Telling the Truth

 Now that I have been working out for close to two months, there are certain truths that have been revealed to me.  Some of these truths were counterintuitive to a lethargic being like me, such as the idea that exercise can make you feel great.  I always scowled and (in my mind....usually) swore at my friends who said they were "addicted" to working out.  It just didn't make sense to me that pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion could be beneficial.  While I will never say I am now addicted to it, I can say that there are benefits that I hadn't counted on.  So here are some of the truths about exercise that I have uncovered in the past 8 weeks.

1. Once you find the right form of exercise, you will be motivated to continue.  I believe the workout that I do right now is technically called interval training which is defined as "training in which an athlete alternates between two activities, typically requiring different rates of speed, degrees of effort, etc".  I call it "I can do anything for 45 seconds" training.  My trainer, owner of Hiit It With Brit, is one of those encouraging, dedicated trainers who seems to be everything to everyone.  What I mean by that is that she gives just the right sort of encouragement for each athlete.  For instance, she pushes the more experienced participants to challenge themselves with more weight or a higher kick.  And then for newbies like me she models modifications that still are intense enough to be effective.  I doubt I would be successful with interval training if it weren't for Britt and her fellow trainers.  But the different daily workouts that go along with this type of training really make each workout interesting and challenging.  I find myself  on days off from the gym checking on Facebook to see which workout I missed out on.  And speaking of off days...

2. I need to ease my body into increased days of exercise.  For me, I have found that 3 days a week are totally doable.  One of the reasons is that I have an "off" day in between each of the work out days.  The two weeks that I tried to work out on back to back days I ended up so sore that I skipped my normal days.  That led me to working out only one day last week, and bouncing back into class today after a week with no workouts was brutal.  While my goal is to work out 5 days a week, I have learned that I need to work up to that.  I'm thinking about walking/running on the off days for about 30 minutes.  That way I'm still  exercising and training my body to have physical activity daily.  This mind set of getting physical activity worked into every day is definitely a new one for a former human slug like me.   New beliefs abound these days including this next truth about sweating.

3. Sweating is an essential result of challenging myself.   I am no girly-girl but the thought of sweating in front of others used to be so scary to me (okay, maybe I am a girly-girl).  If I was at a party or gathering and started to sweat, I would be so embarrassed.  Now when I sweat I know it is a sign of hard I am working out my body.  If you are doing interval training and you don't sweat, something is definitely wrong.  I now consider my beet red face and my dripping clothing a badge of honor signifying my hard work and dedication to doing as many of the exercises as possible.  I still try not to have to go anywhere after working out due to the fact that I resemble a dripping tomato after a workout, but I'm no longer embarrassed about how I look.  I know that it is a sign that I'm working out my muscles intensely enough to warrant the bedraggled look.  One of the reasons I'm able to work up a good sweat is because of the modifications that I use.

4. Modifications are a chubby girl's best friend.  When I first started working out, I was very intimidated by the types of exercises the class was using.  But I used my instincts and just did the ones I thought I could do.  And this is where it was essential to have an awesome trainer like Britt.  She has been able to coach me on ways to modify the exercise or do a completely different one that would work out the same muscle group.  While moves like burpees and jumping jacks are still out of my range for now, I have challenged myself to do more of the floor exercises like planks and push ups.  At first I felt like I was cheating by not pushing myself to do the assigned exercises, but once I realized I was still getting in a great workout it all made sense to me.  The best thing about modifications is that I'm learning which exercises can be replaced by others without Britt needing to tell me.  In the teaching world we call slowly taking away the supports for a learning activity "scaffolding" and this is what I find myself doing.  Whether it takes me a month or a year, I push myself to give up the modifications for the harder exercises.  Pushing myself is at the heart of the last truth.

5. Challenging myself is rewarding and (yes!) addicting.  Brittany reviews all the exercises that make up our routines at the beginning of class.  As closely as I pay attention, I still find myself shaking my head and practically talking myself out of being able to do the exercise.  Once the routine begins, I sneak looks at the more experienced athletes and attempt to do the actual exercise or use a modification.  I have been amazed at some of the things that I have been able to do or get close to doing.  As much as the flight response is activated once I see what Britt wants us to do, I have never left a class without even trying.  While it may look to others that I'm not working hard because of the modification I"m using, I know the truth.  Lifting weights, running sprints, and using exercise bands for rowing are activities I never would even try a year ago.  Because I found this safe environment (the gym is www.hiititwithbritt.com) in which I could challenge myself, I have made great gains in my fitness.  I also have set goals related to my fitness that I know I will reach.  And that feeling of achievement is what is addicting.

These are some of the truths I have discovered so far.  I will keep mining my experiences for positive landmarks like these so that I can eventually become the fabulous fit 50 year old I am striving to be.

50/50 Blues

I have 3 or 4 friends with whom I have been friends for 30 years.  Whether we met in high school or college, these are the friends I turn to when I want to celebrate or when I need to vent.  They know me better than anyone outside of my family.  Each of them is so different from the other; one is a genius when it comes to anything to do with science (and manages to turn middle schoolers onto science as well) , one is a wonderful artist and the most organized person I know, and the other is a fashion icon as far as I'm concerned.  But there is one thing that binds them together in my mind: they all will turn fifty before me!

OK, so maybe it's only by a matter of months (well, only by 5 days for one of them) but it still is a distinction that I love to celebrate...and to tease them about.  Recently, one of them declared that she couldn't believe she would be fifty next year.  This milestone age always seemed so far away yet here we are all about to claim it as our own.  I started thinking about the last milestone birthday, 40,  and how I decided to live my life leading up to it.  I really dreaded turning 40; I felt like my 30s would go on forever.  As they were coming to a close, I spent a lot of time comparing myself to other people my age and got very depressed.  I felt like all of my goals were still years and years away from being met.  I'm not even sure that I was hopeful enough to even acknowledge any progress I had made.  This period of time (from around 38-40) marked a very low point in my life as I made a series of decisions that could be labeled as the typical mid-life crisis.  I abruptly quit my job in a very good district, a place where I was helping students and surrounded by people I truly loved.  I moved to Rochester and left my car and beautiful house behind.  While I had always loved Rochester and wanted to move there, if I had been thinking clearly I would have at least been sure to have a job waiting for me (I lucked out and found a job in August).  I got the first of three tattoos (no regrets there) and finally "celebrated" turning 40 by suffering a compound ankle break and spending my actual birthday in the hospital, sedated because of the emergency surgery that needed to be performed.  It was a true example of the law of attraction at work in my life.  I was so sure that my forties were going to suck that I attracted these bad things happening.

Whether or not one believes in the law of attraction, it is evident that dreading a number is not a positive way to spend your life.  I've decided to do things differently this time around.  I am looking forward to 50 and setting some goals to work towards which will benefit me at any age.  I'm not making 50 the deadline to attain these goals but looking at it more like recognizing any progress I make on the way there.  I have already made progress towards these goals and will continue to work on them with my focal point being October 23, 2017.  On that day I want to be able to look at this blog and realize how much progress I have made.  To that end, I have decided to write about my goals and progress because I have read many articles and books which have stated that writing down your goals helps cement your commitment level.  I could have done this in my private diary but what fun would that be? Now I have all of you to help me be more accountable! I hope that when those of you who know me see me you will ask me how I am progressing with my goals.  Holding me accountable will help me not only stay committed, but also may help some of us bond over common goals.

Now, about those goals.  I'm going to warn you, some of them may seem frivolous or unattainable to you.  That's okay because they are not your goals : ) I do urge you to think about your own goals and set your own timetable (no need to wait for a milestone birthday).  For me, each of these goals represent something I am already working towards.  While some are definitely more important to me than others, they all will improve my life in one way or another.  So with no further ado, here are my 5/50 Goals:

1. The most important goal for me is to be fit by 50.  Earlier this summer I started attending some intense workout classes on a regular basis.  Most of the summer I have attended anywhere from 2-4 days a week.  Having said that, this past week I only attended one class and over did it.  I was sore the rest of the week and didn't push myself to go.   I think I was sore because I went from doing one or two of the floor exercises to doing ALL of them too quickly.  Now, on the one hand I'm so proud of myself that I did them all; I was terrified when I started that I would never be able to do even one.  You see, for the longest time I have not been able to get up from a sitting position on the floor.  For a teacher of young ones, this is a handicap that gets in the way of my connection with them.  After only a few weeks of going,  I am confident enough to know that I can get up on my own from the mat.  But as my trainer keeps telling me, I need to push myself without overdoing it.  By the age of 50, I intend to be in much better shape than I am now.  No weight goals beyond being at a weight where I can comfortably go for an hour walk.  From the most essential goal to the least...

2.  I will grow my hair out by the time I turn 50. I had beautiful long curly hair from around the third grade (when I begged my mom for a Dorothy Hamill bowl cut and ended up looking like Paul McCartney circa 1963) until I turned 25.  Because even in my 20s I felt the weight of milestone birthdays and 25 felt like a big one (one I looked forward to instead of dreading...and 25 was a great year).  Ever since then I have had a love/hate relationship with a pixie cut.  When I had shorter hair, I wanted it longer.  When it started to grow out, I longed for the ease of the pixie.  But now I'm making the decision to see how long I can grow out my hair.  It now is almost at the longest I've had it in a while but that's not saying much.  I'm going to make it through this uncomfortable "in-between" stage which is where I usually give up.  Again, no where near as important by some of the other goals but one I intend to push myself towards.

3.  I will continue my education.  Although I keep up to date on educational research and do lots of professional development, I actually haven't been in school since about 2005.  Part of the reason for this is that there is so much I want to study.  I'm interested in getting certification in reading, k-12 and in becoming an ENL (English as a second language) teacher.  I also want to achieve National Board Certification in Literacy and to achieve a Ph.D in Literacy.  So instead of picking one and going for it, I have let years pass with no progress towards any of them.  I am leaning towards National Board Certification and will make a final decision in September (more to come).  By the time I'm 50, I will either have certification or need to retake certain sections to attain it.

4. My personal/professional lives will be in better balance.  I spend way too much time on my school work.  Then I spend too much of my personal time in front of the telly.  This is the one goal that I actually haven't made progress towards.  I'll be looking for some fun hobbies, sports, or activities to try in the coming year or so.  I will write about them to let you know which ones stick and which ones don't.  If you have any suggestions of things I might like to try, feel free to let me know.

5. I will be a mother.  This is a goal that I had given up on recently.  But after doing some serious soul searching I've decided it's one I can't let go of.  I feel like I was put on this earth to be a mother to some child.  I have written about how I have used my nurturing side to take care of both my students and my niece. Because of my failures in the China adoption process, I had given up hope of being a mother.  But now I'm on the road again to finding my child.  If all goes well, I will have a child with me by my 50th birthday.  Of course, plans can go astray but it won't this time.  I'm willing this wish to finally come true.  I hope to be able to give more details very, very soon.

So, there it is.  My plan to make 50 fabulous.  While I reserve the right to adjust the goals, I will make the commitment to report on my progress in upcoming blog posts.  It is my intention to not bring about the same horrendous results that turning 40 created.  No 50/50 blues for me.

What A Wonderful World

My last few posts have seemed to have a "death" theme.  Unfortunately, that is just how this summer has been going.  Even the last few fiction books I've read have dealt with the topic of death (Towers Falling and Love Letters to the Dead).  But things are looking up, and I thought I would include some more positive updates in this entry.  

I have mentioned how my family lost my cousin, Michael, last year but I've never talked about his great girlfriend, Darcey.  Michael and Darcey had been together for a few years and shared their lovely home with a couple of cute basset hounds.  Darcey, like all of us who loved him, was devastated by Michael's loss but with the help of her family and friends found a way to carry on.  She and Michael adored her 3 year old niece, Hanna.  Michael doted on Hanna, and loved to be silly with her.  On top of all the other baggage associated with grieving, Darcey was worried about how she would explain Michael's absence to Hanna.  She ended up telling her that Michael missed his mom so much that he went to be with her.  Hanna accepted this and rarely asked about Michael again. Although this may have bothered Darcey, she let it go and didn't bring Michael to her attention again. Flash forward to a few weeks ago, when Darcey is giving Hanna, who is now 5, a bath.  Here is a rough transcript of their conversation:

H: Where is your dad?

D: My dad?  Papa is my dad, and he is outside.

H: No…what’s his name…Mike.

D: Uncle Mike?

H: Yeah…where is he?

D: He went to go live with his mom…

H: Is he ever coming back?

D: No…he missed and loved her so much he had to go live with her.

H: Where does she live?

D: Farrr farrr away

H: Do you ever talk to him?

D:  I talk to uncle Mike all the time…he says he loves you soooo much.

H: He loves me?!?!

D: Yes he does…and always will

Darcey knows that I believe that our loved ones look for ways to contact us so she contacted me to see what I thought.  I know that children can be more open to seeing spirits than adults so I told her that I thought maybe Michael had appeared to her in a dream. Perhaps he did this to let Darcey know he was watching over them both.  I offered to do an angel card reading on it to see if it would give any clarification.  I can tell you that the cards confirmed that there was a message from Michael, but don't want to go into too many details because it was a private reading.  But the main themes of the cards really speak to anyone who is grieving a loss and/or having a hard time moving on.  So, here are some of the messages that the cards gave Darcey but ended up helping me as well.  I hope some of you reading this will be able to benefit from it too.  

Card 1- Take back your power.  Use your intention to manifest your blessings in your life.  Are you struggling with a decision to move forward on some dream you have? If so, this card is saying to have no fear. You have everything you need to make this dream come true.  Don’t consider yourself a victim because you are a strong and spiritual being.

Card 2- Divine Order- Everything is how it needs to be right now.  Look beyond the illusion and see the underlying order.  A win-win situation is at hand.  Again, if there is a dream that you have been hesitating about, don’t! Now you have two cards telling you that you will be successful. Keep your spirits high through prayer and positive affirmations.  Above all, make sure you speak positive statements only especially when talking about this dream/plan you have in mind.

Card 3- Nurture- This card advises you find ways to nurture your inner child.  Take time to play, laugh and to be silly! Spend time with the young because spending time with a younger person will nurture both of you.  

Card 2 really spoke to me because frankly I have been less than pleased with how my personal life has been going this summer.  Adoption seemed as far away as ever and I'm still dealing with being separated from someone I care for.  The control freak in me has fought against these disappointments by not accepting the situations.  I'm sure you have heard the expression that when one door closes, another opens.  Well picture me slamming myself over and over against that first door in order to make it open.  In both cases, all that happened was that my heart became battered and bruised.  The zen message of the Divine Order card really took me aback. I thought about how I was angry with God with how things have been going in my personal life, despite my many prayers and actions.  The reminder that I'm not in charge and that life is meant to be lived  and not controlled was a much needed one.  Maybe things didn't work with China because my child is not there.  Maybe he is somewhere else in the world.  Maybe the man I love has a different destiny and his own set of lessons to learn which would contradict where my path is leading me.  He is important to me, and I will always love him but by letting go I'm allowing the Universe to bring the best to both of us whether that means being reunited or not.  

Instead of hurting, these thoughts actually give me some comfort and some hope for the future. In the end, I felt like the message of these cards was not just for Darcey and me but for all the people who miss and love Michael.  Because that really is who Michael was: a man of few words but who always showed his love for his family through actions.  It would be just like him to whisper these messages to a five year old and leave it to her to bring our attention to it.  So, now I'm going to ask all of you to help me put these messages into action.  I am not giving up on adoption and am already on another track to become a mother.  I'm asking those of you that pray to say a prayer for me to help keep me strong and positive.  And another thing you can do is to follow the advice of these cards: Be strong and live your intentions! Let go of how you think your life "should" look and let the Universe spin its magic. And finally have fun with your inner child. Celebrate life and have fun with the young and old alike who share your journey.  Think of what a wonderful world it would be if we all lived this way!

My City of Ruins

There are lots of positives to having a big Italian family like mine.  I always had cousins to play with when I would tire of my younger sister, and my older cousins introduced me to my love of the Yankees, basketball, and great bands like The Who and The Rolling Stones.  My aunts and uncles doted on me and would spoil me with compliments and treats. My Aunt Emilia even let me live with her family one summer when my parents were split working between Albany and Lake George. When you have a big family, there are lots of people to love you.  Unfortunately, there are a few negatives too.  When you have so many people to love, you also have multiple heartaches when you lose a member of a large family.  In the past 15 months we have had to say goodbye to my beloved cousin, Michael,  and my sweet Uncle Joe.  Now my cousin, Danny, has lost his courageous and beautiful wife, Josie, leaving their 6 children mourning their kind and generous mother. I ache for their loss and realize how lucky I am to have had both of my parents well into adulthood.  Each of these losses reverberate through a large family like mine with little echoes of pain from previous losses.

With Josie's death weighing heavily on my heart, I had to drive to Canada this weekend to take my niece and her friend to Bravo Con (the Comic Con of video games) in Toronto.  Just like the lame old joke says, I made the mistake of assuming that my I-phone would work outside of the US.  This wrong belief led me to have to navigate the 4 and 5 lane highways without my GPS.  This wasn't a problem when the girls were in the car because they used their phones to help guide me through the maze of roads.  But the other times when the girls weren't with me were pure hell on earth.  After dropping the girls off with their chaperone and friends, I had to try to remember the way back to the hotel. Needless to say, I became very lost...more than once.  I was cursing my phone service and the blip which was causing it not to work.  Here I was in a great city like Toronto but was completely unable to explore much because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the hotel. I was never a super confident driver but doing so without the safety net of GPS made me anxious, nervous, and very scared.  However, by the end of the whirlwind weekend, I felt confident of my ability to manage those highways without too much help from the GPS. I was able to find my way to certain places and was helped by the Canadian families my niece was visiting.

It reminded me of another time in my life when I felt like I had lost my direction.  Anyone who has lost a loved one knows how uncomfortable and disorienting it can be those first few months after his/her death.  Things that you did on automatic pilot  like grocery shopping or driving to work can become emotional obstacle courses.  The punches that grief delivers can strike you at any time and make you feel like you will never be able to find your way again.  Whether one week, one month, or one year passes, the potential of grief to knock you off course never completely disappears.  While it's different for every person, I'm pretty sure that the death of a loved one is the one of the most stressful things you can go through.

When I lost my father, grief played its constant mind games with me.  I suddenly felt unable to do basic things like interview for a new position.  Shortly after he died, I was called to interview for a position in Syracuse.  Moving for a job had been a possibility before my father passed and I was excited at the prospect of starting fresh in a new city.  But when the day for the interview came I felt uneasy and ill-prepared (and anyone who knows me knows how over prepared I get when it comes to interviews).  As I sat in the office waiting for my turn to interview, I suddenly was overcome with my first full fledged panic attack.  I excused myself from the office on the pretense of making a phone call and drove all the way back to Albany.  My whole sense of being was shaken to the core, and my priorities were knocked out of order.  I felt like getting a job that would take me so far away from my family would not only be wrong but should be unthinkable.  Without my father to anchor me, I felt like I didn't even know myself or my goals anymore.

While not everyone suffers panic attacks after losing a loved one, I do believe we all change in one way or another.  Having distance from the grenade that was launched into my life the day my father died, I now can see how I have changed for the better.  For instance, I have more faith in my ability to get through ANYTHING because losing him was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.  I fought (and still fight) my depression and anxiety and envisioned myself teaching once again, a goal that I reached three months after my dad's death.  Just like I found my way on the streets of Toronto without my GPS, I created a "new normal" in my life without my dad.  While I'm sure losing my mom will create the same havoc in my life, the difference will be that I will have lived through great loss before and am stronger because of it.  My wish for my young cousins (and for anyone else experiencing the excruciating pain of grief) is that they remember that even though all feels lost now, a new path will open. That path will be graced by the love of their angel mother and the strength they gain from living through the sadness and coming out the other side changed for the better.  You will rise up and find your way again.

Loser

Rejection- nobody likes to feel its sting.  Yet, it’s almost impossible to make it through a lifetime without becoming too acquainted with the sensation.  I’ve been thinking about the various ways that rejection has reared its ugly head in my life and how I reacted to it.  Many people will tell you that how you react to a negative situation is most important in determining its power over you, and based on my observations and experiences this is mostly true.  Oh yes, there are the few and far between people who seem to have Teflon personalities who don’t let any form of rejection stop them from their agendas (i.e. Mr. Trump) but most of us seem at least momentarily to be sidetracked by the punch of rejection. 

I’ve been very lucky when it comes to my career.  It has led me to different school districts and different kinds of jobs all surrounding my love of children, reading, and writing.  But there was a period of time not so long ago when it seemed like every job for which I interviewed was a dead end.  I can remember driving my mother to visit my sister who was in a hospital in MA at the time.  I felt so sure of getting this position for which I had just interviewed that I was bubbly telling my mother all the ideas I had for the new school year.  That bubble of excitement was burst with a text informing me that I did not get the job.  Now, this rejection happened at the beginning of my father’s battle with leukemia so granted I was already emotionally fragile. But my reaction of not getting this position was to start crying right there going 65MPH  on I-90 East. I allowed it to make me miserable not just that day but for many weeks following. I allowed myself to fall back into a depression that threatened any joy that tried to make its way into my life.  Now that I have distance and a much better paying teaching position, I realize how that rejection was really a blessing.  Because I was not working full time during this time period, I was able to spend more time with my father both at home and at his frequent chemotherapy/blood transfusion appointments.  At the time I could not see the Divine’s greater plan so I was pretty miserable.  Instead of seeing it as a blessing in disguise, I dwelled on the pain and embarrassment of not working. 

But then a funny thing happened…well, not funny in a “ha ha” way; it’s what I call a God’s Gotcha Moment.  I was still essentially unemployed at the end of my father’s life although I was working some per diem days grading exams.  On the day of his funeral as we were riding in the limousine on the way to the cemetery, I received a voice message.  I listened to the message just to distract myself from the sadness of the day and heard that my interview for a position with the New York State Education Department was cancelled because another applicant had decided she did want the position. Since she had a higher score on the exam we took, she had the right to first refusal.  Now, this rejection also hit me at a highly emotional time in my life.  However, my reaction to this blow was literally to start laughing.  My mother asked me what I was laughing at and I didn’t tell her because I didn’t think she would see the humor.  I believe now that my laughter was the result of this God’s Gotcha Moment.  I mean really, how much more pathetic can you be than to be burying your father and your chance at finally getting a really good position all in the same moment?  In other words, I realized that there were other things in life that were more important than that job.  Being with my father over the course of that year allowed me to get a better perspective on the whole situation.  My father himself assured me before his death that a teaching position would become available in this area (which it most certainly did).  Until it did appear, I was able to help my mother through all the aftereffects of losing a spouse.   

I have carried this lesson with me during the past three years as I struggled with issues at work and that “letting go and letting God” thing really did work.  But as I have often written about in this blog, things haven’t worked as smoothly in my personal life.  I’m dealing with trying to understand “God’s Gotcha Moment” that I’m currently experiencing.  Some people that I really should leave in the past keep pulling at my emotions.  I have allowed people who really don’t care about me have power in my life and that makes me angry.  Now, I will take anger as an emotion over depression any day.  But we all know that anger unexpressed can be a soul crusher.  So I’m trying to work out how to deal with the repeated stings of rejection and to let the Universe bring new people in my life.  I’ve already been blessed with some great new people who have become friends in the true sense of the word.  They support me with reaching my fitness goals and with doing the best for the kids we teach.  My dilemma revolves around my compulsion to give certain people yet another chance to build bridges when all they seem to want to do is to burn them.  In the end I think trying to live the Serenity prayer is going to be my best bet to bounce back and finally break the constant flow of rejection that I have been experiencing. 

            Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change (like   stupid people who don’t appreciate the great person I am),

            the courage to change the things I can (like to forget persons X and Y ever existed as they have easily done with me),

            and the wisdom to know the difference (and not to keep banging my head         against the wall and writing dopey blog posts).

Yeah, and maybe throw an anger management course my way. 

Grace

Serendipity is defined as a "fortunate happenstance" or "pleasant surprise".  I've had this phenomenon happen to me a few times, and each time it ushered some of the happiest times of my life.  For instance, one year I was selected by a former student as the most influential teacher in her life.  As I was attending the dinner for this celebration, I ran into the superintendent of the school district where I had just interviewed for a new position.  She immediately recognized me and came up to talk to me. By the end of our conversation, I was sure that I was going to get the new job (which I did).  The sweetness of this event still brings a smile to my face.  I'm not sure if they were going to offer me the job before this event, but the serendipity surrounding that night was tangible and comforting.

So what is the word for the opposite of serendipity? Which word best describes what I have experienced this morning? You see, in the past few days I have received some upsetting news that has taken my plans and dreams for my future and has completely destroyed them.  Those of you who have known me for a while probably are aware that I have tried (and failed) for years to adopt a child from China.  China has had stringent laws surrounding the adoption of abandoned children, and many of them are formed to prevent someone like me adopting.  Even though I have no criminal record, have never been suspected of child abuse, and have extensive experience with children I have been unfit in the eyes of China to adopt.  In the past my biggest detriment was that I was single.  But once China opened up to singles once more, I thought that maybe I could possibly adopt.  I never thought that the medication I take could be used as a reason to deny me the right to adopt.  My great sin? The fact that I take medication to help me manage my anxiety and depression.  

I was all ready to adopt a little boy who had a minor medical need that could be easily handled here in the US.  He is only 18 months old and like any other baby needs a mother.  I have been preparing to move to an area with a good school district and was seriously thinking about changes that would have to be made in order to best facilitate my ability to be the best mom possible.  Things were going well until I found out about this one little regulation concerning China's attitude towards mental illness of any kind.  One little phone call and all of my plans are shattered.  At age 48 it seems like I have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be a mother.  Needless to say, it has been a sad week.  

Fast forward to this morning as I am trying to distract myself from this news.  I am doing one of those mindless Facebook quizzes that is totally random and based only on your profile picture.  This one promises to tell you what your name really means.  So the word geek in me decides that I need to know this result, and this is the word that comes up: MOTHER.  I guess the opposite of serendipity is irony. I have always thought that my true life purpose was to be a mother.  Friends and family have always told me how good I am with their children and how good of a mother I would be.  A good friend of mine once told me that I already was a mother in a way to my niece because of the close relationship we share.  But being a mother "in a way" isn't the same.  Being a nurturing teacher doesn't fill that hole in my soul.  Loving my pets and treating them better than many children are treated isn't the same.  Those of you that are parents must know what I mean.  Nothing can ever be the same as being a mother.

Seeing that word "MOTHER" on the screen shook me to my core.  I do believe that God or the Universe sends us messages and little nudges to encourage us in our darkest moments.  But I can't help and feel bitter about this stupid quiz result.  It feels like a taunt meant to pierce my heart.  So I turn to my writing, as I do so often, to help me make sense of it all.  Clarity may still be out of my reach, but I do believe that "Grace makes beauty out of ugly things".  Just going to take a while to get rid of the bitterness and sadness that I feel.
                          

Fear

Summer life is so much sweeter when you're a teacher.  Now that the school year is over I, like so many other teachers, have begun a new kind of schedule.  In summers past that schedule has included taking graduate courses, working in Lake George, and teaching summer school.  This year I'm considering my "work" schedule to be split between packing up my home for an eventual move and actually working out.  If you know me you are well aware of the fact that exercise and I don't really go together naturally.  My "Oompa Loompa"like body seems more at home on a sofa reading, writing, or bingeing on Netflix (just finished up Orange is the New Black and still not over it).  But thanks to some encouragement from some fellow teachers, I have begun attending classes at a local gym.

This high-intensity interval training is not something I would have started on my own.  There is very little I do with high intensity beyond maybe screaming at my beloved Yankees as they crumble through another disappointing season.  The thought of being surrounded by people who actually thrive on high-intensity exercises was enough to make me put off attending a class for over a month. I was afraid that I would make a fool of myself while all the other people would look like a Paula Abdul choreographed video.  But I made a commitment to myself last week to get my health moving in the right direction this summer.  I spend all school year long caring for other little people  including giving them time to play and to move., so I decided that I needed to give myself that same nurturing for a change.  I also preach to my students to not be afraid to try no matter how hard a task may seem.  I felt like a hypocrite not challenging myself in the same way. It helped that two of the nicest people I work with attend these classes, and they didn't hold any resemblance to the manic pony-tailed thin nuts I envisioned thriving on high-intensity training.  Although there were pony-tails and model-shaped ladies galore in the first few classes I have attended, I discovered some interesting things about them and myself:
   
     1. My biggest fear was that I would look out of place among the fit and trim Energizer bunnies     who are normally found in classes like this.  But I found out that like most fears, it was totally unfounded.  No matter what shape or size I saw in this class, not one of them seemed in the least interested in what I looked like.  As I was huffing and sweating my way through the 50 second
stations, I realized that all of the other women were breathing just as hard and focusing on pushing
themselves through the difficult routine.  The only time anyone interacted with me it was to tell
me I was doing a great job or giving me a high-five.  The 30 second rest period between the 2 rounds of exercises were full of encouragement and support despite the fact that my face was
red as a beet and sweat was stinging my eyes.

     2. Despite the complexity of the routines, I have been able to keep moving the entire 45 minute class.  The key to my success so far has been my willingness to modify as I go.  Planking was
out of the question but doing push ups was a good substitute.  I am so out-of-shape that even
jumping jacks are difficult for me to do at this point.  So I run in place or touch my toes.  Brit,
who is the dynamic coach of the class, encourages me no matter what as long as I keep moving.
And because I know that no one else is paying me any attention, I'm willing to modify without feeling badly.  In fact, I am amazed at some of the things my body has been able to do in these
first few classes.

     3. I remember reading once that when you choose an exercise class to try and choose something
that gives you that carefree feeling you had when you were a kid in gym class.  Unfortunately,
for the vertically challenged like me, PE was seldom a fun or judgement-free period. But now I
get it.  This class is actually a fun one that is motivating and challenging at the same time.  I
almost feel like an athlete in that I am pushing myself to improve at each station. Those ponytailed cheerleaders in this class bear no resemblance to the mean girls who always seemed to
know just the right thing to say to make me (and other non-athletic girls) want to skip class
altogether.  I'm actually having fun without a t.v.,  tome, or taco in sight!

     4. Fear has kept me from doing a lot of things.  It has kept me from pursuing relationships and going after dreams.  But this summer I'm determined to feel that fear and do it anyway.  I came
close to a panic attack at the beginning of the first class when I realized that I would have to
be on the floor for some of the exercises.  It has been a long time since I sat on the floor because
of the difficulty in getting up again.  Now I not only had to sit on the floor but complete a hard
exercise, get up, and start another exercise within 1 minute! I was lucky to position myself next
to a wooden structure on the first day so I could use that to help myself up.  But today's class I
was stuck in the middle of the gym floor.  Not a physical support in site.  As a quick image of
me rocking back and forth on my heels as I try to lift myself up raced through my mind, I fell
back down to the mat when I first tried to get up.  But then I repositioned myself and was able
heave myself up...and the pride I felt was overwhelming.  I was smiling like a lunatic because I
knew that if I could do it once, I could do it again (which was good since there were two sets of
exercise that were floor ones). While it might not seem like a huge accomplishment to someone
else, I felt like I had climbed Mt. Everest.

So, let's review.  The supportive thin mints (can't call them nuts now that I love the class as much as they do) who are in these classes are just as nurturing and encouraging as I am with my students.  They couldn't care less that I can't plank but love that I am trying.  I am challenging myself physically as joyfully as I mentally challenge myself with reading and writing.  I don't dread going to class and am even signed up for some early morning ones (early, like 5:30) because of the friends I know will be there to encourage me.  And I'm banishing the fear of making a fool of myself by trying each and every exercise with modifications.  I'd say that's a pretty sweet start to my summer schedule.

My Way

On this third anniversary of my father's death, my thoughts are not surprisingly on him.  There have been many changes we have experienced as a family since he left us, and like  most families we have had to face many dreaded "firsts" since that day back in 2013.  The first Father's Day (one month  after losing him)...first Thanksgiving...first Christmas.  None of them was fun but because we knew that they would be tough days, I think we all made an effort to be there for each other which took some of the sting away.  No, what ended up being the hardest were those days where his absence would knock the wind out of me from nowhere.  The random Sunday dinner or the time I would hear Frank Sinatra belt out "My Way" as changing channels on the tv.  These individual ordinary moments in time have proved to be when I missed my dad the most. 

One thing I realized during one of these moments is that I will never again share an eye roll with Daddy as my mother ever so sweetly (not) complain about the floor tile he had installed in the kitchen.  I won't ever hear my father start a joke and then watch him crack up as he is telling it because he is so sure it is the funniest thing he ever heard (which it seldom was though we would end up laughing anyway because of his inability to tell the joke all the way through).  When we have our political discussions now, it just isn't the same as it was when my father would explain his own point of view.  The Kennedys we were not, but Dad always had all of our attention when he would begin to share his opinion.  Whether we agreed with him or not, it still was hard not to be impressed with how well versed he was in current events despite not going past the first grade in school.  My father could debate the hell out of any topic that had to do with the business world or local government.  Now, our attempts at political discussions are pale imitations of the ones we would have with "the Boss" as he was called.  

I most miss my father when I realize that he left me outnumbered in a way in my own family.  My sisters, like my mother, are strong vocal women who have no trouble standing up for themselves.  They are friendly and social people who love to talk and express their thoughts to who ever will listen.  Even my brother in law is more naturally talkative than I am (I like to call him Chatty Cathy especially when he is on the phone).  I do have my moments when with my family I can be just as outgoing as any of them (admittedly alcohol can be the deciding factor). But for the most part I am an introvert who brings books everywhere I go, even if it is to Mom's house for dinner.  I know this puzzles my more extroverted relatives and inspires much comment and good hearted teasing.  But it never was like that with my father.  I can't count the number of times I just sat in silence with him for 30-40 minutes at a stretch with not more than one or two words exchanged between the two of us.  We weren't the best communicators which led to many misunderstandings between us, but those quiet times when I would be reading and he would be watching his western on tv are some of the times that I wish I could relive.  My father seemed to understand and share with me my need for quiet time in every day.  Granted, some of those quiet times should have been spent telling each other how much we meant to each other but that wasn't my Dad's way...or mine for many years.  Yet, that is what I miss...the ability to just sit quietly with my dad and know that he is enjoying the quiet as much as I am.  

I don't mean to take away anything from the relationship my father had with my sisters.  I know how much he respected my older sister for her work ethic and her decades long marriage.  He admired how self-sufficient she was and truly saw her as a well-rounded woman: independent yet nurturing, loving and highly intelligent (and a hell of a cook to boot!).  Unlike my younger sister and I who were still called "the kids" by my parents and my older sister when we were well into our 20s, at the end of his life he clearly saw her as an equal, an adult.   He also loved my spunky younger sister who could run his restaurant single handedly if needed when she was no more than 15 years old. She also gave him her beloved grandchild, Olivia, who I know was the greatest gift he ever received.   Even as she struggled with demons in the last decade of his time with us, he loved and supported my sister the only way he knew how.  I saw that dedication to her in his eyes during one of our last conversations. The conversation centered on him reserving his strength to hold on until the end of the week when he could see my sister again. I saw the hope and determination in his eyes to stay with us even as his his life was ebbing away.  My father loved all of his family, and I know his strongest love was reserved for the family he created with his childhood sweetheart.  We all had a special place in his enormous heart.

But I miss the relationship I had with him.  We were too much alike in some ways which could cause problems.  My sisters would say I was the only one who could tell him off and argue with him (although never winning a single argument).  He was sometimes too good to people and was taken advantage of more times then he would ever admit.  This legacy of kindness to a fault is something I carry with me. I'm often accused of letting others take advantage of me.  But what I learned from my father is that sometimes being kind is more important than getting everything you have coming to you. Being the bigger person was more important to my father.  He was loved and respected by so many people, and I am proud to say that I'm his daughter.  I love you, Daddy.  Thanks for teaching me to do things my way.  

"Nothing Compares 2 U"

2016 has forced us to say goodbye to so many musical heroes.  Personally, I felt that David Bowie's and Prince's deaths were the most shocking because they were so unexpected.  I hadn't heard any mention of either man being sick.  Bowie had just released new music which I guess now was actually his way of saying goodbye to his fans.  Prince had performed on stage only a few weeks before his untimely passing.  I was not a huge fan of either singer but I respected the hell out of them for the creative unique musical geniuses that they were.  "China Girl"..."Under
Pressure"..."Fashion"..."Raspberry Beret"...."Kiss"..."Changes"....these were staples in my personal music rotation, and I'm so thankful for the joy they brought to my life. Hearing about the deaths of these artists definitely stirred up lots of feelings.  

One thing that tends to happen to me when death reaches out its bony tentacles and shakes up my life is that I shut down emotionally and hold people at arm's length.  Now, for an over-thinking introvert like myself, needing massive alone time isn't a huge change.  The difference is that instead of trying to deal with my issues on my own, I just deny that there are any problems. The BIG issues that I normally would wrestle with instead get swept under the rug until they bubble to the surface and explode in an ugly way.  My mortality seems to register in a way that makes me second guess my decisions and my daily life.  When I lost my 27 year old cousin to the drug addiction battle, I was a naive 23 year old who didn't know the horrible realities associated with addiction. Up to that point, I was always the "good girl" in the family, the smart one, the one who followed all the rules.  That changed drastically once I lost Nino.  Suddenly,  I was transformed into a cold and unfeeling bitch.  I became much more cynical and untrusting.  And it seemed like I was angry all the time.  All I knew was that my beloved cousin who I looked up to had, in my mind, "abandoned" his family which included two young children under the age of 3.  I was angry with him and did my best to "forgive" him for leaving all of us.  I also tried to be there for his young family as they began their new reality.  I selfishly judged my cousin for putting drugs over his family even as I myself was teetering on the edge of alcoholism. I couldn't see his pain (because he hid it so well)  so I assumed there wasn't any.   It was an awful time where I pretended to be okay with the loss in front of others while drinking heavily to drown out the mixed feelings of anger, sadness, and abandonment that  I felt towards the boy who was my childhood hero.  I'm ashamed to admit that whenever someone else mentioned how sorry they felt for my cousin and for his pain,  internally I scoffed and discounted his feelings.  It wasn't until I started to read about addiction and to learn about all the pressure my poor cousin was feeling that I turned a corner and began to see addiction for what it really is, a disease.  Unfortunately, this realization took a few years and in those few years I took many risks in my life which could have ended tragically.  By the time I turned 27, I could clearly see how young Nino was and how much pain he must have been in to engage in an activity that he knew could end his life.  His death taught me not to make rash judgements.  It also taught me the true meaning of the saying "There but for the grace of God go I".

While the learning curve following Nino's death was a long one, the lessons I learned from my father's death were much clearer earlier on.  When my father was diagnosed with leukemia, the same disease that had taken his sister, I was scared out of my mind.  My outgoing, vivacious, wise-cracking Zia Vittoria suffered for so many years from that awful disease.  It took the life out of her a little bit each day until she finally couldn't fight it any longer.  When I first heard the diagnosis, I prayed that he wouldn't have to follow the same path as his younger sister.  While I was quite shaken, I was determined not to let it show to my family.  At the time, I was unemployed and desperate to get another teaching position.  My depression and anxiety had caused me to quit my previous position, and my father's illness just added another layer of misery to my life.  But as the "new normal" of Dad's illness began to form, I realized that I could actually help him instead of just make the offer to help.  My older sister was working full time, and my younger sister was unable to help out so I stepped in and took him to his many doctor appointments which included trips to the hospital for blood transfusions.  Now, I know no one likes hospital visits but I really hated going to hospitals.   Knowing that my father needed these transfusions to keep him alive and seeing how much better he felt following the transfusions made me put on my big girl panties and suck it up.  After he spent his whole life providing for his family, this was the absolute least I could do for my father.  Sitting by his side as he received chemo treatments or blood transfusions, I actually felt grateful that I was unemployed.  If I had been teaching, I would not have been available to be there for him.  Maybe I would have tried to once again drown my grief in alcohol.  At the very least, I would have felt guilty for not being to help out more.  "Everything happens for a reason".  Another truth was revealed through the death of a loved one.

Even though all of the high profile deaths that have occurred thus far in 2016 have not touched me personally, they do make me reflective of how I'm living my life. Prince was only 10 years older than I am now.  Have I accomplished all the I have wanted? (ummm..no) Have I lived my life in a way of which I can be proud? (yes, I think so) But what I am sweeping under the rug? Maybe it's time to do some of those things that I've convinced myself I can't do. Maybe it's time to reach out instead of withdrawing from all the possibilities that are out there.  I can choose to put on my raspberry beret and face all of the changes that life has for me.

Love is a Losing Game

One of the reasons I love April so much is that it is the month that baseball season starts.  While I discovered some new favorite shows (i.e. Scandal) and caught up on some old ones on Apple TV over the winter, nothing is better than watching a game on a Sunday afternoon.  Or a Tuesday night. Or a Friday late night game.  Once the cleats come out, my television viewing schedule changes abruptly.  I am a devoted Yankee fan and love (and when they're losing, hate) watching them.
So, this week has been a happy one as I settle into the new baseball season.

People seem to be perplexed about baseball fans in general.  No one ever questions why a football fan gets so worked up over his/her team.  Not being a fan of football,  I often wonder why so much of sports radio is so devoted to this game that has such a short season compared to baseball.  Even now, with the baseball season in full swing (pardon the pun), most of sports radio is focused on individual football players and their run-ins with the law, the football draft, and even the summer camps that are still months away.  There might be a conversation about how a lousy start one team is having (ahem, my Yanks) or about the crazy hot hitting streak displayed by another player ( like Toronto's Edwin Encarcion) .  It just seems like people don't really pay attention to baseball until the dog days of summer.  And by then, a team's season can be over.  Football fans and broadcasters never seem to give up on their teams until the very last moment and even then, they are already looking into the next season.  It just seems skewed to me somehow, but I admire how rabid their belief in their teams is.  Maybe it's the length of the baseball season that gives us fans a more long-view approach to our excitement.  In fact, if a team is playing too good in April baseball fans will say "Yeah, well it's only April.  Let's see how they do in October".  We also get pretty superstitious about things like not mentioning a perfect game or a no hitter in progress.  It just seems like baseball fans are a much more cautious bunch when compared to the rah-rah football fans.

This dichotomy of football fever and baseball slow burn is reminiscent to me of how I view my professional goals versus my personal goals.  I have written before about how I have had a unique career as an educator.  I have held close to 10 positions in 27 years in education including stints as a literacy coach, professional development specialist, and teacher in every grade in elementary teaching except third grade.  My places of employment have ranged from private schools to public school districts to BOCES organizations.  Every time I made a move it was accompanied by the same excitement and confidence that football fans seem to ooze no matter what time of year it is.  Whether I was leaving the classroom to try my hand at literacy coaching or finally getting to teach little ones again, I always had a positive and optimistic outlook.  More than a few people have been puzzled by my decisions to leave certain positions to start over somewhere else (I have received tenure twice and left a district recently during my tenure year where I was pretty sure I would be getting tenure again).  But the security associated with tenure never meant that much to me.  I was confident that my skills as an educator were more than enough to ensure that my employment would be extended if I wanted it to be.  I love keeping up on the latest educational research and need no one to tell me I need a certain number of professional development hours (Thanks anyway, NYSED).  The confidence and fearlessness I have felt and displayed in my professional life have helped me develop a varied and interesting resume.  I feel in the flow professionally, and every new position has made me better and better.  And I STILL love being an educator...go Ms. Lo!

But  there is a  curve ball (can't help myself, sorry) or a definite contradictory force at work in my personal life.  Most of my adult life I have wanted to be married with children. As much as I have loved teaching, I would have traded it all in a minute if I could have found the right man earlier in my life. All of the self-confidence and well thought out strategy associated with my professional life is more scarce when it comes to my personal life.  Just like the team that is hot in April, when I have been attracted to a man in the past it seemed like I was always waiting for that other shoe to drop.  While I may be confident in his feelings for me, there was also be that little voice cautioning me not to be too complacent.  The perfectionist in me would rear its ugly head, and before I knew it my expectations were out of sync with the reality of the relationship.  Sometimes I just made the wrong choice in who to allow in my life.  Other times I just overlooked what was wrong from the beginning in the hopes that maybe he would become "The One". This mismatch of what I think I have with a man and what I actually do share with him has helped ruin more than one relationship.  It's hard to get to be 48 years old and not become less than excited about the prospect of starting over with another man.  Well meaning friends and family have urged me to try any one of a variety of strategies (match making web sites, cooking classes, community groups) equivalent with "putting myself out there" knowing full well that they would absolutely HATE to be in my position.  Just like the Yankees, I have an end goal in mind.  For them it's always the World Series.  For me? It's meeting a man who is attracted to me that doesn't make my skin crawl.  I joke, but the excitement of being attracted to someone new is hard to muster when my heart is still with a man who has moved on without me.

Right now I feel like that team in April that is off to a slow start yet still knows that a World Series appearance is a possibility.  The Yankees are definitely that team this year.  Their bats are silent but the pitching has been consistent.  As a fan, I know that it's only April and that in time, they will start to hit...as long as they stay healthy...and hopefully the filthy 8th and 9th inning pitching will continue...because after all it is only April.  I'm certainly not ready to throw in the towel on the season.  I guess I can say the same about my personal life too.  But  as for my goal of becoming a wife and mother, it is no longer April.  In fact, it feels like the dog days of August are upon me. While becoming a mother may be in the rear view mirror (still tear up even typing this), I guess it is still possible that I will be able to build a relationship with the right man.  I just need to get back into the game.

Some Days Are Better Than Others

I'm not one to brag about my personal characteristics.  But I am going to break a modesty habit for today's blog.  Here it goes: I have been blessed with great hair.  My father had tight black curly hair which my younger sister inherited much to her chagrin (although I envy it) while my mother has straight brown hair.   My older sister has the beautiful thick hair (from Dad) which is now not grey but a brilliant white color. She went grey pretty early on, but I still only have patches of grey which of course, I vainly cover up like clockwork every 5 or 6 weeks.  I feel I am lucky because I got the best of both worlds:  I have always had wavy hair that I could style in just about anyway I pleased.

My hair is very easily straightened (brushing it is all that needs to be done) but I rarely like to wear it that way.  I have little use for a blow dryer because air drying my hair is often enough to create a nice style.  My fingers, some styling gel, and about 3 minutes are all I really need to do before letting it set into a style.  Since I tend to shower at night and wash my hair about 3x a week, I often sleep on the styled hair and wake up with a completely different style! Bed head is very real in my case, but the difference is that I can shape the bed head into a nice style with just a little wax.  I never know how my hair is going to turn out.  Sometimes I part it to the left, other days to the right.  My current hair cut has spiky parts on top but within a week or so those spikes will curl over giving it more volume and a completely different look. My love of accessories extends to headbands and barrettes which I use a lot of time to give myself yet another new look.  Out of a month there are maybe two or three days that I truly don't feel like my hair looks good.  

Currently, I have short spiky blue hair with a black base.  I'm sick of the blue, but everyone else seems to really like it (but then again those who don't like it are probably just not vocal about it).  I experiment with color and cut all the time.  I had the trendy grey/blue hair earlier in the school year and have worn the pixie hair cut many times in the past.  The one thing I have learned through all of this experimentation is that no matter how good or how bad I think my hair looks, it will change before long.  Since my hair grows pretty quickly, bad haircuts (which have been rare, thank God) can be overcome within a week or so.  Now, just like everyone else I can never get my hair style to look like how my beautician styles it but that's okay with me.  I would rather have the options that my hair gives me than to know only one way to style it.  

So, why have I spent 3 paragraphs pontificating about a topic as insignificant as my hair after not writing for a few months? Well, I just wish that I could approach all the challenges in my life the same way that I approach a particular bad morning of bed head.  While these past 3 months have been filled with lots of professional happiness (love teaching second grade!) and personal contentment, there have been some issues with which I have struggled.  And even though the (not so) great Ivana Trump has said "Gorgeous hair is the best revenge", I actually think that the way I approach styling my hair holds some better lessons for life in general:

          1. Be prepared for changes that happen overnight.  

              Sometimes I go to bed absolutely hating the way my hair has dried, but when I wake up the

              next morning I'm able to style it really easily and vice versa.  Change can happen in your life

              without much effort on your part and can seemingly hit you from out of the blue.  But if you 

              take a little time, breathe, experiment, and be confident  in your abilities, you can take the   

              changes and make them work for you.  

          2. Don't make things complicated by overthinking.  

               I have bought and thrown away every kind of hair tool possible: round brushes, paddle

               brushes, picks, wide combs, velcro rollers, etc.  In the end, my own fingers and a little

               gel is all I need to make a variety of styles.  I'm always trying to overthink and complicate

               seemingly simple situations by contriving long fanciful narratives to explain why an event

               has or hasn't happened.  "He hasn't contacted me.  Well, he must have been put off with my 

               last email and thought that it all just isn't worth it.  He is probably hooking up with a more

               sophisticated lady who is a better match for him than I am.   I don't know  why I ever 

              thought he was interested." This inner dialogue is often accompanied with a pinch of shame

              and lots of regret.  In reality, the only nugget of truth in that narrative is "He hasn't con-

              tacted me."  Although this makes me feel sad, I don't have to put myself down to accept it.  

          3. Accept what is instead of longing for what was.

               My hair is easiest to style when it is a little dirty.  Often on these days I can style my hair

               exactly as I envision it in my head.  The only problem is that the day when my hair is 

               dirtiest is the night I have to wash it...which means it will look completely different the next

               day.  And the more I try to get my hair to look like it did the day before, the worse it looks.  

               So good or bad,  I don't even try to have the same look two days in a row. This acceptance

               is something that I continually struggle with in other areas of my life.  I am trying to "roll  

               with it" (as the great Stevie Winwood sings) with my personal life as well as with as in

               my classroom.  And closely linked with acceptance is another hair inspired lesson centered 

               around...

           4.  Expectations.  Trying to predict the future will only get you hurt.

                I have written before about the problems of having expectations about how others were

                going to treat me.  I have been hurt because my expectations weren't based on reality but

                on how I think I should be treated.  Just as I accept the fact that I usually can't match the

                picture of how I want my hair to look with the way it turns out, I am trying to remember

                that  it is my reaction to how others treat me that will determine if I feel depressed and 

                disappointed, or (what I'm striving for) in control.  After all, it is up to me to jettison people   

                who hurt me out of my life.  If I continue to allow them to hurt me, then it is on me. 

          5.  Fear will fuck you up.

               This last lesson is worded a little harshly but true nonetheless.  I have never been afraid to

               change my hair.  Ever since I first cut my shoulder length hair to a pixie when I was 25, I 

               have loved changing my hair.  Whether it is color or style, I'm always willing to try some-

               thing new.  I find that often it is the hair stylist who is hesitant to try what I suggest for fear

              of me not liking it.  But I have the experience to know that if I don't like how my hair looks

              I can always change it.  Being afraid keeps you stuck with the same 'do you've had since 

              high school (which was hideous in my case!).  This is a lesson I'm trying to live every day.

              Going after my dreams has required me to let go of some big fears.  Right now I"m trying to

              let go of my fear of running in front of others at the gym. I know it sounds silly but when 

              you are a heavy person, all that extra jiggling and wobbling can be pretty intimidating.  But I 

              lace up and try to remember that other people have no interest whatsoever in me when they 

              are focused on their own training.  Fear probably has derailed more dreams than any other 

              factor, and I am working hard to keep it at bay as I look for a new house and pursue other 

              dreams.  

I never would have previously thought a seemingly mundane and vain topic like styling hair could be a source of good advice. But I promise my next blog article won't be on how the way I brush my teeth led me to an enlightened life.   If I had to sum it all up, I guess I could say that I now know that some days are better than others. And I'm okay with that.