Of cats and kids, and big decisions

Nightmare, or in this pic,
Kitty Dirty Paws

I don't have children - this is largely intentional. I'm not convinced I'd have been a good parent, given my own troubled youth and lack of good parenting models, nor did the option ever really present itself. I honestly can't remember if I wanted to have children. And my clock just didn't tick.

Many women grow up with this path in mind, and if not in mind, certainly in body. They know this is their destiny, and their bodies (or circumstances) tell them when it's time. Other than Barbie and a baby doll when I was very small, I don't remember even playing with dolls. I preferred my Matchbox cars, Tonka truck and a few stuffed animals. Barbie didn't have kids... she was all style and no substance - well, and maybe relationships. There was Ken, after all, and the other 'adult' dolls - and whatever personalities I assigned them from the recesses of my imagination. OK - so that's a stretch... It was all about the clothes. And the shoes. Oh, and the corvette... and so on.  So no, no dolls, and no kids. I don't think playing with dolls is an actual indicator, but my guess would be that it's a clue. 

At some point, I consciously decided I would not have children. I don't remember when. I know I was adamant about this by my mid-30s, but I'm sure I was somewhat cognizant of this much earlier. I don't have regrets. As I age, I sometimes engage in self-doubt and ask myself if I did the right thing, and the answer is always the same - it was the right choice for me. Thankfully, there is no longer a stigma around being childless, and I now have many friends, older and younger, who are also intentionally without children.

All that said, as Forrest's mom OKay pointed out, I am very nurturing. Until recently we had three cats - essentially my fur kids. I am connected to these little creatures in ways I wouldn't have imagined. We lost Motormouth to renal failure on Christmas eve, 2010, and Photon to lymphoma the following September. Nightmare, initially my mom's cat, is still with us, and at 14, pretty spry. And last week he was diagnosed with early stage renal failure. While I am told not to panic, I'm a little panicky and pretty heartbroken.

My little white furball still looks and acts like a sprout - he is playful, feisty, curious, active, eats well... and recently started drinking a lot of water. I didn't pick up on it initially, but it finally clicked that he was drinking more than normal, and by that point, for a couple of months. So I scheduled the vet appointment, hoping for an all's well call.

But instead the next day's call made my heart sink. Now, after several calls and email messages, a lot of my own research, and email messages to pet food companies and pet websites, I am feeling more hopeful. Cats can live a long time with proper care, even with failing kidneys.

Proper care, in my mind, is a blend of vet recommendations, what I learn from my own exploration, and gut instinct. For example, I'm not very interested in feeding my cat, who gets pretty decent grain-free food, a prescription diet from one of the major pet food companies. I feel about them the way I do about big agriculture and food producers. I will explore how to balance his protein needs with the right types of food, and supplement with vitamins and Chinese herbs. Acupuncture is another option, but I'm concerned that the trip in the car, unfamiliar surroundings, and new people would be more stressful and negate any benefit. Managing kitty stress is also part of the care plan. We'll see. Maybe they make home visits?

It's interesting to ponder end-of-life decisions. We do this for our pets, but only in a few states can we (legally) make choices for ourselves. We're not yet near this time for Nightmare, but the news brought it to mind. Quality of life is essential. My neighbor, just a few years shy of 100, was ready to go for a while before it was finally her turn. She was tired. And done. She had experienced all of life, her friends and family were gone, and her mobility was compromised. And my friend Stacey, at 49, left two young boys behind with no plan because it didn't occur to her or anyone else that she might die so young. Her brother had to make a choice when his options were limited. It begs the question: Are you ready? Just in case?

I don't look forward to making choices like these - for Nightmare or anyone. But if his quality of life ebbs to the point of pain and suffering, I will carefully calculate our options. Motormouth's last few days will stay with me for a long time to come. I don't think living beings should expect any less than dignity, comfort, peace and love when that time comes.

Many of us are able to choose whether or not to have children. What would it be like if we could choose how or when we die? We have a family joke about going out for that "last cup of tea" when we've outlived our usefullness. What if that were really possible? It's for the living we grieve, yes?

Finding wellness in Vancouver

This year marked the 21st year of The Wellness Show in Vancouver, BC. For the third year in a row, I've made the trip north to see a friend who manages the cooking stage, and find out what's new in the world of wellness. It's hard to believe it was 20 years ago I worked on the show's marketing copy, and the changes I've experienced over those two decades.

My wellness journey started in my mid-20s when I came to the realization that lifestyle trumps genetics. I made significant changes that I've built on and refined ever since. From fitness to food, it all matters. We are our own best health plan. Information changes over time with more research and experimentation, though, so gut sense - literal and figurative - plays a part. Events like The Wellness Show help educate a general audience, introduce new products, pathways and techniques to the tried and true, and remind us that there are no shortcuts to health, much as we'd like them. 


The antitheses to healthy eating: Leaving the convention center on Sunday,
I walked by this food truck. I noticed their restaurant on Robson Street
while up for the show last year. Hardly a health food, I couldn't resist
the photo. It's a food trend I just don't understand.
And I hear they're everywhere!

While I didn't attend any of the workshops or seminars, I learned a lot just walking the aisles and talking with vendors. A few of the key things I learned or noticed this year:

• Coconut is everywhere - from crunchy chips to organic milk, to face creams and good-for-you candy bars. It's the latest trend and while I have been a coconut fan for years (I both cook with and use the oil on my skin as a night cream, add flakes to my breakfast cereal, and I adore coconut curries - and dare I say it? As a kid, I loved Almond Joy candy bars and just about anything coconut...), I worry about resource depletion once something finds its way into our obsessive culture.
• "Raw" chocolate bars are chalky and bitter and not yet worth the cost.
• Nordic Naturals fish oil is an easy access product that I can feel good about buying. However, a wallet-sized card I picked up lets me know which fish are the most contaminated and over-fished. It leaves just a small list of what I can feel good about eating.
• Nature's Path rocks my world. I love their products. They sponsor the show and promise not to sell out to a major corporation like so many other good brands.
• Natural cosmetics are improving. Except mascara (for me). And if you're in the northwest and local is your thing, Lavera and Benecos are based in Kirkland. And for those who have more luck than I do with products, Lavera mascara is apparently rated the best in the natural cosmetics world. 
• Coffee with mushrooms tastes fine, but I didn't notice a kick. Tea is a burgeoning health trend.
• For the lactose intolerant, naturally aged cheese is your friend. A raw milk cheese vendor explained that cheese aged over time loses its lactose, but most cheese bought in supermarkets is quickly processed. 
• Pets need healthy products, too, and there's no shortage. From wet and dry food to natural supplements, it's available. Grain-free for cats is the way to go (I didn't ask about dogs). 
• I'm not crazy about what's traditionally considered "health food." And I'm never going to be vegan. The vegan cheezcake just didn't do it for me.
• Common Ground magazine is still publishing and this makes me happy. They do a great job of educating their readers about issues of significant importance be they global, national, regional or hyper local.
• Wellness is a body, mind, spirit experience. There is no separation. And there are myriad ways to nurture and satisfy all three.
• Wellness skews female. And most of us want to look young and healthy as long as we can. 

Held at the Vancouver Convention Center on Vancouver's downtown waterfront, even the location says wellness. Across the inlet are the North Shore mountains, what seem like just a hop and a skip away. The Grouse Grind, three ski hills and endless hiking trails await anyone who's fit and ready - no matter the season. And the 1,000 acre Stanley Park is just a few blocks away, with hiking trails throughout and a seawall / cycling / walking path that rings the park.

While I was well on my way to wellness prior to moving to Vancouver, it was during my years there that I notched it up a number of rungs. I fell in love with hiking, sailing, running, and healthy food, and it was living in this clean, coastal city that changed my awareness about environmental practices and living lightly on the planet. Living with a vegetarian (who managed her MS in large part through diet), seeing a naturopath, and starting a regular massage regimen all shifted my perspective about managing my own health.

I wouldn't want to live there again, but it's sure nice to visit. I'm grateful for the friends, the experience, and the greater good that came from it.

Oh - and floating is back! The Float House is opening in April in Vancouver, and a search turned up several float locations in the Vancouver / Seattle / Pacific Northwest region. Long since closed, the Float Zone on Vancouver's 1st Street was a favorite, followed by a tank at Ballard Massage in Seattle, decommissioned years ago. Unless you're claustrophobic, you really must try it sometime - there's nothing like complete sensory deprivation (I'll take mine without music, thanks) for complete relaxation. This may be as close as you'll get to floating on a cloud.

Professional coach... a work in progress

I am learning.

I just wrapped up another three-day intensive training weekend, where my cohorts and I were each encouraged to claim for ourselves the designation of "professional coach." For the first time since I started the program, it felt like it fit. I can see the efficacy of the learning process as I build on my skills and talents. I can see and feel the value of the coaching process, and trust that it works - even when there are more skills to know, try and own.

And so I came up against my first big challenge outside the confines of my peer group just a day away from the non-stop skill-building weekend. The words "coach fail" come to mind, but I'm going to give myself more of a break than that and just own that I was slow to recognize, after a few unsuccessful questions, that sometimes it's appropriate to say, "let's wait." But I did, and follow up can come later.

Coaching is a powerful process and can move us forward when we're struggling. But sometimes life shows up and there's a better time. This is perfectly OK. Circumstances can take us by surprise and just sitting with something might be exactly the right thing to do before we can start to process, let alone think beyond our immediate next steps.

I do look forward to coaching questions becoming more intuitive. I always self-evaluate so I know there are other questions I could have asked (or just stopped sooner), or offerings that may have been better left unsaid in an effort to be 'helpful'. But while not displaying my ideal coaching practice, I am nothing if not empathetic. And very human. This, too, is good learning for me, and I will both recognize this sooner when it comes up with future clients, and I can think about how I might 'be coach' in a similar setting.

Compassionate detachment. Holding space for someone when the road ahead is too foggy to see. Gently asking questions to move beyond circumstances. Recognizing appropriate timing and the right questions. Managing transitions to see past the edge of awareness. Noticing. Witnessing life as it happens.These are all part of the coaching space. What isn't is trying to fix, advise, or suggest. That said, I don't have to be a perfect coach, just as I don't expect my 'clients' to be perfect clients - and no matter how far along I am on this path, we will learn from each other. It's about the synergy, the partnership, that makes it work, and creating a relationship built on trust.

My ability for deep compassion is a gift and I acknowledge it as such; but just as it's a strength, it has the potential to trip me up.

There is forward movement. And for now, that's enough.