A Year of Quitting

I spent last year being a quitter. That's right, a big fat quitter. Quitting is not something I do lightly. Tenacity has always been a quality I've admired in myself. But there's a difference between tenacity and stubbornness. My year of quitting started with the end of my engagement. It was an unhappy relationship but I hung onto it for dear life. Woah. Read that again...an unhappy, UNhappy relationship but I hung onto it for dear life. What the hell??? I knew I was unhappy, I knew he was unhappy but I hung on?? Why? 

It would take a team of therapists to figure that one out...

When I finally chose to end things it was what I imagine skydiving to be like. That's a big decision. Stay safely inside the plane, no matter how turbulent or leap? I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and jumped. The moment I let that relationship go I knew it was the right decision. A weight had been lifted. I felt so light. And free. 

So seriously...what took me so long? I did some soul searching. Maybe my oh so admirable tenacity wasn't serving me the way I thought. Yes it got me through college. Yes it helped me raise four children as a single Mom. But was my unwillingness to give up on anything truly tenacity or was it pigheaded pride? Or could it be fear?

I didn't have to search long for the answer. 

Shit. 

I took a long hard look at my life and started quitting. I quit smoking. (I realize that should be a no brainer but it's an addiction people.) I quit eating meat. I quit waiting for the right time to sign up for yoga teacher training and just did it. I stripped myself of all the bullshit and only pursued things that made me happy. Things that fulfilled me. I was on a mission, I was taking back Poland! 

Taking myself back. 

And what did my year of quitting bring me? It brought me the knowledge that I have to take care of myself. My body, my heart, my spirit. It brought me a yoga teacher certificate, something I've wanted for over a decade. It brought me a new job. A job I absolutely love and that I'm meant to do. It brought me greater health and it brought me peace. It brought me an appreciation for myself. A commitment to never settle for anything. Looking back, learning to become a quitter was exactly what I needed. 

The Beauty of Friends

As a pediatric physical therapist I see a broad spectrum of abilities. Autism, Cerebral Palsy, Spina Bifida...the list goes on. Some of my kiddos walk independently, some can't and may never walk. Varying levels of abilities. These little guys very rarely reduce me to tears. That does not make me a big fat meanie. It's not my job to feel badly for them. It's my job to help them develop their strengths and function their absolute best and that's what I do. With a smile on my face and arms that are always willing to give a hug or a hand up. But today...today was a reach for the kleenex kind of day. And not because of why you might think. Today I got to witness a very genuine, very sweet moment between two friends. The two girls I was working with are five and seven and are both blind. The Orientation/Mobility specialist and I were doing a gross motor game with the two of them. The older child was being the "human guide" for the younger one. They were doing so great and were really excited. They started moving too fast and before we could get a hand in there to prevent it the younger girl ran into a chair. With her face...OW! (I assure you she was not injured, it was a bump that didn't leave a mark. I promise she was fine!) The little one started to cry. The O and M specialist was consoling her and making sure she was okay. I looked at the other girl and realized she was crying too. Harder than the one who'd been run into the chair! She felt awful for hurting her friend. The adults assured the small ones that everything was okay. No one was mortally wounded, all was well. Once most of the tears were dry the older child turned to the younger to apologize. They fell in to each other's arms and cried again. Kisses were given, "I'm so sorry I hurt you!" was said...it was so sweet and so very heartfelt. I admit the adults in the room, the mean hardened therapists, had to reach for tissues along with the girls. It was so beautiful. And not because these girls have disabilities but because it was such a real moment. If only adults could solve their problems so easily...

I love this quote. Think about it. Think about many times you're so busy looking for something better you fail to notice the wonderfulness right in front of you. Live in the moment. Embrace the moment. It may be that diamond necklace you've been searching for. 

Beersbee

I've never been a fan of outdoor games. Watching or playing. I'm sure it's a direct result of growing up watching my Dad and his brothers play games. Horseshoes? Whose bright idea was that? My Dad and Uncles were carpenters. Decades of swinging hammers, hauling wood, lifting houses up over their heads...I might be exaggerating...these men developed behemoth sized biceps of epic proportion! And I'm supposed to stand idly by while they throw pieces of iron? That's messed up! It didn't matter where I stood because invariably one of those horseshoes would flip out of the pit and start hurtling toward me like a missile. A Jennifer seeking missile. Volleyball? I watched my sister, a jock who thought outdoor games were fun, get squashed like a pancake between two of my Uncles. I swear her nose has never been the same. Croquet? Jarts!?? No thanks. Not for me. 

That's how I felt until my friends brought out the Beersbee game. You throw a frisbee at a pole with a bottle on top of it. If you knock the opposing teams bottle off, you get a point. If you catch the frisbee when they throw it at your pole they don't get a point. Simple enough. I can catch a frisbee. Why not? Because outdoor games lead to trips to the ER, that's why not! 

I've never been competitive or sporty but I was an animal out there. I dove for the Frisbee. Dove and rolled and caught it! If you knew me you'd know how out of character that is for me. In high school I actually failed gym. With a big fat F. But suddenly in my mid forties, in my friend's yard, my competitive gene kicked in and I had to catch that Frisbee! At all costs! I'm not sure exactly when I injured my finger but by the end of the tournament I couldn't close my hand. My team came in second and I did indeed end up in the ER. Torn ligament...sigh. 

A Clown Themed Haunted House...SERIOUSLY?!

AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I recently read that there's a shortage of clowns and if the trend continues we may be approaching a time where there are no more clowns. This brought up a lot of questions for me. Are we really upset about this? Are we saying this is a bad thing?? I for one am a huge supporter of the no more clowns movement. I mean come on! Who came up with the idea of clowns in the first place? Let's take a guy, paint his face deathly white, draw a ridiculously huge red grin on his face and have him follow children around all the while not saying a word?? Seriously?! I say yes, let's bravely go forth to that happy place in time where there are no more clowns because CLOWNS ARE SCARY!!

My fear of clowns began when I was around seven and snuck out of bed to watch TV. It was some horrible movie starring, you guessed it, an evil clown. (This may possibly have been the moment my lifelong insomnia was born as well.) The movie caused the prompt and permanent ejection from my room of the clown doll my Mother had lovingly made me. Ironically his name was Happy. He seemed a friendly enough doll but after my late night escapade he was no longer trusted or welcome in my room.

I've never taken my kids to the circus because come on...it's infested with clowns! I've never seen the movie or read "It" and I never will. Stephen King is frightening enough without adding a clown to the mix. So you can imagine my horror when I realized the haunted house my kids were dragging me through had a theme. In case you haven't figured it out, it was a clown themed haunted house.

SERIOUSLY????!!!!!!!!

I put a brave face on even though this haunted house was full of evil, awful, super scary clowns. Clowns at every turn. Clowns in my face, leering, laughing. The kids and their friends thought it was the funniest thing ever. (Jerks). The best part was when a particularly scary clown jumped out at me. I lurched backwards and bumped into one of my group. I grabbed the hand of my group member and clutched it to my chest. Trembling I proceeded through this house of horrors. A few steps in and I hear a voice say to me, "You holding my hand little girl?" I turn to the person whose hand I'm holding expecting to see a friendly face but what I see instead is a clown! I'd been holding hands and strolling through a clown house with a clown! Oh the horror!! I don't think I can duplicate the sound that came out of me in that moment but it was impressive. Still I didn't let go of him right away, I was either in too much shock or was unwilling to release the human contact. When I did let him go I got out of there in a hurry and vowed to never, EVER go through a haunted house again.

Of course my children still think it was hysterical.

Brats.

Ahimsa

When people hear the word yoga they think about the amazing, twisty poses seen on the cover of Yoga Journal magazine or posted all over the internet. Who doesn't wish they could get in to mermaid pose or do an incredible arm balance without landing on their face? I know I do. Landing on your face hurts and I have the mat burn on my chin to prove it! But there's so much more to yoga than the poses. I learned how much more while going through the teacher training process. 

Yoga is comprised of eight limbs. The postures are only one piece. You can be an awesome, dedicated yogi without ever stepping foot on a yoga mat. The first limb we learned about were the Yamas. Yamas are ethical standards, our moral code. One of the many books I had to read for teacher training was The Secret of the Yamas (not to be confused with The Divine Secrets of the Ya-ya Sisterhood). I'm oversimplifying but here they are:

Ahimsa - non violence, don't hurt anyone 

Satya - be truthful 

Asteya - don't steal 

Brahmacharya - don't overindulge

Aparigraha - don't covet

Pretty simple. These are rules we all know. Do unto others and all that jazz. We've heard this our whole lives. But what I'd never thought about before was to apply this to myself. As in, don't be mean to myself. Don't lie to myself and don't take things from myself...

Think about that for a moment. What if instead of looking at ourselves in the mirror and thinking all the horrible things we say to ourselves every day we look in the mirror and practice Ahimsa, or non-violence. We look in the mirror and say. "You know what, I'm pretty darn fabulous!" What if when someone gave us a compliment we fully accepted it? A co-worker recently told me he loves to hug me because I'm so full of positive energy he feels like it pours out of me and into him and helps him get through his day. Woah. That may have been the best compliment I've ever gotten! It made me misty. But I immediately started trying to take this compliment away from myself. "Man, he's nuts. I'm not awesome..."  Instead of stealing that wonderful compliment away from myself and beating myself up with self deprecation I decided to apply the Yamas to myself. I gratefully accepted his words and I will hold on to them.  

Yes we should practice the Yamas outwardly to others but I think it's more important to take them inward to ourselves. If we're good to ourselves it will change how we are towards others. 

Shanti.

Donating Your Brain to Science

Okay so I've had some pretty bizarre conversations in my lifetime. I'm a Mother so I've had more conversations about poop than I'd care to think about. I'm a Physical Therapist who works with the elderly so I've had more conversations about poop than I'd care to think about...old people and children love talking about their poop. (No idea why.) I've had conversations about death with people who are near the end. I've talked couples through positions for sex after hip replacement or after amputation. My point being, I'm comfortable talking to people about uncomfortable things.

Which is why I ended up being the one to ask my Mother if she'd be willing to donate her brain to science after she dies. It wasn't as terrible as you might think. Mostly odd. Kind of surreal. During her last appointment with the neurologist she, the doctor, asked me and my sister to step out of the room with her for a moment. "We're nearing the end here. Could be two weeks, could be three years." That's how the conversation began. To sum it up. My Mom has Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, there's nothing they can do to treat it. Would we be willing to donate her brain posthumously so they could study it and perhaps find a treatment.

Um...

Hmm.

"I think maybe we should talk to her about it first."

"Okay. Well I'll call you in a few days and we can work out how I'll procure it,"

Procure. My Mother's brain. Sure...no prob. My sister and I kind of looked at each other with that 'Alright, we'll rock, paper, scissors for who talks to her about this' kind of look. The last time my sister tried talking to Mom about end of life business my sister started crying, Mom started crying...it was a big mess. But I have these talks with patients all the time. Without crying. No need to do rock, paper, scissors. I won by default.

Sigh.

So after the two hour drive back to the nursing home I sat down to have this very bizarre conversation with my Mom. The person who gave me life. Surprisingly it's not the strangest conversation I've had with her. (You'd have to know us better to understand.)

"So, Mom. The Doctor wants to know if we'd be willing to donate your brain to science so she can study it and hopefully learn something that will help someone else."

She paused and gave me a blank stare. She knows the prognosis of the disease. After careful thought she said,

"Okay they can have it. But I'd like them to wait for me to be dead before they take it..."

Now that's the Mom I know and love. Laughing in the face of something that really isn't funny. I assured her I'd make sure she was completely dead before they got anywhere near her with a scalpel or saw.