

"Honey, I think this is yours."   She was standing in front of me, seeing me for the first time.

"Did you read it?"

"I'm sorry I did.  It's about me, right?   Coffee, dearie?"

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Creativity, it really does heal.   Anais Nin said something like, a neurotic person is an artist without a creative outlet.  The idea is, we all have a burning need to create something whether we know it or not.   If we haven't developed a creative talent, the need is unmet and we become neurotic and unrealized.

So my challenge today is to think about what it is that you can build, how can you be your own creator?  And once you've identified your creative skill-set, how can you nurture it?   I'm thinking of friends I have who would protest they have no creative talent at all.  To that I would say balderdash!  If you like to cut down trees, you can create neat woodpiles.  If you like taking photographs you can create photo albums.   If you play poker with friends, you can get out your smoker and cook Pepsi marinated ribs and create a perfect man meal.

Victor would say, "Do one thing each day you can be proud of."    I would amend that to, "Create something, every day, that nurtures your soul."  Find the time, even if it's as quick as picking a cool looking curly weed and making an arrangement of it.

Peace,
Sarah

Forgive Yourself

Bizarre night last night.   Dinner with my brother, his wife and young daughter - along with my mother who I've been estranged from.  Ben, Lisa and Angela were in town for a tennis tournament Ben is competing in.  They came to the house - I barbecued.  Two of my girls were there.   Let me preface this by saying my family doesn't do "family" well.  We haven't mastered the art of relaxing with each other.  Everyone's individual agendas collide; tempers often run high, ancient wounds are salted - a nice, calming dose of superficiality would be a good thing sometimes.

So I know I said no vodka, but if there ever was a time for vodka it was last night.   We downed the stuff, each of us in our own private pain, trying to be OK with each other.  And I guess I'm glad that we all got smashed last night - there is so much pain in my family and we have all been holding onto it so tightly, grimly and not loving each other well enough.  Vodka was a truth serum of sorts.  I was silly, affectionate, I sang, I cooked, I broached difficult topics without accusation.   My mother is moving to the East Coast to live with my sister at the end of this month.   She is hopeful but sad about the move - it will probably be the last move she makes - her final chapter.   She said to my brother and me, "You are my Midwestern children".   I said, "We are Aldei's children, Benjamin and me".   I'm not sure what prompted me to bring up such a loaded topic - the fact that only recently did we learn of my mother's affair 50+ years ago that resulted in Ben and I being born of her lover - a DNA test confirmed it. What ensued, thanks to the effects of the vodka, was a jovial discussion about our parentage.  No tears, no accusations, just my mother trying to explain her life then and what Aldei meant to her.  It was OK and overdue. It doesn't really change much.   The heavens did not crack open and angels singing hosannas didn't come to heal us and bind all our wounds.   My mother and I will probably continue to not talk much - she will move away, I will visit every year or so. The ship of closeness between us probably sailed long ago.   But at least we had one pleasant evening together.

And if there is one word that bubbles up today it would have to be "forgiveness" and not in a Pollyannna-ish sense.   My mother has, I think forgiven herself.   She has spun her truth and coated it with honey.   She said things like "I was true blue" at the same time as she described the affair.  She talked about loving her husband and her lover at the same time.  She is comfortable with the discrepancies and expects us to be too.  Everyone but me has forgiven her....I guess it's time for me to as well, even though I am deeply troubled by things she has done in the name of love.  

I look at my own kids and realize they have their own issues with me - that, if I am honest and don't sugar-coat the truth, I have not been a wonderful mother.   My girls were animated last night, the fact that everyone was so drunk and loving and honest-trying - to them it was the real deal, family shit that needs to happen.  I think they would rather witness drunken people trying to make connections than buttoned up, stick-up-the-asses, clinging to their own realities and being ships passing other ships in the night, oblivious to emotional SOSs.   So it’s bad that I've been mostly style versus substance in important relationships - time to change that.  But I also need to forgive myself.  Guilt is a crippling emotion.

Something happened last night, something important that I knew I would want to remember today.   So I didn’t forget, I texted a few words to my friend James.  I wrote, “Fevered pitch, razor’s edge, so incredibly sad and happy all at once”.   What I tried to capture with those words was the amazing feeling of living on life’s razor’s edge.   There are times in our lives when our emotions are at a fevered pitch, things are changing, nothing is the same, everything is up for grabs.   We question everything, our minds race, we love and hate in amplified sterero.  These times are unsustainable.  They are exhausting. They would burn us out if we lingered here.  But to feel everything so passionately? – it is incredible and a gift.   It’s the opposite of complacent.   I know this phase of my life is transient and strange.   I am normally an even keeled, balanced, habit loving, happy woman, loving, as Patrick would say, an easy breezy but interesting lifestyle.  I will be that way again.  But this time of my life is frigging amazing!   It’s a horror show, it’s MY horror show but it’s so “alive”!!  And that is why I wrote “so incredibly sad and happy all at once”.   Last night the floodgates opened.  I hugged my brother and told him I loved him.   I was nice to my mother and I didn’t get my back up when she said I COULD be a great singer with more practice.  The night was breathtaking.   The little lights twinkled on my deck.   Three generations of our family breached our very wide divide and surrendered to the beautiful night and to each other.  

My challenge today is giving thought to the needs of the family, the living, breathing family that can be viewed as an organic entity comprised of individual parts.  Is it healthy?   Is it as sick as its most suffering member?   Can the family be well if the individual parts are not?   Can WE be well if our family members are not?   Is there anything we can do to heal it – even if it’s just a summer night out on the deck?

Thanks to Victor for the amazing photograph that he took in a men’s room.  Forgive yourself.

Peace,

Sarah

My Favorite Things/ Water Lilies

These are “a few of my favorite things” that I’ve done this week so far:

• Learned a new song – The Man I Love – a really great tune by those talented Gershwin brothers.   Kind of makes me sad though, “he’ll be big and strong” (he was), “and in a little while, he’ll take my hand, and though it sounds absurd, I know we both won’t say a word” (we didn’t)
• Went to a concert at the Botanic Gardens with friends Pat and Peter – we picnicked and then strolled the grounds.   There is a section devoted to water lilies – astounding, really.   What odd plants to grow under water!  And they kind of look like Mr. Pacman – circles with a pie shaped wedge missing    And the water lily lotus flowers are….really no words to describe their sturdy yet ethereal pink beauty.   They can almost fill an aching heart.
• Incredible walks with Joey along the Evanston lakefront – it’s been a gorgeous week.   The lighting is beautiful first thing in the morning and the lake is different every day.   Today the surf was up so lots of activity out there.  I like that it’s not always the same, as if it, too, has to renew and reinvent itself daily.
• Took my puppy to the dog beach and seeing him racing up and down the sand, practically pirouetting in the air for joy, chasing and being chased, bounding out into the lake only to realize with horror that he doesn’t know how to swim – it’s hysterical and uplifting.   He has stolen everyone’s hearts there.
• Writing group last night.   I actually kind of hated it but I wrote a few funny pieces that I'll post separately.   Really not my kind of writing - the clever stuff, but I guess it's not bad to exercise that writing muscle once in a while.  
• Writing in this blog – I look forward every day to writing to y’all.   And when I do have solitary moments, I enjoy thinking about topics to write about….it’s better than dwelling on problems or sadness.
• Sung at Petterino’s in the theater district – great venue you should come some Monday night – I went alone and sat alone which was lonely, and yet the show was great, the singers talented, the emcee really funny and I sang two songs, “The Nearness of You” and “I Wish You Love”.   I aced both songs and on my way out, patrons singled me out for compliments.   I think I’m getting really good at this singing thing!
• Talked to my friend in Germany.   He is a wonderful shoulder to cry on.   I met him about three years ago when he sat next to me at the opera.   I had an immediate crush on him so I finagled his contact information.   For the first year I schemed how I could make him mine despite the 4,000+ miles between us.   Now that I’ve come down to earth, I count him as one of my dearest friends – he’s always there to listen.  

Here are a few course corrections I’ve taken this week:

• Asked my ex boyfriend not to communicate with me for six months.   I need him to go dark completely so that I can move on. I’m grateful to him that he can be the boundary keeper in our breakup – I don’t have the willpower.
• No brooding time – trying to fill every waking moment with positive activities.
• Evaluating all my habits to see if they support growth.   Out with the old!
• Further cutting back of expenses 

The challenge for today is making sure you have a list of the favorite things you’ve done so far this week (Sunday through Thursday).   Hopefully your list is as, or more, compelling than mine and if it isn’t, what gives?   Are you watching too much television?   Ah, but that’s a post for another day!

Pat took the picture of the water lilies above.   Amazing, yes?

Peace,
Sarah

Mondays and A Relationship with a Green Bean

Yay - the post I wrote on Monday that I thought was forever lost, was saved in draft!

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Do we like Mondays?   I have a love/hate relationship with them.   On the one hand there is something so fresh and newborn about a new Monday - a week that's not screwed up yet - oops that's negative, let me rephrase.   A week with promise.   On the other hand, if you are living fully, with lots of people and love in your life, the weekend is where it's at - full of connections, entertainment, time spent loving, time to be energetic or peaceful depending on your need.   When I was in a relationship I lived for the weekend and we crammed a lot of living into those two days:  we rushed to each others' arms at the end of the work week, juggled time with friends, errands, lessons, exercise, intimate time, and even just time to sit quietly and just "be" with each other.   For the past few months, weekends are time in memory jail, a swath of time alone with lonely and wistful thoughts.   I have come to hate weekends.  That needs to change.

We hate change....I think we're wired to resist it, and yet it's the only constant in our lives, change.  It always comes, it is typically unsettling and destabilizing, but it is often invigorating despite our efforts to resist it.   And what once was new and exciting becomes dull and predictable when you've done it long enough.   So why do we linger?   Case in point.  I've been singing at this bar on the South Side for the better part of a year.  Every Friday, almost without exception I can be found there, faithfully singing through my repertoire to the accompaniment of my friend Bobby who is a great person and musician.   He has played there for years, most of them with his partner and sidekick, Pete who plays the sax, trumpet, flute, guitar, etc. and sings like Elvis.   It's a hoot.   The bar is unpretentious, the drinks are cheap and the patrons are adorable - mostly little old men who love the music and who flirt shamelessly with me (OK, really anyone with a skirt).   Every week I do the same thing - I arrive, kisses for all the old men, I listen rapturously to the same songs that Bobby and Pete perform week after week, applauding with exaggeration as if I'm hearing them for the first time, when in reality each week it is more predictable.   I sing about 6-7 songs mostly to people who are watching the TV and I drink too much vodka and have the same conversations with the same people who accompany me week after week.

So this is dumb, right?  We live in one of the greatest cities in the world - I do not live in a one horse town!   Life is too short for it to be mind numbingly boring and predictable!    I am going to do better.  I am going to be my own concierge and offer myself a smorgasbord of varied and interesting things to do on the weekends. Plays, lectures, athletic events, philanthropic pursuits, dinner with friends I've neglected, social networking, out of town trips, cooking classes, shopping in ethnic neighborhoods, making new friends, learning a new language, exciting home projects, new hobbies, and more.

And work....it's so dull.   I've done the same thing since about 1999.   I have made a success of it...I have made millions, and lost millions.   It's time for a reinvention.    In the short run, I need a new project to sink my teeth into - something hard, lucrative and new.   In the long term, I need to decide if I want to try something totally new - go back to school to study psychotherapy or maybe open my own jazz/restaurant venue like Katerina's.    Really it's all possible and probable that I will do something different and energizing.   Life is too short to hate what you do for a living.

As for my post yesterday, I was serious about making changes.   So what, you ask, have I done?   Am I walking the walk or just pontificating?   I am walking the walk.   These are the things I've done since writing yesterdays blog entry to further my healing:   I asked my ex to be strong for both of us and to go dark on me for six months.   I told him that I lack the will to cut off communication with him and that he has to have the will for both of us.   I told him that, when (and I'm sure I will) I communicate with him to not communicate back with me even if I beg for a response.   It's humiliating I know to have to ask someone for this kind of help.   It's like I'm Elsa the lioness in Born Free - at the end they have to scare her into the wilderness and away from them with shouts and harsh words.   My ex hurts too, but he is more emotionally healthy than I am at this point and he can do this for us - and he said he will.   In six months I hope to be in a much better place.

I also toasted walnuts for my cottage cheese this morning.   Toasted walnuts are heavenly, especially with cottage cheese and a sliced banana.   Eating for me lately has become rote and joyless and many days the gut wrenching sadness really is gut wrenching meaning my gut aches and food doesn't sit well.   Eating should be special and observant.   How we feed ourselves is a barometer of how we feel about ourselves.   Each morning when I take Joey, my dog, to the backyard my tenant Mark who lives in the apartment below sits in morning reverie at the outdoor table.  In front of him is a Japanese teapot on a beautiful wooden tray that is really an asymmetrical sculpture.  His perfectly sliced fruit is arranged just so.   He has decorated the outdoor area with Buddhist prayer flags.   At these times, he is taking good care of himself and nourishing more than his body.   So I went the extra mile for myself this morning.   I toasted the walnuts even though it meant dirtying a skillet.   And when I ate what could have been a boring breakfast, I concentrated on the flavor and ate, fully present with the food I had lovingly prepared for myself.   It's a start, right?

So my challenge today is for you to think about ways you can nurture yourself and meet your own needs.   It may be something as simple as relating to a green bean.   My friend Carol recently wrote to her friends:

I became friendly with a particular string bean I picked last week in my side yard vegetable garden.  I noticed it among the others because it grew curly, dragging in the dirt.  It adjusted its growth because the vine it was on drooped to the ground.  Later in the kitchen, I recognized that very same bean in the colander when I broke off the stem and washed off the dirt.  I also paid attention when I tossed it in the pan to steam, then later when it landed on my plate from the serving spoon, and when I ate it.  It was a simple, but profound moment for me to feel so connected to my food - paying that much attention.

Peace,
Sarah

Your Own Concierge

I imagine what it would like to be a stroke victim and have to relearn everything, speaking, smiling, grasping, talking.  What a horror that would be!   And yet many victims of strokes DO rally and relearn basic skills because the human spirit can be so incredibly strong – our will to live and heal.  I am tested and challenged these days.   The jury is still out on whether my human spirit is strong enough to lead me out of a pea soup miasma.   Each day, I awake to such sadness.  I fight the urge to give up and just go back to sleep forever, pain free in unconsciousness.   So far (just barely)  I’ve been able to exhort myself to action, to live in the day as best I can.

Kaveh says only from adversity can there be growth.   I’m counting on this to be true.   I want growth.   It would be such a gift to be able to look back on these days and say, “Thank God for the dark days…they were incredibly painful but they helped me forge new, better paths and from the adversity I learned new skills that I will use to live better”.    If I play my cards right, this shitty time can be importantly developmental.

To be stuck or to embrace/ force change on myself is my every day theme these days.  Obviously I don’t choose “stuck” so lately I question everything about my life – everything:  my career, my social connections, my hobbies, my relationships, my habits, my goals.   Housekeeping.    In a previous posting, I talked about the anti-despair diet – what I can do to starve despair, what habits I have that encourage despair.    Since then I have reminded myself that I hate the concept of “anti”.   I bristle when I see a race advertised as “the race against hate” (shouldn’t it be the race FOR love?) or even telling little children “no running”. (wouldn’t it be better to say  “use your walking feet"?)   So, instead of the anti-despair diet, how does the “pro happiness” diet sound? 

Questioning everything, down to the smallest thing.   I always wake to my automatic coffee pot and spend the first hour of the day, quietly drinking coffee, ruminating.   Lately that hour has turned into brooding time, so that habit has to go.   Past few days I’ve gotten out of bed, thrown on some clothes, brushed my teeth and got Joey out of his crate and then right out the door to the dog beach.   It takes 5 minutes to be there, so in only minutes after waking,  I greet the sparkling lake and enjoy the company of other dog owners.  Today I met Mike, Jim, Barbara and others with dogs named Cailie, Taj, and Wilson. 

Questioning everything: what I eat (maybe I should try sushi after all), where I exercise (I just joined the Evanston Athletic Club, whether I take milk in my coffee, the routes around town (why should I take the predictable path?), what I want to be when I grow up (maybe it’s time for a change) , how I want to spend my weekends (maybe hanging out with my 30 year old friends at my house, drinking too much and playing board games is not the best way to meet someone new!).

I will be my own concierge - what a wonderful idea!   We live in one of the most amazing cities in the world and it’s a beautiful time of year.   There is NO excuse for boredom or anemic activities.    Today I will get my calendar out and start filling in the days with amazing things to do over the next several months.   I will reach out to friends I may have neglected and strengthen those bonds.  There are plays to see, lectures to attend, concerts, exercise classes, social networking to meet people, dog training, new hobbies to take on (maybe I’ll get a motorcycle), books to write, a one woman show to create and act in, and who knows what else!    I will script a whirlwind schedule of activities and then immerse myself in all things new and exciting.   I will be breathless and energized by what this city has to offer me.   This city, with its big shoulders, has the capacity to heal me if I put it to work. 

The challenge today:   question everything and decide if it goes in the “keep” or “throw away” pile.     For me in the keep pile:  my house, my kids, my dear friends, books, my dog, coffee, walking, singing, writing, new adventures.  The throw away pile may include:  singing at Schallers (when did it stop being fun?), board games at home on Fridays and Saturdays (pathetic), over gifting, canning, vodka, solitary circular thinking time, being tied to my smart phone, Patrick pipe dreams.

Life should and could be a lot of fun.

Fetal Ball Napping

Today I struggle with way too much on my plate and a will that is wobbly.   It’s really hard to be the hero of your own life day in and day out.  And yet the alternative is what? – just curl up in a fetal ball and suck your thumb?  Actually, Henry, my father did that  - well maybe not the thumb sucking, but when my parents were all but evicted from the ancestral home in Plymouth they had too little time to divest themselves of possessions and get packed.   On the day the movers came, the house was no way near close to being packed and when my father was called for, to make some crucial decisions, he was found curled up in a corner of a remote room, on the floor, sleeping.    He had shut down.

I suspect this happens a lot – all systems just shutting down, life being more than one person can bear.   My husband, Steve, has done this.   He has given up on life and spends every day holed up in a grimy apartment with no air conditioning and splits his time between sleeping and watching TV.   He says I have ruined his life.  The gal that waxes me just discovered her ex hanging from a rope.  She cut him down and then went about the business of notifying his parents, planning his funeral, explaining to the small kids, and taking care of his affairs.   She didn’t shut down.

I fantasize about getting into a car, adopting a pseudonym, driving to Texas and being a short order cook in a diner where nobody knows me.   I will do the big hair thing if it’s a requirement for living in Texas.    A new start would be lovely.

So, how do we go on when life feels impossibly hard?   Almost everyone I know and love carries unbelievable burdens, real burdens like poverty, sick children or grandchildren, addiction, incurable disease, ailing parents, loss of prestige and position, loss of love, loss of dreams….the list of travails goes on and on.   And yet, almost without exception, these friends are Living Well – they are the heroes of their own lives.   I am humbled and inspired by these friends.   And maybe my friends do not represent an accurate cross section of humanity – maybe I’ve picked them because they are special, heroic and an inspiration. 

Writing this inspires me…..if Liza can get up every day and squeeze every last minute out of the day in pursuit of her family’s wellness and happiness, if James can swallow his terror of the future and leave an unhappy marriage for a tiny little apartment and be jubilant about his new couch, if Pat can embrace life with such glamour and humor in spite of her Parkinson’s, if Patrick can hold fast to his dreams and leave the comfort of a loving relationship for something unknown that he hopes will be more what he needs, if Tom can decide that the risk to remain tight in a bud is more painful than the risk it takes to blossom…….then I can do better.  All these people I care about, getting up each day with burdens, but still showing up to play the bittersweet game called Life.  

The challenge today…..just show up and stay in the game even when your heart is breaking or your gut is wrenching…..no fetal ball naps while the world spins around you.

Discomfort Zone

I guess I'm feeling like a bit of a fraud today.  This blog entitled, Living Well is feeling false to me.   I say I will write daily to inspire my friends and family and to focus my own thoughts and efforts.  That implies I have something to offer, that I am doing well, that I am a source of inspiration, that reading what I have to say would be time well spent and somehow nourish and enrich you.   The reality is I'm a mess, hitting a new low, looking up from a chasm of loneliness and despair.   I purport to write as a way to get myself free, each posting being a piton to give me a foothold and a way to climb out of my desperate unhappiness.  I think it will work - writing this, but it may be rough going for you, my readers.  I won't varnish the truth - I won't write happily and positively if what I'm really feeling is a desire to ax-murder someone.  I may not always be entertaining, but I promise you honesty and I believe in the power of creativity and writing to heal.   Anais Nin says:


When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others. We also write to heighten our own awareness of life. We write to lure and enchant and console others. We write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely. We write as the birds sing, as the primitives dance their rituals. If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it. When I don't write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in a prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing.


And so, I will write this blog, daily to "breathe" and be better.  And I will endeavor to "lure, enchant and console" you.


Today, I woke in my "discomfort zone".   Discomfort zone...it describes perfectly that feeling you get upon waking when sadness and anxiety, upon realizing you're awake, knock at your brain to take up their familiar place in your consciousness.  I'm sure you've all experienced it - you sleep in and wake naturally with a lovely, hopeful, sleepy feeling, vaguely aware of birds chirping and maybe coffee brewing.   Perhaps you are waking from a lovely dream that you long to finish.   You snuggle in and try to pull yourself back to the action of your dream but your dream isn't fooled - it knows you have moved out of slumber and it refuses to entertain you further.   And so you wake up, feeling young and hopeful and glad to greet the day, and then wham!!! - you remember who you are and what you're going through.   Perhaps you are my friend Liza who wakes every morning with anxiety about her deaf child and how she will meet his and her family's needs that day.   Or perhaps you are my other friend who upon waking surveys the damage of his life and wonders if he has the courage to move from the known into the unknown with the hope that it will be better.   Or perhaps you are me, who wakes to heartache that is so profound it is debilitating.    That is the discomfort zone - it's is characterized by lethargy, fear, terror, unbearable sadness and hopelessness.   It is a bad and dangerous place to linger.

I'm hoping it's possible to take on the discomfort zone.   If it is a place, a state of being, then there must be structure to it, rules, things we do to give it form.   And if we can understand it and dissect it, map it, then maybe we can relegate it to just a fleeting moment of our day while we organize ourselves and put things into perspective and make a positive plan for the day.

These are the things I do to encourage and nourish my discomfort zone:

• engage in obsessive thinking
• mentally work every angle of a problem looking for far-fetched loopholes
• deny what is clear to everyone else
• read and reread communication with people who are causing me distress
• listen to sad music that supports my despair
• talk incessantly about the same problem until everyone around me is numb
• make plans for positive action that I don't act on
• sleep too much
• spend too much time alone, staring out the window
• ignore my responsibilities
• don't take care of myself or the house properly
• don't challenge myself to try new things, go new places, meet new people
• don't engage in creativity

Liza says I need to fake it until I make it.   She understands you can't turn your emotions off and on like a tap, but what you CAN do is control your actions.   You can act healthy and well even when you're not.   You can force yourself to put one foot in front of the other and not give in to inertia.   You can script a perfect day and then try to inhabit it the best you can.    She says that in due time, the new habits will grow roots and there will be new growth - the need for faking will be over. 

So this is my challenge of the day.   Are there things in your life that weigh your heart down?   Are you feeding that heaviness by engaging in discomfort zone activities, indulging and even encouraging what may by now be a familiar friend, despair?   Do you make room for despair in your bed, at the kitchen table, in the armchair you sit in while you sip your coffee?  Do you make time for him, allowing yourself swaths of sad, circular thinking time that goes nowhere?   Make a list of your discomfort zone activities - the things you do to feed and even encourage despair.   Then figure out what changes you can make to starve those activities.

Wednesday, my sister was just operated on for invasive breast cancer.   The tumor was tiny, thank goodness.  She will probably take a drug for many years that blocks estrogen, thereby starving any new cancers that would otherwise grow on a diet of estrogen.   

The idea of starving something invasive so it doesn't take root or grow further is a good one.   Despair feeds on a diet of loneliness, self-indulgence, reptilian thinking, idleness, isolation, lack of creativity.   Remove the diet and despair should slink into its dank little cave...it should be vanquished.   This week I will report on my attempts to go on an anti-despair diet.   I am going to starve this sucker.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

I just finished a book I hope I can convince you to read.   In fact, I think I'm going to draw a line in the sand here.   If you read this book, I will reward you in some special way - your choice.   Maybe it's one of those ABTS* chocolate cakes you dream about that you only get once or twice a year at my dinner parties, or maybe you just want me to buy you lunch.  Or maybe you need a pair of pants hemmed, or your masterpiece read and critiqued?   I would be willing to do these things for you if you would read this book and then curl up with me in my sun room, coffee or tea in hand, and talk with me about it.   Those of you who honor this request will bask in the glow of being in my inner sanctum.   Those who don't will sadden me but I'll still be your friend.


So what's the book?   It's called The Elegance of the Hedgehog  by Muriel Barbery, written in French but well translated into English.   Here's one Amazon reviewer's observation that closely mirrors my own feelings:


The Elegance of the Hedgehog" transcends excellence. It is one of those rare books with a special inner quality that makes you ponder over life in a way only very few others can. After turning the last page, I was left staring into space, feeling bereft. I wished there was more to read, yet its ending befitted the whole tale. I now understand why it received so many wonderful reviews in France recently and why it became such a literary success. It fully deserves it.


As most of you know, I'm in turbulent waters these days, negotiating the rapids of a love affair that was over almost as soon as it started - first a blissful day out on the river, then choppy, dangerous waters and finally where I am now - hurling off the falls to jagged rocks below.  On top of that, I'm working through financial challenges as I work to reinvent my business one more time, a divorce that is taking too long, adult kids living at home testing my patience, and more.   And yet, there is so much to be proud of and grateful for:  I have three amazing and interesting daughters, I'm  healthy -  having lost 125 pounds the old fashioned way, I am incessantly creative -  singing, writing, cooking, entertaining, gardening, I have loved and been loved, and I am fortunate to be living in one of the greatest cities in the world.  I am also blessed with a treasure trove of amazing friends.


I am starting this new blog as an inspiration to myself and others - to remind myself daily what's important and what's not.  To exhort myself and others to suck the marrow out of every day.   To bear witness to the beauty and absurdity of life.   To make connections.  I hope if you read this you will take the time to make a connection back - share your thoughts in the comment section.   I would like to think that we can, together, create something meaningful here.


So, The Elegance of the Hedgehog.   For me it addressed some tough questions - the whole "meaning of life" thing troubles me almost every day.   I won't pretend to have the answer now, having read this one thoughtful book, but I feel closer.   It's kind of like therapy.   I am lucky to have an amazing therapist, Kaveh.   Kaveh says that, without exception, people become therapists because they suffer themselves - they were patients first - anyone who states otherwise is not being honest.  He tells me he is on the same path as I, but just a bit further along.   And so, he reaches back and offers his hand to me and together we walk that scary path to mental wellness - he leads the way.   In the same way, I read this book and felt a hand reaching to me from the pages, inviting me to walk a path in search of meaning. 


Many of my friends derive comfort and meaning from their spiritual/religious beliefs - I do not count myself in that group.    For me, an atheist, agnostic or whatever the heck I am, the whole "meaning of life" thing looms and haunts me.  I seek my own kind of "religion" in unlikely places.   After seeing the movie, American Beauty, I declared that movie was my new religion...seriously.   And then my all time favorite movie,  Babe, Pig in the City - now that is a movie worth worshiping!.  Sometimes, for those of us who are unconvinced in the existence of God, answers come from unexpected sources - an encounter with nature, a life shattering event, a perfect day, a good book.  


This book, The Elegance of the Hedgehog is one I will read again, and probably again.   It is worthy of your consideration.  If you are reading this blog, you are probably one of my eclectic, strange and wonderful friends - an "off the path" person.   But you may be stuck too, eager for meaning, ripe for something transcendent.   There are two types of people I think.   Those who "wait and watch" and those who "do".   I like that I'm a "do".   When my friend Carol says, "here's a book for you", before I close her e-mail I click onto Amazon and order it or reserve it at the library.  When my friend Carla says, "drop everything and come with us to see..." I put my chores on hold for another day and go with her.    It's all about saying "yes" as much as you can.    This is my challenge to you today.   Say "yes" even when you would normally say, "no".   Be a "yes-man".  Before you close this blog entry, buy or reserve this book and then write me a comment.   


And be sure to let me know if I need to fire up the oven for your cake or get my darning egg out to mend the holes in your socks!  


Hugs,
Sarah


*ABTS = Almost Better Than Sex and the picture is of a special brush I have that looks, to me, like a hedgehog.   It's specifically for cleaning clay potting pots.