Post-Thanksgiving gratitude, and a big 'shouldn't be'

Driving south on I-5 toward my uncle's place for Thanksgiving dinner, for the first time I noticed the magnitude of tent encampments under the freeway as we drove through and beyond downtown. Forrest was driving and we were in his truck, which sits higher than my car.

Discovery Park frost

Whether it was the added height or that I wasn't driving, I was able to notice differently. There were dozens, maybe hundreds... tent after tent stretched out in groups under the raised lanes of the freeway.

I know of this, have read and heard about this, but I haven't seen more than just a scattered few tents before.

This is a shouldn't be... 

How is it in our wealthy country, and in our affluent northwest, we have so many homeless? This isn't unique to our area, but with our usual moderate climate and liberal programs and policies, there are many who choose the northwest over other, less tolerant areas to live their lives outdoors.

Yet, the near freezing temperatures say it's winter. A local charity that helps women and children, Mary's Place, notes there are more than 500 families right now in our area with no place to call home.

Walking through Discovery Park, an old military base converted to a 500-acre park and some high-end view homes, I see an occasional tent tucked among the trees and brush. I cannot fathom how this is possible in today's world.

Sanctioned tent cities, in my neighborhood and throughout the city, give people who live on the street a bit more security along with bathroom facilities and access to drinking water. Yet neighbors complain; I can only surmise they don't want their cozy perceptions of safety shattered. There are shelters and half-way houses everywhere, but still there aren't enough beds.

But my real question is... why? 

Why is this even an issue at this point in time, in this place?   

Do they choose this? Maybe... maybe it's better than what home once was. I know many women are on the street because it's better than anything else they know, because they feel they have no other choice. And mental illness keeps some on the fringes of 'civilized' society.

I believe that to some degree we choose our circumstances. But I think in cases like this, even if this is true, those who live this plight do not understand they have choice. Do not believe that choice can be theirs. There are no visible options. They don't have foresight beyond survival because their circumstances never gave them that. When survival is your focus, the choice you make is what's right in front of you.

No one, 

especially children and families, 

should have no place to go to be 

warm, fed, and cared for. 

I had earlier whined that the food on my holiday table likely wasn't organic nor sustainable. Those individuals - those fellow humans - would be more than happy to have that food. I quickly berated myself and gave thanks for my amazing abundance -- a table full of delicious food, and family to share it with, and leftovers to spare.

My life is far from perfect. My company is reorganizing and many jobs are going away; mine may be eliminated. I have debt. My house is old and inefficient. Really?

Daily, I experience abundance.

Discovery Park blackberry blossoms... in November.
#Hopespringseternal.

I have choices. So many choices. And resources beyond measure. I am not materially wealthy, and yet, I have extended family and friends to share meals with. A life partner who loves me. A warm home to come back to. A cat to snuggle with. A job, for now, that gives me a paycheck in exchange for work. I am healthy and generally happy.

I also understand that I am my own security and I will (almost for certain) always be OK. I can choose. I am lucky to live where I do. I benefit from the legacy of my ancestors and my circumstances.

This isn't true for everyone. Yes, there will always be difference, injustice, and inequity. But does the gap have to be so... gaping?

How do we change this? 

#choice #hope

What matters most

Today I learned a coworker was diagnosed with leukemia. We were in a meeting just over a week ago and he wasn't feeling well, didn't look good, and was having a hard time walking and breathing. I heard that later in the day, our director told him to go to the doctor, where after blood tests, he was immediately admitted to the hospital and is now undergoing aggressive treatment.

Macarons, because they're happy. 
When life sucks, they add 
delicious color and flavor.

A former coworker was recently diagnosed with a rare brain condition that showed up suddenly and increased rapidly. Now, post brain surgery, she continues to experience symptoms, albeit less severe, and this condition will likely be with her for life.

They're both young and vibrant.

These are just two stories.

How does this happen? 

I firmly believe that lifestyle trumps genetics, and so many conditions and diseases are now deemed preventable with different lifestyle choices.

But there is much that seems out of our control. What we (collective) do to the air we breathe... the water we drink, bathe in, swim in, eat from... our food sources, our soils... the resources we use as though they're infinite... we don't yet know the full affect of our actions. Even when we're careful and choose wisely, it's impossible to completely avoid those things that could make us sick, shorten our lives, or in some way negatively impact our quality of life.

Sometimes it feels like a crap shoot.

I was just in Las Vegas for a work-related training and stayed at a hotel / casino far from the strip. The despair I felt there was palpable. This place was by far one of the worst: heavily smoke-filled, with a largely older clientele -- many carrying extra weight, a fair number in wheelchairs or with walkers, and a few toting oxygen tanks, all smoking, drinking and gambling.

Las Vegas, known infamously as 'sin city', was deemed 'addiction city' 
by one of my taxi drivers. 

I had to breathe that nicotine toxin walking through the hotel each day. I could only give thanks this wasn't my daily reality.

And... what if none of it matters? Admittedly, with the latest report of an ill coworker, I at first felt sad and then a bit despairing. It doesn't make sense.


Does anything we do really matter?  


Why exercise, eat well, nurture our relationships, manage our stress, or do any of those other things that may or may not keep us well and living a long, full life?

Does what we believe, think or say actually influence our health, as so many of the new health celebrities spout? I wish I knew for sure.

I still believe we can make a difference, and to a degree, I do believe we control our own destinies. I'm not saying that either of the two mentioned above asked for or in some way created their circumstances, as some of those 'guru'-types might suggest. That would be unspeakably mean. And I'm not saying there's a reason for everything, because I'm not sure that's true.

Fresh air... from an oxygen bar. 

But I do believe there are gifts and opportunities everywhere - if we're willing and able to see them.

I am reminded not to take anything for granted. To be grateful for my current health and well-being. To cherish those I love -- and to tell them -- and to continue to act as if everything counts. I can choose what I do, say, buy, eat -- every day.

My actions... my choices... matter. 

If not for everyone, then at least for those I'm connected to.

Savor life slowly... 

I can make choices that are more likely to contribute to longevity... to good health, a good life, and a positive influence on the world around me. I can choose to be as chemical-free as possible so as to limit my contribution to the toxins others bear. I can choose to limit my use of resources, so to help ensure there's plenty for everyone.

Not everyone cares about this. But I do. What matters most to me is an equitable and just world - for people, plants and animals. Clean air and nutrient-rich soil. Healthy food for all. I may only have a micro piece of it... I am but a spec on the continuum.

And... I can make a difference in my little piece of the world. I don't subscribe to winner takes all, to getting what you can while you can... I think there's enough for all of us.

I have gained a lot of clarity on what matters most to me, and I'm passionately committed to living and working differently, and helping others do so, too. I have long believed that so much of how 'we' live isn't healthy, that there's a better way. And while it may not keep each individual healthy, perhaps we can be happier and more fulfilled while we're here.


What matters most to you?

Letter to my step-daughter

Well, this sure isn't an easy one to write, but it's been on my mind a long time. Here goes: 

Granted, it may be as many as 20 years since we've seen each other, and technically, you're not my step-daughter now. It's been more years than that since your dad and I split and you and I only saw each other a few times after that.

But that doesn't mean I haven't thought of you often. I have. You played a significant role in my life. You're 30-something now. Older than I was when we last saw each other.

So much water under that proverbial bridge.

You were eight when we met at the beach house in White Rock. Sandcastle weekend. Your dad and I reconnected the year before, and by then we were pretty enamored with each other. We'd met and dated briefly a few years earlier; we liked each other, but the distance was too much the first time around.

To be clear, there's more I could say than can or should be included in a blog post like this, but this feels like a necessary step.

It seemed like destiny.

When your dad and I got married, I was happy you were my step-daughter. I didn't have children, and you were funny, creative, sweet and smart. You lived with your mom but we liked spending time together, even though it wasn't often.

A lot happened during the years our lives were interconnected. But I want you to know that, despite all that proverbial water, you were family and I cared deeply for you. I still do, although to say I know you, or even know much about you, would be untrue. But I knew you during a formative time.

I'm glad we reconnected, even if just on Facebook (thanks for the friend request!). I'm sorry it was your loss that made it possible, but when I heard, I set aside previous hesitations to contact you, because I know what it's like to lose a mom too soon.

I was close to your age when I lost my mom. We were both too young to say goodbye; their lives were short. But I don't think the similarities stopped there. My relationship with my mom was complicated, despite how much we loved each other. That's why I sent a note to you...  I think yours was, too. And it tugged my heartstrings.

But even that isn't why I'm writing this.

There's this thing about completion...  

...about things unfinished. And I've felt unfinished with you. Early on, I felt sad, guilty, confused, concerned. Reconnecting brought some of that back up. I'm fortunate to have a life I'm truly grateful for, but there are things I've wanted to say, and never forgot.

The last time we saw each other was a year or two after you moved back to your mom's. You were living in Kamloops, so I drove up to visit you. You were busy with friends, though, as any self respecting 16-year-old would be, so we didn't have much time together. Instead I tagged along with your mom to the local bar, and left early the next day. I didn't try to contact you after that. I learned you moved back to your dad's after a couple years, and finished high school in the city. Reaching out really didn't make sense then.

That said, the point of this is...


...this post is about us, and that last year together.

Frankly, there were a lot of "shouldn't be's" during that year you lived with us. By then, you were 14 and looking for trouble--that's why you came to live with us. Ideally, you wouldn't find trouble, and trouble wouldn't find you, under the guidance of me and your dad.

Hindsight being that rear-view mirror, I saw later that it was pretty much a no-win for both you and me. Your dad was largely absent, working 16-hour days at least part of that year. I landed the role of stand-in guardian, rule-setter, school conduit, curfew enforcer, wicked step-mom, the bitch from hell... a few choice words you didn't shy away from saying. As the adult, I won't deny some of the accusations were earned; that's part of a parent's job, but... I wasn't your parent, and I overstepped (more on that later). You were rebellious, indignant and misbehaved, asserting your independence, no matter the conversations about honesty and consequences.

When you moved back to your mom's after the school year ended, our marriage went from bad to worse. While I would never say or believe you caused our break up, I'm certain that disastrous year, including my behavior, hastened it.

Those first years on my own required some intense soul searching on my part. I loved your dad. I thought we'd grow old together, together for life. I was devastated when I learned that wasn't to be; even on our last day together, he said he still loved me and we were family.

But neither of us had healthy role models for how to be in a relationship, nor how to parent. So I have a confession of sorts, and this wouldn't be worth writing if I wasn't completely honest...

First, I'm sorry. 

There were times I didn't show up as a skilled adult. I don't fault myself, but I'll own it.

So... 

At 14, terrible things happened to me. I wasn't fully aware of it then, but that history colored my experience with you. You were so grown up, or wanted to be, but you were still a kid. I was a child at 14, but I would have been really pissed off had anyone said that to me. You would have been, too. But your presence in such close proximity made me see my 14-year-old self as the child I was, not yet capable of adult decisions, nor the experience to understand consequences, and very much in need of boundaries and protection.

I'm not proud of my teenage self. Yet I have come to understand why I made the choices I did. Sometimes I'm sad about that. Unsupervised, I was a party girl, desperately looking for love and acceptance, afraid to say no, unaware that was even an option. I found myself in some precarious situations, some of which I couldn't get out of, some which caused me harm. There wasn't much I wouldn't do or try as I unconsciously sought that connection and affection. My friends were my family; you said the same of yours.

So, part of me wanted to protect you. Another part was scared--for you and for me. You reminded me of me. Except, by the time you hit your teens, the drugs were scarier, the consequences greater, and men and boys still dangerous. A lot of my friends didn't make it out; I was lucky. I didn't want anything bad to happen to you, or to me, or to us.

I wanted you to have a better experience. 

For much of our time together, I can say unequivocally I tried to be fair. Tried to tie actions with consequences. Tried to help you have a better life and give you tools and resources you weren't getting elsewhere. Tools and resources I hadn't had either, but in hindsight knew they'd have made a difference.

But it shouldn't have been me. 
That wasn't my job. 

Nothing worked. I felt threatened by your behavior and scared I could lose what I thought I had, and my actions reflected that. My early years were hard, but after many painful lessons, and a lot of self-reflection and conscious effort to do differently, I grew and changed. I felt like with your dad, I finally had something good.

I was afraid of losing that. 

After you went home, you got in trouble with your mom within a week, and your dad brought you back. I think that may have been my last straw. My coping skills disintegrated. My fear got the best of me. That year was a terrible time for all of us. I won't sugarcoat it; it challenged me on practically every level. That year -- and you -- left an imprint. I think I did a lot right, but I admit to being ashamed of my own behavior at times. Overall, I felt like I'd failed us both. I don't blame either of us. And I don't regret it. That year, our divorce, and what happened both before and after taught me more about myself, and relationships, that I couldn't learn any other way. I'm grateful for that.

But I've wondered about you. I have hoped for all things good for you. I'm sure you're still funny, creative and smart. From the outside looking in, you have a good life. And you got there on your own, with all the life lessons you gained along your journey.

Through it all, that's all I really wanted for you.

Life lessons: Courtesy, kindness and dignity

Dirty cat paws... 

My grandfather was adamant about treating people with courtesy, kindness and dignity. Didn't matter if that person collected your garbage every week, lived across the street, worked with you day in day out, cleaned your floors, sat at your table, or waited on you in a service environment. Income bracket, skin color or age didn't matter, either. He was first generation American, born to Swedish immigrants, merchant mariner, union employee, pretty standard middle class with first-rate values.

I often think of the lessons I learned from him in my current work environment as we move to a servant leadership model and focus on an overall customer experience. While those lessons were personal, they're easily adaptable.

I am very aware of how I'm treated in almost any circumstance, and if my customer service experience with a provider, service or seller is bad, I won't return. And as common research states, I'll also share that information with my immediate circle of family and friends. That said, I'll also share a good experience.

I like feeling valued. We all do. 

Here are a couple of my own customer experience examples:

• Nordstrom was my very first credit card and I've had that card longer than I'm willing to admit. They have a rewards program based on spending, like so many other retailers, but last month, I received an email message letting me know I had a surprise gift coming. And the next day, I received a $25 gift card. Not based on purchase amounts... and without any stated reason other than they valued me as a customer. Who needs a loyalty program with recognition like this. I'm in!
• Prior to leaving on vacation, I asked my gym, Olympic Health Club, if I could put my membership on hold while I was away. Turns out this is a benefit for month-to-month members only, and last December, I paid my membership dues for the entire year. I don't know how hard it would be to move my membership expiration two weeks out, or why they wouldn't want to offer more rewards to members who commit to an entire year in advance, but apparently they can't do that. This isn't my only disappointing experience with them - there have been many over the few years I've been there. While I like their pool, I think I'm done. My beaten path has plenty of other options these days. 

I think it's apparent that at my gym, I'm just another click of the member counter. Their support staff also don't seem empowered. I ask a question and they're hard-pressed to answer, and even more hard-pressed to answer like they care.

Having done brief stints in retail, restaurants and phone sales, I know I'm not cut out for that very public work. Even now I'm sometimes hard-pressed to be courteous and kind in certain circumstances (especially if I'm hungry; low blood sugar brings out my worst behavior). When I deviate from that moral stance and don't correct it, I'm not proud of myself. But as I practice being more kind, I have become mindful, and have caught myself being snarky to a grocery clerk or bank teller, called myself out, and apologized. No one deserves to be treated badly. Ever. Even flipping off a bad driver makes me give myself a little kick.


Kindness: empathy, compassion, patience 


My job keeps me behind a desk most of the time, but a computer screen doesn't shield bad attitudes or behavior. Long ago I learned that you can "hear" a smile in a phone call, or read between the lines in a message. It's not hard to be kind. And even small kindnesses go a long way, especially if someone's experiencing a difficult time. Kindness may be a tender word, a thoughtful note, an offer of help, or owning a mistake that isn't yours, but it may just mean taking a step back, listening, noticing, being patient, or taking the high road when it feels like that'll make a difference. I know how far it goes when said bank teller responds to my angst with kindness; I'm immediately diffused and apologetic. An exchange with an inexperienced, unsympathetic Barnes & Noble staff person resulted in the opposite experience. Poor guy. It's likely the only time in recent memory I haven't apologized. I think he may have been in the wrong job.

It's not hard. 

We can't possibly know what others are experiencing - even if they tell us. The annoying driver weaving in traffic? Maybe it's a family emergency. Benefit of the doubt goes a long way, too.

Ultimately, we're all in this together. And if that's not enough reason to be kind at least the majority of the time, or apologize when shit happens, kindness reduces stress - yours and that of your kindness recipients. Studies are proving it. And who can't do with a little less stress these days? Here's an Atlantic story for further reading.



What do dirty cat paws have to do with life lessons about courtesy, kindness, and dignity? My furry little friend, dignity not withstanding, gives me ample opportunity to practice patience. Even a little white cat needs lots of kindness, dirty paws and all. 

Getting over the hump: Grace and gratitude

Forget-me-nots in the garden

Today is Mother's Day. I have previously written that I'm not very sentimental about that. But I forget that May can be a challenging month for me, full of emotionally charged events - of which Mother's Day is just one small piece.

I rode my bike to the cemetery today. It's a small, lovely, peaceful little spot in a neighborhood just north of me, exactly what a cemetery should be -- gravel roads, many trees, benches for sitting, fragrant flowers and shrubs, with markers of varying shapes and sizes acknowledging those who've gone on. Many of my family members are buried here, and in 2000, when my mom died, I placed a headstone here in her honor and scattered some of her remains. I honor her today when I take care of myself by doing things like riding my bike. She and so many others died relatively young, of illnesses that today are largely preventable. I am doing my best. And I know she would want that. 

May is bittersweet. The anniversary of mom's death is May 19. This month also commemorates more fateful dates: the end of my marriage, my move back to Seattle, a hit-and-run that totaled my car and nearly totaled me (I am so blessed). May 10 was my dad's birthday - a symbolic date I knew as a child even though I didn't know him. And, on a high note, it's the month I fell in love with Forrest. 

So it's with grace and gratitude that I get through May. I've had a few rough weeks, and I haven't been able to get to the heart of what's up with me. Frustrations at work, personal irritations... feeling like my life is a little smaller than usual in key areas... some of it appropriate dissatisfaction. But I amplify these minor irritations by twisting them in my own head... and forgetting the real, underlying emotional reasons. Awareness is usually the first step to clarity, and the ride to the cemetery was the reminder I needed.

Grief is a funny thing; it can show up at interesting times in interesting ways, and I'm not sure it ever fully goes away. We heal, and scar tissue fades over time, but the memory remains.

While I do wish other mothers well on this date, I am not very forthcoming about offering it. I'm not the one posting a photo of my mom on Facebook, or wishing my friends who are mothers or the mothers of my friends a good day. Not because I don't care. Were I to describe how I feel when I see those posts, I think it would largely be numb. I cannot summon emotion.

So today, I recognize how grateful I am for the many gifts in my world, including the grace to have compassion for myself and save some space during a time when I need a little more than usual.  

Drinking my own kool-aid

Most of the time, I'm really there. I typically don't "struggle" anymore, although I have my moments, and I know we largely create what happens to us. I own that I'm responsible for my experience. Certainly, at least, for how I react or respond to my circumstances.

Sunset over Shilshole Bay and the Olympic Mountains -
this always makes me happy, and helps me remember that life is much, much
bigger than just me, and there's way more at play.

And then, there's today. Today, I feel less than, uninspired, frustrated, not very hopeful, and even irritated. Life feels a little hard. I'm not feeling very happy. 

So, it happens. 

It happens to all of us. But I'm not my feelings, and life just is. I trust the tools I've gathered and nurtured over the years will get me through this. I do know this too shall pass.

What I also know is when I feel like this, it's often because I'm sitting with some ambiguity and clarity is not forthcoming. Something is weighing... a choice or decision needs to be considered, I'm unsettled, I'm not ready to go there. I am feeling both physically and emotionally challenged. Typically, I've learned to be comfortable with being uncomfortable... I largely embrace change.  

And then, there's today. 

  

Today, I will sip my own kool-aid. I will try to keep "struggle" from my vocabulary and remember that life just is. I am in the fortunate position to largely make choices that support me. I will ponder and drink, even though right now it tastes a little bittersweet. 

Are you struggling? Change your language

I'm really struggling right now.

Struggle, or a variation, is a word I often say to myself when I'm challenged, frustrated, unhappy or when something isn't working the way I think it should. And I hear it a lot from others in conversations when we talk about how we're doing.

Mirriam-Webster defines struggle as something very hard that takes great effort. 

Life is hard. 

Unless it isn't. 

It isn't hard for everyone, but I for much of my life I believed it was, indeed, hard. I often wondered why some people had it so easy. It even made me angry. It didn't seem fair. (Sometimes it still doesn't...)

While some are blessed by circumstances, in large part, we each have a hand in creating our circumstances. Whatever they may be. Again, as in previous posts, I make this disclaimer: I am referring to those of us in the western world who are fortunate to be of sound mind. I know there are exceptions to everything and I have great compassion for those who really do struggle.   

And... 

For so much of my life, per the description by Mirriam-Webster, life was hard and took great effort. I've shared a bit of my story before (likely with more to come, but that's another story...): I'm the only child of an unwed mother, my father died when I was just two and my paternal family was MIA; I've lost countless family members, experienced plenty of dysfunction, victimization and had limited access to resources - these experiences and even more, my stories about them, defined and drove me.

Life just is... 

And at some point, I learned: Life isn't hard. Life just is. My perception, my story about it, makes it hard. Realistically, it's not hard or easy, not good or bad. It's whatever I make it. If I look for evidence that it's hard, it is, and I collected a lot of that evidence. And I attracted it, created it, because it's what I'm used to. Not because it's what I want - let me be clear. But if that's what I've experienced, I have no road map for something different.

Yet now I know, as an adult, I can and do make choices. I don't have to be defined by that background. Yes, it shaped my view about so much, and it offered me perspective and gave me empathy... and, so much of what I knew to be true really wasn't. My interpretations, my beliefs about life... "Life is hard" was a generations-old story that I adopted as my own; it was a way of being that I could change. It didn't have to be true for me anymore unless I wanted it to be. 

I could choose to struggle, or thrive. 

I'm not saying it's easy, or that it's the be all / end all to changing your life, but something as simple as changing our language can have a big impact. 

I challenged myself to remove the word struggle from my vocabulary, and instead of describing my relationship to my situation as a struggle, I more clearly define what I'm feeling and experiencing. Once I clearly identify what's really going on, I have more power to take action and do something about it. 

...I'm having a hard time grasping how to do this. ...I'm feeling really hurt right now. ...I'm frustrated by the current dynamic I'm experiencing at work. ...I feel stagnant creatively. ...I can't figure this out.  

I have said this in previous posts: Words matter. Whether it's the language we use in our self-talk, or when speaking out loud to others, words have an impact. They're shortcuts to feelings, reactions and responses, beliefs. If we can choose empowering words, we can impact what we experience.

No. more. struggle. 

Don't believe me? Try it for a week or a month. Experiment. What words are automatic to you? Are they words that help or hinder your circumstances? If they hinder, try trading those for something more desirable. 

We're all familiar with our inner critic. This is an aspect of that critic. Change our language, and we have more power to shift our experience. 

Ultimately, I believe we're here to learn and grow and contribute in meaningful ways. It's hard to contribute our best selves if we're always struggling. Some of us just have a few pre-requisites to master before we get there.  

Self-care: Colds suck

A quick post tonight. I kind of made a promise to myself to write more frequently - say, every two weeks, minimum, but here it is three weeks since my last post.

Not wont to make excuses, it's been a tough couple of weeks. Lots of things wayyy out of the ordinary happening at work, and acquired a nasty little cold in the middle of it which makes minimum functionality challenging at times.

My arsenal (in part)

So every chance I get, I aim to do something that helps me get well more quickly. For example, I:

• Ingest herbs, vitamins and probiotics: goldenseal root and olive leaf tinctures, some mix of stuff I get at the health food store, adding A & C and doubling D and zinc, and probiotic caps along with kefir and kombucha (tea and coffee actually count, too)
• Rinse my sinus cavities with a warm saline solution: I use a glass container the size of a large mason jar to mix my salt and water, because really, what's the point of a miniscule netipot?  
• Drink lots of liquids: my wellness tonic, water, tea, coffee (though diuretic, caffeinated beverages are still liquids and help hydrate)
• Skip the sugar (mostly; today I succumbed to snickerdoodles made by our new person at work)
• Eat good food (my go-to sick food used to be Campbell's chicken noodle soup, but I gave that up. I've since found Wolfgang Puck's organic version; I also picked up a roasted organic chicken at Whole Foods so I don't have to cook)
• Steam clean my head - in the shower, and over the stove, with a towel over my head and a pot of steaming water with eucalyptus or tea tree oil
• And from childhood - Vicks VapoRub smeared on my chest at bedtime (eau de Vicks is a lovely scent... not, but it does offer some comfort in the olfactory memory)

That first day or two, I found myself empathizing with those who actually have a lung disease (my mom and a dear friend being two). Of course, there's no real comparison, but it occurred to me just how awful that really must be, because even this felt a little like hell. My throat felt fiery and my chest felt like it was underwater and full of sand.

But after those first coupl'a days, I saw incremental improvement. Despite extra stress, I think my tactics worked; some people I know have had this thing for weeks. They can have it. I'm done. It's no magic bullet, but I hate being sick and believe my body lets me know what it needs to be well, and has, largely, what it takes to get there.  

So there you have it. I haven't written but I will revisit this unstated (this time) commitment and aim for regular posts beginning... soon. 

Onward.

Update 4/5/15 - Cold symptoms went away quickly, except for a cough - which could also be related to allergies; we're full-on into spring now and I react to weeds and grass. Dang cough. Anyway, I still stand by my process outlined above, as I do tend to stay generally healthy when others around me are fighting illness. 

Breaking bad habits

A sea of blossoms viewed from the top of

Carkeek Park's South Ridge trail.  

I fidget. I can't sit still, I slide around in my chair, twirl my hair, run my fingers through it, tug at my lips... I even sometimes twiddle my thumbs. I have done these things or a variation all my life. It makes one friend anxious. I make myself a little crazy.

I also shop. Out of boredom. For comfort. I consider this a habit now, too. I associate shopping and having new clothes, in particular, with being loved, left over from childhood. I love fashion and at times consider style a part of my creative expression, but really... While I don't stand a chance next to The Shopaholic, nor am I anywhere near a contender for Hoarders, shop therapy played a big role when I moved to Vancouver, and even more, post-divorce, as a way to feel less isolated. What started as a coping mechanism became a bad habit. Now it's a go-to when I feel alone, even if it's just window-shopping.


...Change is, well... change is.


I woke up this morning thinking about change, largely because there's a lot going on at work and I'm currently focused on change management. I read and write almost every morning, and today, reading about the placebo effect on health, the fog I've been in for the last two weeks finally lifted. It became clear that it was time to refocus, to be intentional about what I want in my own life, and make some changes again (change seems to be a theme of this blog).

My old house has rooms and closets
built for 1907 lifestyles, so I make-do
with shelving and baskets.

I'm starting small while I give more thought to the bigger changes ahead. I am tired of operating by rote, tired of these habits. Fidgeting burns a few calories, but it's irritating, to me and others. And shopping for material goods I don't need takes time, energy and funds away from more important endeavors, and goes a little against my environmentalist grain. I have enough.

It's spring, or nearly, and a good time to make a shift. 

How?

Good question. Some of these are so ingrained it'll take serious conscious effort (as I write, I find my fingers at my lips or in my hair...). I may have to exchange a habit or two for the short term. And... 

• Awareness is the critical first step, followed by a willingness to make change. Followed by continuous re-commitment to this. 
• I'll set some rewards and some boundaries - I'm not yet sure what these are since this is still a new plan. 
• I will at times take it moment by moment, and not chastise myself when I screw up - just note it and start over. 
• I will put sticky notes around to remind myself of what I want instead. 
• Maybe add a calendar appointment in my phone as a daily reminder.
• I will continually ask myself what I want my life to look like and what's most important. 

I'm not aiming for perfection and I'm grateful I don't have worse habits to break. I think my only current addiction is caffeine - which I learned of when I got my first-ever withdrawal headache last fall after a day without coffee.

...I have much more empathy.  

But these are hard for me, and in some ways, it's a test. They may seem innocuous, but they aren't - they impact how I'm perceived, and in some ways even how I feel about myself. It bugs me that I succumb to these. They are habits, not conscious actions, and consequently, they "run" me (to borrow from Landmark's Forum; they're in control).

My mom was a self-proclaimed "creature of habit," and while I loved my mother, I choose not to emulate her. I have quit smoking, and stopped many other unhealthy behaviors. I have changed my language when it made more sense to speak differently. I stopped saying "um" and using other fillers. I have created good habits, like daily journal writing and exercise. I have changed how and what I eat.

I've read it takes anywhere from 21 - 30 days to break an old or instill a new habit, depending on the complexity (I've also read some take much longer). So I'll aim to be patient with myself. I do believe it's possible to change even these insidious quirks. I will report back. And please, by all means, share your habit-breaking tips, ideas and successes in the comments.

Updates
- Day one update: It helps to say to myself, "I'm choosing to stop this."
- Day two observation: Identified that, 1) I have the desire to do this and, 2) I believe I can do this. - So far, so good!
- Day three insight: I'm not sure I would call this hard... but it requires constant diligence. I am impressively habitual.
- Three weeks later: Still doing great with the fidgeting part. It's not always easy; I think about it frequently. But I am not acting on those thoughts. Shopping, well, a slip... Not a big slip, just a little slip. And gave myself a cash limit. So it was a conscious slip, too. Ah well. Onward. It's been a trying couple of weeks, to say the least. Starting anew each day. 

Busting up some aging myths

The perils of aging are largely myths.

"What makes people believe they don't have any power or control over what happens to them?" Forrest asked as we were chatting about older friends and family who are dealing with health challenges. We realized we were somewhat confounded by how little some of us seem to know and understand about our own health.

It struck me that we grow up conditioned to think that aging is negative, a bad thing. We learn:

• We'll get sick. 
• Our bones get weak. 
• Bodies give out. 
• Things break. 
• We won't be as vibrant. 
• Sex lives wane. 
• Memories fade. 

And so many more.
We accept them as fact.
We don't question.

Stuff happens, some of it preventable, some not, but either way, it doesn't mean we're without power to have an impact. So here are a few thoughts, as I consider my own journey.

We are not our genetics.

That list above? Not necessarily true... We are not our genetics, although we can be if we believe we are and act accordingly.

We can influence what happens to us, and what we believe and how we act can make all the difference. It's not to say they won't happen; as we age, the odds of developing ailments increases. We can't control all of our environmental influences.

Yet there is much within our control. Beliefs matter.

We are what we eat. 

The old adage, "we are what we eat," is actually pretty true. If we put junk in our bodies, we feel ... well, like junk.

What we consume makes a difference, no matter what our age, but we might feel the impacts more as we get older, as we whittle away our defenses. So many illnesses or conditions are considered preventable and are now linked to diet - Alzheimer's, diabetes, heart disease, to name just a few... Food also has a huge impact on brain function, how we feel emotionally and how much energy and strength we have. A few insights:

• Sugar - any type of sugar - contributes largely to inflammation, which is the root cause of many disorders and diseases. 
• Processed food is full of sugar and various chemicals (thousands of untested additives are on the FDA approved list for use in food!), and generally, the western diet is highly processed. 
• Sugar substitutes are even worse. Sodas, any type, are not helpful. Try sparkling water with a splash of juice, some bitters, or herbs for a refreshing alternative and to stay sufficiently hydrated.
• As so many food experts now advocate, and to paraphrase Michael Pollan, as I often do, eat real food, not too much, mostly plants. 
• Simple carbs like white flour or white rice are stripped of fiber and nutrients and quickly turn to sugar once ingested. A better option is whole grain; even better, the ancient grains. Grains in any form should be a small part of our diets; make sure your breads or cereals have just a few ingredients and you know what they are. 
• Potatoes and other starchy foods get a bad wrap, but they're actually nutrient dense. Add a little butter or sour cream and you're golden. Just eat sparingly. 
• Fat is good. Well, good fats are good. Fat is satisfying and helps our bodies use many of our vitamins.
• Lastly, conventional agriculture is pesticide- and antibiotic-heavy. If you can, know your producers, buy from a farmers market, shop the organic section or make smart purchases using the Clean 15 / Dirty Dozen lists.  

Use it or lose it...

While the research and thinking around exercise continues to change (how much, how often, how intense), the importance of moving our bodies has not. To thrive, we need to be active.

Sitting is one of the worst things we can do, and from my own experience, know it causes all kinds of less-than-fun discomforts. There's evidence now it can even shorten our lives, and certainly it contributes to countless ailments.

Sitting too much keeps me from running - temporarily (sing it: the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone... or a version there-of, in my case, sitting caused limited range of motion in my hips, underachieving glutes, overactive calves and impossibly tight Achilles tendons in both feet).

It's never too late to start moving. But if you haven't moved your body for a while, it's best to start slow. Yoga or stretching, strength and balance exercises, coupled with standing desks if you have a desk job are all essential to bone, muscle, mental and even emotional health.

     And then there's style...

I have no interest in getting old. That said, as we all are, I am aging. There's a big difference between old and aging. Unless I want to pay a small fortune, I can't do much about my sagging jaw line, but I don't have to look old, either. Good style never goes out of date.

Cosmetics, used strategically, dressing appropriately for your lifestyle (but throw away those "how to dress at any age" guides, especially if they tell you to change your style based on your age), and an updated hair style just feel good. I intend to stay relevant even when I'm an advanced age, and personal style shows you 'get it.'

...And lastly, life-long learning

Don't ever lose your curiosity. Challenge yourself. Even as a teenager, I recognized the value of "being comfortable being uncomfortable" with a wall poster reminding me at every look.

Explore. 

Travel.

Ask questions. 

Read. 

These keep us vibrant, relevant and engaged. Be deliberate and intentional. We can learn and grow from everything and we're never too old to learn something new. Brain science is growing exponentially and none of it suggests that we have to lose capacity as we age.

As 'anonymous' once stated (I wish I knew who really said this), "Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty, well-preserved body, but rather to skid broadside, thoroughly used up, and loudly proclaiming, 'wow, what a ride.'"

(If you like inspiring quotes, here's a pretty good selection.)


While this is hardly a comprehensive list (I didn't even mention play, laughter, or spending time in nature; oh, and don't smoke...) to help you age gracefully - or disgracefully, if you prefer, I think it busts a few of those myths I grew up hearing. Hope they do that for you, too.

There's something to be said for scrappy and street smart

I'm definitely not a Pollyanna. I learned a lot the hard way. But early on, I developed the skills to do that. Given where I could be right now, I'm grateful to be where I actually am.

I'm right where I should be. Are you? 

I find the Pollyanna's of the world hard to be around. The naivete irritates me. Perhaps it's because I once wished I had an easier upbringing. Perhaps it's because I didn't.

I often lament my earlier years, say, from 12 onward. The years prior to that are all pretty blurry and largely remembered thanks to photos. I've said from the outside looking in, they look pretty good but reality isn't always as it seems.

But from 12 on, things got interesting. My history teacher, Mr. Kimball, once told me I wouldn't amount to anything (although he also said something about wasting my intelligence, so I guess he thought I was smart). Because of my loud mouth and feisty spirit (to be kind to myself), he suggested I join the debate team, but I wasn't interested.

My years in junior and high school were tough, during a tough time. Nearing the end of the cold war... Busing... Post-60s freedoms and all the confusions that went with them, especially for women...

Some of my school mates and I were wont to say after graduation, which I managed albeit barely, "We went to Handle-It School - we can handle anything." Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Maybe...

Some of those early friends are doing well now. Some of my closest friends really aren't... or weren't, as they departed this mortal coil. But a tough beginning doesn't mean there's no hope or possibility. Sometimes it's a great foundation from which to build upon.

Hope, possibility, opportunity

My former step-daughter had a rough beginning. I worried a lot when she came to live with us. But now, she travels the world for work, is happily married, and often lives abroad. From the outside in, she has a good life.

When I left what I consider to be my first "real" job (as in, the start to a career rather than just a job), my boss wrote in my recommendation that I combined intellect with street smarts. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I get it now. It took a while.

Me, December, 2014, Golden Gardens Park, Seattle

Being scrappy and street smart makes me a pretty decent human being, with skills to solve problems, contribute to a meaningful discussion, compromise, and get results. I "get" people and know how to maneuver in the world. I'm pragmatic, a realist, even while holding a lot of ideals about how I think things should be.

There's gold in them thar hills... (or, my 

guess is we're all in the right place, right now). 

If we can find the gold in the hands we're dealt, even if we're playing Cards Against Humanity, we can create something special toward a greater, better world.

Creating a fabulous year (when I'd rather be napping)

With a whirlwind of activity in December - year-end work tasks, holiday gatherings, shopping and gift giving, solstice celebrations and my birthday - I'm not always able to do the reflection and planning I hope to in December. But I get started by focusing my thoughts around current year successes and challenges, and hopes for new, different, better in the years ahead. What do I want my day-in, day-out to look like in the future? What do I keep or let go of? What were the lessons learned, and the opportunities to leverage from the year now closing? 

I recently wrote a post for LifeWise Oregon's HealthFeed about creating the life you desire, beyond setting immediate goals (or yikes... resolutions). If you'd like ideas or need tips to create your ideal life, you can find the post here. 

January is my month to coalesce the thinking that began in December into some sort of plan for the year(s) ahead. So while I'd rather be napping (and naps do have a very important role in self-care), I'm fine-tuning my vision and setting short- and long-term goals to get me there.