non apple pie club

The Return

2011-06-27T15:50:00.000-07:00

I sit here in the living room of our timeshare in Maui, listening to the gentle breeze and the occasional squeal of delight as a child comes off the water slide with sheer delight. We have fallen into the easy rhythm that is known as vacation already, on day two. I get up at 6, go for a four mile run and then return with coffee in hand to my sleepy eyed children and husband. They beg from that point to skip breakfast, go to the pool now! and could they please have a milkshake that costs $7 at the pool bar. And there is the beach, searching for coral and reapplying of sunscreen. All in all, it's pretty much bliss that won't end for another twelve days.

I can't help but return to two years ago when we came here. Little J was so inflexible then, throwing fits whenever we had to go out to dinner, or anywhere really. My best friend B and her family were along with us and I remember quite vividly my son stabbing others with toy swords from dinner drinks and when told to stop, the ensuing meltdown in which he had to be carried to the car. There was a conversation later that involved work and motherhood and life, that wasn't personal, the unwound me in ways I didn't expect.

I'd never, ever felt confident as a mother. It's kind of hard to when your child loses his mind in public and others give you "the look". You know, the one that just screams, you don't know what you're doing and your kid is out of control. I felt like a dismal failure in every way possible - as a human, a wife, a mother, a friend.

I didn't realize then what a turning point those moments were.

I sit here now and realize that the thing that has shifted has been me. Not my kid, not my husband, not even my milkshake begging daughter. I began to realize that in order to take care of anyone else, I had to take care of me first. I had to run and be physical. I had to eat better and get enough sleep. I had to reduce my stress in every area of my life. I had to not take it personally when my kid did things that I found embarrasing. I had to be honest about what was really going on and ask for help when I needed it. For the most part, it's been successful.

The day we landed little J wanted to go back to the plane and search for a small piece of lego that he thinks he left there and I said no. He melted, as always, and then glared at me and gave me a little push. After a long flight, I was tired and not terribly in the mood to tolerate it. I got quiet and eventually I just told him in a calm voice that he hurt my feelings and I loved him but I didn't like the way he was treating me. He thought about it a little and then later apologized and I forgave him. We talked about it later, how I've grown as a mother and he's grown as a son.

We're not perfect, no one is, but we're getting better, ever so slowly.

Bad blogger!

2011-06-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

Life seems to spin out of control this time of year with the end of school and everything that comes with the month of June.

The top ten other things keeping me busy and preventing me from blogging?

1. I'm going into private practice! I've found a space that is wonderful with people I really like and respect. Much of my time now is trying to get all my ducks in a row to get rolling

2. Vacation! We leave for TWO weeks on the 25th and I am beyond ready to get some sun. I even found TWO swimsuits I like that fit good. Wow!

3. Summer camp. The coordination of such takes so much time and although I don't work FT per se, it seems I don't have enough of it to go around

4. J had the pinball show this weekend and I've seen him a total of 20 minutes since Thursday. Sigh.

5. Work has been crazy with adding my dream come true station. I'm loving it but it's a lot to balance some days.

6. E cries at the drop of a hat. You think I'm exaggerating? She cried one day because her hair was "puffy". I uttered the words "starving children", "homeless", and "there are things worth crying about and this isn't one of them" and became my parents.

7. The sun came out. In Seattle. Collective minds lost as I type this.

8. Aspergers makes me cry. I cannot explain how hard it is some days, when I want to crawl under the covers and not come out. Other days, it's not a blip on the screen. It feels like I have emotional whiplash some days.

9. I'm running again! Injury be gone! I'm back to running four days a week and it's approaching awesome again.

10. Aren't the first nine enough?

I will try to get things together this week with some actual well put together thoughts with no bullet points or numbers. Yeah! I know you can't wait!

Time warp

2011-05-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I was leaving my therapy job and I happened to turn on the radio. Shortly after I tuned in to my new station I heard myself talk and was officially a little freaked out. I haven't been on the radio in the city I live in for SIX full years. Six! I have been allowed the luxury of not hearing myself for that period of time and I guess in many ways, I've enjoyed the anonymity. When I meet people where I live and am surrounded by, I introduce myself as my kid's mom or at the most, a therapist. I don't even think of myself as a radio person much anymore.

When I think back to my life six years ago I realize how much growth I've gone through.

My kids were 2 1/2 years old. They were drinking out of sippy cups and still in diapers. We had just moved them into toddler beds

We'd just moved into the house we now live in and I was busy stripping duck wallpaper and painting walls. Our house is now completely remodeled.

I was about to start classes in graduate school and had no idea if I would be a therapist, let alone a good one. I'm now three years post grad and licensed.

I hadn't even run a lap at the gym since before I was pregnant and now I log many miles a week and I just completed a marathon.

I had just started working from home doing voicetracking having NO idea if I could make a living doing it or figure out a way to pay the mortgage. Turns out, you can.

Thinking about this, it just makes me wonder what the next six years will bring, outside of my children becoming teenagers. Aaaccckk!

Bloggers

2011-05-16T08:18:00.000-07:00

One thing that's always amazed me is how people read blogs and then feel, because they read said blog, that they can go on the attack against the person and get incredibly personal. I've seen this time and time again on some of my personal favorites (see list at left) and am always surprised by it. Just because I don't agree with you, it doesn't mean I get to tell you that you're a horrible person doomed to the pits of hell and your children are ugly. I guess, because I have multiple jobs and a family that is not low maintenance, I just don't have the time and energy to attack someone.

Plus, I know how it feels.

Ten years ago, when I started doing this thing I do called voicetracking, people started attacking me. Let me explain what voicetracking is first. There is a computer system that allows you to hear the songs and record "live" announcements the same way you would if you were in a studio, live. The announcements play back at the correct time and you can't tell they are pre-recorded. As luck, destiny, or genetics would have it, I am wired to actually be pretty good at voicetracking, more so than I am at being "live" on the radio.

The downside? When I get a job doing what I do, it's almost always because someone lost their job. And honestly, ten years later, that still stinks. I never feel good about it. The way I sleep at night is the fact that I NEVER have anything to do with that decision. That decision has been made and then I am the person they end up hiring. There is never any advance conversation about it, it happens, and then I start a couple of days later. If I didn't/don't take the job, someone else will so it's not like saying no makes it unhappen, it just means I'll get less produce at the grocery store or something.

But, like much in life, when something happens, we've got to blame someone, right?

When I got these jobs, people started blogging about how EVIL, TERRIBLE, and HORRIBLE I was. It got personal. I remember walking down the hall once at a radio station and someone whispering, "Bitch" as I passed them. I hated it. It's one of the reasons I set up a studio in our house so I could skip that particular non-fun element of things, plus I get to work in my pajamas!

I haven't had to deal with any of it for years because I've never been on in Seattle, at least not for the last six years. Today I start a voicetracking job here, in the city I live in. The person I'm replacing is well liked. I know her and like her. The response to her leaving has been three pages of blog posts, and this is before Evil Lori even takes over. I'm not going to read them because having done so before, I know it's not good for my heart.

I have to say though, in the midst of it, I am excited to be on the radio again in the city I live in. I can actually talk about stuff that I do, in my "real" life, in places that people who live here know and love too. It's not all happy for the above reasons but still, I'm a little excited as my kids will actually be able to hear their mother and not think I have some fake job like they did up until now.

This job, it's the thing I wanted and yet didn't all at the same time, that I blogged about. We'll see how it goes and I hope to avoid the blog posts that are relentless and painful. There are worse things I know, but next time you want to rip a blogger, keep in mind they have hearts too.

Bruiser

2011-05-15T12:40:00.000-07:00

The afternoon of the haircutting debacle, I had to leave in the afternoon for a quick work trip. I asked J if he would take little J to get a haircut to shorten up all his hair, to even things out a bit. I'm sure that would have happened if a little side drama hadn't occurred at school.

If this hadn't happened...

My daughter, despite a love of all things pink, baking, writing notes to her best friend, putting on lip gloss, having sleepovers and anything Justin Bieber. Yes, I know the JB thing is a bit repelling but I loved Shawn Cassidy so maybe it's genetic, that last one.

Regardless, she's still one TOUGH cookie. She was playing tag with a friend, they collided and her glasses pushed into her eye and the picture is the result. Not a tear, not a whimper, just the announcement that now she has a black eye to match her bestie C, who recently got a black eye too.

Yesterday she played goalie at her soccer game and she came out of the box and would just kick the snot out of the ball, aggressively go after everything and everyone who came her way and in the midst of it all she would just give you this big grin if she made eye contact.

She's all girl AND a bruiser.

Makes a Mom proud!

Tipping over

2011-05-12T08:27:00.000-07:00

Aspergers is a strange beast. You try to explain it to someone and it's so many things that it's hard to put your finger on. It looks like ADHD with the inability to focus, but then when obsessed with something it can look like OCD. The primary thing that makes it obvious though is social awkwardness. Little J wants to have friends, he just can't figure out how to do it. He ends up making these choices that make it even harder for him. Like this week he wanted to wear snug fitting pajamas for pajama day at school. I understood that the snugness made him feel secure (sensory issues!) but I also knew kids had made fun of him the last time he wore them. He has no sense of that stuff, social consequences. I got out appropriate pajamas and after a fifteen minute discussion he put them on and wore them to school. Another day he wanted to take a big stuffed animal to school that he loves but is definitely NOT cool. And yes, coolness begins way before now, and he's only eight.

Today, we hit the height of social awkwardness. His hair was sticking up near the front and he put some water on it to get it to go down. It still was sticking up and he decided to cut his hair to try and fix it. He'd just had a haircut last week so there wasn't much hair there to begin with. He did this a mere five minutes before we needed to leave for school. He's crying, big J's ready to pull his own hair out, I'm trying to even it all out, and E is trying to say it doesn't look that bad now. But it does.

The heartbreak for me is I know kids call him weird at school. I know the make fun of him. I know he knows it when he asks me if it was hard for me to make friends when I was a kid. I want so much for other kids to see how neat, smart, and thoughtful he is, to get beyond the outside layer. But kids don't do that, do they? So, I sit on the edge of my seat constantly hoping it's all going to be okay and that somehow we'll survive it, intact and not insane.

Words versus action

2011-05-11T19:32:00.000-07:00

I have two friends struggling in their marriages and hey, I'm a therapist so I'm a good person to spill the beans to, right? At least that's the theory. Listening to their stories, struggles, and pain, I realized the combination of the two led me to wonder about my own opinion about love.

I'll explain.

Couple A: Jack and Jill. Jack is the quiet type when it comes to love. He doesn't say "I love you" all the time. He's certainly no romantic, coming home with flowers very rarely. He "shows" his wife he loves her by helping around the house, doing home maintenance, and being a good dad. But saying the words? Doesn't happen much. Her complaint is he doesn't say it so how does she know it? She wants more words.

Couple B: Martin and Mary. Martin tells her he loves her in every phone call and at least two times in person at the start and end of each day. Problem for her is she doesn't get shown love. He not one to do tasks and is happy to let Mary be the primary parent. He's not really kind to her and occasionally can be a jerk. He says the words but she doesn't see the "showing" or action.

So, what is better? Words or action? And is that just a personal preference? It's interesting to me what we value, or what we don't.

Me? I'm an action girl, all the way.

The getting

2011-05-10T14:29:00.000-07:00

So.

Remember that whole wanting thing? Turns out, I'm getting what I wanted.

And wow, it's even more satisfying than I imagined it would be.

More details soon, as soon as I can spill, I will.

In other news, E's favorite activity with me is coloring. Very relaxing, not that you asked. Oh, and learning new tricks on the trampoline. Yes, I'm a mother who allows her kids to jump on a trampoline and it's an old school one. Aggghhh! I've lost control of parenting. Helicopter Mom, be gone!

Another side note: injured myself and a month post marathon I've run a total of twice. Twice! And I've been advised to not run until Memorial Day weekend! Which is basically starting over but hopefully I will remember what to do and how to do it in quick order. It's funny, once you get on the couch, it's hard to remember the reason to get off.

Love Wins

2011-05-02T13:44:00.000-07:00

I've always been a thinker and at times, that's a good thing, and at others, not so much. I read things and I don't tend to be shifted much, such as Harry Potter, the Twilight series, and now, Love Wins. There have been "warnings" at church and criticism all over the internet about "Love Wins" by Rob Bell. I won't share all of that, I'll just share my experience with the book.

I downloaded "Love Wins" on my iPad before I left for Paris. The reason I did was for two reasons. First, I love Rob Bell. I've read, "Velvet Elvis" and "Sex God" and loved them both. I've watched many of his videos and his church is in the state I was born and lived in until I was twelve. I am, at heart, a Midwestern girl and tend to cling to things that come from that region. Hey, I'm not alone, we all love where we came from, or at least some of the things from there.

I didn't have a chance to read much of it before my marathon and ended up really digging in while in long lines at the Paris airport as I headed to Amsterdam. As I wound my way through the luggage line, I found myself weeping. Now, some of that was because I was full of lactic acid but the other factor was that I was incredibly moved.

I think I was so moved because I did not grow up going to church. I have had a hunger for God for as long as I can remember but have been burned by individuals time and time again. I've been teased about "how we're praying for you to get saved" followed up by chuckles, had my child yelled at by Sunday school teachers because he kept touching a door handle (aspie alert!), been criticized for not doing enough when volunteering three days a week, and outright hurt by pastors and their family members. It took me a LONG time to get over it and in some ways, I can head back there quite quickly.

A book that asks hard questions that I have pondered and does it with grace and with thoughtfulness? SOLD!!

Here are some of my favorite quotes...

On going to Heaven and faith...
"So is it true that the kind of person you are doesn't ultimately matter, as long as you've said or prayed or believed the right things?If you truly believed that, and you were surrounded by Christians who believed that, then you wouldn't have much motivation to do anything about the present suffering of the world, because you would believe you were going to leave someday and go somewhere else to be with Jesus."

On having a personal relationship with Christ...
"The problem is that the phrase "personal relationship" is found nowhere in the Bible"

On Heaven...
"When Jesus talks about heaven, he was talking about our present eternal, intense real experiences of joy, peace, and love in THIS life, this side of death and the age to come. Heaven for Jesus wasn't just "someday"; it was a present reality. Jesus blurs the lines, inviting the rich man and us into the merging of heaven and earth, the future and present, here and now.

On hell...
"Often the people most concerned about other going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death."

"There are individual hells, and communal, society - wide hells, and Jesus teaches us to take both seriously."

On praying for salvation...
"What about people who have said some form of the prayer at some point in their life, but it means nothing to them today? What about those who said it in a highly emotionally charged environment like a youth camp or church service because it was the thing to do, but were unaware of the significance of what they were doing? What about people who have never said the prayer and don't claim to be Christians, but live a more Christian life than some Christians?"

On the Good News... (my favorite)
"When the Gospel is diminished to a question of whether or not a person will "get into heaven" that reduces the good news to a ticket, a way to get past the bouncer at a club. And the good news is better than that. This is why Christians who talk the most about going to heaven while everyone goes to tell don't throw very good parties. When the gospel is understood primarily in terms of entrance rather than joyous participation, it can actually serve to cut people off from the explosive, liberating experience of the God who is an endless giving circle of joy and creativity. Life have never been about "Getting in." It's about thriving in God's good world. It's stillness, peace, and that feeling in your soul being at rest, while at the same time it's about asking things, learning things, creating things, and sharing it with others who are fining the same kind of joy in the same good world."

This book led to many questions on my part and here is why: I have felt more criticized and unloved by quote "Christians" while I was/am a Christian. I know many lovely people who are Christians, don't get me wrong who give me such hope and inspiration about faith. But there are several who go to church every time the doors are open and will judge you to hell and back for not going yourself with snide comments, whom I have never seen ONE OUNCE of kindness or love from. And this is "Christianity" and the love of Christ? No fruit present, ever? I struggle with that a lot.

Our two kids have both prayed the prayer and one is more eager than the other and my husband was quite proud of that fact. It's interesting to me though that the one who is more "eager" in faith is the least loving of the two and we have to talk to that child quite a bit about being unkind. So, is it praying the prayer and following the rules or is it seeing the love in actions but perhaps not as boldly proclaimed? I can't say I know, but I know which one feels better to me.

At the church we've been going to there was a long sermon on how women are the downfall of men with our honey lips, how we should tithe, and a bit from Revelation which included the pronouncement of "Love wins" being heretical.

Yes, the book that made me cry, that gave me hope, that made me think I could return to church is heretical. Naturally.

Make your own decisions. Read the book before you criticize it and really take it in. I know there are many just like me who want to be faith filled but have been hit by so many arrows and bullets over time that often the last thing you want to do is go to church or hang out with Christians (no offense, seriously, if you're reading this, it's most likely not about you).

The wanting

2011-04-25T19:43:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wanted something so badly that the inside of you ached? You thought about it, turned directions and thought about it some more, and no matter how many ways you headed, it still was impossible to have that thing? No matter what it is, a person, a thing, a feeling, an achievement, it's so hard to let it go, for the wanting, isn't it?

I want this thing so badly. It's so close to being mine that I can almost taste the flavor of my possession of it and yet, it's as far away as it can be from me. It would be perfect for me and at the same time, it could be a disaster if this thing actually happened. So close, and so incredibly far away.

The thing has teased me with its promise that it will be mine but I think that's exactly what it is, a tease. And boy, do I hate those! The anticipation! The desire! The lack of satisfaction that goes on and on! The frustration!

Gaaa!

I wish I could tell you what this thing I want is but somehow revealing it could make the wanting even worse because then I'd have YOU wanting it for me.

I feel like Dwight on "The Office" finding out I'm not going to be made manager.

Sigh

Running, device free

2011-04-24T20:48:00.000-07:00

One of the things that drove me mad while training for the Paris Marathon was constantly wearing a Garmin and Nike sensor. I had to constantly check the thing to make sure I was on pace and doing my intervals at the right time. I became positively obsessed with pace and split times to the point that I started to NOT even enjoy running. I understood it's importance at the time, I had to finish within a time limit and I've previously mentioned my lack of speed, making my running time quite important. The training paid off, I am thankful, but I've taken the devices off.

I ran on Saturday with a friend. No headphones, no devices. I just ran. We talked. We laughed. We walked up the hills and slowly glided back down them. It was absolutely divine.

I know I'll use all those things again, my running tools, and given the amount of Easter food I ate over the weekend, it will be soon. But it's nice to unplug and just run for the sake of running and connecting with the world, device free.

My body, my love

2011-04-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

I've always kind of hated my body. Well, since about seventh grade when I sprouted several inches and was taller than all the girls AND boys. There is something horrible about going to a junior high dance and towering over everyone. It doesn't say, "Ask me to dance during the slow dance", unless you've got a ladder. Like that age isn't awkward enough, right?

For some reason, I've never dated or married tall guys. They were either my same height, a little taller, or even a little shorter (hello, husband!). It's made me feel like one of the guys or on equal footing instead of like a girly girl. I always envied shorter girls, or those who were petite, thinking, "Oh, they are so cute and little!" It's hard to feel little when you're 5'10 and are SOLID (as I am).

Who doesn't want to feel little and cute?

This email though is about my discovery of just how wonderful being tall, strong and sturdy really is!

On long training runs for my marathon my coach told me I was like a "work horse", "just point me in the right direction and I could run forever." While at the time I didn't know this was a HUGE compliment, I realize now how wonderful this quality it is as a distance runner.

I'll explain.

Before the race I was hanging out with Sheila and Lorraine, gals from Alaska. Lorraine is maybe 5'4, cute as a button, and as nice as she can be. She was absolutely freezing and I literally had her tucked into my arms to keep her warm, rubbing her arms and legs to cut down the goose bumps. I wasn't cold at all as well, I've got some extra padding on my frame that keeps me toasty. Score one for belly fat!

Poor Lorraine, she's a fast little thing, came out of the gate like a jack rabbit and just took off. Me, I go a little slower than that and amble along. I happened upon her though at mile 16, off on the sidewalk with heat exhaustion. She couldn't tolerate, or her body couldn't take in, the salt packets. She started getting sick, and dizzy, and ultimately didn't finish the race. I felt so thankful for my cast iron stomach and just how unflappable my body tends to be, even in the heat, as I didn't suffer any ill effects.

Every five KM they had water bins. Some of them had the bins half full on empties and you had to literally almost bin dive to try to get actual bottles with water in them. I was SO glad for my height and long arms because I could reach right in and grab what I needed. Those cute little petite girls had a harder time and I was giving them extras to be helpful. Awww, helping the short girls :)

I'm not a fast runner. I jokingly say I'm a penguin, just kind of waddling along. My coach meant I could run forever at my pace, and I can. I'm incredibly consistent runner with my pace. I don't start too fast, I don't slow down too much, pretty much ever. I just kind of go along from start to finish quite methodically. In training runs there were all these fast girls and I'll admit, I had speed envy. But I kept telling myself, "Run YOUR race. Run YOUR pace. RESIST any thoughts about change or not being good enough, just as you are." On race day, I ran my race, at my pace, and the funny thing? Many of those fast girls got injured, had a hard time, and many finished after I did. Being the workhorse who runs at a slow pace, it's a strength, not a weakness.

I was and am SO proud of my body. I ran 26.2 miles and at no point did I hit the wall, want to give up, or feel like I couldn't go on. I absolutely love how tall I am, how strong I am, and how sturdy I am. I'm a later bloomer, I guess, or maybe I just finally gave up on what our culture tells us we should look like or be.

I'm just happy to be ME :)

Now, go hug yourself and the next time you want to criticize your body or look for flaws, just embrace who and what you are, instead of what you're not!

Marathon de Paris

2011-04-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

To run, in all honesty, is to suffer. There is no reason on the earth, other than perhaps the one I'll give you later, to run that far on purpose. And I make this statement having just done it.

But first, a little back story.

When I was in the first grade I went to my parents and asked what the word deeter mined meant. The looked at the word in the book and began to laugh. The word was determined. Since that day, that word has pretty much defined my life. If I want something, really want it, I will not be stopped. I'm not saying it will be pretty or the best ever effort that wins Olympic medals or something but I am a determined girl.

We found out the night before the race that the French planned to close the course at 5:40 past the gun. The gun is when the elite runners take off. You know, the Kenyans that run past you like you are walking at a slow pace. Anyway, unless you could finish within the time there was a chance you would get no medal. The options were to jump the metro and get your medal OR run the race with the chance they would close the course. Adding to the quandry was the fact that it's been really warm here in Paris and the hottest day would naturally be on race day. With those factors, it really looked like I couldn't finish the race and get a medal.

What I discovered in processing the information is that I could give two hoots about the medal. It's not like I can wear it around my neck at my house and not have someone think I'm a weirdo. The ones I have from doing half marathons are in a display case and I look at them...never. I'd pretty much made up my mind that no matter what happened at the finished I was determined (there is that word again) to run the marathon.

I woke up in the morning with such a peace that I cannot even describe. Just complete calm. I knew when we lined up at the Arc that I would finish. Knew it in my bones. The reason I think it happened was I asked so many people to either pray or send me good thoughts and if I know nothing else in life, I know God is incredibly faithful.

A list of thanks...

To Sandy and Steve: I asked you to pray that I would finish and I did. Sandy, the woman I ran this race for, the only reason I would run 26.2 miles EVER is this woman. She is everything I admire - loving, thoughtful, incredibly generous, and patient enough to guide this woman through life stumbling along the way. She has CLL and if you're going to run 26 miles, do it for that kind of cause but LLS really does save lives.

Beth: I asked her to pray I would not feel like the dork that I am and make friends. If you can't ask your BFF to pray about friendship, who can you ask? Her response? Anyone would be lucky to be your friend. Awww. And, I made two friends - Sheila and Lorraine from Alaska who are about as awesome as it comes

Sarah: To pray for my children to be happy while I was gone. They were so happy that Jerry to coax them to get on iChat because they really have had a nice time with Grandma. Such a blessing to have kids who are content while Mom is away

Amanda: To pray that the negative voices wouldn't not worm their way into my brain and not once did they appear. There was never a moment that I doubted I would finish Not one. Amazing!

Alex: I asked you to pray for my body. We have had many conversations about how as women we point out every negative thing we can find. I asked her to pray that I would trust my body, for it to respond when I asked it to, and perform like I trained it to do. And boy, did it ever. As Alex said, "My body rocks!"'

Whitney: That I would run a smart race in the heat and boy, I did. Did hydration and nutrition is just the way I needed.

Jerry, Jaden, and Eliana: For safety, for love along the course, to finish. All three of those things happened and now that they did, all they want to know is "Where are my presents?" Gotta love kids!

There are many others who prayed, encouraged and loved me through this process: Tess, Kristi, Bill and Alice, Megan, Melissa, Moby, Karen, Teri Jo, Laura...the list goes on and on!

Love to you all and RUN ON (just not the marathon distance!)!

Lori

Speech meet 2010

2011-03-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

Both little J and E made the speech meet that happened at their school today. Here is my little pumpkin doing his speech, "The Scratch."

Awesome!

So proud of him!

I stink at blogging, and other things

2011-03-24T09:02:00.000-07:00

My two HS BFF's were recently together and lamented the fact that I have this blog and yet I cannot manage to update the thing to save my life. I've been in marathon training h-e-dboublehockeystick but that is no excuse, is it?

How about a top ten tidbits?

1. Parenting little J continues to stretch and befuddle me, bringing me the sweetest moments and yet the most deeply painful and challenging too. I keep telling myself "One day at a time" and that mostly works.

2. In two weeks I will be in Paris, France. Pinch me, I am SO freaking excited!

3. E is in the speech meet, doing a poem about how she loves her homework. The meet is next Friday and if her talking ability up until is any indicator of success, she should win the whole thing.

4. I made my fundraising goal for the Paris marathon, over $4,000 going to the Luekemia and Lymphoma Society. I am incredibly thankful to everyone who gave!

5. My uncle Bill was diagnosed with colon cancer and will have surgery soon. If you think of it, please pray for him and my aunt Alice as well.

6. I have found that my experience with aspies in my personal life is transitioning to being a good therapist to families who have a child or sibling on the spectrum. It's been some of the best work I've ever done, being in that place with them and really getting it.

7. Rudy, the wonder dog, who was diagnosed with bone cancer back in August, apparently doesn't have it because he's still alive and kicking (or limping), gracing us with his regal presence for hopefully a good long while longer.

8. I can't believe it but I'm approaching three years post grad school and even more amazing, I'm a licensed therapist now, which must mean I know what I'm doing, right? (see #6).

9. I'm going to Normandy one day during the Paris trip so see the beaches and museum there and post race to Amsterdam to see Anne Frank's house. I am a WWII buff so I anticipate these things to be very moving

10. I am thankful that you are reading this and hope to update more, especially from Paris and then hopefully regularly when I have a life (HA!) post marathon

Lo

When it works...

2010-10-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

The other night E was talking about another girl at school who wants her to help with a special thing she gets to do. My ears perked up immediately. This little girl in question is known to want to be exclusive friends and could fall under the umbrella of mean girl. I knew she had been with another little girl that I knew. My eyebrow arched and the inside of me stirred a little bit. I wondered aloud as to why she chose E to do this special thing with her. Turns out they have been playing together at recess.

I talked to E about playing with everyone. My hope is that she wont fall prey to being mean to others just because someone else is. E immediately chirped up that she'd never be mean to someone else and plays with everyone who wants to play with her. We further went on to discuss the importance of even playing with people who are different. She said, "You mean different like J?" Yup, different like J.

Growing up with a brother who is different has to be challenging what with the yelling and fit throwing that goes on here from time to time. E just rolls with it though and never seems too terribly upset about it when it happens. She just seems to get that people have challenges and when they do, you just do the best you can to help them through it.

On Friday I talked to another Mom at school who has a son who might fall into the "different" category and apparently, he just loves E. He talks about her all the time and gives her hugs. I love that E doesn't shy away from kids who are different, nor make fun of them either. She thinks it's great the boy likes her and plays with him too.

Although we're not perfect or typical, we're pretty patient with people in general. It's nice to see that in my little girl and know that her heart is mostly in the right place. Beats having a mean girl...

I've gone crazy

2010-10-19T11:07:00.001-07:00

I've signed up to do the Paris Marathon in April, 2011. I'm doing it with Team in Training and if you can support me, you'll help raise money for a great cause and help me accomplish my goal of running a MARATHON!

I'm nuts, but nuts for a good cause!

Lori

Finding our way

2010-10-17T11:49:00.000-07:00

I wish there was an instruction guide for life because it can be complicated, can't it? The other day little J was saying in the car, "Feelings are just so confusing." Indeed they are.

Several nights ago, that sweet girl in pink you see in the picture above, had a total meltdown. She needed to practice her spelling bee words but put it off all night, until bedtime. She began to cry because she JUST HAD TO STUDY THEM, NOW! She got into bed, sobbing, yelling, letting us know what horrible parents she had, not giving her the words. She stumbled out of bed to the front room, almost hyperventilating, assured she would not make the spelling bee.

This daughter of mine, she's me, in almost every way. I knew what she was upset about and how to solve it, but I also knew how incredibly stubborn both of us are. I tried to give her choices about getting up early, to no avail, because didn't I know, "That WOULD NOT HELP!". I tried to hold her, to get her to relax, but hugging her when she's upset, it's like cuddling a 2X4. If only I had embraced letting someone hold me when I'm upset, it would have saved me ten years of therapy. I finally got her back into bed and as I did, I knew she was not done with the evening of upset.

As soon as I sat down on the couch, she was calling for me again. I went back down the hall and so quietly, while weeping, she said, "If I don't make the spelling bee, everyone will know I'm not smart." My heart went out to her because I've had those same worries in the past about myself. Rather than logically argue the point, I just began to pray over her and she finally settled down and entered into a peaceful slumber. She woke up in the morning, we practiced the words, and she's in the spelling bee, giving all the credit to God.

Being in a family where you are the "normal" one, it presents pressure. The need to be perfect. The need to not cause any problems. I remember as a kid, amidst a father who was sick, a sister who had dyslexia, and a mother who was trying to balance it all, the pressure. I still carry a lot of that today, in the family I've created. My shoulders will ache from the stress, my head will hurt, I'll get run down and sick like I am now.

Amidst the pressure though, there are corn mazes (so fun), football games (a Huskies win!), spelling bee entries, and cuddles and hugs. I wish there was an instruction guide like there is for the corn maze, but there isn't. So, we slowly find our way, together.

Wise friends

2010-10-12T13:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I was surprised by two things, both good.

First, my kids drug out all of these old photo albums to look at. It's funny to see what I thought was good hair back then. Apparently my theory was, the larger the better. Ha! I'll have to post one of those photos, or not. Anyway, I found this letter written by my friend C, complete with pictures to draw the action that made me laugh out loud. It was especially funny when the "moral" of the story was "Men suck" as my daughter thought that was hilarious and kept telling little and big J that they suck because they are men. We all got to laughing over that one.

What happened next is that I got an email from dear C, who hasn't written me in let's say 10 or so years. We FB, we've seen each other in person, but a thoughtful letter? Not lately. She had read my blog after our mutual friend B mentioned it and this was her amazing, heart filled response...

"I risk sounding like a worn-out cliché when I tell you my next thought, but I’ve lived it and know it to be true. As hard as it sounds, God truly gives us only what we can handle. How in the world he has chosen you to be in this situation, I don’t know, but in your heart I bet you do. You are an amazingly strong woman. You have been through so much already in your life that has given you a unique perspective and appreciation for our time here on earth. You have learned to be a strong advocate for yourself and now you have a precious boy who needs to have an advocate. Who knows, you may have been born for this very moment. This very struggle. My heart and prayers go to you. I’ll check in with your blogs. Keep them honest and open – too many of us hide behind a safe smile and deny our true feelings"

The thing about asking for someone to pray for you is that they do. And respond as God calls them to. And how meaningful that is when you're drowning in hopelessness? Just what you need, just when you need it.

I love that about God.

Thanks C!

L

The dark

2010-10-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

When we reach reality, it's never easy is it? When we realize this thing that we hoped for is not to be. When the person(s) we pinned our future on or with lets us down. What then? Do we give up? Do we give in? Do we go on?

It's hard to know when you're in the middle of it, isn't it? It's hard to hang on to the well meaning words of friends who tell you that you can do it, that's it's all for a purpose, that you are the one person who is just amazing enough to do it? **Side note: I'm not that amazing, I've just fooled a few of you along the way.** I hear you, I appreciate you, I thank you though, honest.

But.

I'm in grief right now. And if I've learned ANYTHING in my life hear on earth, grief is vital. In order to move on, you have to grieve what you've lost. You have to be sad, to drown in the pain. You have to walk through the darkness. And when you think about it, walking directly through it is the fastest path to finding the light.

The light will come but for now, I'll okay with sitting in the dark and am not afraid. I'll be okay but for now, the darkness is a comfort and well known territory.

Why being honest is not so scary

2010-10-11T10:20:00.000-07:00

Because a total of one person reads this blog! Ha! Yes, drive people away by not blogging for six weeks! Good times.

I think I set a record yesterday with crying. After midnight, first thing in the morning, afternoon, and then before I went to sleep. I used to think that I wasn't a crier. I would go weeks and weeks and never cry. Now I cry all the time. It's ridiculous how easily I'll cry now. Or maybe it's a good thing, I don't know.

This morning little J let me know he wasn't going to have a good week. Not that this is a change or anything, it's just discouraging to hear it aloud. I walked him up to class and he clings to me like seaweed or something and it's hard to disentangle both my body and heart. I look at the little boys who sit near him that are mean and they look at me and smile and I wonder how to not glare at them back. I have to remind myself that I'm an adult and I can't fight all the battles in life that there are. I could try but at the moment, I don't feel particularly strong.

Helping me feel stronger though, my sweet E lost a tooth and a big thanks for your words, B. I love you!

L

Hiding

2010-10-10T21:11:00.001-07:00

I always envy blogs full of happiness and cheer, updates about weddings, new babies, family happiness, that just bloom with sunshine, rainbows, and butterflies. My envy is because I wish my own life was like that and it’s not. Now, I do happy updates but if you look back, there are HUGE gaps of time where there is silence. In that silence is real life, challenges and difficulties. For some reason, I, and maybe you too, hide out and take it on the chin alone.

When I struggle, I go inward and almost never ask for help. I had a long discussion with my mother a few weeks ago where I revealed what was really going on and she said, “How did I not know all of this?” I’m really good at hiding. I guess you could say I specialize in hiding. I go internal, shut down and shut everyone out. It’s not what I would ever advise to clients, in fact, what I collaborate with clients about is about building a team of supports and resources and then leaning on them when you’re not okay.

I haven’t been okay. I have felt like I’m on the brink, on the ledge and desperately trying to hang on. Most days I wake up very early and when I start thinking, tears will drip down my cheeks and nose. I lay there until the last possible moment before I have to start working, wiping my eyes and face before bolting from the bed. I have cried every day for the last two months. And until recently, I told no one why.

The why is dangerous to reveal because once we’re vulnerable and it’s out there, it’s clear we’re not perfect. We’re not those happy Facebook updates anymore, are we? We’re not “fine” when someone asks and suddenly you can’t hide it anymore. In some ways, hiding is easier. It doesn’t show our pain or weakness, the hurt parts of our lives, the shattered image of what is real.

But hiding also keeps us from love, from help, from being authentic. And I don’t want to be inauthentic anymore. Plus, I don’t even know if I could hide it anymore even if I wanted to. My internal struggle feels so challenging that I feel like I can’t do this solo anymore. So here it is, in all it’s glory….

My husband and son have aspergers. While they are both the most creative, interesting, fascinating people I have ever met, there is a huge down side. There are “incidents” where one or the other will not be able to contain emotions. When things go sideways. When little things bother then and the repeating of statements begins and doesn’t end until you want to run out into traffic yourself. There are moments where behavior is judged by other parents who wonder what kind of mother you are if your kid is acting like that. There are social issues where your little boy says he wishes he wasn’t born because everyone tells him to shut up, he’s weird and stupid. There are moments where they don’t understand emotions and say things that really hurt you in a deep way. There are moments that you realize that this is really hard, probably isn’t going to change, and this is the rest of your life.

And you feel very much alone. In despair. Like it’s all far too much to handle. You want to handle it. You should be able to handle it but you can’t because it’s too much. Even for a therapist. I think in some ways, it’s worse because I am one, because I know how difficult the road ahead is going to be. I know that my little boy will struggle socially and emotionally it will be difficult, that we’ll have an impossible time connecting. And that there is very little I can do to make it better in the long or short run.

I’m not throwing a pity party, I’m just being honest. Not being honest has not served me very well. In fact, it just put me in the emotional ditch for a lot of years. Somehow, through a ton of circumstances I learned that I can’t do this alone. I have to run, I have to take care of myself, and I have to ask for help. Superwoman, I am not.

So, expect honesty here. Not all of it will be bad, but some of it might If you read this or just think of it, will you pray for me and mine? I really need it right now and sometimes in life, you just do.

Is it Monday?

2010-08-24T15:30:00.000-07:00

My life sometimes feels like a military operation. What I mean by that is that I schedule everything down the the minute. Like, if I wake up at 5, I can get my radio work done, do my morning run, grab a shower and still make the 9:30 meeting. Yes, that would be fabulous is there were not other people in my life who are NOT on the military operation schedule.

I get up at 5, do my radio work. Everything seems fine, no problem. Throw on the shoes, put in the ear buds and away we go. Forty five minutes later I return home and open the front door to the sight of my daughter wearing nothing but panties, chewing what I assume is the last of her breakfast. Brother is already ready to go, brushing his teeth. Daughter goes into a long list of excuses why she's not ready, even though she knows it's time to leave in 10 minutes for camp.

We've had unscheduled chats about not blaming others but she's in this one for all she's worth, how it's not her fault. Me, needing to stay on military schedule, tell her she needs to stop blaming and get ready. She just can't stop though so consequence time is announced, with full warning. This only inflames her and my schedule begins to slide off a cliff. Consequences ensue and I dash down the hall to the shower, hoping against hope that I can ready myself quickly.

While taking my cool, peaceful shower, daughter comes into to apologize, I'm sure hoping consequences will be lifted. I ask what she's sorry for and she begins again on the 'shift the blame' game and will not give it up for anything. I ask her to leave the bathroom so I can get ready and stay on task and she looks at me and makes this screechy sound that would make your insides turn if you heard it and then she runs to make the camp drop off with dad.

I'm rushing to get ready, knowing I'm not going to make it, even if I really try. Arrive at meeting 10 minutes late but others arrive after me so my level of guilt slowly disappears. After the meeting I try to squeeze in an errand for my boss at the bank that should take 5 minutes, tops. Turns out, the set up was done all wrong and 45 minutes later, I'm still in the bank trying to sort it all out. I race out of the bank to work, stuffing my sandwich in my mouth as I have a client just 5 minutes after my arrival. Fast forward 3 voicemails later and a client and I'm just now back on schedule.

I'm starting to think maybe I should scheduled time in every day for when "things don't go according to plan" because that seems to take up for time than the actual scheduled things.

Gaaa!

My daughter

2010-08-22T14:37:00.000-07:00

I asked E the other day what she wanted to be when she grew up. She promptly said that she wanted to be just like me, helping kids. And, oh yeah, she wanted to learn how to drive (the latter scares me more than the former). The wonderful things is, she is wonderfully suited to be a therapist, just like her mother.

She has grown up with a brother who has higher needs than the average kid. It's not easy when he melts down or is obsessing about something and wont get unstuck. She's patient when he wrecks plans or causes tears to fall from frustration. It just doesn't seem to phase her much.

We have neighbors who have had two girls staying with them for the last week. They are clearly traumatized and the nine year old, who functions like a four or five year old, told me today that her "momma died and I remember the ambulance coming to get her." She was shaking as she said it and couldn't make any eye contact.

My daughter, not knowing any of this, just started taking care of her along side me. She'd check in with me and say what the girl wanted or needed. She would lower her voice gently and ask her questions. She reached out and touched her arm and rubbed it when she started to cry. It was honestly lovely to see.

I see kids from time to time who are socially, emotionally, and intellectually adept who take it for granted. Sometimes they will even make fun of kids who are less than or special needs. My daughter though doesn't see any of that and just loves people where they are. It's completely natural for her and unforced.

As her mom, I'm proud to see who she is and how open and loving she is with others. It makes me feel a whole lot better than the prospect of her driving....

Friendiversary

2010-08-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

Today is the anniversary of meeting my best friend B, 26 years ago. She moved to Bryan right before our senior year, from the big city of Houston. Her Dad took over as bank president at the bank where my mom was a VP. Our respective mothers decided we should be friends. She had zero interest in me because she had her cool Houston friends and she wasn't going to become friends with anyone in lowly Bryan. I had no interest in her because I was "in love" with my high school boyfriend. I was eaten up with him and wanted to spend every second in his presence before he started his freshman year at A & M. As luck would have it, circumstance intervened, in our grand plan to not be friends. I guess she figured a friend, even a dorky one like me, was better than none. The boyfriend dove into the college life and left me much freer than I wanted to be. So we hung out and have been ever since. She has been a witness to my life - my father getting sick and dying, the beginning of my radio career, my first marriage, the loss of my sister, she was the only bridesmaid at my marriage to J, her boys I have been around since the day they were both born, and she is the closest thing to an aunt that I can give my kids. In other words, she's pretty important.

I always thought she was better than me. She has all these qualities that I always wished I had. I've never really understood why she was my friend because all of her friends outside of me were and are so incredible. And they don't have all the painful baggage that I do. In my own insecurity I have broken up with her, or attempted to many times. She probably has five "our friendship is over" letters. She loves to laugh about them now, although she never really makes me feel bad about it. I guess that's why we're still best friends after all of these years.

Today I feel very thankful that 26 years ago she gave me and us a chance. She's been more influential on my life than she could possibly ever know. When I have felt unlovable, she has loved me. When I needed to tell someone my biggest fears, she listened. When I had my heart broken, she gave up her couch and many glasses of milk. She's incredibly fabulous and I feel very, very blessed to call her my best friend.

I love you B!

Dreams

2010-08-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a dream about my best friend B telling me I was going to be out of shape because I skipped my long run yesterday morning. I know, the nerve!

I immediately threw on the shoes and hit the pavement. It was cool when I started but that last three miles were HOT. By hot, I mean Seattle hot, 75 degrees with full sun. Pity me!! I did 7.5 in an hour and a half, which is slow, but with the heat you just can't push your pace. I also did my tri dips, push ups, and ab work so I'm feeling spunky on this Sunday.

Take that, best friend!

Digging in

2010-08-15T10:40:00.000-07:00

The family vacation was all you could ask for in a vacation, a bit of relaxation mixed in with whining, tears, sunshine, and pancakes. I got some good runs in on the beach and found that I really like running in the sand.

Since we've been back I've been contemplating running the Paris marathon. I've crossed the point where I am just sort of a runner. Anytime you put something permanent on your body, you've gone beyond the non-obsessed range (see above). I ran the Tacoma Narrows half last weekend and took 11 minutes off my fastest finish time without either really pushing or even getting tired.

So, I'm going to do it. I'm going to run 26.2 miles in Paris. Yes, I know it's crazy. Yes, I know I've said I'd never run a full marathon "because those people are mental" but when have I ever let that stop me?!?

Now I just have to figure out where I'm going to put the Eiffel Tower tattoo with a 26.2 beneath it on my body.

Lori's 5 favorite things this summer

2010-08-01T15:55:00.000-07:00

My iPod touch recently blew up. I've found out that you can't drop them directly on to asphalt without creating problems. I was hoping it was the Nike Sensor going south but after getting a new one and having the same problems, I finally gave in and moved to the shuffle. It's so nice to hear the Sensor woman talk to me again.

I also got a Garmin Forerunner to run with. The Nike sensor is great but it's highly inaccurate. It would say I'd run 14 miles when I'd just completed a half marathon, or be off on my pace time. I'm completely accurate now and have a way to know where I always am with built in GPS. Not that I'd ever be accused of being directionally challenged or anything.

On Friday, Seahawk season tickets came and I am SO excited. Not that I think we'll be any good this year or anything but heading back to Qwest, I'm always about. Football is back, baby! Bring on the 12! The gift this year was a pair of gloves that wont come in handy until about November, but whatever, they are quite cozy.

This weekend, little J has been building a Lego City. It comes complete with a petting zoo (only animal is an alligator - good luck petting him) and a pinball machine. Here is it in all it's glory.

We'll make him leave Lego City in the morning to head out on our family vacation at the beach. My final favorite thing is the trusty device that will save us from "Are we there yet?" questions...love me some iPad

Same brain

2010-08-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had two marriage and family therapy alumni BBQ's that I went to. It was great to catch up with old friends, some of which I hadn't seen since graduation. There were folks there who graduated from ten years ago that I also got to talk to and connect with. It's interesting, how similar therapists are, how our brains seem to function in the same way. You end up having these half sentence conversations because you don't have to explain things, you just know what the other person is getting to intuitively. If you were dropped in the conversations, it would probably seem like a foreign language.

My friend Sandy, who is also a therapist, said when she went to the first event for grad school it was like being in a room with thirty people exactly like you. I feel that way myself. I just feel myself relax when I'm with other therapists. It's like I've just had a massage for the interior of me or something. The one place I feel kind of normal.

I only noticed the difference because when I tried to talk to someone I've known a long time about some emotional stuff, they told me I should "just get over it." Ummm yeah, great theory...doesn't work. I wish it did. I wish I could just ignore painful stuff and pretend it didn't occur and then "move on"(advice piece #2) but I can't. Instead, I dig around, work through, and eventually cross over to the other side of healing. I don't find it to be fun, or easy, but kind of necessary to be a fully evolved human being (which I'm not, but am working on it).

It's my summer of "working on it" and being around other people who remain committed to going through the same struggles, it feels like an endorsement of the path I've chosen.

A thorny path, that occasionally throws in a beautiful flower to encourage me.

vacation brain

2010-07-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I was supposed to be at a meeting that my boss was attending. Totally slipped my mind until he called on my cell phone. Yeah, that makes quite the impression, doesn't it?

I've got vacation brain. You ever get to the point that absolutely nothing else is going into your brain, no matter how hard you try? You should be able to think but details just pass you by. You find yourself staring into space and randomly sighing? Someone is talking to you and moments after they finish talking you realize you don't know what they've just said? Yeah, that's me, times ten.

I'm normally this organized person but it's like I'm already on the beach looking off into the sunset, taking deep breaths. The thought of having to do actual work is incomprehensible. I know I have to do it and I'm not blowing it off, I'm just have the energy of a slug. Slugs = not very fast.

Looking forward to Cannon Beach. Playing in the sand. Running down the shore. Making Smores. Hearing my children laugh.

My brain feels better already.

Exercise classes

2010-07-27T21:29:00.000-07:00

I used to go to exercise classes. You name it, I've taken it. Spin, step, cardio, weights, zumba, ab lab, blah, blah, blah. The thing is, I only took those classes with the inane idea that I would somehow like it at some point and I'd lose tons of weight magically (okay, through sweating, but that was my theory). I can honestly say I hated every single minute of every single class I took. I'd be staring at the clock ten minutes into the class thinking, "Hanging myself would be more fun and exciting than this is."

I'd almost given up on exercise completely when I started training for a half marathon. I'd always run, on and off, but never for long distances and never consistently. I started training, running for long periods, and fell head over heals in love. I now feel disappointed when I can't run. I plan my day around running. I set my alarm early so I can run for TWO full hours instead of just one. It's scary good and bad, this running addiction.

Whether you love exercise class, cycling, walking, running, swimming, etc., do that thing that takes you to another place. Where the clock doesn't matter and you just lose yourself. Because running? It never crosses my mind that I'm doing it to lose weight. I'm running because I have a hard time imagining being completely happy and content without it.

RUN ON!

Naive

2010-07-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had some Hallmark movie on. I think it was called, "The Walmart Mother Story" or something equally cheesy. Natalie Portman starred as a teenage mom who was left by her baby daddy at a Walmart in Oklahoma. The story that follows is one of friendship, community, romance, and even a tornado thrown in there. In other words, made for TV movie central.

My daughter was watching while playing an online game and got totally hooked on the story. Even at one point J came in the room as started watching. There was a scene where a male character was drunk and making bad decisions. They asked me, "Why is he acting that way?" And I said, "He is drunk." In unison my twins said, "What is drunk?"

What is drunk? That statement was so incredibly refreshing for me to hear. My clients know what drunk is, what drugs are, have parents who have been to or are in jail, have been homeless, have seen parents in multiple relationships, and have experienced their own trauma. It can make you a little cynical, in all honesty.

So, for my sweet kids to have no clue what drunk is, it was a proud moment. They don't know but we did talk about it and they both had seen me have a glass of wine during the holidays. When I explained that's what wine is, little J said, "Oh, you mean that drink that makes your breath smell like a camel?"

Yup, camel breath, that's what drunk is :)

Paris

2010-07-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

I have been to Paris several times with my husband and from the very first visit, I fell madly in love. Every street corner begged for kissing as you look down the street, it's so darn romantic. I'd look at the Seine and just want to walk forever, hand in hand. The architecture inspired me to go home and decorate everything with European accents (my living room furniture is the "Paris" collection, for heavens sake) The pastries calling out to me from the display windows. And the bread people!!! The bread!!!

We've not been in years as we have seven year olds that are not "put up with a 15 hour flight and weird food friendly." Especially little J. I can hardly see him diving into a burger with an egg on top of it at any point of his live, let alone now. I figure we'll go again sometime (15th anniversary anyone?) but nothing was on the calendar or even in my head.

Then I found out the spring team for Team in Training is going to Paris. I was so excited and just knew I wanted to run a half marathon there. I mean, running a half in PARIS is just about a dream come true. This week I found out that you can't run a half in Paris, you have to run a FULL marathon - and not only that, you have to finish in 5 hours, 40 minutes.

My heart sinking is the sound you hear in the background. I have had zero, heck, less than zero desire to run a full marathon. 26.2 miles holds no appeal to me. And then, finishing in that period of time, I'd have to speed up significantly. I'd have to shave about a minute off each mile and keep that pace consistently. Now, I'm sure, if I completely committed to doing it, I could. The question is, SHOULD I do it?

And then, there is the fundraising. I'd have to raise a serious chunk of money to go. And who the heck is going to want to contribute for me to go to Paris and run 26.2 miles, even if it is for a good cause? If you're willing to sign up, let me know :).

So, my head and heart are in conflict. Heart wants to go. Head thinks heart is totally mental.

Who wins is the interesting question.

Fit but fat

2010-07-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

This morning I went to Point Defiance park to run. Tons of people run, walk, and bike there because it's set up so well. It has a long loop along Five Mile Drive or you can skip that and do a three mile loop. It's almost all covered with trees so no matter the weather you are pretty much protected. It has nice scenery with a view of the Tacoma Narrows bridge in several spots and I've seen eagles there on a regular basis. In other words, if you're going out on a long run, it's a nice spot.

I started out this morning by passing three women about my age who weren't quite ready to start yet. One was in really good shape, very thin (turns out she was from Germany, here on vacation, European women!), one was thinner and shorter than me, and the third was just about my size. We were running the same route and would trade back and forth on who was in the lead. After finishing up a loop I said it had been nice running with them and they asked me to join them for the shorter loop, so I did.

The loop, no matter which route you're taking is a straight incline, as in an unending hill, for about a mile. It's not an easy thing to run unless you're in pretty good shape. I went straight up that hill and passed all three girls with no problem. I wasn't showing off, I'm just fit when it comes to running. I can run a LONG way before I get tired and I almost never get winded. It's crazy but I run 20 miles a week, every week, without fail and that time on your feet just adds up, I guess.

We had this discussion, after the long hill, about being fit AND fat. There was something on the news about it recently. Doctors used to believe that you couldn't be both and now they are thinking you can. If you are of a certain age, metabolism, and have a large number of fat cells that developed while you were young, it can be difficult to lose weight without starving yourself. I've done starving myself and it was pure misery. And not something I'm willing to do at this point in my life to attain a number that's probably unattainable and no one (not even me) will care about if I accomplish it.

So, I'm fit and well, a little fat.

But come run with me and I'll bust past you on the hill with a big old grin on my face when I do it.

Weight

2010-07-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

I spent the day at the spa today. Tubs, hot rooms, moisturizing, even took a nap and read a magazine. I should be totally blissed out, right? Ummm, no.

I made the terrible mistake of weighing myself. Last time I did that? April 19th. Since that point I've run over 200 miles. Three half marathons. In the rain, the sun, the cold, hurt, aching, tired, and yes, sometimes exhilarated. In that period of time with that amount of effort I've lost TWO pounds. TWO!

I know it's just a number. I know it only matters how my clothes fit and how I feel. I know, I know, I know. But I still started to cry. Two pounds.

My body holds on to fat for dear life. I look at a donut, don't even eat it and some calories land on my thighs. It's been a struggle my whole life, this food - weight thing. I never have felt little or thin. I've never been accused of being too skinny. Heck, I can't even get one leg in skinny jeans! And you know what? This is just my body type, my frame, and there is not much I can do about it. Sometimes genetics are just darned depressing.

I realize there are more important things to focus on and much worse reasons to be upset. So, I'll get up tomorrow morning, run my 10 miles and try not to feel sorry for - or weigh- myself, for quite some time.

That, and I'll avoid donuts....

Exhale

2010-07-22T19:41:00.000-07:00

I've always been the kind of person that really blows it out when things go wrong. I don't have a teeny, tiny fender bender. No, I am the beginning of a 50 car pileup. It's like one things starts the dominoes and then they just all topple while I stand there helplessly.

This week has been a humdinger (love that word). I had probably the toughest job firing I've ever had. Completely unexpected, completely painful. I followed that up with the toughest, most gut wrenching therapy session with a client I've ever been in. I had my own personal therapy where we I came to some unexpected and surprising conclusions about things that are deeply painful. And then today my child cried screams for literally 30 minutes non stop about cleaning his room and what a horrible mother I am (my ears still hurt).

Ever feel like you're on the edge of a cliff and you're hanging on by one finger?

In graduate school we're taught to take care of ourselves. It's fondly called self care. Who is the worst about doing it? Hmmm, one guess. The very people it's prescribed to. But me, my bright moment of news is that I've become very good at it. I went for a six mile run today. I took a 30 minute nap. I scheduled a spa day for tomorrow complete with moisturing treatments (not even sure what that completely entails but I know I'm going to enjoy it). Saturday morning a 10 mile run and that night I'm going on a date with my husband.

From now until Monday I'm going to take deep, Pilates inspired breaths. I may even "engage the core" a time or two.

At least that is the goal. Fingers crossed.

One

2010-07-21T18:20:00.000-07:00

My husband recently asked me why I am a therapist. The question came up because the last few weeks have been a little rough. The theme of late has been parents who don't protect their children. That's a hard one for me because although I can cognitively figure out the reasons, my heart just says "What the heck!"(and that's pg 13 language for all you readers who are sensitive).

Today I was in my office and one of our doctors called me because my client was in crisis. I assessed the client and the heartbreak she felt, for really good reasons, you could just feel. All I wanted to do was hug her. But that's not my job, it's to keep them as safe as I can, to come up with a plan, and get the team moving in the right direction. So, that's what I did.

I do my job because I really believe just one person can make a difference in a person's life. There are moments in every life where we are at a crossroads. You might even call that moment or period a "crisis." You are vulnerable, you feel alone or lost, and someone steps into the gap and holds you and keeps you safe. Someone sees you and loves you back to a place where you are okay. When my clients come in, they are vulnerable and can't really see hope. I'm only one person and I'm not superhuman but when I witnessed my client being held and loved by members of her team, it was sacred and beautiful.

And made my job well worth doing.

We love you, now you're fired

2010-07-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

I have a weird job, so weird, I rarely explain it. Most people know me in one context or the other - either as a radio person or as a therapist. There is the rare friend who has known me through the whole thing (shout out to Beth!), but for the most part, people know me in one role. And really, it makes me tired trying to explain that I'm on the radio (really!) but not in the city where I live. Because, yeah, it sounds like I'm making it up. And then, I work with kids as a therapist, which at least I can prove because I go to an office a couple of days a week. Still not sure what those two things have in common.

Anyway, I have these radio jobs. They are not jobs that are secure. I do the work, they pay me, but it's like I'm a contract employee. The moment they decide to make a change, the job and the money are long gone, with about 15 minutes warming. For example, this morning one of my bosses emails me to tell me he wants to talk to me. This is non-secret code for "I'm going to fire you." He calls and tells me how good I am, what a great job I've done, how he'd recommend me to anyone, but they are going to make a change."

This is not the first time I've heard this talk. I think maybe there is a script that tells them what to say because it's the same thing I hear every time. What was new this time was that I cried. I mean, I started to feel sorry for the guy because he's trying to tell me all this good stuff and I'm clearly weeping on the other end of the phone. Nose running, tears trickling, the whole nine. He then launched into round two of how great I am and I finally just had to say, "Thanks for letting me know." to get off the phone.

Two things. First, when someone tells you how great you are, following that up with "you're fired", you don't hear the good stuff. The firing cancels it out. All you hear is the word "Fired" and your brain shuts off completely. Second, this is not me complaining. I realize how lucky I am to be able to work from home doing something I love and that every day doing it is a gift. However, it hurts to be fired. It feels like you're being broken up with and getting the speech, "It's not you, it's me." That just feels like it's really YOU that's the problem, even when they insist it's not.

So my heart, it feels a bit tender and bruised. Like I should hug a teddy bear or something. Or one or both of my kids. Think I'll do that, at least they wont fire me....for about 7 or so more years (if I'm lucky).

Motherhood

2010-07-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

Look at that face. Doesn't she look like an angel? Certainly not a little girl who would cause any trouble or heartbreak, right? Not a little girl who would yell, "You're so mean" when I had the nerve to cut up her tuna sandwich in a heart shape. A heart shape! Can you believe I had the audacity to make a HEART (in all caps because she was yelling it) sandwich?!?! Don't I know she doesn't like heart sandwiches? She likes them folded over and cannot even eat the bread in a heart shape.

I certainly hope this is not an indicator of the teenage years that await me because if so, I'm going to need some valium (prescribed, of course). This motherhood thing is tricky isn't it? One day a heart sandwich is all the rage and then, whoosh, hearts are so yesterday. Now it's all rectangles and folded over. And on top of her latest desires, I have a son who has totally opposite needs. He's all about the heart and wont eat anything folded over or even a triangle shape.

My mother said I would eventually have to pay for my own horribleness during the teenage years and I guess this is my payback. Well deserved, but still not enjoying karma so much.

Title of my book about mothering twins: "God has a sense of humor. And currently He's using it on me."

Trampoline Joy

2010-07-18T14:23:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago another therapist gave us his trampoline. His kids had used it well but his youngest was in her last year of high school and the almost empty nesters wanted some room in the back yard. It's well broken in, with a few holes here and there and springs that are well, springy.

I got it for the kids but trust me, it's been great for me as well. Have a rough day at the office? Jump on the trampoline and you're 7 years old again with your hair flying in the air. An argument with the hubby? Jump about ten times and suddenly all you want to do is laugh, like the irritation just bounces right out of you. Want to connect with your kids? Jumping with two kids is about the most fun ever, trust me. J comes and looks for me every night for our trampoline time.

Free trampoline = free therapy

Priceless.

The evil denim

2010-07-17T15:24:00.000-07:00

Two summers ago I bought some jeans during the annual Nordstrom sale. I bought them online and only because they were a total bargain. They were not my size but I was convinced I was going to be able to wear those jeans. In fact, those jeans were going to inspire me to exercise, eat right, and be at a weight where I feel good in my body.

I put the jeans on my dresser thinking that if I saw them every day I would somehow make it to the gym, or avoid that leftover piece of cake at work. I didn't. The jeans seemed to mock me every morning and night. At one point I got so irritated with the evil skinny jeans that I put them in my closet on the shelf.

Back in December I drug them back out on to the dresser after I started running. It's been almost nine full months of running 20 miles a week and today when I put those jeans on, THEY FIT! Yes, after 61 hours, 289 miles, and 46, 845 calories burned, I have skinny jeans on.

And now the mocker is me. Skinny jeans, I slayed you! Take that!

Lines that never meet

2010-07-13T06:36:00.000-07:00

I had a session at work yesterday that literally made me wonder why I ever have thought that I'm qualified to be a therapist. A dad who didn't answer a single question, lectured me, and made me feel like I was a total idiot. For a full hour, non stop. Then I came home and had my own family drama to deal with that involved tears, misunderstandings, and jello.

Does anyone else ever feel like communication can be the hardest thing? You try to explain something to someone, and it's like there is a total disconnect? You think it's a simple thing and it becomes incredibly complex? And then, you feel like you're swimming without a life preserver and oh yeah, you don't even remember how to swim?

The last 24 hours has felt like maybe I should make radio my focus of life because at least then I'm just dealing with equipment, instructions, emails, and deadlines. But NO humans, which I don't seem to be able to figure out at the moment.

Needless to say, I'm currently searching for my running shoes so I can go get some endorphins to make it all better.

World Cup

2010-07-12T12:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you've seen this video or not, but I get teary every time I see this video. It's of Iker Casillas, the goalkeeper, being interviewed by his girlfriend Sara Carbonero, who works for a Spanish network, Telcinco. It's every girl's dream to be thanked for her behind the scenes efforts and well, Iker doesn't disappoint...

What is he saying, you might wonder?

Sara: Well, how everything started, and look where we are now
Iker: What do u want me to say
Sara: Just tell me how you're feeling
Iker: I'm Happy,really really Happy, at this moment I feel great. I think we deserve this, we have deserved it since the beggining,and I really have to thank all that people that has always been supportive. My parents, my brother...(stops talking)
Sara: It's ok, we can talk about the game if u prefer
Iker: No, ..and my friends, and YOU. (He kisses her)

Swoon!

Addiction

2010-07-11T20:32:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago we had a training on addiction. While waiting for it to start I leaned over to the addiction therapist on our team and said, "I don't get addiction. I guess because I've never experienced it to the point that I'd destroy my life to have a drug or a drink." I felt confident, cocky almost, in my assessment of my own lack of addiction. HA!

Early on in the presentation he showed slides of what your brain experiences when on drugs - like alcohol, or meth, or marijuana. Then he showed a slide of your brain on endorphins. That would be the drug that I chase like a madwoman. The drug that enters my body when I'm running, usually about 20-25 minutes into a run. The thing I will go through rain, cold, sun, and physical pain to attain. The thing, that when I see someone else running, makes me feel envy that I don't have my shoes in the car so I could start running right then.

Yes, I am an ADDICT. The only difference between me and someone about to use right now? Mine is a legal drug. And so far, it hasn't wrecked my life.

I say so far because when I registered for a Labor Day run today my husband looked at me and said, "Another run? Are you addicted to running or something? Is that all you think about?"

Ummm, yes? It's like I can't help myself. I look at race calendars and plan through the end of the year what I'm running and when. I plan my training schedule and follow it.

So, my whole assumption that I can't relate to addiction?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

Run on!

When life doesn't go according to plan...

2010-05-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

I had this grand plan to run the Vancouver BC half marathon and have this glorious, movie ending where I felt so happy and joyful inside at the finish. What I got was NOT that ending. And that's not a bad thing because as we all know, life is not a Disney Channel television show, even if we want it to be.

Leading up to the race I had run far too much on concrete. My legs hurt so much that I only ran one time the week of the race. I hadn't done 10 miles in a row in about 4 weeks. I honestly thought I would be fine though and for the most part, I was correct in that assumption.

When the race started I started running once I passed the start line trigger. I didn't walk at all and I kept running until the first hill began, probably 40 minutes into the run. This is very unusual for me because I normally walk for the first 5-10 minutes to warm up. We ran through Vancouver and it was gorgeous and I felt pretty good. The rain began about 3 miles into the course and by then, I was pretty warm so I took my jacket off. Within a mile I was soaked and cold so the remainder of the race I was varying between jacket and no jacket, hot and cold. I'm still, two days later, kind of varying between the two temperatures.

Before we hit Stanley Park a team in training coach was running with me and told me to save some of my energy for the park because, "It's the toughest part of the course." Dude was NOT kidding. The hills. My goodness, the hills. Just when I thought they were done, here comes another. By this point, I'm cold, my legs are starting to hurt, the finish is far, far away and I'm feeling the beginnings of leg cramps. As I climbed yet another hill I came upon the sign that said 16km, of a 21km race, and my lower lip began to quiver. It's one thing to run for the joy of it, it's quite another to be cold, hurting, and climbing hills to try and finish in a time you've got set in your head.

Which brings me to lesson #1 for me. Do NOT ever set a time that you think you have to finish in. Because I'm so competitive, I was really mentally beating myself up for not being able to do it before I even knew for sure if I could. From 16km on, I kept mentally battling between quivering lip girl and the woman who just knew she could do it, aka determination woman. I kept thinking about the story my Mom loves to tell about me asking what deeter - mined meant? As in determined. That story has been my life narrative. When the going (or running) gets tough, I get pretty determined. I ran, just to the point of serious pain, so that I could finish in under 3 hours and did the last mine in just over 9 minutes.

As exhausted, sore, and mentally drained as I am, I'm so glad I did this race. And I'm so glad that it wasn't the happy go lucky, Hallmark card event that I wanted it to be. As I tell friends and clients all the time, we learn SO much more in failure than we ever do in success. And I learned a TON that I'll be applying to my next half marathon. Yes, I'm that mental, I've already signed up for two more :)

Beautiful, Beautiful

2010-04-20T14:21:00.000-07:00

I have this favorite song that I start and end every run that I go on by Francesca Battistelli called, "Beautiful, Beautiful." There is something about it that almost makes me weep every time I hear it, that cuts to the deepest part of me. This is a rare thing because normally I churn through songs like they are cotton candy and don't think twice. But this one, it's like she's singing out of her soul, directly into mine.
Here is the video, complete with lyrics, so you can see what I mean.

I particularly love the lyric, "But even perfect days can end in rain." It speaks to the fact that some things in life are grey. That difficulty is neither all good or all bad, sometimes it's a little of both. Because inside of me, it's raining, a virtual downpour that feels like it will never end. This therapy thing, rooting out the things that should not be present, giving tender care to the things I want to grow, it's just NOT perfect in any way. It's hard to smile or feel happy at times, while walking through the most painful, rooted parts. And making choices that absolutely, positively break my heart. But this song, it gives me hope that there is both sunlight burning at midnight and rain on perfect days, amidst it all.

I feel thankful that part of my life work is being able to both expose and interact with artists like Francesca because for me, this song is soul enriching when I need it most. May it bless you as well.

Body battle

2010-04-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an hour long run that was absolutely glorious. On the way back I spotted a woman on the other side of the street who was wearing a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants, running, with this horrible grimace on her face, like running was the absolute LAST thing she wanted to be doing. When I run I generally always acknowledge anyone on the way with a minimum of "Good Morning" and a smile. I said that to her and she just continued to look totally miserable. It was a look of unhappiness and self hatred.

It struck me that I know that look. My body has not been something I've always loved, in fact we've had some battles that were like death matches, if not good bar fights. When I met J I was in fabulous shape, so much so that my post divorce therapist, now good friend, thought I may have the beginnings of anorexia. I worked out twice a day, cardio in the morning, weights in the afternoon. I ate nothing that tasted good and had virtually no curves and wore a size 8 in some things (which for me, is ridiculously teeny). I was so hurt by husband #1 that I was never, ever going to let someone get close to me and my theory was, if I was just strong enough, no one could hurt me (stupid theory but at the time, it made sense). Anyway, back then, I worked out because of the messages I got from men--that I wasn't sexy, I was too fat, I was too tall, that unfaithfulness was because of who I wasn't, that if I was just more or less of this or that then it wouldn't have happened, and my face had that grimace on it ALL THE TIME. I was one of those women who wanted to hide, wanting the lights off, being reactive if there was a comparison to anyone else, horribly, horribly insecure. It's not exactly attractive, is it?

As I ran by grimace woman this morning, I silently acknowledged how far I've come. I was out running in a sleeveless running t-shirt with running shorts on. The whole run I have this immense grin on my face because I'M RUNNING!!! I love the sweat, the way my body responds when I ask it for more, that I want to run just because it feels so incredibly good. I talk to the dogs and people along the way, feeling JOY through the whole thing. I decided to start running months ago for ME, not because anyone had told me I wasn't something. I decided to embrace who I was, in the moment. I said at our team meeting several weeks ago that I am so thankful for my body where it is, how strong it is, how it goes as far as I ask it to, how I appreciate what it looks like right now (versus when I lose the 5/10/20+ pounds I need to lose, and then I'll finally be happy).

The grimace woman? She's long gone. Thank goodness.

Gardening

2010-04-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

I've been going to therapy for several weeks now and untangling the web of my childhood and how it's important to my life today, and the lives of my children. If you've ever been in therapy before you probably know it's not exactly an easy process to look at things that are painful and deeply rooted.

It's kind of like gardening, this time of examining myself. The garden must be tilled and the weeds need to be ripped out in order for life to sprout and grow anew. My glove are covered with dirt, to the point you can't even tell what the color of the gloves actually are. I'm using tools that make my hands ache from all the deep digging in the dirt. I'm using all these muscles that I haven't used in a long time, in my hands and arms, and even my legs are getting a work out. There are moments it feels like the weeds are too deep and I can't even get down to the root to get it out. The view of the beds look covered with all these weeds but I keep putting on the gloves and pulling more stuff out so I can get a good view of the soil. The soil looks like it might be rich for planting underneath and I'm currently looking at the seeds I can plant and figuring out which ones will be the prettiest come this summer. It's a hard thing, planting a garden because you have to get a vision for what the end product will be.

I just keep praying for rain to help the seeds grow, sunshine to warm the sprouts, and time to keep the weeds out so the garden can flourish this summer. It's a delicate balance but well worth the effort in the end.

Hawaii 2.0

2010-04-10T15:21:00.000-07:00

We just got back from a week in Kauai and my two, now suntanned children are above. We had probably the best vacation we ever had. It's a wonder though that we even returned to the scene of the crime. We went to Maui last summer for two weeks and as I've described to several friends, "The house of cards went up in flames, burned to the ground, and poof went the ashes." I know it's hard to imagine having a hard time in Hawaii, but it happened.

I have some perspective on the whole thing now but back then, it was pretty devastating. I think the first piece of the puzzle is my sense of motherhood. I have several friends who have described the moment after they gave birth as having this sense that they loved their child instantly. Something in regard to, "They put him/her on my chest and my heart about burst." Never happened for me. I wince at even saying that but what I felt, if I'm being totally honest, is terror. I suddenly had two babies. Yes, I know this was an expected turn of events but in reality, none of us know what having a child is really going to be like. I did not take to it like a duck to water. I felt unbelievably exhausted by the whole thing. One of them was always crying. I used to get in the shower when they were both asleep and I thought I heard them crying so I would turn the shower off and there was only silence. Even when they weren't crying, my mind thought they were.

The baby phase passes though and eventually you get some sleep and adjust to the fact that there are two of them and life does go on. They became mobile and we moved to Seattle, I adjusted to a new job, J started working for himself, we found someone lovely to help with the twins. Things became "normal." I can't say it was easy or that I had that Hallmark card feeling about motherhood, I was just kind of too busy to think about it. Little J lagged behind E and if I thought about anything, it was him. He had these rages where you could see the veins about to burst out of his bald head. As we advanced to the toddler years there were many times we had to leave places because he would melt down and scream like his life was about to end. It made my anxiety go through the roof, feeling the judgment and stares, and sometimes hearing them, "None of mine ever acted like that" was one quote from the MIL. Not good memories.

When we went to Hawaii last year, little J was off the hook. He didn't want to be off his schedule, he wanted to hunt frogs, fan teenage girls at the resort, stab people at dinner with mini umbrellas and swords, hit his mother, fling himself down and yell at the top of his lungs. None of it said relaxation. In the midst of this my best friend was there with her family and we had a discussion about another mother who was working FT and how she really wanted to work PT because it was summer and the kids were home. It wasn't so much what my friend described, it was my reaction to the fact that the ONLY thing in my life at that time that was working was my job. Having your kid scream at you, hit you, throw a tantrum doesn't feel good, or successful, or anything much positive. It certainly doesn't say "Mother of the Year" and what I felt for him and about him was emotional anguish. My work has always sustained me, fulfilled me, and made me feel like I was an actual competent grown up.

We came back from Maui last year and I had no idea what to do about the fact that I felt like such a disaster at this one thing I wanted to do well at, being my kids mother. I got really quiet, stopped blogging, withdrew from almost everything. I stopped avoiding the fact that my child has aspergers, and started parenting around his particular needs and difficulties. I had the hubby take him every week with a colleague because it was so triggering for me to do it myself. I began to invest deeply in the relationship with my daughter. I went on dates with my husband (Go Seahawks!). I accepted that is okay to really love my job, without any guilt. I started running and taking better care of myself. I've gone back to therapy to try to figure some of this stuff out. Before I knew it, I was myself again, or at least someone who resembles me, only better.

Going to Hawaii this time was easy, and by far, our best family vacation. We talked to little J about what to expect and what we needed from him and he did beautifully. E was her usual sunny, happy self and effusive about how much she loved our family life. I didn't even have a stressed moment with the hubby. I started having those feelings that other mothers describe, experiencing happiness and joy as a mother.

It feels really, really good.

My daughter is not me

2010-04-05T22:48:00.000-07:00

Three blog post in a week? What the heck am I thinking? I must be on vacation or something. Above is my daughter, E. She's about as lovely as the day is long. I just adore her, the way she tilts her head and gives you the biggest smile. The way she laughs, makes friends so easily, and is completely fearless about everything. What do I love the most? The fact that she's so much like me and yet, so incredibly different.

When I was seven, I'd been tossed into a lake, told that I was stupid because I couldn't figure out how to guide a boat on to a trailer (still can't). My daughter? You ask her who is awesome and she will say, quite confidently, "ME!" She knows she's loved, adored, and cherished. Being on vacation and seeing her, really seeing her, makes me so glad we've made the choices we have as parents. Not every decision is perfect, but for the most part, she's loved, secure, and happy. The difficulty of parenting, the slogging your way through homework and chores, the boredom of planning outfits for the next day, the night's dinner, etc., seems well worth it.

I know it's not perfect, and I know she'll probably have "stuff" down the road (we all have stuff or there wouldn't be a need for therapists like me), but it wont be MY stuff, it will be hers to sort out. And for that, a day after Easter, I am very thankful.

Going out and coming back

2010-04-04T14:00:00.000-07:00

You'd think that life would be easier to figure out than it really tends to be. I've been a running nut three separate times in my life but I think now is the time that I truly get why it's so soul enriching for me personally. I have friends who joke, "I couldn't run 200 feet, let alone, 5 miles." I get that--completely. It's painful, not fun in parts, and not fulfilling until you push through the wall. Let me explain. When I go out on a run, I'm all in my head, thinking, feeling every kink and achy place in my body. I am almost blind to the beauty surrounding me because I can't even see it because I'm so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. This goes on for what seems like an endless period of time, sometimes just past 30 minutes, or up to 3 miles of my run. But that wall that you hit, when you think "Running sucks!", you push through that wall and it's bliss. I get stopping at the wall, used to do it all the time myself and wondered, how on earth do people love this?!?!? But now, I run like crazy to get to that wall.

What is past the wall? Well, number one is endorphins. They move into my body and suddenly I'm not in my head anymore, mindless. I feel part of everything surrounding me, the trees, the breeze, the smell of the air, the beauty of how my body is moving in this perfect rhythm, the sound of my feet hitting the asphalt, the breath coming out of me and then back in, the sensation of this being the closest to God that I'll be all day. Every trouble that was inside me when this run started begins to melt away, one foot in front of the other. As the sweat drips down my face, back, and legs, the more calm I become. The more I run, the more I want to run, it's become like a natural drug that I'm happily drowning in on almost a daily basis. Heck, this is almost better than doing personal therapy :).

The whole experience of going out one person and coming back quite another, there is nothing like it. I hope that you find that somewhere, somehow, with something, even if it's not running. Bliss, we all deserve a bit of that in life :), soak some up in your own life today.

And, Happy Easter! He is risen, He is risen indeed!
L

What if your whole self perception turned upside down?

2010-03-30T17:38:00.000-07:00

I'm seeing a therapist again. My whole motivation was that I have hard cases as a therapist and emotionally it's hard to balance all of the emotions and easy to get hooked into the problems that come into the room. Add a layer of I have two jobs, a husband, two children, and oh yeah, I'm running 4 half marathons in 3 months...umm, you might need a therapist too. Grin :)

I go into the process thinking it's all about balance and parallel process and it's been about everything BUT that so far. I don't even know how we arrived here but we started talking about something that happened to me as a child. When I was seven years old our family went to the lake and spent a day out in the sunshine. We came back in and my Dad asked me to help him get the boat on to the trailer. My "job" was to give him directions. If you know me at all, you know I'm the most directionally challenged person on the earth, I'm literally co-dependent with my GPS. Where was I? Yes, the lake, directions, and my utter failure to be able to help, to tell the difference between stern and bow. My Dad gets angry, as he's been known to do, yells and me, and picks me up and throws me into the lake.

That lake, I can still feel the mucky bottom and how it felt on my toes. The darkness of the water, how I went under and came up sputtering water. Scared of what was on the bottom. Shocked that it happened at all. Crying. I don't remember much after that point. Somehow I made it out of the water. My mother tells me she pushed my Dad into the lake, that she was angry with him for days after. I remember being home later that night and being alone in my room, crying, and wondering what was so wrong with me that my Dad threw me into the lake. Honestly, I'm still wondering.

My Dad never apologized. It's not something we ever talked about. But from that moment, I was never the same kid. I tried very, very hard to make him like me again. To not be that kid who belonged in a lake. To be what he wanted. Honestly, I never was, the thing he wanted most, I could never figure it out what it was. What does it say about you when your parent doesn't love you? The teenage years, my rebellion, in part from being so rejected by him, it drove the wedge between us that stayed put until he died when I was 20.

The lake girl, she's not someone I've thought about until I went back to therapy and we talked about what happened. It dawned on me, my OWN daughter is seven years old. And I look at her, and who she is, and how she's so much like me, and I wonder, how did he throw me in that lake? And even more than that, how did my mother just let it happen? As much as I love J, and I do, I can't imagine allowing him to destroy our daughter's sense of herself that way. Because that's what it did for me. I went from a happy kid to knowing I was a bad, unlovable, someone who was not really worthy and through many years of my life, I lived up to those expectations. I still have a hard time believing anyone could love me, even if they've never given me a reason not to believe it. Even last summer I was utterly convinced there was no way my best friend of twenty five years could really love me to the point that I gave her every reason to walk away. I'm still shocked she didn't. I've carried that around and seen myself from that lens since I was seven years old.

It's only in therapy that I've come to realize who I thought I was is not who I am. I'm not the lake girl.

I'm okay. I'm loved. I'm smart. I'm funny. I'm accepted. I'm worthy.

Forgiveness is a funny thing

2010-01-08T20:17:00.000-08:00

I've been training for this half marathon for just over a month now. I do training runs four to five days a week and it's some serious thinking time. I try to let my mind wander so I can ignore the fact that I'm running and until the endorphins hit, it's a miserable experience. So, I think. I've expressed earlier someone hurt me and this was all dredged up again recently.

After thinking about it on my runs, I wrote the person an e-mail and thanked them for encouraging me in the past and how thankful I was for those moments. I didn't bring up the hurtful incidents, who was right wrong, how I felt, etc. in any way. I had held on to these hurts, slights, rejections, etc. like the death grip for years, literally. I know this makes me look petty, or perhaps pathetic, but I seriously ruminated on the loss and grief involved in the situation. So, I send the e-mail and the baggage I'd been carrying around just floated away. Forgotten. Done. So much so that when the person wrote me back days later I had literally forgotten about the original e-mail.

The person didn't respond in some flowery way, in fact it was probably a blow off of sorts with the level of surface content that was present. But whatever, didn't care. And then, after receiving said e-mail I went on another run and ended up feeling ever more thankful for this person. Why? As a therapist I sit with people in pain. They are hurt, feel rejected, misunderstood, traumatized, voiceless, sometimes hopeless. I relate to all of those feelings because of my own previous pain and those feelings. In being hurt, I'm incredibly empathetic to others. A TOTAL gift.

I walk away from the hurt realizing that God totally does use everything and everyone.

The greatest gift

2009-12-31T21:38:00.000-08:00

Is one I never got as a child. That picture is my daughter, reading the Bible to me. She does this every night just because she wants to. My son chimes in when it's a story he likes, telling me about his favorite parts. When she reads it makes my heart want to explode with happiness and more than that, gratefulness.

I didn't grow up in a faith filled home. My mom is Catholic but I didn't know it until I was over 30 years of age. My Dad wasn't any denomination per se, but insisted that my sister and I were not raised as Catholics. I have no clear idea of why but something about my grandfather having some sort of resistance that was passed down. I don't remember ever reading the Bible, Bible stories, or even knowing who was in the picture on the wall in our family room (it was Jesus with sheep). I recall being mortified when I went to a Bible study when I was twelve and when they said to turn to the book of Matthew, I had no idea where it was or how to get there. This was before the days of tabs so I was frantically looking for the right place. They talked about stories in the Bible that night and I didn't know a single one of them. The shame I felt lasted for probably fifteen years after that experience.

My sister in law said at one point that the way we're raising our kids is "intentional." When you live far away from family, put your kids in the situation you *think* is best for them, and backhand all the verbal snipes that come your way, you still wonder in the back of your mind if you're doing the right thing. You don't get the proof every day. Doubts arise. Holidays alone feel wrong at times. But when I see the earnestness in her face and hear my son singing songs of praise, I don't doubt it then.

I just smile and accept the gift.

Even if it's a little late, it's still the best one I've ever received.

Easy silence

2009-12-27T20:46:00.000-08:00

Today, when I was doing my run for my half marathon I listened to the Dixie Chicks for the whole run. Say what you want about their politics, "Taking the Long Way", is brilliant. For a time, it inspired me and I listened to it so much that I burned myself out. I wiped off the dust today and felt all those feelings inside that lept up way back when. My favorite? Easy Silence which I call it my "Jerry" song. A lyrical sample:

I need something to believe in
Breathe in sanctuary in the
Easy silence that you make for me
It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
They way you keep the world at bay

Amidst the confusion that went on inside my head for those two months, never was any of it about my husband. While I searched for peace, he silently stood by and just let me find my way. He listened when he should. Protected when he should. Told me to get over it when I should. His keeping the world at bay brought me back.

I'm thankful.

Faith

2009-12-24T08:29:00.000-08:00

I had probably one of the most amazing conversations of my whole life about faith yesterday. It was the end of the day, no one around really, and another therapist and I were consulting about a case and then the subject of Jesus came up. She had been to the "holiday" potluck and it felt very Christmasy to her and she doesn't celebrate Christmas. Everything red and green and sparkly. I take those things for granted because I have always celebrated Christmas. The potluck fell, as irony would have it, on the last day of Hanukkah which she and her family celebrate. She felt left out, like she didn't fit somehow, and that never feels good.

I felt for her because no matter our faith walk, I think there are times we don't fit. We don't quite live up to someones expectations of what/who we should be. Sometimes we're even shunned for not fitting inside the box of expectations. I know in my own walk that there have been such hurtful things said and experienced that I've wondered many a time if being a Christian is something I want to even profess to. My friend wondered why Christians can be so condemning, so judgmental, when "I thought Jesus was a healer?" I've often wondered about that myself. When Jesus was love and wisdom walking on earth, how did it become killing abortion doctors, condemning gays, and an all out culture war? I don't have any answers but I continue to ask the questions.

As we get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus, I pray that I'll celebrate the real reason for the season--His gift of birth, life, love, healing, wisdom, and great expectation.

Merry Christmas!

Triggers

2009-12-22T14:11:00.001-08:00

I think at this point, if there was anyone reading this blog, they would sure be finished with it by now. So, I'm assuming I'm writing this to myself, which is a-okay with me. It beats paying a therapist to help me work all of this out in my head anyway.

I took a nose dive there for about two months. Took down the blog, stopped writing, stopped talking to my best friend, and was silent and still. It felt too close, too personal. I had to figure out how to put it all back together when the house of cards when flying into the air and burst into flames. When I burn out, I do it up royally.

But I'm breathing again. Doing my job(s), being a mother, a wife, a friend again. Feeling lopsided some days, pretty normal others. I think it takes time and space to figure it all and start in a new direction. This road I'm on though just had some potholes in it. The other day I was considering getting a new Mac (long, boring techy story) and was going to buy it with zero percent financing over a year. They ask you all these security questions and one of them was about my ex husband's wife and brother and my now deceased sister. So, that was interesting to traverse and by the end of my "approval" I didn't want the computer anymore. Or, at least not at that moment.

And then today, I got an e-mail from someone asking for my help. Hey, I'm a helper, right? I'm a therapist for goodness sakes, helping is my second nature (she tells herself, hoping it's true). The person doing the asking though is so tied to someone that has wounded me in the past that I don't want to help. At all. Even a little. The road feels rocky, scarred, and like I need to get some distance from it.

These triggers, diversions, have a way of throwing us off course, at least they do me. I'm not sure what to do about it, other than write about it here, to myself, and hope I can ignore the momentary accident scene in my view . Because my ex husband and the un-named person that hurt me, in soul scarring ways. And now that I feel okay in my own skin, feel like I'm not in that dark injurious place, that I'm okay and am worth loving, I don't want to return to the land of where I feel I'm not.

So I pray for peace, for healing, for forgiveness.

Stamps

2009-10-02T19:52:00.000-07:00

The twins both passed their very first geography test by naming all the continents.

They got stamps in their geography passport.

In the first grade.

My babies is so smart!!!

Keepin' them busy

2009-10-01T15:11:00.000-07:00

I thought the toddler years were busy chasing the twins but that was nothing compared to the school age years. Monday is Cub Scouts, every week. Thursday is soccer practice, games on Saturdays. Friday is chapel and bake sale and homework packets due. And weekends, play dates and trips the a museum and a trek to Costco (love that place on sample day!).

I will say for certain that in no way was I as a) smart, b) scheduled or c) stressed as my children are in the first grade.

I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Openness

2009-09-28T17:05:00.000-07:00

I have two amazing jobs. One I've had for over twenty years, as a radio personality. As part of this job I've learned to give part of myself away on the air, sharing details of my personal life along the way. I've had bosses who called this, "connecting with the audience." I guess since I still have a job(s) years later, I must have done something right there. My new job, still fresh with just one year of being paid under my belt, is all about keeping things confidential.

This blog, I think took me far too deep into my past, sharing things that now feel too raw. I took down the blog, deleted posts, and put myself on haitus TFN. There have been times I wanted, deeply to write though. I've been writing in another space, about another passion, that feels less personal. Here is the blog but I invite you to only go if you like football.

I'll still blog here, just probably not as much, and with fewer details. Which is good. I think they call it boundaries :)