Life

Half marathon thought marathon

~ Lisa ~ 2 Comments
In Corral T, waiting for my wave to start.
In Corral T, waiting for my wave to start.

On Saturday, May 3, I ran a half marathon in Indianapolis. I’m not going to get into the specifics of training or go on (too much) about how difficult it is to run that many miles because honestly, yes it’s a lot of miles, but it’s not 26.2. I have this habit of always remembering that what’s bad could always be worse. Keeps me in a more grateful state of mind. Anyhoo, I did train and I prepped myself as much as someone who’s never run a half marathon before could possibly prep. My body was definitely ready for the run. However, I was not t prepared for the flood of thoughts I’d have throughout the run, how emotional I would be, or how much I’d learn about myself. I finished the race in 2:27:04. Not too shabby for a 41-year-old first timer. Strangely, as I got closer to the finish I began to think that I could definitely pull off 26.2. I am now trying to decide which 26.2 to run. In Indy, I saw some awe-inspiring people along the way. Firefighters in full gear. Military personnel in boots and carrying full packs. A man running on a prosthetic leg. A woman in a wheelchair. All driven by a desire to get to the finish…I was pretty much left in awe of humanity, because I will tell you, we are pretty amazing when we set out to do good things…our grit. Our determination. So beautiful!  I know if you’re reading this you have a dream or a goal…something you’d like to accomplish. I’m telling you, DO IT. NOW. Believe me when I say, YOU CAN.

When writer’s block gets you

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I recently read that when you have writer’s block, one of the best things to do is write anyway. So that’s what I’m going to do right now. Write anyway. What I am going to write may not be something particularly mind blowing or interesting. It may, as a matter of fact, just be the ramblings of a person desperate to get beyond the feeling that I need to write something mind blowing or interesting. Honestly, that’s exactly what it is. 

I spend a lot of time trying to be the best I can be at whatever it is I’m doing. I don’t compare myself to other people. I just go about any task or chore with the mindset that I’m going to do it amazingly…well, as amazingly as only I can. There are some things, admittedly, that I am not amazing at. I am not amazing at walking without tripping. I probably trip once a day. I’m kind of clumsy, what can I say? But that’s beside the point. Whenever I write I always think that it HAS TO BE GREAT. I have to write in such a way that whoever is reading whatever I wrote will automatically FALL IN LOVE with my writing and want to read more. Interestingly enough, this kind of thought process can be utterly paralyzing. I have struggled with this for weeks now. My desire to write something awesome has prevented me from writing at all because who out there in the world wants to write something that sucks balls? I certainly don’t, but here I am now, writing something that probably sucks big hairy balls in an effort just to write at all. I’m trying to get over that paralyzing fear. I’m writing whatever you’d like to call THIS in an effort leave the expectations I have of myself and my fear of how others might judge it behind me. I had a goal at the start of this blog to publish at least one time a week. But the only thing I’ve done exceptionally well since starting this blog is master the art of avoidance. That tends to be my way of dealing with things I find unpleasant in general. Putting away laundry, going to the dentist, going to the grocery store… these are things I find extremely unpleasant and annoying and so I generally put them off as long as I possibly can…writing is NOT something I find unpleasant. I love to write and I love the feeling I have when I’ve put my pen to paper (or my fingers to keyboard) and created. I love the art of creation and watching how words paint pictures in my mind, bring back memories of tastes and touch and smell and joy and sorrow and light and dark…it’s a beautiful, wonderful thing! I just hate feeling like I have to be an awesome writer to write. That is unpleasant. It’s also an unfair expectation to have of myself and I realize this. 

On a different, but similar, note, when I was trying to come up with a name for my blog and I was wracking my brain trying to think, think, THINK of something original that would encompass everything I wanted my blog to be, I had the thought of an illness I suffered last year. I still have no idea what was wrong with me but on the way home from work one night in October, I started having excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. I thought maybe I had appendicitis and so did my mother (yes, I called my mom) and so I drove myself to the hospital. It’s a good thing because by the time I got there I felt like I was going to pass the hell out from the pain. At any rate, after many initial tests the doctor still couldn’t pinpoint exactly what my problem was, so I was admitted and the ordered more tests and most terribly, a colonoscopy. You would think that the colonoscopy part of the procedure would be the worst. But no. If you think that you would be wrong. The worst part is the stuff they give you to drink to clean out your colon prior to the procedure. It’s god-awful, and without getting too graphic let’s just say it makes you go to the bathroom and go to the bathroom and go to the bathroom some MORE until when you do go to the bathroom nothing comes out but water. Oh, and did I mention it also makes you really, really nauseous? Good times. Anyway, the whole process was terrible BUT in the end I found out I was OK (just some tweaks to my diet to help my system out) and of course, that was a great thing. My point is that sometimes, in order to see that everything’s OK, you have to go through some things to get to that clarity. And my clarity for what my blog would be named…GOLIFELY…was born out of exactly that…GOING.

I’m glad that I sat here and tapped this out. It may not be great, or even good, but it’s a reminder of my beginnings. It’s also proof that simply GOING (or in this case, just writing) is absolutely the best cure for writers block. 

Letter to my daughters about motherhood

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I was scanning a Facebook post this morning. The topic from one of my favorite FB pages, “Mommy has a Potty Mouth” was highlighting some of the epic messes kids can make. Baby powder. Desitin. Poo. Inevitably, as with any post like this, someone makes the statement that kids could not POSSIBLY make messes like this unless they were not being WATCHED. Shame on you Mommy! Shame on you!

This got me to thinking about motherhood in general. First of all, nobody can tell you the RIGHT way to do it. The fact is, there is no “right way”. (This is of course and absolutely excluding abuse and neglect. That’s not what I’m talking about here because let’s face it, we all know there is a LINE.)

As I was saying, there is no “right way.” There is your way, and your way tends to coincide with the personalities and temperaments of your children. And you will dissect, criticize and obsess over “your way” from the time your baby is born. You will worry that you are doing it WRONG. You will have people constantly judging you and telling you that you are doing it WRONG. You will feel heartbroken as you search your past and every example you can come up with in your mind, looking for some HINT that you are doing it RIGHT and you won’t find one. Your kids will embarrass you in public and strangers will give you the “look.” Your kids will embarrass you in front of your mother/mother-in-law/great-aunt/friends and they will give you the “look” and maybe provide you with the most uninvited, condescending “advice” about child-rearing that will shame you in ways you never knew possible. You will cry on the days you know you were to harsh. You will feel guilty on the days you know you were too lenient. There will be days when you are utterly and completely exhausted and you will lay your child down for a nap and collapse on your couch because you feel safe in knowing your beloved little one is sleeping peacefully in her crib, and a short time later, go check on your little darling to find her, the crib, and every possible surface covered in shit because while you felt secure knowing your baby was safely asleep, she crapped her pants, removed her diaper, and decided to PLAY instead. You will sigh a huge sigh and get to work cleaning up the mess, all the while wondering where on earth you went wrong – just one of the hundreds of messes and hundreds of times you will question your own ability to mother. You will wonder if you’re loving your children enough. You will wonder if you are smothering them with love. You will work and feel guilty for every moment you are away from your children. You will be home and feel guilty because you’re thinking about work. You will read article after article from “experts” who tell you that this way or that way is the BEST way. The problem is, the “BEST” way depends wholly on the particular experts point of view and belief system. In other words, you’ll find a whole lot of opinions, but no consensus. Culture will tell you you’re doing it wrong. Commercials will tell you you’re doing it wrong. You will tell yourself “I’m doing it wrong.” And you will cry many, many tears of confusion while packing a lunch with organic applesauce, an organic grass-fed beef sandwich on organic whole-wheat bread with organic mayo and organic cheese, an organic juice box and organic pretzels because your child is complaining that she wants HOT LUNCH at school like her friends!

You will compare yourself to other mothers. Some will have the patience of a saint. You won’t, so you will shame yourself. Some will have children who behave like angels at the doctor’s office while your child spins around like a tornado, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake. You will get the “look” from the office receptionist, glance at the child quietly reading next to his mother, and shame yourself. Then you will glance over at the child with the snotty nose and dirty coat, and see his mother ignoring him as she reads the People she picked up from the magazine table, and shame her. You will realize something in that moment, and that something is that shaming other mothers makes you feel better…tragic, but true.

You will do your best, and realize that your best will never do thanks to the cacophony of voices around you affirming that belief. But every morning you will wake up and start another day as mom, and you will clean snotty noses and brush hair and help tie shoes and drop children off at school or activities, or make doctor’s appointments or speak with teachers, or argue (AGAIN) with the six-year-old about why she MUST wear boots because there is snow on the ground while she argues with you about how she hates wearing boots…and you will give all the love you can possibly give and try your hardest to meet the standards you set for yourself. Gold-medal standards, believe me you will have them. You will go through the day and judge yourself more harshly than a Russian Olympic ice skating judge judges the American sweetheart…deducting one-tenth of a point because you yelled after asking the 12-year-old to pick up his dirty socks off the family room floor for the 15th time that day, or a full point because you said “no, you may not have that candy bar” to your 3-year-old in the check out lane at the local Kroger and she went into a full on meltdown.

You will never meet your own gold medal standards and you will surely never meet the standards of others. But you will keep trying. God knows you will keep trying and praying and stumbling through. One day your kid might tell you you’re the best mommy in the whole world. Another day, you might hear “I wish I had a different mommy” as she stomps up to her room because you said she can’t do this or that or the other and she vehemently disagrees with you. When she cries, you will hold her and wish you could take the pain away…when she laughs, you will feel like all is right in the world. Tomorrow, you will do it all again. And the day after…and the day after…  And that, in a nutshell, is motherhood.

Listening to road sounds can really make you think

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

He was the sunshine to my night when we first met
the one I loved the most, my John
became my Judas.
Betrayed. 

Sometimes it’s like this with people. An odd contrast. I was thinking about it pretty deeply the other day on my way home from work. Since I have no radio, (as I explained in an earlier post, it was stolen) I am forced to listen to road sounds, which lull me into deep thought. I was thinking about how I have been betrayed in the past, and how those betrayals play into my inability to fully trust people. We all have our John’s and our Judas’…what lessons do they teach us? How does our time with them change our lives…our perspectives…our ability to be open and to trust others? 

As I was forming the words to this poem in my head and thinking thought after thought about the role certain people have played in my life, I began to reflect on the times I have been John, and the times I have been Judas. I realized it’s not a “them” problem. It’s a “me” problem. How can I be better…how can I love, despite my fear that I could be let down? The truth is that wholeheartedly loving another person can not happen when FEAR exists (and here, I am not JUST talking about romantic love, I am talking about LOVE period), because fear holds you back. It prevents you from giving 100 percent of your heart. I can love more if I let go of the fear of being hurt. I can love more if I let go of the fear of loss…I can love more if I forgive myself for the times that I have been Judas to another…I can love more if I forgive those who were Judas to me. Not an easy thing to do…but I have to because I realize that to be fully alive, I have to LOVE without fear. Even if it means loving Judas. 

 

When the tears fall…ask yourself why

~ Lisa ~ 2 Comments

Schools are closed and the office is closed in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I’m home with my kids, and when I woke up with them this morning, the first thing I did was ask them “Do you know why you are home from school today?” Of course they gave the right answer. They’ve been learning as much as a 3, 6 and 12 year old can over the last week about Martin Luther King and his legacy at school. I wanted to start the day with a lesson on the truly backbreaking and often dehumanizing work Dr. King and all who struggled and fought for Civil Rights in this country endured. I began by telling them a little bit about how not so long ago, people were separated in this country because of the color of their skin; that they could only live in certain places, go to certain schools, eat at certain restaurants. I was pleasantly surprised to see them all really listening. It was quite a moment for me.

I talked to them about standing up for what is right, about Dr. King’s stance on non-violence, and about the ugly reality of racism, hatred and segregation. How people faced dogs, fire hoses, being spit on, beaten, battered, all because they believed that everyone, no matter what the color of their skin, deserved to be treated equally. As I was speaking about the bravery of the people who had endured so much, I could feel my throat tightening, my chest hurting…and I began to cry. I struggled through, talking more about Dr. King’s legacy and how it lives on today through us, and about how we should always feel gratitude to those people who fought and died for what is, by it’s very essence, truth. We are different, that is true. But we are all human and no one, no matter how many letters they have behind their name has ever been able to define race in a way that denies that fact.

When the lesson was over, I began to reflect. Why was I crying? I cried because I want to be that brave. I want to be that strong…to sit in the face of hatred and anger and know that I am on the side of justice. I am humbled at the bravery of all those men and women. I am humbled by their grit, their honor, and their knowledge deep in their hearts and minds that they were struggling for something bigger than themselves…

I am humbled by the knowledge that they weren’t afraid to die.

I will end this with one of my favorite quotes from Dr. King. It’s a reminder to me to always speak. I do, for the most part. It’s time to make my voice louder. Time to do more. Remember:

Image

Fear, the other F word

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

One of the things I’ve been pondering lately is the role fear plays in my life, and how it affects the decisions I make, especially the decisions that are life changing. I was scrolling Pinterest a few days ago and I saw this quote:

Image

Everything? Really? Because there are some things that I want that have absolutely nothing to do with being afraid. For example, I would like the laundry to magically wash, dry, fold and put itself away without ANY effort on my part. Laundry is exhausting! And it’s NEVER done. I have no fear of laundry, unless of course, I haven’t been able to get to it in over a week and I know that the mountain of clothes gathered in the laundry room will be damn near insurmountable!

I realize that I have taken the quote out of context but I do it to show how silly some of the quotes we take to heart and use to guide our lives can be. Is the quote important, sure. Should it be a guidepost for some of the struggles we face in our lives, sure. Does it apply to every aspect of our lives, no. My point in all of this is that there has to be some line, some balance, some critical thought so that we can apply this wisdom to our lives in a way that makes sense and is actionable. I see a lot of quotes pinned on Pinterest. I am guilty of pinning a number of quotes that I read and think “Wow, so true!” and then never really think about again. I am almost positive the majority of chronic quote pinners are guilty of the same. But, back to fear.

I thought I’d try to take this quote and make it actionable by applying it to some of the concrete life decisions I am faced with over the coming months. One is applying for a position at my job that requires me to speak in front of a room full of strangers. I HATE public speaking and I am sure that places me squarely on the bell curve of the majority of people reading this. I am no outlier when it comes to speaking in front of people I don’t know. I’d rather not. But the fact is, I have a dream I’d like to see come true (a higher paying job with unlimited potential), and speaking in front of strangers is a stepping stone toward that dream. I’m scared shitless to be honest. But I did it.  I applied to the position because in this case, something I want (not everything because my laundry still lies waiting for ME in the laundry room) IS on the other side of fear. And in all honesty, if I let fear continue to guide the decisions I make, well, I’m fucked. You can only move forward if you push through your fear. Words of wisdom made actionable. That’s how life changes.

If you’re going to do it…do it my way

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

Image

So here’s the thing: I am a perfectionist. I don’t say that in a snotty “I’m better than you” kind of way. I say it because it’s how I approach my work and the things I do in my life. If I cook, I cook to perfection. If I clean, I clean to perfection. Everything I do, I do to the very best of my ability so that, in my mind at least, it is perfect.

It’s a problem. I recognize it’s a problem and I will tell you why: perfectionists rarely get stuff done.

Now I know there are going to be some out there who will argue with this. “That’s you! I get stuff done,” they’ll say. I don’t doubt you get stuff done. Hell, I also get stuff done. Just not as much stuff as I COULD get done if I let go and allowed 1) other people to help me and 2) myself to ease up on the control I feel I have to have in EVERY situation so that things can be done “my way.” I venture to say I’d also have more energy to do some of the things I’d like to do (more writing, for example) if I gave myself permission to let go of my need for perfection and control.

With this in mind, I devised an experiment. I would start delegating some of the things I generally do myself because other people’s way of doing these things is not up to my standards. It began with telling my 16-year-old son to clean the bathroom. Now, cleaning the bathroom is a big deal for me. It has to be done a CERTAIN WAY. Otherwise, it is not RIGHT. I mean, even down to the way the soap and shampoo bottles are aligned. Right. As I am typing this, I can feel the anxiety mounting – even though this technically happened days ago, I can still feel the anxiety. Seriously. 

Did he do it RIGHT? Yes and no. He did the bathroom RIGHT according to his own specifications. He did a great job making sure he properly cleaned and disinfected all of the surfaces. The chrome gleamed, the porcelain shined, and the mirror was streak free. I twitched a little when I noticed that he hadn’t emptied and cleaned out the bathroom’s trash container. I could feel my anxiety reach new heights as I saw he lined the bottles and soaps up his way, not mine. I fought the urge to “correct” it.  I had to take a step back, for real because I realized something in that moment: The fact is, he did a great job. He did it his way and though it wasn’t MY way, it was perfection in HIS eyes. I had to appreciate the effort he made. I let him know he did a great job, that I was glad I could trust him with the responsibility, and that I would definitely be relying on him to clean the bathroom again. He was proud of his work. I beamed! I mean, I do have a great son. I’m one lucky mom!

Once he was out of sight, I fixed the shampoo bottles.

Baby steps.

 

Make me proud

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been running for about 2 years now, and average about 3 and a half miles per run on any given day. Today I started training for a half marathon I am running this May, and as I was on the treadmill trying to push through my first wall (for me, I always hit the first wall after the first mile; for some reason, my legs get heavy and just don’t want to “go” anymore) a certain song came on. I told myself right then “just get through the song and you’ll be OK”. So I did. I dug in and I ran for the entire song, listening to the notes, the lyrics, and pushing through the wall. When the song was over, guess what? I was OK, just like I told myself. Best of all, another song came on, and I dug in again and again. One song at a time…

I realized this concept can be applied to any situation that requires movement. Choose a song, and do a chosen activity for just as long as the song plays. As you become better able to cope with the aerobic demands of say, walking for one song, then move up to two, then three songs and more. If organizing is your goal, begin with one task (cleaning out a junk drawer for example) and work for just one song. Then another, then another. Choose music you love. Music that motivates you and makes you want to get up and MOVE. That’s an important part of the process. I don’t think playing R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” is my thing in terms of motivation, but it might be for you, and if it is, then get up and MOVE to it. 

I plan to continue to use this idea to just push through with a song during my training. I’m taking note of the artists, lyrics and sounds that increase my motivation and give me the fire I need to push through when I hit a wall. Today at the gym, that song I mentioned, the one I heard through my headphones as I struggled just after the one mile mark, was Make Me Proud by Drake. Listening to some (definitely not all, because well, damn…) of the lyrics, reminded me of the things I have done that I am proud of. I’ve set lots of goals and made lots of plans in my life. I failed at some, but hey, I have also succeeded at MANY. I am proud of my accomplishments. And I will continue to work to “make me proud” as life goes on. Half-marathon, here I come, and cheesy as it may be, I’m gonna KILL it, one song at a time!

 

For the times when you don’t get along with your mother

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I realize the title of this post is long. Lots of words to reflect an often complicated relationship. I love my mother dearly. She is my biggest cheerleader. But she can also be my worst critic. And not in a constructive “hey, I see you doing this right, but this is questionable, but hey, this is awesome so I know you can do better” kind of way. It’s more like “that’s not how I did things” kind of way. (This is just a tiny sampling, and trust it is always said with a hint of judgment, a dash of disdain, and a pinch of  “my way is better.”) It’s frustrating. It’s aggravating. It’s often difficult not to react, to try to listen to what I feel is constant criticism with some kind of understanding (by now, I mean I’m 40 and my mom has been my mom my whole life!). I should be up to speed by now, right?

So my question, albeit a late one, is how on earth can I navigate my relationship with my mom in a way that is far more constructive? I’d like to, once, hear her comment about the state of the house or the state of my children or my parenting skills or my choice of wardrobe or my choice of food or reading or exercise or date or….you feel my pain? Yeah…so how to navigate in a way that doesn’t end in a clash that leaves me feeling like a jerk?

After careful evaluation, I don’t think there is a way to navigate this relationship. I’m just along for the ride. It’s a bumpy one, for sure. Yet, she is my mom. The mother who I know would do anything for me, even though I’m nothing like her. It may not make every criticism from my mother palatable, but knowing how much she loves me makes the medicine go down a lot easier.

Not quite like any other day

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I go to the gym about 4 days a week on average. It’s all part of a fitness plan I’ve managed to stick to for the last 3 years, despite my general inability to stick to anything with any kind of consistency. Yes, I am consistently inconsistent most of the time. Anyway, back to the gym story. So I went into the gym, put my stuff in a locker in the ladies room and after sprinting on the treadmill for about 3 miles, went back to the locker room, showered, and because it is winter and cold as hell outside, decided I’d sit in the sauna for a bit before I head home. The sauna was empty, so I found a place and made myself comfortable.

I understand, being that I am a woman and have been going into women’s locker rooms for ages that a glimpse of a body part belonging to someone who is not ME is inevitable. However, what I had to endure yesterday was just…inhumane. A lady wearing nothing but her birthday suit rushes into the sauna and proceeds to BEND OVER and put lotion on. I wouldn’t have minded that so much. I can get over the naked despite the fact that the signage outside of the sauna CLEARLY says that you must be wearing some form of undergarments AND a towel upon entering the sauna. I know people usually can’t be counted on to READ, but damn. Follow examples then. People come and go out of the sauna all the time and they are covered at the very least with a towel. However, she was NAKED and her ass was less than two feet from my face. Talk about a “WTF” moment. No. No. No. You do NOT do things like that. NEVER, ever, (ever ever ever!) put your ass crack naked JUNK that close to an innocent stranger. It’s just beyond any normal human beings level of comfort, not to mention completely inconsiderate. I can appreciate that you have no shame, that you are comfortable in your skin and maybe even that you are a little frickin’ crazy and you think that rushing into a sauna butt naked and slathering on lotion with your ass in a stranger’s face is an OK thing to do. Unfortunately, there are those of us who would prefer not to be victims of such a brazen act of defiance against all that is good and holy. Yes, I said I was victimized. Because seriously, YOUR ASS?! In my FACE?! Needless to say, my time in the sauna was cut dramatically short. I am hoping my memory of this event fades just as quickly.