Tag Archives: challenges

You’ve got to dance with the one that brung ya…

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You’ve got to dance with the one that brung ya…I have always liked that phrase.  To me, it is a reminder to do what is right even when others would suggest otherwise and to be loyal to those in my life who have helped me get where I am.

The reality of my life is that I got to where I am…a person having great adventures, happy, centered, feeling, and living every moment… because of all the things that have happened to me.  Take away any part and I wouldn’t be me.  I have spent a lot of time bemoaning things especially when I am at low points like when I am scared or lonely… but bemoaning and regrets are not only futile, they take away from my power to be who I think I am and that I want to be.  And that is my goal, to be the person I think I am.

One of the things that got me here is the loss of my marriage to someone who I loved with all my heart which was the catalyst for change, good change that brought me to where I am at this moment.  That path to change started with marriage therapy, it was the first dance that got me here.

I am not a big fan of the mental health care system even though I have several close friends who are therapists and I respect and appreciate what they do.  One of my major concerns is that there is too much power given to the therapist with the assumption that they will act with ethics but no policing of that system unless a client complains.  However there is little client education of boundaries and appropriate behavior so when the therapist crosses a boundary, the client takes it on trust that the therapist knows what they are doing, even if the situation feels icky and uncomfortable.  The trust required in the therapeutic relationship allows therapists to wield enormous psychological influence which, when handled correctly, produces the magic of positive change in people’s lives.  But when handled incorrectly can produce devastating results.  I know because it is what happened to me.

I trusted my marriage therapist with all my heart, way more than I should have ever trusted a service provider. I told him all of my secrets, things that I had never told any living person.  As a result, therapy was very successful for me, although not so much for my marriage.  I sent him daily journals via email, he said it helped make him a better therapist knowing all my thoughts.  I paid him even though he was still in graduate school and shouldn’t have accepted money.  When therapy “ended” when I moved to Seattle, I continued to communicate with him weekly and send him my journals.  A couple of months later, he moved to Seattle where we started riding mountain bikes, kayaking, skiing, I introduced him to my social group, I watched his dog every weekend, took him to dinner, he stored his stuff in my house and even stayed at my house.  In all of this, I paid for everything.   All the while I was still sending him my journals and telling him my problems. In my mind he was still my therapist.

We first crossed the major boundary the night before Thanksgiving in 2007 when we went out drinking and he got hammered. When I drove him home, we stayed up talking until after 3 am.  That started a three year “friendship”.  Multiple times I told him that it didn’t “feel” right, that I couldn’t separate the therapist from the “friend”.  He would assure me that it was all in my head.  And he was right, it was.  In my head, I knew it was wrong.  So I found another therapist to help me figure that out.  She reported him to the licensing board. The state of Washington found that I was an “isolated incident, unlikely to happen again” so he can keep his practice. End of story. Except that it wasn’t.

For me, the loss of this person who had been so instrumental to me, who I had trusted without question, was psychologically and emotionally one of the most devastating ordeals of my life. I almost didn’t make it.  It was with the help of a bunch of people from an online bike forum that I found my voice and my power again. I can never repay what they gave me, freely, without knowing me or expecting anything from me in return.

Needless to say, there have been some huge violations of trust for me from the mental health community. So what I am about to do scares the absolute daylights out of me.  I have realized that, although I have the best life ever, there are a couple of areas that I could work on to make it even better. And I need some help with that.  So I am leaping…I made an appointment and I am going back to therapy.  This time, I am armed with knowledge of what therapy should and should not be. This time, I am going to therapy from a position of strength, not in a moment of weakness. I won’t allow myself to be preyed upon because I am not the same person anymore (thanks Matt for the reminder). It is time I learn how to trust again.

And so I am dancing… with the one that brung me… not the former exploitative therapist, but with the mental health care profession in general. I am taking the risk to be able to have the life I want.  My goal is to be the person that I believe I am.

On being human…

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Sometimes I wonder at how the human race has been able to survive.  Humans can be pretty stupid. At least this human can.  There are a set of behaviors that, when I do them, make me feel great.  When I don’t do them or do them half-assed, then I feel like crap. So it seems really simple that I would do the behaviors right?  Wrong.

When I am not exercising, I make every excuse in the world to not go exercise.  I say things like I don’t feel well, or I didn’t sleep well, or I don’t have time because I need to work… blah, blah, blah.  In actuality, if I make time to exercise then I have more energy to get more work done, I sleep better and it makes me feel amazingly great.

That leads to the question, why don’t I consistently exercise?  I am sort of a yo-yo exerciser.  There are times in my life that I have been very consistent, usually when my life is in routine. Then something happens, usually something big that takes me out of my routine…a death, surgery, moving, etc.  And then months (years) go by until I am on the edge of miserable and pick up the threads of exercise again and get into a routine.  You’d think by now, at 50 years old, I have learned to keep my exercise routine especially when my life is out of routine.  Nope, not yet.

Another behavior that I have to do to maintain good health is eat right.  I am not a fan of any certain diet plan, but I do believe we are what we eat so I prefer to just eat real food.  I try to eat things that have ingredients my grandmother would have recognized.  So nothing that contains diglycerides or weird words like that and no “artificial” colors or flavors.  I mean really, what is in an artificial flavor anyway?  Why not just use the real flavor?  When I eat real food, my body just feels good.

When I am not eating right, I make every excuse in the world to eat crap.  I don’t have time because of work, I don’t feel well so I want comfort food, I am tired so don’t feel like cooking wholesome food… blah, blah, blah. In actuality, if I make time to cook great food, I have more energy for work, I feel better and I sleep better.  HMM…I am seeing a pattern here.

So why don’t I just eat right all the time?  Well usually it starts with doing something outside my routine like visiting people or going to a party, packing and moving, traveling, etc….times when it is easy to stop for something quick or throw together something processed.  Then it just spirals downward.  Finally, when I feel like crap, I get back into a routine of cooking and then I feel great again.  You’d think by now, at 50 years old, I’d have learned the lesson of staying in a routine of eating well especially when my life is out of its routine.  Nope, not yet.

A third behavior is making time for fun, rest and relaxation. When I do that each day, give myself a little time to just let down, I am a lot more centered and happy.  But instead, I take fun activities and make them stressful by putting pressure on myself to do things perfectly.  Riding or working on a bike should be a fun activity, but I have to do it perfectly.  Skiing should be a fun activity but I have to do it perfectly. Knitting should be a fun activity but I have to do it perfectly. I can suck the joy right out of a fun activity.  So in essence, I make things chores that should be fun.  When I allow myself to let go and relax, I feel better, sleep better, and have more energy for work. Unfortunately, I don’t just practice perfection when I am out of routine, I do it all the time. I should change my name to Joyce Ucher.   By 50 years old, you’d think I’d have learned to work on consistently making time for fun and relaxation every day.  Nope, not yet.

No, I haven’t learned all of life’s lessons yet, but that is the great part of being human, to allow myself to make mistakes, very human mistakes. I feel great right now because I have been sticking to my intentions and my plans for my life that I made back in Nepal. I am getting back in a routine…. which is very different from the way my life has been since I started this blog.

So here is my lesson: today is a new day.  So whether you have stuck to your New Year’s resolutions or not, cut yourself some slack.  Remember that each day is a new day, it doesn’t have to be on January 1.  You can start again.  Today.

For me, today, I will do my best to eat right, exercise and relax.  Tomorrow, I will do my best for that day.  And maybe by the time I am 80, I will have learned.  Nope, probably not… but the thing I hope to have learned is just to do my best…every day.  I am never going to be perfect and I have to stop beating myself up whenever I am not.

Cheers and happy New Day!  Robin

 

The best kind of guide…

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A few years ago, the day after I took my first and only powder skiing lesson and while I was still only a comfortable blue run skier, my friend Matt and I went up to Stevens Pass where, on the first run of the day after a foot of new snow, Matt suggests we go up Seventh Heaven, an ungroomed, black diamond run.  Matt, with his usual encouragement says “Robin, you can totally do this, I will stay right beside you the whole time”.  We get off the chair at the top, Matt straps his boots into his snowboard and he is gone…I got down that mountain by myself solely for the purpose of wringing his neck when I finally got to the bottom.  His response to me, “but you did it, and now you know you can do it again”.  I swear I don’t know why I listen to that kid sometimes.

When Matt suggested I come to Nepal, his words were “come to Nepal, I will be your guide. You just get here, I will take care of the rest”.  Yeah, I still haven’t learned yet.  When I got to Nepal, as typical of the way he “guides” me, he starts off by getting us a bus ride to Pokhara where he asks me, “did you get a hotel room”?  Hmmm…. is this part of the “you’ll take care of everything plan?”.  Typically, it was like that with everything that happened in the two weeks I was there. The kid had no plan at all… or did he?  I joked with him one day and asked exactly what “kind of guide he was” since he pretty left me to figure everything out on my own and to handle all the crises that came up.  His answer: “I am the best kind of guide”.  I am still trying to figure out whether the boy is a brilliant or just an accidental genius.  Either way, once again, it worked.

But it takes coming home to truly realize how far you’ve come.  The greatest gift of travel isn’t the adventure, new countries, languages, foods, customs, etc… or all the things that traveling brings.  Those are all great but are only part of the real gift of travel.  The real gift is returning home, forever changed.  I am very proud of where I am at this moment.

P1080585So where am I? Physically, I recently returned to my son’s home in North Carolina to spend Thanksgiving (American) with my son and my lovely daughter-in-law and the two most amazing grandchildren ever, Brooklyn and Charlotte.

I have been here less than 48 hours and I am already amazed at how I feel. In the past, when I visited my son, who lives in my former marital home, I was always bombarded with memories and thoughts of how life “should have worked out for me”.  I had always expected to be living in this house, happily married to the man I loved, celebrating holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas with our children and grandchildren coming to visit us. I would ride past the university I went to and used to teach for and just be overwhelmed with missing the friends I had, the job I was great at, the life I loved, all of it.  I would long for my past life back. I hadn’t realized how much that longing was holding me back until now.

The night I cried to Matt in Nepal, something changed in me. Maybe it was the yoga and meditation or maybe it was the stark conditions of the country and pushing myself through physical difficulty and preserving.  red scarfMaybe it was the spiritual nature of hiking up to the World Peace Pagoda or up to the top of Sarankot or maybe it was the awe-inspiring site of looking out at the Himalayas which is a sight I will never forget as long as I live. himalayasMaybe it happened while I as paragliding with vultures or when I fell off the side of the cliff and was hanging by the vegetation and lost my shoes and had to walk back to my hotel barefoot. Maybe it happened through just overcoming obstacles and crises and realizing that I could face any challenge on my own.  Regardless, sometime during that time, something changed.

IMG_3305I knew I felt different when I left Nepal and went to Barcelona, I just didn’t realize how different I was until I came back into the familiar environment in which I spent almost half my life.  The familiarity of that world was in stark contrast to the person I have become. Now, I sit in this house and it glows with the energy and vitality of my grandchildren and the love my son and his wife share.  IMG_3259I got to meet my ex-husband’s lovely and charming girlfriend and watch them interact with my two beautiful granddaughters who love them dearly.  I couldn’t help but feel joy in my heart for all of it, for such a loving and happy family.  It is something I never could have imagined over the darkness of the past 6 years.

I look around this place where I used to live. I have appreciated the beautiful changing seasons, the friendliness of the people, the beauty of the campus and know that I hold no attachment to it other than in appreciation of the memories of all the wonderful times I spent here.  It was a wonderful place to raise two beautiful, well-adjusted children, and where I had the opportunity for an amazing career teaching high school and the start of my college teaching career. It is a place where I had spectacular friends and experiences, and where I loved and laughed and lived over half of my life.

IMG_3318Life is sweet, all of it, the good and the bad.  Because of everything that happened, my beautiful daughter got to finish college, start a great career, and meet her amazing partner Ethan. Everything that happened gave me an opportunity to fall in love with the PNW and all the remarkable treasures that area of the world holds. It gave me the chance to reach down into the most creative part of myself and take risks in my career. It has given me a wealth of new experiences and friends that I never would have otherwise met.

I am more centered, happy, confident, peaceful, and accepting than I have ever been in my whole life. Traveling and returning home has made me that much more aware of how great a gift my life has been.

Namaste

Take bigger steps…

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I had that excellent falconry lesson and paragliding experience the other day.  Then I wrote a blog post about how great I was doing and the lessons I was learning.  Well just like with most lessons learned, it isn’t a linear process.

When I was in Spain, totally at rock bottom emotionally, Matt asked how I was doing and, in the absolute honesty he and I share between us, I said “It is one step forward, three steps back”.  His response was “take bigger steps forward”.  He always knows how the right thing to say to make me feel better and to make me laugh.  Then he said “come to Nepal”.  And as with most of his suggestions, he was right.  Nepal has been good for my soul.  I not only feel better physically, I feel stronger emotionally.  But it hasn’t been without challenges.  Here it is has been two steps forward one step back, so at least I am going forward.

Have you ever noticed how powerful words are?  I think it was in my last blog post that I talked about the tape that plays in my head (and every other human beings also).  That tape is made up of things that have been said to me over the course of my life.  From the initial words our parents used to show disapproval of something we said or did, from social groups of teenagers when identity is forming, to cruel words by a random stranger on the street. All of those words become the social norms that tell us we aren’t good enough, skinny enough, athletic enough, pretty enough, etc.  And even more damaging is when we get to the place where we say those words to ourselves.

Words are the most powerful force that human beings possess.  Because of that power, we should be careful what we do with them, both with other people and ourselves.  Ever since I left Ethiopia, I have had the “failure” tape cued up in my head. One of the personal “laws” I have always lived by, that was instilled in me as a child, is never quitting.  When I give someone my loyalty, I will stay with it until the bitter end, even at the expense of myself.  Enforcing boundaries is a constant struggle for me.  So Ethiopia felt like a failure.  It threw me into depression.  To snap out of it, I rushed off to Spain where I had one failure after another, from cycling to ordering tapas.  I kept trying to get out of my head but was pretty much in a death spiral.

So I came to Nepal at Matt’s suggestion.  I made it here, negotiated travel between two foreign countries on my own, had a successful falconry lesson and paragliding session, and was feeling pretty confident and better than I had in weeks. Things were looking up. Then, two things happened.  One was a comment someone made and the other was that I went to yoga.  The comment came from someone behind me while hiking in a group down an embankment into a riverbed. The path was very slippery.  The person in the back, speaking to the person in front of her about the slippery path said “I would hate to have to try to get a tourist out of here if they got hurt.  Can you imagine something happening to someone like Robin?” Ouch.  That started the not athletic, uncoordinated, old lady tape playing in my head.  And of course, about 2 minutes later I slipped and fell on my ass, unhurt.

Then, I went to yoga.  I used to be pretty good at yoga but it is amazing how much a year off of regular practice will do to you. And the yoga here is very different.  The teacher was great and I left the class happy, centered and ready to face the day.  But before the day was out my own judgment of my performance was in full swing.  Matt was leaving the next day for Shirkot so messaged me to ask me what time I wanted to eat dinner.  By then, I was all in my own head and couldn’t even imagine he would want to hang out with an athletically challenged, ugly, fat old lady.  *CUE DRAMATIC MUSIC*.  Dear heavens, sometimes I have to wonder about myself.

So I meet my friend for dinner.  If you haven’t realized it yet, Matt is good at everything he does.  His lovely girlfriend Amanda and I were trying to think of something he isn’t good at and we couldn’t.  He is amazingly athletic, ridiculously smart, not ugly, funny, compassionate, and has to be the most non-judgmental person I have ever known in my whole life.  During dinner, he said I seemed sad. Since I refuse to be anything but honest with him, by the time we ate dinner, I was crying and had told him how pathetic I was.  I had even regressed all the way to hating traveling and wanting to go home and wanting my life back.  I mean, all the way back to before I moved to Washington.  Matt didn’t judge, didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t even crack a smile at how dramatic I was being.  He just let me get all the poison out.  Then he made me laugh and reminded me about the last existential crisis I had when we went skiing one day last year.

Later that evening, nice and emotionally cleansed, I started thinking about all the adventures we have had together.  From kayaking, skiing, paragliding, rock climbing, hiking, camping, riding on a motorcycle in Nepal (YIKES), wine tasting, and a hundred other things.  We have had epic discussions on life, love, family, education, and just about everything you can think of.  And then it hit me.  In all that time, he has never judged me on how much I weigh, how slow I am at learning something like rolling a boat or tying a knot, or criticized any of my opinions of things even when they didn’t agree with his. He has never been frustrated at how slowly I hike or when I need to take a break.  He has never been embarrassed by my physical appearance.  There was the time Matt wanted to go out for brunch after kayaking but I didn’t have a ponytail holder so tried to beg off and he wouldn’t hear of it.  When my hair dried in the sunshine, it was crazy medusa hair.  He looked up at me and said “your hair is so awesome”.  I looked like Albert Einstein.  He has never been anything but encouraging. Here is this person, athletic, smart, funny…and he just wants to hang out and encourages me. He only gets sad when I won’t try.  So if he doesn’t have the “Robin’s not good enough” tape playing in his head, why do I?

So while he has been gone the past couple of days, I took a page from his book.  I decided I would treat myself like Matt treats me. Yesterday, I hiked up to the Peace Pagoda.  The path was moderate, but I was definitely sweating by the time I reached the top.  I just went at my own pace, I didn’t beat myself up about how fast or slow I was going.  Guidebook says it should take about an hour, I made it in 45 minutes with no pressure.  Today, I got up at dawn and hiked up Sarangkot which is about twice as steep and twice as far.  Again, I didn’t beat myself up, just kept hiking and enjoying the moment.  Made it before the clouds set in, took some great pictures and sat up at the top meditating and then wrote in my journal.  I had planned to take a cab down, but it was too beautiful a day so I hiked back down too.  It made me feel so good that tomorrow, after yoga, I am going to do it again.

So for two days now, whenever the tape even starts with what I can’t do, I tell myself to try…just try.  Maybe I can’t do it, but I will do a little more tomorrow until I can. It doesn’t matter how fast I do it or how well. I just have to try.  I am going reprogram my brain with powerful words that don’t allow for fear-based thinking. I am trying to develop an identity that has no place for emotionally poisoning and physically limiting words.

Note:  Not sure why, either wordpress or the network here, but I am not having any success at uploading photos.  I will try to add some tomorrow.

Like the layers of an onion…

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I am always amazed when life lets me hear exactly what I need to hear exactly at the moment I need and am ready to hear it. I don’t know why that amazes me because it happens all the time.  For me, it happens when I feel like I have reached the bottom.  Maybe that is the only time in my life that I stop struggling and just let go trying to control everything and just allow myself to BE.  That is when I can hear what I need to hear.

It was funny, I had been stressing about filling up the next two weeks in Andalucía for the last two weeks. Nothing I tried to book worked, from my B&B reservations that got cancelled, to my debit card not working to book my train tickets, etc.  If all those frustrating things hadn’t happened, I would still be miserably stressing over how to fill up my days. Because of my frustration, I lamented that to Matt in a message a few days ago and he said, “come to Nepal” and I said, “if I can work the details out I will”. After all the frustration I had in Spain, I thought there was no way in hell I would be able to organize a trip to Nepal in 3 days, I hadn’t even been able to get a hotel room in Granada. Yet amazingly, all the plans just fell into place, like this was exactly what I was supposed to do at this moment.  Funny how that happens.

Now I sit here, all checked in for tomorrow’s early morning flight.  I have to admit, I am looking forward to seeing my friend even just for a couple of days.

I process things in a cyclical fashion, maybe we all do. It is like a spiral, where I go round and round with an issue, thinking I have got it solved, until it rears its head again. Only when I look at it closely, it isn’t quite the same, it is better than it was, just not finished yet. And it keeps spiraling around and around getting tighter and tighter, kind of like being caught in a whirlpool or a black hole, until all of a sudden, it is actually gone and isn’t an issue anymore.  In this case, my struggle has been with the same old thing that I have been whining about for months, maybe years… my attachment to the past and the way life “should” be.

And then, a couple of days ago, this is what someone told me about my “stuckness”:

Start with what is clogging you up, figure out what isn’t relevant to your life or is harmful to your well-being.  If it is still there, there is a reason.  Find it, learn that reason and then find another way to acquire that need and then get rid of what isn’t relevant. When that thing is out of your life, look again at what is holding you back.  Layer by layer, like the layers of an onion, peel away what is in your life by habit that serves you no purpose, refine what is left so you understand what’s their use. In the end it should get very slim.

Remember you are not letting go of the love or the lessons, only the attachment. Some people need to stay in your life, not because of your need but theirs.  Some people need to go, not because you don’t love them but because they aren’t good for you or you for them. Be gentle but strong, lovingly push them away, send them with good wishes and a prayer but walk away. By giving people their freedom and letting go of things you find your own freedom, even though it is the last thing you planned.

Yeah… that did it.  I felt like I had been shot from a proverbial cannon.  What hit me was that is what I have been doing ever since I started this journey when I started giving up all my stuff.  I have been methodically peeling away all the layers.  With each challenge I have faced, I am more and more exposed to the core of what I am.  There is nothing left to hide behind.  I have finally reached the really, really hard internal attachments that I still cling to.  And basically, I am stuck because I don’t really want to face them. I have been blaming the lack of home and physical possessions, but it isn’t the “stuff”… things like money and furniture… where I am stuck is my story and who I believe I am and the disconnect between that and who I want to be.

I knew this would be the hardest part.  And it is. It makes giving up my physical stuff from my apartment look like it was a walk in the park.  Yikes.  I will say it again, because I personally need the reminder, life is exactly as it should be.

Eat, Pray, Love

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I have never read the book Eat, Pray, Love.  I understand basically how it goes: girl gets divorced and travels around for a year (paid for by her publisher) and “finds herself” by going to Italy and nurturing her physical self, then to India to discover her spiritual self, and then to Indonesia where she meets the man of her dreams. It was immortalized in a film by Julia Roberts. I have never seen the film either. I just want to go on the record to say that I am not trying to recreate a novel that I haven’t read or a movie that I haven’t seen.  But I have changed my plans and am going to Nepal.

In what has been a series of events from when I first started planning my sabbatical to now, life has just unfolded and happened the way it has happened. I have no regrets in anything I have done. Life is an adventure and best savored fresh and hot in the moment. Whether I enjoyed the taste of it or not, it all was meant to be experienced and learning happened.  And with that said, it is time to stop traveling and take a break for a little while.

So I am going to meet my friend Matt in Kathmandu on Sunday morning and head to Pokhara.  I am not sure what he has planned for me and I am sure that whatever it is, it will make a good story and probably end up with me jumping off something while screaming my fool head off or ending up in a Nepalese jail somewhere. Whatever the challenge is, when Matt asks me if I want to do it, my answer is going to be yes, with no fanfare, I am just going to jump.  What I hope to gain from this change of plans is a chance to see what my friend loves about Nepal and its people.  I hope to blog about it and take wonderful pictures to capture a world that, for one of the people I respect most in life, gives him tremendous personal joy and meaning.

Another hidden agenda item for me that has made me give up my original goal of heading to Andalucía is that I want to go to a yoga/meditation workshop in Nepal. Not because of any Eat, Pray, Love ideas. I am searching for inner peace and the ability to let go of resentments. I have had some success at that in the past, mediation and yoga have kept me centered throughout my divorce and the subsequent abuse and manipulation by my therapist.  But for some reason, since this spring when I gave up my apartment, I have struggled to maintain any kind of consistent practice.  Maybe because of the inconsistency in living arrangements or the moving around from place to place.  But that, along with all the other life upheavals in the past few months, has been effecting my physical and emotional well-being. It has been too much all at once.  I am ready to change that.  I am hoping to increase my knowledge of meditation and yoga practice so that I can manage more effectively on my own regardless of where I am or what life brings me.

So, this is my last full day in my beautiful sunny apartment in central Madrid.  What a beautiful, fascinating and lovely place. I highly recommend it as a place to spend a lovely, relaxing vacation.  I debated what to do today and finally I decided… nothing.  I am going to get the big camera out walk around and take photographs.  This afternoon, I am going to find some lovely tapas bar and have my last gorge on amazing ham, seafood, and Spanish wine. Then tomorrow I am going to move to a hotel near the airport for my early morning flight on Friday to Nepal.

When I get back from Nepal, I will spend 4 lovely days in Barcelona before flying back to North Carolina to spend Thanksgiving with my son and daughter-in-law and the two most amazingly intelligent and beautiful granddaughters ever. Then a trip to Maine to visit with some friends from high school who I haven’t seen in 30 years (yikes!) and a visit with my wonderful Maine family before flying back to Seattle for a travel time-out.  I need to spend some time skiing with my friends, enjoying happy hours with Tony and Marisa, supervising Keri’s dissertation, laughing with Maurea, and just refilling my soul with some continuity and familiarity.

The traveling has given me clarity on where my greatest needs are.  I need to be exercising daily, meditating, doing yoga, spending time on my bike and skis which bring me joy, spending time with my friends who make me feel loved and supported, writing and reading for my research, and going back to therapy.  Yes, I said it.  I, the person who distrusts the mental health care profession more than anyone on the planet, am going back to therapy.  I realize there are some things in my life that I am ready to make peace with and that can’t happen without some help. Finding a therapist will be an interesting challenge.

Then, maybe this spring, I will be ready to travel some more.  But right now, I need a break.

A new day

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P1060676

Port de Sollar, Majorca

I left Mallorca and flew to Madrid.  All of a sudden, instead of being surrounded by British, Irish, Scottish, and German tourists, I have been plunged into the heart of Spain where very little English is spoken.  In fact, I think I spent the entire day yesterday without hearing English spoken at all.  I read Spanish pretty well, as long as I don’t try to open my mouth.  The only place I got into trouble was in the supermarket when the clerk was trying to get me to give him a penny to even up my total. He was talking so fast that by the time I figured out what he wanted, he was just giving me my change and was obviously frustrated with me.

IMG_2197Instead of staying in a hotel, I used airbnb.com to find an apartment in central Madrid.  Lovely one bedroom overlooking a pedestrian only side street. In the US, many people put shutters on their houses for decoration.  In Europe the shutters actually work and serve purposes.  They keep the sun out, but more importantly, they are a noise barrier against the street noises.  It definitely can get loud at night. Even as I write this at 9 am from my apartment which is technically on the 4th floor, but actually the 5th floor and you have to climb 7 flights of stairs to get to it, I can hear the Spanish men who are opening their shops below and they are in a heated discussion about something. I love their passion.  They are passionate about everything.  It is wonderful.

Poseidon

Poseidon

Yesterday I went to the Prado museum and today went to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza.  I honestly was so overwhelmed.  There was a Velasquez exhibit at the Prado as the temporary collection which was incredible.  It was amazing to see this huge body of work from an artist who lived centuries ago.  I kept wondering how fast this person painted because he had hundreds of works.  And they aren’t small either. There were many paintings that graced the royal palace and took up entire walls.  How with the “technology” he had to work with then, such as making his own paints, did he ever have time to paint all that?  In the regular collection at the Prado and the MTB hang masterpieces of not only Velasquez but also Goya, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Monet, Gauguin, Degas and many many more.  Works that span 1000 years that were commissioned by kings and churches.  Amazing works of art that depict the faces and emotions of people long dead as they faced the common struggles that all humans face.

Rembrandt

Rembrandt

That is the thing about great art…it captures that instant of emotion.  A scene, even without people, that uses light to give the viewer an image or a second of a glimpse into time, and it takes your breath away.  Good photography is the same, it captures pure emotion, either within the faces of the people in the picture or in the hearts of the viewer.  Great art just takes the artist longer to capture that essence.  They didn’t have digital back in antiquity, they didn’t even have an art store to buy supplies but had to make their own.  It took months of scraping canvases, painting and repainting to get it right.  Masterpieces.

A House Among the Roses ~Monet

A House Among the Roses ~Monet

The past two days, I have been honored to stand in the same room with these paintings.  I grew up in a middle class household in a small town in rural interior Maine.  In my life, I never thought I would be privileged enough to be able to see works of art such these. I think of all the people who will never get to step inside a museum, who might see art from the web or a book, but never have the opportunity to travel to place where their senses are bombarded with piece after piece of some of the most amazing works of art of the planet.   And from a photo, there is no way one can grasp the texture of the brushstrokes, or the essence of the painting. I ended up being moved to tears at the privilege of seeing these amazing works with my own eyes.

P1060827I am also fortunate to have the experience I get to have.  There are so many people who will never get to hear to tolling of bells to greet the day, or hear only a language different from their own spoken, where they have to figure out how to negotiate without words, or try to figure out where they are on a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, to be immersed in a culture that is foreign to realize how much we really are all the same.  Human.

IMG_2213Even on streets of Madrid with a different language and culture, emotion comes through unmistakably.  Laughter, friendship, joy, grief, sadness, anger…all are displayed everywhere.  The love of parent for a child, a young couple newly married, friends meeting for tapas. Unmistakable.  Poverty also knows no cultural barriers, beggars, prostitutes, pick-pockets look the same in every culture.  Just like great art shows emotion, we can also see it if we just take time to look around at our fellow man.  Human beings are fragile, life is to be cherished for the gift that it is.

I am thankful for everything that has happened in my life that has pushed me to this place right now. I am thankful that I had the courage to try again.  I truly have the best life ever and I appreciate it every day.

2566_615415764933_1729704_n patrickAnd happy birthday to my wonderful son. I am too young to be the mother of a 32 year old. I love you Patrick.

Ginger sheep

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I see the world very differently from a bike than I do in a car.  It seems more up close and personal.  The feeling of the wind in my face, the smells, the sounds…it just allows me to appreciate wherever I am with all of my senses.  Cars tend to be isolating little worlds all unto themselves.  Scenery flies by like it is on TV.  On a bike, it is all real and raw.

coastlineFor the past 6 days, I have been on a cycling “holiday” in Majorca. I am not sure what I thought a cycling holiday would mean. Because I was unsure about riding in a new place by myself where I didn’t speak the primary language, I booked two weeks with a cycling company that advertised cycling holidays and training camps. I guess I thought they would spend a couple of days riding around with us, giving us a map and some tips on what to do or not to do to stay safe and within the bounds of local authority, some advice for coffee shops, scenic views, places to eat, etc.  I thought that they would have some organized training rides for the serious cyclists along with a more “do it yourself” version that just included suggested routes and stops for coffee/pictures.

It isn’t quite like that. There are definitely organized rides, all of which have been too difficult for me. People train for those BEFORE coming to training camp. Unfortunately, I didn’t do that.  So I have struggled a bit, felt like an abject failure at times on big climbs, felt some success at descending, and generally feel more fit today than I did 6 days ago.  5 more days to go…  The company, Stephen Roche Cycling Holidays & Training Camps, their ride leaders and management have all been very professional.  They want me to be successful and to enjoy my trip.  The problem is that as they are pushing me to “enjoy” by doing more physically on the bike, and I have felt a little pressure to perform and it has taken away from my fun of riding a bike.  What is hard is that, while I recognize how good it has been for me physically, I needed a jump start and in fact I wanted that to be part of my sabbatical plan, but it hasn’t been as good for me mentally.  Yesterday, there was a time that I hated being on a bike and all I wanted was to have it end.  My love for riding would be bad thing to trade for a little physical endurance that I could get from just hiring a private cycling coach.

Sunset

Sunset

For me, this is a holiday and what do people do on holiday?  They see beautiful places they wouldn’t have seen, they take a bunch of pictures, eat different foods, and get to talk to people from other places.  I prefer to do that from a bike, hence “cycling holiday”.  So far, I have been so into my own head of how badly I have sucked on the bike that I haven’t done any of those things.  I haven’t even collected one person’s story. I have been too self-absorbed in trying to climb hills, complaining about the bad food, and looking at the view of the wheel of the person in front of me pulling me along.

What is sad about that is that there have been some amazing people here who have fantastic stories.  I have listened to them at dinner but not engaged them in getting them to tell me the details of their stories.  I have just been content to catch bits and pieces as I have been (metaphorically) “licking my wounds” each day.  What a shame and an opportunity lost.  And that has been my problem with this training camp, for me, the cycling is second, the people are first.  But that isn’t why people come here.  They come here for the cycling first and the people second.  They might bring their spouse or mate who doesn’t cycle, but their primary purpose for coming here is to get better and increase their cycling skills.

Ginger sheep

Ginger sheep

For me the best part has been cycling around tiny country roads that are about as wide as the multi-use trail in Seattle. It definitely gets your heart started when you get passed by a car and there is another coming in the other direction on a road that is as wide as the Burke-Gilman trail.  I love cycling through the countryside and hearing the bells on the sheep as they wander through the pastures. There were even orange/red sheep (gingers)…I didn’t even know that sheep could be colors other than black or white!  Then one of our ride leaders told us it was what they dip the sheep in to keep insects at bay that makes them orange.  It was still cool seeing ginger sheep!

Baked goods

Baked goods

I love seeing the almond trees and the beautiful old Spanish homes. I bet it would be stunning in the spring when the trees are all in bloom. The small towns are amazing, tiny cobblestone streets, people chatting and doing business, lovely cafes with incredible assortments of baked goods.  Of course, most of the time I have been ready to vomit by the time we stopped for coffee so I haven’t eaten much of them, but they look delicious. There have been scenic vistas which take your breath away.

After returning yesterday, I went to a café on the beach and had a glass of wine and got my Hemingway on and wrote in my journal. I was trying to get my head back in the cycling game after being totally demoralized by my performance.  While I was there a tour bus went by filled with people about my age.  Tour buses are great, they let you see a lot of things really quickly.  But for me, they are like cars, great for transportation yet isolating little worlds of their own that let the occupants watch the world yet divorced from really being in the world. They aren’t for me. I would rather huff and puff my way up a climb at 7 kph while joggers pass me and see the world by bike.

As I was whining about my cycling performance, one of my Lounge friends, who recently had a heart attack, reminded me of something that I hope I don’t forget very often.  “Life is a gift.  Live it.” ~Don4. This day might be the only one I have left.  I should be savoring it, sucking the very marrow out of the bones of life.  That is what our time on the earth is for.

Here are some photos if you are interested

Majorca bound

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Here I sit at my gate for my final flight to Spain.  I didn’t think I was going to be able to do it.  Flying across the Atlantic, being in a German airport, it was just a few weeks ago that I did both of those things and cried most of the way. Here I am again. It brought back the waves of emotion I felt after leaving Africa.

A lot of people haven’t been able to understand what my problem has been. And I get it, they look at me as having this fabulous holiday to play. Well let me tell you, as someone who has suffered from and been able to manage PTSD symptoms for most of her life, any traumatic event fires all my emotional neurons. And before my readers poo poo what I am saying, everyone has experienced it.  It is that day of getting emotional and being an ass to everyone before you realize that it was the anniversary date of your partner telling you that she/he wanted a divorce, and when you realized it, you went AH HA…that is why I have been being such an ass. You didn’t even realize the latent emotions that were affecting you or why you couldn’t control them. It is that feeling of remembering exactly where you were and how you felt, even what the weather was like on 9-11-2001.  Or the emotions that are brought on from a smell from childhood, maybe the pumpkin cookies your mom used to make. Or maybe it is fall leaves blowing across a road that triggers it.

If we think that memories of things don’t trigger emotions and that sometimes we don’t realize what is happening, then we are fooling ourselves, because being human means that it is has happened to you at some time.  People who have long term PTSD symptoms feel that feeling magnified and intensified many times over and every traumatic event is a trigger.  We learn to deal, sometimes we deal with things better than others  Having support is key even when we don’t want to tell someone what is wrong (thanks Matt for messaging me all the way from Nepal when I was on the way to the airport.  You are the best.).  And what really sucks is telling people what is wrong and no one understanding how you feel.  They just wondered why I wasn’t all excited for the great adventure.

So I have been struggling. I know I am going to have a wonderful experience in Spain, but I didn’t want to get on that plane. Every fiber of my being was shouting at me to turn around and find a safe place to hide. But here I am. I am looking forward to riding tomorrow and getting all my emotion out in pushing myself physically on a bike tomorrow. I am nervous about riding a bike that isn’t mine, I have only rode steel and this is a carbon fiber bike.  I am not sure what to expect. But regardless…I am going to ride the hell out of that bike.

So that was just an update.  Hopefully by tomorrow or at least by Wednesday, I will have beautiful pictures from Majorca.  Cheers everyone. I am doing it, even though it is very challenging.  I am here, I am flying on planes and I will have some epic bike rides.  One day at a time, one second at a time.

Stop being a sissy-pants

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“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad.  All you have to do is look hard enough, and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.”  ~Lemony Snicket

Me & The Luddite

Me & The Luddite

I love having older brothers. I am the youngest of seven siblings. I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters.  My dad remarried when I was an older teen so I also have four lovely step-sisters but I don’t know them as well.  Last week, my brother phoned me after his wife told him about my blog (my brother is a bit of a Luddite who eschews technology).  He called to be supportive and his first attempt at that was to tell me to stop being a sissy-pants.  When I started laughing, he clarified with “or I just wanted to call and make you laugh”.

I liked candles

I liked candles

My family has the best sense of humor ever.  I can’t sit in a room with them and come out with my sides not aching from laughing so hard. And laughter really is the best medicine.  I don’t know where I would be without them because through everything, I know my family is there for me.  Those roots run deep.  We have had our fights. My brothers burned my hair off when I was a little girl by making some concoction in the kitchen while they were babysitting and trying to get me to eat it by putting a candle in it.  That didn’t end so well for me.  My sister and I traded fisticuffs over the use of the bathroom in the morning before school.  But no matter how angry we might get with each other, no matter how long we go without speaking to each other, I know that at any moment if I was in trouble and really needed them, they would be there for me, to pick me up and dust me off when I get knocked down.

Youngest 5

Payback for calling me a sissy-pants.  I could have posted a much much dorkier picture

After talking with my brother awhile, he reminded me that this sabbatical was an adventure and that there was no wrong way to do it. When I told him that one of the things I was really struggling with was having nowhere that was my own, that I was tired of packing and repacking a suitcase, of not having anywhere to just feel like myself, he again told me not to be a sissy-pants. He reminded me that the challenges were what made the best stories and they are also where the deep learning happens.  He reminded me to focus on what I am learning instead of focusing only on what I am frustrated with and to write down those lessons.

I have been learning about the possessions that I truly miss and the ones that were superficial and I know I can live without once this sabbatical is over and I do have a house again.  I have been learning about what is really important in life…people and experiences.  And most importantly, I have been learning how to focus on myself and about what it really means to take care of myself since I don’t have a home to hide out in.  I have to keep myself out in the world which means I can’t afford to slack off, I have do the things that I know keep me centered, it isn’t an option anymore. This is probably the most important lesson I have needed to learn for much of my life, how to take care of myself before taking care of everyone else.  I think at the end of this year that is the biggest gift I will have from this experience.

Life now is really just me and a couple of bags of clothes.  When talking to my brother that fact hit me, not as an esoteric concept but finally in full brutal reality.  Realizing that all the other extraneous stuff of my life has been stripped away, it was one of those moments where I wanted to say “DOH, of course that would be hard”.  Once I had that epiphany, it has been a whole lot easier to accept everything and to just flow with it. It has made it easier to accept of the circumstances in which I am living, which by my own admission was my choice, I don’t want to give anyone the idea that I am blaming anyone else.  This was a choice and I haven’t been so sure it was the right one until now.  I guess I have finally reached the point where I accept that I am on an adventure, not a vacation, and it isn’t supposed to be comfortable.

My favorite quote is by Theodore Roosevelt.  It is the “Man in the Arena” quote:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Brene Brown, in an interview with Oprah, said there are two things you need to have to go into the arena.  You need someone to be there to pick you up and dust you off when you get your butt kicked, because you will get your butt kicked.  And the second thing is, you need absolute clarity of values.  Because if you go into the arena and you value courage, then you can choose courage or you can choose comfort but you cannot have both.  If you choose courage and you have conviction, even if you fail and get your butt kicked and get pushed to the ground in the arena, you will still know why you are there.

Family vacation

Family vacation

So today, I have both of those things.  I have family and friends who I know will be there to pick me up and dust me off when I get kicked to the ground.  And I have absolute clarity of values.  I value courage over all other virtues.  In six days, I leave to go cycling in Spain where I am sure I will get my butt kicked.  Today I say:  Bring it on.

PS:  I have spent the days since my last blog doing pretty well, getting enough sleep, eating right, exercising, spending time with friends and I am feeling much better.  Not perfect, but better.  Centered and more like my typically exuberant self.  Thanks everyone for all the kind words and support.