Getting Ready to Rock and Roll (or Explaining What Happens for Me During Energy Therapy)

I had my first visit with the energy healer, Donnamarie Steffano, in September 2003. I went on the recommendation of two friends, with the goal of "collecting a new experience." Fifteen years ago, I was living in an urban commune of sorts, and exploring the hippie dippie side of my personality. I was a vegetarian, went to yoga dance sessions monthly, and worked for a nonprofit that helped rich people get in touch with their inner progressive. At the time, exploring energy therapies was not a stretch.

Energy therapy, as I've experienced it, takes place in a massage therapy room. After declaring my intention with the therapist (e.g., to get help processing lingering grief, to better understand an eating disorder, etc.), I take off all of my jewelry, and my shoes, and lie flat on my back on the massage bed - no pillows or bolsters. I close my eyes, and let the therapist do her work.

And her work simply sounds like someone moving around my body, exhaling or inhaling deeply. The audible breath sounds to me like that of a Sleestack from the television program Land of the The Lost. I peeked during my first sessions, and Donnamarie had her hands extended above my body, as if she was touching something.

The energy therapist asks for feedback during the session, so she can understand how my energy is responding. (OK, I know what you are thinking. This is the trick. She asks for feedback, and then adjusts her feedback to fit my narrative so I think something is happening, like a fortune teller. I get it. Just wait. There's more.)

She also gives feedback. During my first session, I remember  her telling me, "I have an overwhelming desire to recite the Lord's Prayer. What does this mean to you?"

I immediately remembered my grandmother's last day on this planet, When, after being in a coma for at least two days, her older sister (who was her best friend), came to visit and say good-bye. With the family minister, Aunt Esther was reciting the Lord's Prayer, when my Gramma opened her eyes and reached out her hand. I and the two sisters I was with at the time, alerted Aunt Esther to Gramma's movement, and she was able to hold her sister's hand as she finished the prayer.

I told this to Donnamarie and she replied, "Your grandmother was very short, yes? (She was about 4' 8" at the time of her death.) I can see her standing by your head. Know she is with you right now. She is telling me that she'll be with you when you need her."

With that, I was hooked.

I've seen Donnamarie maybe half a dozen times since then, most recently yesterday, when I went with the goal of finding my center. Here's what happened.

1. After we caught up with one another, I declare my intention of getting help being energetically unclogged.

2. I take my place on the bed and tried to relax.

3. Donnamarie says, "Oh wow. There is nothing moving in you."

4. So she starts doing the breathing thing. Within two minutes, I start to feel as if I am expanding so rapidly that I am going to pop, like Violet Beauregard in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It feels like an infection that is going to burst. I tell Donnamarie what's happening and that I am starting to freak out. She tells me to start doing yogic breathing - breathe in for four counts, hold the breath for four counts, breathe out through my mouth for four counts.

4a. At the same time, I am overwhelmed by the desire to stab myself. Repeatedly, in my abdomen. Maybe to relieve the pressure in my body? To this, I say nothing because I feel ashamed and afraid of this violence towards myself. But fearful of the impulse, another part of my psyche starts singing the refrain from  "All You Need is Love" by the Beatles. The war between the stabbing and the "love, love, love" goes on for a while. I'm also trying to tell myself to relax, to sink into the bed. But a part of my is fearful that if I sink, I'll be buried alive. I am imaging the bed as soft earth that swallows me whole. "The bed is not the earth. You will not be swallowed whole if you relax. Love, love, love..." I repeat. All without saying a word to Donnamarie. She has no idea what is happening with my self-talk.

5. Donnamarie says to me, "You are COVERED in something red and sticky. I don't know what it is. But I'm going to try and clear it." Spooky. I haven't told her I am psychically trying to stab myself. But she sees it anyway.

6. Then something shifts, and I feel myself being anchored at belly button to the bed. And my belly starts swirling. The motion is distinct, and I feel as if I'm slowly disappearing into the bed as I'm pulled deeper and deeper at the belly button down. The feeling is restricted to my belly button (or sacral chakra in energy talk).

7. Donnamarie says "The negative energy is starting to drain." I think to myself, "Oh, that's what this feeling is in my belly. It is like a bathtub emptying after a long soak." I start to relax.

8. As I'm draining, all I can see behind my closed eyes is a sheet of purple and indigo, the colors of the crown and third eye chakras.

9. Then the colors shift to green, the color of the heart chakra, which controls my ability to love. I start to feel as if I'm covered in the softest, puffiest, and strongest moss in the world. I think to myself, "The moss doesn't care who our president is. The moss won't be disturbed by this. I am covered in moss. I will not be disturbed."

10. Next, my hands start to feel as if they are swelling, not in the Violet Beauregard way. Instead, it feels like every cell is filling with water. Or maybe air. Or maybe loving kindness. It is pleasant. The feeling cascades up my arms. Donnamarie moves to the base of the bed and I can feel the gentle swell of loving kindness rush up my legs and into my belly, and it starts to move into my spine.

11. And then, Donnamarie ends the session. Inviting me to slowly come back to this plane, sit up when I'm ready, and be prepared to drink a glass of water.

We end each session debriefing what happened. It is during this period that I tell my energy healer that I was overwhelmed by a desire to stab myself at the exact time she was seeing me covered in something red and sticky. She said my energy created a luminous cocoon, one that looked this a diamond crystal, to protect me during our session. "Ahhh," I replied, "This must have been happening when I was afraid I was going to be buried alive."

Experiences like these help me believe in an energy, or maybe a spirit, that shapes our world, shapes our fundamental humanness. There is no rational, scientific way to explain how Donnamarie saw me covered in "something red and sticky" at the same moment I was doing internal battle over a desire to stab myself. Or explain how Donnamarie connected with my memory of the Lord's Prayer during our first session. Even BMG, someone who once went to meetings of the Boston-area skeptics society, says, "Yeah, that's crazy. I've got no explanation."

Right now the energy in many pockets of the world is ugly. I'm going to push myself to not let it take hold of me again. When I saw the neighbor taking his walk this morning, smiling and wearing his "Make America Great Again" hat, I subtly gave him the finger. Feeling the ugly energy start to creep in, I shifted to yogic breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. From there, I decided that if he and I were to make eye contact the next time we saw one another, I'd ask him what parts of America he thinks weren't great. Luckily, I didn't have to do that (baby steps, right).

I think I can do this. I have to do this. I'll be ready.

If I Had a Million Dollars

What would you do if you had a million dollars? A million dollars you HAD to spend on yourself?

This is the question being asked of me this week in The 52 Lists Project.

BMG and I play a variation of this game a lot, the variation where we fantasize what we would do if we won a fantastical amount of money in the laundry. After many heated arguments, we have a rough plan that involves giving a certain percentage of the winnings to our siblings and their children. We would also designate a certain percentage to be put into a foundation that I would run as my full-time job. And then, whatever is left over, we fantasize about. Sometimes we take a ridiculously extravagant vacation. Other times we buy multiple houses around the world (Paris! London! Hawaii! New York City!). Fancy cars, technology,

I've been a "Your Money or Your Life" person for nearly 15 years, which means I try to be very thoughtful about using my money to help me live my values. So, in the absence of having to compromise with my husband about how to spend my windfall, I would want to spend the money on things or activities that will help me live out my life goals of having a strong center and lots of adventures. This is what I came up with:

Creating a beautiful, peaceful, contemplative home - $711,000
I often think I'd like to live closer to the water, or in a beautifully renovated farmhouse in France. So I started my $1M journey by poking around on Zillow and the internet. I quickly realized that making these dreams a reality would would eat the entire budget. Finding just the right place to live isn't worth $1M. So, instead I'd spent 75% of my budget on:

• Renovating my house (again) from top to bottom, fixing the things we didn't do right with our 2013 renovation, adding space, repairing the things that have broken (e.g., the front porch) since we last renovated
• Hiring a landscape architect to make the yard beautiful - front and back. I'm trying to do it in dribs and drabs, with a shoestring budget and no skill with tasks like masonry. 
• Buying new furniture for the inside of the house to replace the Ikea pieces and the hand-me-downs that I wouldn't call "heirloom" quality

Travel - $192,016
Aside from wanting a beautiful and relaxing home, I'm not much of a 'stuff' person. This may be because I don't have kids, and therefore have no one to pass things down to. Suffice to say that, when I leave this mortal earth, I'd rather leave a legacy of adventure than a pile of things. So, I'd set aside $25% of the budget for the following bucket list travel experiences: .

• I'd take myself on a luxury safari to Africa, combined with a trek to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. This is a bucket list item for me. 
• I've long said my 50th birthday trip will be a whitewater rafting down the Grand Canyon with one of my sisters and one of my sisters-in-law. I'd foot the bill for this for everyone.
• Also on my bucket list is seeing every single national park in the U.S. I'd hit the road (and, in some cases, the air) to make this happen over the course of one year.
• I've also said I want to be the kind of aunt who takes her nieces and nephews on a special trip of their choice to celebrate their graduation - from either high school or college - depending on their personal trajectory. So, I'd set aside money to make this happen over the next two to 12 years. 

The only expense not included in either home or travel would be the purchase of a brand new, fully loaded, Subaru Outback, estimated to cost (in 2017 dollars) $45,000. I love my Subara Impreza wagon, but I'd want something with better towing capacity and more amenities. 

That brings me to $950,000. $50K short of the $1M goal. 

If I thought a little bit longer, I'm sure I could spend the remaining $50K. Maybe I'd buy season tickets to the Red Sox for as long as I could, or a shopping spree to replace my entire wardrobe, or maybe set aside money for a fancy gym membership or regular visits to the spa. All of these things would be nice. But, they are not core to to my lifelong happiness. 

So, rather than trying to figure out how to spend the leftovers, I'd plan to put the $50K I can't spend (plus all of the money I'm not spending right away) either into charities that make my heart go pitter pat, and/or in safe investments to earn income that I can use to supplement my paycheck. 

If you had $1M, what would you spend it on? 

Everything is Beautiful

What does beautiful mean to you?

Something is beautiful in my eyes if its essence creates in me a sense of speechless bliss.

The most beautiful things I've ever seen include:

1. The Northern Lights
After a long hike in the back country of Chilnualna Falls in Yosemite National Park, I was tired and dehydrated, and had just spilled camp stove fuel all over myself. I mentioned to my hiking companion that the sky was glowing, and was immediately pooh poohed for being delirious. And then he saw the dancing lights, and we sat down together next to our tent and watched.

2. The first glimpse of Yosemite Valley from the road to Glacier Point
The first time I saw this was the first time I believed in God.

3. The Eiffel Tower
I don't have a particularly industrial aesthetic, but the grace of this building thrills me any time of year, any time of day. I only need to stand under it to be moved to tears. (The Golden Gate bridge in SF does the same thing to me. I cannot explain it.)

4. The Thinker by Auguste Rodin

This one surprised me. It has copied so many times in so many trite ways, like Monet's Waterlilies series, or the Mona Lisa, I thought I'd be "so over it." But this sculpture moves me every time I see it. 

5. The Peaceful Death of Another Human Being

I've had the opportunity to bear witness to the peaceful death of another human being three times in my life. Each has been different, and each has been moving in its expression of love and spirit

6. The Ending to The Color Purple

This was the first R-rated movie I saw in the theater. I was a scandalous 15 when I saw it. Every time I see this I cry as hard as I did the first time. Which was so hard that my older sister thought there was something wrong with me. (You can ask her. The volume of my tears was disturbing.)

7. My Wedding

Not the whole wedding, but really one specific point in the wedding. As BMG and I were recessing down the aisle, making a beeline for the bar and the receiving line, he whispered, "Look up. Look around. We are surrounded by people who love and support us. I want you to remember this." So I looked up, and it was beautiful

I'm sure that, with a little more thinking, I could generate a much longer list of things I think are beautiful - things like tenderness expressed between my nieces and nephews, the sound of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's voice, summer flowers in Bavaria, the poetry of Langston Hughes. But, when I need a little beauty, these are the places my brain goes first.

Welcome 2017!

2016 was a weird fucking year. Consider the following things that happened just in my little corner of the world:

• A neighbor crashed his car into my car while it was parked in my driveway
• A con man posing as a landscaper stole nearly $1,000 from me
• On-going health issues with BMG led to two long hospitalizations and one surgery 
• The Downton Abbey series ended on PBS
• "He Who Must Not Be Named" was elected president of the U.S. in a weak victory in November
• A dear friend was raped and murdered by an apparent stranger on Christmas day

Reflecting on this list, I can see why I'm feeling so vulnerable today. Many of these experiences are big. And largely out of my control. Ugh.

I want 2017 to be a hopeful year, a year that offers life-affirming adventures, So, I also want to look at the bright spots from 2016, to see where I can draw power. These include:

• Losing (and keeping off) nearly 25 pounds through hard work, a healthier diet, and a new found commitment to exercising
• Learning I have only an ulcer, and not heart disease or stomach cancer
• Being reminded of how great my community is when a retired neighbor took pity on me after the landscaper con and helped me finish a major gardening job
• Purchasing a kayak rack after six years of kayak ownership, finally widening my boating circle exponentially
• Taking a BMG-free trip to DC in October to visit with family and to be reunited with two dear college friends
• Receiving multiple forms of recognition at work for excellence on the job, including be nominated and accepted into a regional women's leadership program

Analyzing this list I see that my power lies in making life affirming choices, working hard, and connecting with the positive people around me. 

Tonight, as I raise my flute of champagne in honor of the earth finishing another trip around the sun, I'll be wishing for another year of adventures, made possible with the strength I find from within, and from the people who help make my life complete.  

Welcome 2017!

Quirks

Smart. Neurotic. Devoted. Quirky.

This is my Twitter bio.

BMG and I have been talking about the definition of quirky. Does it imply a value judgment? Is it about personality characteristics, or could it simply be description of a mannerism or habit?

I cheated and looked at Dictionary.com and found this definition:

       a peculiarity of action, behavior, or personality;mannerism:

In calling myself "quirky," I'm primarily thinking about my:

• Zelig-like way of moving between different crowds of people, without actually being part of any particular human tribe, perhaps a function of my sun, moon, and ascendant all being in Gemini
• Habit of taking off my glasses nearly every time I use the toilet
• Routine of rocking myself when I'm having trouble sleeping, even as a nearly 50 year-old woman
• Precocious and life-long love of archeology, which includes an ability to almost conjure up the living, breathing human who lived in pre-historic and other ancient environments
• Spooky ability to remember people's names
• Extreme introversion, combined with an insatiable curiosity about other people which manifests itself as friendliness
• Particular brand of intelligence, which often causes me to see and interpret ideas and scenarios unlike most other people (and, conversely, causes me to be unmoved by circumstances that typically move others)

When I started my most recent job, the Chief Administrative Officer described me to my boss as "different." While I've long labeled myself as :quirky," nevertheless, the comment originally caused me to feel disconnected. Over time, I've come around to seeing the moniker as a recognition of the value I bring to my work, to the world. Why? Because in economic theory, the rare commodity is typically the more valuable one. 

Would you describe yourself as quirky? Which of your actions, behaviors, or mannerisms help set you apart from others? 

Rest in Peace and Power Tricia McCauley

I am not so naive as to believe violence only happens to other people.

• Domestic violence claimed the lives of a friend's mother, a friend's sister, and another acquaintance's sister.
• In my younger life, I was acquainted with two separate people who shot themselves to death. 
• The son of someone with whom I briefly worked was murdered by a serial killer.
• The mother of one of my sister's high school friends was murdered in her own home.
• Two old friends, now acquaintances, each discovered a body of someone who apparently committed suicide.
• A colleague recently lost a teenage friend of the family to a car accident caused by another friend of the family. 
• Another colleague knows two people who were perished earlier this month in the Oakland warehouse/artist collective fire
• Shoot! I worked in a juvenile prison for 2.5 years, where many of our inmates were the perpetrators of violence. 

But never has violence affected my life directly.

Until today, when I learned a friend from college, a woman with whom I'd reconnected only 2.5 months ago, was murdered on Christmas. Tricia is dead at age 46. Life is so weird.

Here we are, with our pal Christy (left, holding the full-ish Corona),on the last day of freshman year. Tricia is the perky one in the middle.

And here we are, again with our pal Christy (with glasses, on the right), on Columbus Day weekend 2016. Tricia, an accomplished actress, herbalist, small business owner, farmer and yoga instructor, is still the perky one in the middle. 

As soon as I read the news, at 4:45 this morning, I woke up BMG and cried as he hugged me. Right now, I feel numb, afraid to feel what I imagine is likely true. Afraid to feel that she likely suffered in her death - emotionally and/or physically. Afraid to feel angry that her death is such a waste - a death by someone desperate enough to murder someone in exchange for a Scion IQ and debit card. Afraid to feel the anguish I can only imagine her parents, her brother, her closest friends are feeling as they begin their grief journeys.

Whenever someone I know experiences a death, I share the same message of condolence: "The grief journey is the weirdest and most unpredictable trip we take in our lives. I trust you will make it through yours safely, buoyed by the love of family and friends."

BMG, who never met Tricia, is grieving in his own way - he stayed awake for the entire 75 minutes I was at the gym the morning, wanting to be sure I came home safely. And he's asked me to call him every 10 minutes while I'm at work today, so he can be sure I'm still alive.

Me? I've never been on this violent death journey. So I don't know where it will take me. Right now, I know I feel a little afraid, and resolved to make every moment matter, because life is unpredictable.

Rest in peace and power Tricia McCauley.

The Closer

BMG sarcastically refers to me as "The Closer" because I never close packaging, doors, or drawers. Sitting here, (I'm aware there is a kitchen cupboard open, ready for me to reach in and grab the ancient grains/oatmeal package for my breakfast.)

This moniker is ironic because my number one motivation is getting things done, closing out projects. Nothing is more satisfying to me than crossing something off the list. And I won't let myself cross something off the list unless it is done completely. If I want the pleasure of knowing that a task is in process, even if it isn't quite done, I'll circle it on my list. This gives me the thrill of knowing I'm just a little bit closer to the beloved "crossing off" task.

Being "a closer" definitely motivates me. I'm a finisher, not a starter.

Now, I'm in this uncomfortable place of wanting to start a business, and I'm having a hard time getting motivated.

This week The 52 Lists project is asking "What motivates you?" This is a question I want to explore precisely because I'm having a hard time finding my mojo on this project of creating the task list for starting my business.

Theoretically, I know what my motivation for starting a business "should" be:
1. Professional freedom
2. Notoriety as a result of my success
3. Financial success

But, "shoulds" rarely work - at least not for me - in the long run.

So, I need to dig a little deeper and figure out what truly motivates me, so I can transform the pile of papers that sit at my elbow into a business plan.

What motivates me?
1. Knowing that I've made a positive difference for someone
2. Being kind and helpful
3. The feeling that I've done something life- or health-affirming for myself
4. My family
5. The adventure of learning, experiencing, or seeing something new
6. Accountability - following through on my promises or commitments

I'm also motivated by some fears - fear of breaking the law, fear of being hurt both physically and emotionally, fear of being homeless and alone.

Fingers crossed this list I can find something in this list to get me off my butt and into planning mode so I can start my business in 2017. And if it doesn't, I'll be looking to YOUR answer to the question "What motivates you?" to help me. So get writing.

Who Lights Up My Life?

I'm an ambivert, with strong introvert tendencies.

So, when The 52 Lists Project asks me, "Who are the people who brighten your day?" my immediate response is "No one." 

Hmmm. Let me re-position the question for an introvert. How about this: "When I want joy or comfort from another person, to whom do I turn?"

Okay, THAT'S a question I can answer. 

Always and forever, there are two people on my list:  

1. My husband, BMG

2. My mother

Neither of these people are *always* able to provide me with the comfort and joy I'm wishing for, but they always try. And even when they don't get it right, I'm left with the feeling that they love me. (And a feeling that I need to be better at both knowing and articulating my needs.)

There are also three more people, or groups of people, who I frequently find myself wanting to connect with on the rare occasion I want to share my stories of aggravation or triumph. They are: 

3. My three sisters 

4. My gal pal, Dillard57

5. My gal pal, @lardito

Typically, when I want to reach out to these people, it is because something big has happened that I need some sort of response to, either to validate my experience or to help me sort out a problem. But, I've had to learn that I can't always reach these loved ones because they have busy lives, balancing work, children, spouses, community.

So maybe I'll send a text, or a tweet, and hope for a response.

And, because I have great coping skills, when that doesn't work, I tend to turn to Twitter. There I might share what I originally wanted to say to a loved one. Or I might do a search to find people, tweets or news stories with a similar theme to my own news in an effort to find that validation I seek.

I'm curious, when you need to connect with another person, to whom do you turn to light up your life? Who gives you hope? 

Potential, Not Position (or, what makes me a leader)

Let's play a little word association. When I say the word "leader," what comes to mind?

Specific people? Like Angela Merkel, Nelson Mandela, or President Obama?
Or maybe your list is dominated by qualities? Like integrity, charisma, or decisiveness?

I've never thought of myself as a leader. My work history is marked by several lateral changes to explore new industries and develop new skill sets. As a result, I haven't climbed a traditional career ladder, and have never held a position with any significant power.

However, as a member of the 2016-2017 Women's Leadership Program offered by the Boston Chamber of Commerce, I've started to explore what makes me a leader. At a recent two-day course taught by faculty at the Simmons College School of Management, I've identified the following abilities that make me a leader, regardless of what professional position I hold:

• Understand, through focused and empathetic listening, what motivates people (and what demotivates them)
• Build and articulate a shared vision by focusing on what ties groups together
• Enable others to take action by creating frameworks for getting work done 
• Enthusiastically and authentically celebrate small victories and create a spirit of community 
• Identify points of frustration in a process, and then build and execute a plan for mitigating them

This list is built from the five-part leadership framework developed by Jim Kouzes and Barry Posner:

1. Model the way
2. Inspire a shared vision
3. Challenge the process
4. Enable others to act
5. Encourage the heart

What I appreciate about this model is that is defines power not as an outgrowth of one's position, but rather in relation to one's ability to help others realize their potential. This is in close alignment with my professional mission statement, which I developed in partnership with BMG. It reads,

"I get things done by engaging teams in collaboratively developing compelling goals and strategies, removing obstacles to their success, and achieving positive and measurable outcomes."

Understanding what makes me a leader is inspiring me to begin making some strategic decisions about my career path. As I uncover my own potential, I look forward to sharing it with you on here The Journey of Clownface.

Have you uncovered your own potential? What is it, and how did you uncover it? Share your thoughts in the comments section.

Favorite Foods

Hello! My name is Clownface and I'm a bulimic.

I think of my bulimia like many people think of alcoholism. While I've been in recovery for more than 20 years, my eating disorder will be with me for my entire life.

I actively and regularly binged from age 16 to age 21. It was only after I finished college and was living on my own that I figured out the magic of purging. I stopped purging at age 25, at the same time I stopped living by myself. I knew I couldn't keep my behaviors a secret, and because my shame about my behaviors was so great, I knew I couldn't bear being confronted about them. So I quit. Cold turkey.

Twenty-one years later, I can read my emotional triggers when I start to crave my favorite binge foods. These were:

• Anything from McDonalds or Burger King: I used to drive home from my part-time job in college, motoring through every drive-thru window along the way, eating a complete meal. In the 20 minutes it took to get to my house, I'd easily have consumed at least 2,000 calories. One of the few memories of my dad involves him bringing home McDonald's for family dinner. I've since come to realize that the McDonald's binge is about daddy. 
  
  
  
• Cookies: When I was a little girl, I thought people who ate store-bought cookies were rich. (We always had homemade cookies.) Nevertheless, my mom would occasionally have a secret stash of Oreos or other store-bought treats. As soon as I figured out where they were, I'd have my way with them. And at Christmas time, my mom always made more Christmas cookies than one family needed. She'd store them in weathered holiday tins in our front vestibule, which was so drafty that it functioned as sort of an icebox for us. I used to sneak into tiny "room," sit down, and eat. As an adult, I love to bake but I also know I need to get the food out of the house as quickly as it has cooled to remove any temptation to binge. I've since come to realize that the Oreos binge is about my longing for my mom and the feelings associated with material goods being out of reach.
  
• Ben and Jerry's: In college, I could toddle down to the on-campus convenience store, purchase a pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream, and eat it all within 10 minutes. All of it. Several times a week. Luckily, I'm now lactose intolerant. Unluckily, Ben & Jerry's dairy-free ice cream is as good as the real stuff. When I want ice cream now, I know this means something is up on the feelings front. 
  
• Ground turkey mixed with mushroom soup and white rice: This was an easy and quick family dinner we called "glop." In my early twenties, I would make and eat an entire pan of it in one sitting - pound of ground turkey, two cans of soup, heaps of rice. I've since come to realize this binge is about longing for family. And I still make this recipe. But, when I crave it, I'll restrict myself to 1/4 pound of turkey from the butcher, a dairy-free soup, and I'll add green beans instead of rice, making a comforting mash-up of "glop" and green bean casserole. 
  

Bulimia will always be with me; I definitely still feel the urge to binge today. On the rare occasion, I give myself permission to this, I try to control the caloric intake by eating things like popcorn, salted, steamed vegetables (e.g., broccoli, carrots), or raw cucumbers. 

This week in the 52 Lists Project, BMG and I are blogging about our favorite foods and treats. What are your favorite foods and treats? Let me know in the comments section below. 

A Few of My Favorite Things (about myself)

What would you say are your best qualities? This is the question posed by the 52 Lists Project this week.

Luckily, I've had nearly 20 years of therapy and introspection to figure this out. So here goes my list of the Top Ten Things I <3 about="" i="" me="">:

1. My honesty and "transparency"
What you see (and hear) with this girl is what you get. For better or worse, if there is something you want to know about me, I'll typically tell you. On the flip side, I don't always have patience for people who obviously lack self-awareness or who deny parts of themselves.

2. My intelligence
Is this a quality, or just luck of the draw? I think the latter. Regardless, I appreciate how smart I am, even if I occasionally temper myself in the interest of not wanting to be perceived as a smarty-pants.

3. My love for my family
This is particularly true for my nuclear family and my siblings' families. I feel lucky that, having grown up with only each other, we still (mostly) want to spend time together. 

4. My deep empathy
Particularly for those who I perceive or who I know have been oppressed for reasons beyond their control (e.g., gender, sex, nation of origin, skin color, sexual orientation).

5. My dislike for overt brand devotion
I grew up poor, which meant brand names were largely out of reach for me. And I experienced them as impregnable walls between me and the "rich kids." As a result, I eschew overt brand devotion as crass braggadocio.

6. My spirit of adventure
My brother-in-law asked me on Friday night if I was truly adventurous, or if I liked the idea of calling myself adventurous. Maybe a little of both, in that I'm selectively adventurous. I won't typically try something I believe will cause harm to me or others, and I'm not always adventurous (sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name). But, I'm typically willing to push my boundaries in the interest of having a good story or discovering something new about myself.

7. My quirks
I am grateful the many ways in which my personality and my style falls outside of the lines of my particular station in life. My love for gnomes,my lack of disgust for nose-picking (everyone does it), my constant willingness to brake for squirrels, my enthusiastic style of dance not unlike that of Elaine Bennes, my nearly daily hula hooping - I could seriously go on. I embrace these things because they make me unlike anyone else I know.

8. My laugh
I don't laugh a lot, but when I do, it is loud and unabashed.

9. Parts of my physical self
I have long struggled with loving my body. Those 20 years of therapy, yeah, they were A LOT about that. But, I'm happy to say there are some physical qualities I have that I like: my breasts, my hourglass shape, my smiley eyes, my skin tone.

10. My generosity
I give 5% of my pre-tax income away to charity, and I give with intention. I love to bake, and I tend to give (nearly) all of it away to my neighbors (see #9 above), I am often willing to compromise my own needs in the interest of helping someone in crisis. BMG sees my generosity as a flaw, as an unfettered doorway to misery and exploitation. But I don't. I am glad to bring a little peace, joy and/or justice into the lives of others, and value this quality in others.

Numbers and Letters

"Let's play the numbers and letters game," I would declare. Then whichever of my siblings wanted to spend an hour dreaming of a better life would pile onto the couch and the fantasy would begin.

It went like this:

1. The person sitting in the middle would hold the J.C. Penney catalogue.
2. We would claim a letter and a number. "A" and "1" were the best.
3. We would then flip through nearly every page of the catalogue, identifying which outfits, toys, and home furnishings would become "ours" based on the numbers and letters we had chosen. If you picked A or 1, whichever item bore that letter or number in the catalogue would go in your fantasy home. 

We would play this invented game for hours, going through nearly the entire catalogue, skipping only the men's fashion and tools. 

Numbers and letters was complemented by other games my siblings and I played together. Games that involved creating 2D architectural renderings of our dream homes, or building elaborate homes out of wooden blocks and Fisher Price toys. We would set up our tableaus in places where they could live for days at a time (i.e., under the dining room table, in the attic), because building a home took more than one day. 

As an adult who has had more than her fair share of therapy, I know now that, at least for me, the Numbers and Letters game helped satisfy the longings I had as a poor kid living in an increasingly wealthy and materialistic world. 

This week, The 52 Lists Project asked me and BMG to make a list of things we would do to rejuvenate our space, My brain immediately keyed into my own longings about the tiny space in which I live today, particularly the cluttered office and our pantry.  

The spare bedroom, aka the office, that I share with BMG today

The pantry/cat box space/utility storage/laundry room at The Tiny Bungalow

So let's play the grown-up version of the Letters and Numbers game. And instead of using the J.C.Penney catalogue, I'm using Houzz.com.

So, if I had all the resources in the world to rejuvenate my current space, I would:

1. Create a tidier, lighter feeling office space. Maybe something like this?

Photo by Swedish Blue Designs / LMF Design LLC - Browse eclectic home office photos

2. BMG uses the office almost entirely for storage. Which means he's ALWAYS in the living room - working, playing, relaxing, napping. If I could, I would add comfy seating to our office, so I can have a space to which I can retreat when I need some alone time or want to escape the inevitable sound of snoring on weekend afternoons. Maybe something like this?

Photo by Atlantic Archives, Inc. - Look for eclectic family room design inspiration

3. Moving on to the utility room, rejuvenating this room means creating a space that doesn't put food in such close proximity to cat poop, and doesn't require sweeping every day in the fight against the our cats' desire to pave the floor with cat litter. Something like this? 

Photo by Brickmoon Design - Browse eclectic laundry room ideas

4. I would also like to have a utility space with exceptionally efficient storage, solid shelves, and maybe a and a tidy counter, a place that doesn't overwhelm me with the constant need to rearrange things to make it look less cluttered, to make the food being stored more accessible. Maybe something like this:

Photo by Kapela Solutions - Search traditional kitchen pictures

5. While I'm dreaming about rejuvenating my space, I'd also like to request a tiny meditation space, where I can go to breathe. This would be a space that is all my own, a space where I don't have to share or compromise, where I don't have to navigate my husband's clutter, where I am not confronted by housework I have to do, bills I have to pay, obligations I need to meet. Maybe something like this:

Photo by Sheri Kaz Designs - Search Asian home gym pictures

I know I'm solidly middle class, living a life of privilege. BMG and I have enough money to shelter, clothe, and feed ourselves without having to struggle. By all accounts, mine is a good life and is typically one without complaints.

But, I still have longings. There is still a 10-year old self inside of me, who longs to have the finest things that she can possibly imagine. 

Thanks for the dream time, 52 Lists. 

I'm No Fun

"Make a list of the things you do for fun," instructs the book 52 Lists.

My heart sink. "Dang it," I thought. "This is going to be hard."

There isn't a lot I do for "fun." This is one of the reasons why I fell in love with BMG, because he is all about the pleasure principle, and balances my instincts to dedicate my time to "getting things done."

I said to BMG, as we talked about the exercise, "There are things I do to relax. There are things I do because they are satisfying. There are things I do that make me happy. But FUN? I'm not sure there is anything I do for FUN."

"And you see how that's a problem, right?" he replied.

So I thought a little harder. And tried to recall activities that make me throw my head back with laughter, or cause me nothing but joy. I came up with this meager list:

1. Road trips with my husband
2. Going to the movies in a theater, particularly matinees
3. Watching good comedy
4. (Sometimes) shopping, especially for Christmas gifts or in foreign grocery stores
5. Playing console video games, like Zelda, which I haven't done this since at least 2012
6. Going on amusement park rides, which I haven't done since maybe 2011
7. Whitewater rafting, which I haven't done since at least 2004

What is the lesson learned from this 52 Lists post? Maybe I need to be doing more to have fun in my life. So if you are looking for me today, I'll be shopping.

"Almost 60"

This week's blogging prompt invited me to make a list of the things I'd like to be doing in 10 years.

 

"In 10 years, I'll be 56. What do I want to be doing when I'm 56?" I mused.

 

After two minutes of thinking, the answer came to me. "I don't want to think about being 56. About being almost 60."

 

Yup. I don't want to make this list, because it makes me anxious.

 

I'm not typically a "hate my age" person. I love celebrating my birthday. I have an annual ritual of reflecting on the year I've left, and thinking about my goals for the next year.

 

But I don't want to think about being 56. Why not?

1. I'm a late bloomer who is just coming into her own as an adult today, at 46. Thinking ahead to almost 60 makes me anxious about all the adulting I want to squeeze into the next 10 years.
2. I still feel like a (nearly) newlywed to a husband who is (a) five years older, and (b) managing a chronic disease. Thinking ahead to almost 60 makes me anxious wondering how much of our lives will be taken up by the evolution of his condition.
3. I am grateful to still have my mother with me on this earth, although I am nearly 350 miles away from her. Thinking ahead to almost 60 makes me anxious wondering about her overall health and capabilities when she is 10 years older.

Until I get into right relationship with my almost 60 year-old self, my list will remain blank.


What is on your list of the things you want to be doing 10 years from now?

 

The Soundtrack

BMG and I are in week four of a year-long project to write and reflect together, using the book 52 Lists as our guide. Each week we read a writing prompt, have a conversation about how we might approach the topic, and then we write.

The question this week is "What's the soundtrack of your life - right now?" 

Week three's prompt asked us to reflect on the "happiest moments in our lives." During our conversation about this week's prompt BMG claimed "It is unfair to make this the next prompt because we're already thinking about being happy, and therefore we're more likely to think of peppy songs."

My retort? "Don't take the easy way out."

The soundtrack of my life has NEVER included taking the easy way out. I grew up in a lower class family, without much measureable privilege. However, I've always been smart and a hard worker, and this is how I learned to make my mark on the world.

Reflecting on my life, right now, I can say that I'm at the mid-point in an erratic career, fairly newly wed, and trying to find balance - between my efforts to care for my health, to nurture my career, to strengthen my relationship with my husband and my family, and to make a meaningful contribution to my community.

When he isn't making me crazy, BMG, inspires me. Not because of his semi-charmed kinda life, but rather because he joyfully lives by the bumper sticker philosophy, 'No one ever said on their deathbed, 'I wish I had spent more time at the office.'"

With that said, here is my soundtrack:

Track 1 - Sunny Side of the Street, as performed by Ella Fitzgerald (my goal)


Track 2 - Fatso by The Story (part of my struggle)


Track 3 - All For You by Sister Hazel (I think of this as "our song," and it always reminds me of my inspiration, BMG)


Track 4 - Work That by Mary J. Blige (sometimes it feels like I'm pushing a rock uphill)


Track 5 - Working 9 to 5 by Dolly Pardon (I've decided to abandon my ambition to have a career in favor of having a life)


Track 6 - God is Trying to Tell You Something from the soundtrack to The Color Purple (I'm struggling between having fun and listening to the my call to community)


Track 7 - You Are the Universe by The Brand New Heavies (my goal)


Track 8 - Somewhere Over the Rainbow, as performed by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (when I reach balance, I hope it will feel like this song)

Happy

What are the happiest moments of your life, so far?

When I asked my 91 year-old neighbor, she said, "Having my three kids." Then she paused. "I've had times when I've felt happy, like at weddings and things. But my happiest moments were having my girls."

My list includes:

1. My wedding, every single moment of it
2. Nearly every memory of playing as a child
3. Unwrapping the plush version of Camel with the Wrinkled Knees and "Angely" at two separate Christmases long long ago
4. Seeing Rodin's "The Thinker" in real life for the first time
5. Seeing Half Dome in Yosemite National Park for the first time
6. Driving with BMG to Sanibel Island from the Fort Meyers International Airport in the convertible with the top down

Happiness, for me, feels like being full - of emotions like delight and joy. So full that I'm on the verge of being overwhelmed, and can't possibly take in any more.

Like my neighbor, there are many moments of my life when I've felt happy, but these are the moments, today, when I remember feeling happiest. 

Characters

Make a list of your favorite characters from books, movies and television shows.

 

This is the directive in the weekly blog post from The 52 Lists Project, a journaling guide from which BMG and I are drawing inspiration this year.

 

Here goes:
1. Raggedy Ann and Andy from the books by Johnny Gruelle
2. Melissa McCarthy's character in Spy
3. Matilda from the book by Roald Dahl (and the movie, and the Broadway show)
4. Aloysius Pendergast from the series by Lincoln Child and Doug Preston
5. Laura Ingalls Wilder from the Little House on the Prairie books and tv series
6. Owen Meany from A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
7. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit and the Lord of The Rings series by JRR Tolkein
8. Sophia and Celie from The Color Purple by Alice Walker and the movie by Stephen Spielberg
9. Sherlock Holmes, particularly in the modern day tv series featuring Benedict Cumberbatch (BBC) and Jonny Lee Miller (CBS)

 

Are there any commonalities? I see two.

1. Many of these characters are quiet or unlikely heroes, or individuals with extraordinary but hidden talents.
2. Many of these characters are clever, and find ways to make their lives, or the world, a better place by using their pluck.

 

Now it's your turn. Who are your favorite characters, from books, movies or television shows? Do you know why?

 

*****

I struggled with this exercise. Which isn't a surprise to me. At Halloween, I've always struggled with coming up with a character or "thing" I wanted to "be". As an adult, I've said, "The only thing I've ever wanted to be is myself."

 

This may be because:

• I read voraciously, and largely for entertainment's sake. Remembering specific characters requires a great deal of mental energy.
• I've never put much energy into remembering movie names, TV episodes or dialogue, or even TV characters. And, like my issue with books, I tend to remember this type of visual entertainment for the feeling they create, not necessarily for a specific character or memorable incident.
• I tend to be a big picture thinker, so I have books and movies that strike a chord with me, but not necessarily individual characters with whom I connect or identify. Over the last week, I've been scanning my favorite books from my Goodreads account, and trying to remember, "Did I love this book because of the story or the experience of reading it, or was there a specific character with whom I connected?" For example, I LOVE the Harry Potter books by JK Rowling. I have long said I wished *I* could go to Hogwarts. But, there isn't one character I am rooting for over another.

 

 

 

 

 

The Cherry Pitter

I live in a tiny house. A tiny house with a tiny amount of storage space.

This tiny amount of storage space, combined with my natural propensity for simple living, are the reasons why I tend to shy away from single use kitchen gadgets. Things like egg slicers (knives work just great), grapefruit spoons, and spaghetti servers. Yeah, nope. Don't need 'em. Don't want 'em.

But, I *do* have a cherry pitter.

This is a tool that expels the pit of a cherry into a small chute, and then with a poof, pops it into a waiting vessel (like a hand or a bowl). The sound of the pit being forced out of the fruit sounds like a gnome-sized nail gun to me. And the part of device that presses into the cherry to push out the pit looks like a gnome sized pick-axe.

The result of the pitter's work is tiny piece of stone fruit with a gaping flesh wound that looks as if a bullet has passed through it. While it is no longer gorgeous, but it is also free of the tiny pit you need to awkwardly and ungracefully dispose of every time you consume one cherry.  

I've owned mine for three years. And I've used it maybe four times. It takes up precious real estate in my limited drawer space. By all rights, it is not the sort of thing I would ever own.

But I'll never get rid of it.

Because every time I use it, I'm reminded of my father-in-law.

In the short time I knew him, he introduced me to the magic of the cherry pitter.

It was a weekend day, long before BMG and I were actually married, and I was visiting with him and my mother-in-law. As I chatted with them, my father-in-law was discreetly flexing his hand and causing a small popping sound.

"What are you doing?" I remember asking.

And he explained the cherry pitter, even letting me take the reins of the device and giving it a squeeze.

I may have scoffed at the need for a cherry pitter, perhaps extolling the diverse virtues of the knife or asking "How hard is it to eat around the pit?"

I remember my father-in-law laughing and telling me the cherries were much more delicious when they were pitted. And that was that.

A couple of years later, after he passed from this earth, BMG and I were planning our wedding. I insisted on putting a cherry pitter on our registry. BMG raised his eyebrows at me (he knows me well), but I insisted. And that was that.

*****

I much prefer to infuse everyday objects with meaning and memories, rather than holding onto other types of mementos. Doing so gives me regular opportunities to reflect on the person or event that I associate with the object. The size of my home makes it harder for me to display or interact with other types of memory devices, like photos stored on Facebook or in print albums or souvenirs from trips,

And I don't need them. I don't need a photo of my father-in-law to remember what made him such a special person. I don't need to hang onto every gift he ever gave me to make I don't forget him. Nope. All I need is to pit a few cherries and boom, I'm reminded of how much I hold him in my heart.

Learning to be Confident

A close friend recently asked me to teach her how to be confident.

"Uhmm," I replied, thinking to myself, "How do you teach that to someone?"

Not wanting to disappoint her, but not knowing how to respond, I made some vague comments about having a sweetheart who is confident, and having the ability to "fake it til I make it."

Days later I realized there is one thing I could teach this friend, one thing I do fairly routinely, which I'm sure helps me appear confident.

I accept compliments. 

That's it. I accept compliments. When someone says to me, "Thank you for the great work you did on that project," I respond with "You're welcome. I'm glad to be part of the team." Or I might say, "That's really nice of you to say. Thank you,"

What I try not to say is,"It was nothing," "No problem," or worse, ignore the sentiment entirely.

In accepting compliments, I believe I'm internalizing kind words about an accomplishment, an action I took, or a value, quality or skill I bring into the world. What I'm also doing is reinforcing the positive feeling the complimenter may have of me by validating that their statement had the intended effect of making me feel better about myself. And, because I'm not a narcissist, I'm also making it more likely that "pay it forward" and compliment someone else.

Do you accept compliments easily? If you don't, I invite you to try accepting compliments for a week - maybe a month - and see if you notice any changes. I have confidence you will.

Standing at Attention

Within the span of one week, two young men from the tony seaside suburb where I live were strikingly affected by the global military industrial complex.

On January 16, 2016, 30 year-old Matthew Trevithick, who had been imprisoned by the Iranian government for undisclosed reasons, was released and returned home to America.

Two days earlier, on January 14, 2016, 23 year-old Marine Corporal Christopher Orlando was one of 12 people who were lost in a helicopter crash off the coast of Hawaii while in the midst of training exercises. The search for the bodies was suspended after five days and Cpl Orlando and his colleagues were presumed dead.

Our tiny town organizes welcome parades for military veterans when they return home, to say thank you and to help with the vet's re-entry into small town life. While Cpl Orlando was not returning home, our Veteran's Services Department and our local emergency responders asked the community to stand vigil as a show of respect for the family as they returned home from services and debriefing with the Marines in Hawaii.

For some reason, BMG and I decided to attend.

The family was scheduled to roll into town at approximately 7:00 PM. The route for their police escort was published by our local police department. So, at 6:40 PM we left our home and headed to the library to park and stand vigil.

Photo credit: Jeffcutler.com

I was surprised by the thousands of people lining the five miles of Main Street, solemnly holding flags and thank you signs featuring the official Marine portrait of the now dead Marine. Surprised by the number of families - with children of all ages - who waited in the freezing temperatures for the convoy to roll through town. Surprised by the young parents with baby carriages who gently soothed their crying infants as the wind gently whipped past us.

Surprised and moved to tears.

We watched the police department's Twitter feed to keep apprised of the family's progress from the airport to home. It was there that we learned that emergency responders from across the state were lining bridges across the highway to pay their respects. We met up with some neighbors and, as the Twitter feed and occasional siren told us they were near our stretch of Main Street, we silenced our chatter and stood at attention.

Photo credit: JeffCutler.com

It wasn't until 8:00 PM that the family, escorted by nearly a dozen police vehicles, slowly drove past. As they did, I silently sobbed, imagining their anguish at the loss of their beloved son, the loss of potential, and, hopefully, their understanding that their community would support them through their grief.

Both BMG and I couldn't understand why we chose to join our community in this display of patriotism and pride. We don't know the family. We don't have children and wouldn't begin to pretend we understand what the parents and siblings are going through. And we aren't law and order people; standing up for the military isn't one of the community actions that make drives either one of us. But, I'm glad we paid attention to the impulse in our hearts and went. It feels like one of the most meaningful things I've done in a long time.

RIP Cpl Orlando, and Semper Fi.