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.

For the Love of Smoothies

I've never been much of a breakfast eater. I know it's the most important meal of the day. My body has been fasting all night, I need all those nutrients and energy to get through my day, it revs up my metabolism...I know. I've heard it all before. But the smell of food in the morning makes me sick. So what's a girl to do? Blend up a smoothie that's what. I can make a smoothie, take it to work with me and sip it during our daily morning meeting. Sometimes this causes looks of horror, "Oh my, what the heck are you drinking?!", other times I get the Oliver Twist eyes, "Please, may I have some smoothie?". This morning I got the latter. Although I missed the pleading eyes and my poor co-worker didn't get any. So, to avoid the looks of horror or the guilt of not sharing I am posting the recipe for this morning's smoothie. I don't measure, I just dump stuff into the blender and mix until it's the consistency I like. You can add more fruit or liquid to your tastes. 

Jen's Berry Awesome Smoothie 

frozen berries - I used a mixture of cherries, blueberries and strawberries

kefir - I use plain but use any flavor or use yogurt

almond milk  

1 scoop protein powder

Toss in a blender, add liquid until berries are a little more than half covered, blend. Adjust to your preference. I sometimes add raw oats or ground flaxseed depending on how I feel that morning. 

I hope you enjoy! 

Happy Songs - Free At Dawn, Small Black

This music is so uplifting. It makes my heart swell, full of hope, full of the feeling that I can do anything. Who doesn't  need a good dose of that?

What Genius Invented the Sports Bra?

For Mother's Day my kids, who are incredibly awesome kids, gifted me with some adorable yoga clothes. It was a thoughtful gift because I'm in the process of finishing my yoga teacher training and currently teach yoga two nights a week.  All that was missing from my ensemble was a sports bra. No problem. Shopping for a sports bra should be a piece of cake, right?

Ha!

Sports bra shopping is NOT for the feint of heart. There are only three options when it comes to sports bras.

1. Uni-boob - I don't care who you are, it doesn't look good. No one can pull off uni-boob.

2. Flat on a hot tin roof - I understand that a sports bra needs to be supportive but come on...having your chest squeezed into a reverse mammogram is not okay.

3. You must be a contortionist yogi of epic proportion to get out of this bra.

I accidentally went with option 3. I chose the bra I took home because it was my actual bra size and looked like it would be supportive without being compressive. Support is important. I don't want those things wandering around during down dog, who knows where they'd end up!? What I failed to notice was that while this bra looked like a regular bra it had no hook and eye closure...I had to pull it on and off over my head. Hmm. How hard could it be?

Again I say, HA!!

Getting it on wasn't so bad once I shoved the "ladies" into the cups but getting it off...sigh. There was a moment of horror where I'd gotten the thing over the boobs but it was stuck under my armpits. I struggled for a while before realizing with horror that I was stuck.  I was about to ask my twelve year-old for help until I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh how I wish I could erase that image from my brain!  After much twisting, bending and grunting I managed to get the darn thing off without scarring my daughter for life.

I'm happy to report that now I can take it on and off relatively unscathed. I just needed practice and perseverance. And hey, now I can reach my hands over head and down my back making mermaid pose more accessible. Silver lining, right?

Happy Songs - Bruno Mars - Just The Way You Are

I love this song! Happy beat and happy lyrics. "Girl, you're amazing. Just the way you are." We need to hear that at least once a day from someone even if that someone is our self.

Yoga Adjustments

Adjustments during yoga can be absolutely amazing. A gentle touch from a knowledgeable instructor can lead you into a pose you thought you'd never be able to do. Adjustments during Savasana can help deepen your relaxation. Sometimes an adjustment can even trigger an emotional response and help you let go of something that really needed to be let go of. I witnessed all of these things during my latest teacher training weekend. The focus of this training module was Thai Yoga Massage and Anatomy because yoga instructors need to know how to do adjustments safely. All Yoga teachers should attend this training module or watch Paul Grilley's Anatomy for Yoga DVD. At the very least they should never hop on and crank away like the cartoon above. 

Yoga adjustments and yoga poses should never be painful. A little discomfort is okay, but not pain. Discomfort yes, pain no. Delicious stretch that's so intense you might be sore tomorrow good, pain BAD. Say it with me, PAIN BAD. 

PAIN BAD!!!

 JUST SAY NO, NINJA KICK THAT MEAN YOGA INSTRUCTOR AND LEAVE IF YOU HAVE TO!

Pain bad. 

I know there are yoga instructors out there who will push, pull and sit on someone to try and get them in to what they think Downward Facing Dog is supposed to look like. But what if the body they're sitting on isn't designed to do it that way? I have a friend who's been doing yoga for twenty plus years and she can't get her heels to the ground in down dog. My yoga teacher can't do a back-bend because his arms won't even go back to his ears. Their bodies don't do what they're being asked to do. 

A good instructor will provide adaptations to poses or give an alternate pose. Don't let anyone make you feel like you're doing something wrong and don't let anyone cause you physical pain. 

Namaste. 

Happy Song - Hotel Song by Regina Spektor

I have no idea what this song is about. Googling didn't help, no one seems to know what it means. There is much debate it. All that's really important to me is the upbeat, catchy tune. I'm choosing to ignore the fact that I overheard my daughter singing, "A little bag of cocaine..." in the shower. Hopefully she doesn't sing it at school.

Cincinnati Rollergirls

I recently went to the Roller Derby for the first time. The organizer of my group decided we should get in to the spirit of the evening. She said we all needed roller derby names. If I haven't had my proper dosage of coffee I have a hard time remembering my own name, let alone coming up with something clever. I asked friends, patients and co-workers for help with my roller derby name. I had several good options, FERnace, FERminator, Physical Terrorist, Body Bender...but I went with Allie Catraz. I just liked the sound of it. (One of my friends suggested Bitch on Wheels but we won't talk about that.) The most surprising thing about the responses to my saying I was going to roller derby was the frequently asked question, "Are you going to be in it?" 

Am I going to be in it? Apparently I seem the type of person who possesses a desire to violently knock people down. What the hell?? Maybe I should lay off the coffee. Or smile more. Or knock people down less...

Seen in The Rear-view Mirror

Clap along if you feel that happiness is the truth!

On the way home I glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed the woman behind me singing. I mean really singing. It was quite a performance. She put everything into it and didn't give a damn who saw her. I felt an immediate bond with her because I do the same thing. I'm not stopping at the best part of a song just because someone might see me. Why should I be embarrassed that I like music? It's not like they can hear me. And so what if they can? I'm never going to see them again. I watched and tapped along with her until the light changed.

Watching her belting it out left me with a smile on my face and made me think of the many things I've observed in the rear view over the years. More often than not I see people doing something positive. Yes I've seen people arguing and people crying alone in their cars. I always send them the only thing I have to offer, happy thoughts. The most horrifying thing I've seen was a clown. In the car right behind me! (I may have screamed...clowns are scary.) I love when I see people singing and laughing together. Maybe it's a husband and wife, maybe it's two best friends or a parent and child. Doesn't matter, I love seeing people truly enjoying each other's company. It renews my faith in the human spirit. The majority of us are good people with good intentions. So the next time you're coming to a red light as your favorite part of a song is approaching, don't stop singing. You might make someone's day.

Happy Songs - Nate Walcott, Mike Mogis, Big Harp "At Your Door" w/Lyrics Stuck in Love...

Happy Songs

Elton John is right, sad songs say so much. I'm a fan of sad songs. I put together a playlist of nothing but sad songs. It was great! Sad songs are so awesome to sing along with and I sound amazing when I sing them. (Alone in my car of course.) I listened to that playlist twice and both times wanted to kill myself before I even got to the end. I have to listen to sad songs in small doses. Lesson learned.

These days I primarily listen to happy, uplifting songs. Songs that make me feel like I can conquer the world or at the very least get through the next hour. I came across this article on NPR and thought I'd share it. I will definitely be adding the song to my playlist and trying the dance moves. Alone in my living room of course.

Come Dance With Me - Robert Krulwich

IV Sedation for Dental Work, Otherwise Known as Bullshit!

"I am not an animal!!!!"

I've had a lifelong fear of the dentist. The picture above is of me after a filling. The dentist gave me what he referred to as, "Enough Novocaine to take down a horse!" but I still felt everything. This may explain my passionate dislike of dentists. I don't dislike dentists as people. Well...maybe I do. What kind of person chooses a career where they're paid to torture people? I realize that last statement coming from me, a physical therapist, is sort of ironic.

My first dental experience ended with a huge bite mark on my Mom's shoulder, (it was the last bit of her I could clutch on to as they ripped me from her arms), and the words, "SHE KICKS", written in big red letters in my chart. My behavior really hasn't changed much since then. I haven't bitten or kicked anyone in a while but I have fainted. Not because of what they were doing to me. I fainted because the woman in the room next to mine moaned and I knew she was having teeth pulled. Why would anyone go through an extraction awake?! When I had my wisdom teeth extracted I opted for what I thought was general anaesthesia. It seemed the safest option for everyone involved. Boy was I wrong. I walked in to the oral surgeon's office that morning with my Mom and the biggest stuffed animal I could find. (Did I mention I was 26 at the time?) They strapped me to a table in the crucifix position. Like Jesus Christ. It sucked. Then they plopped my stuffed animal, a big blue dog, on my chest. How the heck was I supposed to squeeze the dog when my arms were velcroed to a table?! I asked the nurse to get the dog off me. I didn't want to look silly...that's the last thing I remember. 

When I came to I was sitting beside my Mother and I was sobbing. Hysterically. Like unable to get words out hysterical, barely able to breathe, snot flying everywhere and I didn't care, hysterical. Mom was patting me and going back and forth between asking me over and over what was wrong and asking the nurses because I wasn't answering. With much struggling and gasping for air I managed to say, "I...Want...My...Dog!!!!" They told my Mom that crying was a post anaesthesia reaction. She took them at their word and I was in no state to question anything. Until the next day when I took a shower and found I was covered in bruises. I called the oral surgeon's office and asked the secretary if she could tell me what the hell they'd done to me. She put me on hold to check my chart. When she came back she told me I'd broken loose from the straps and started fighting. What?? I used my hulk like strength to break loose from the straps and started a brawl? No wonder I woke up sobbing! I'd just fought an entire room full of people! The woman on the phone explained to me that oral surgeons don't use general anaesthesia, they use twilight sleep. You're not completely under so the dentist can interact with you, have you turn your head and spit, open wider...and try to kick his ass! She didn't tell me what kind of damage I did but I like to think I dealt out a bruise or two of my own.

There's No Talking During Savasana!!!!!

The pose you see pictured above may look like a group nap or a scene from The Walking Dead but it's not. It's Savasana, otherwise known as Corpse pose. When I first started practicing yoga I was often tempted to get up and leave during Savasana. I didn't because it's incredibly rude but man did I want to. Lie still? Quiet my body and my mind? Seriously?! Who's got time for all that when there are shoes to buy, dogs to let out and dinner to cook? Lie still?? Ha! (Clearly I was missing the point of yoga.) It's taken time to truly appreciate the pose but the more I learn the more I've embraced and look forward to it. Being a full time parent, having a full time job makes for a very full mind. Taking the time to turn it off and rejuvenate in Savasana, even if it's only five minutes, is one of the best things I do for myself each day. 

Some of my students picked up on the benefits of this pose waaaaaay sooner than I did. I've been teaching two nights a week and I've gotten a couple complaints when it's time to come out of savasansa.  "No...I'm not ready yet..." they'll say. I'm impressed by this and a little jealous. Yoga is something new for most of them. The majority of the class had never attended a formal class. Last week I had to tell someone, in my very best dreamy, yoga teacher voice, "There's no talking during Savasana." That didn't work. She kept right on talking to the gentleman beside her. I smiled inwardly. Ah yes, I've been there. No time to be still. I repeated myself in my Mommy voice. "There's no talking during Savasana!" That did the trick. 

Django Taco - Northside

Holy good tacos Batman!!!!

My friend and I were starving after an evening of watching Roller Derby so we wandered over to Northside to find something to eat. Django Western Taco is one of several taco places in Northside. I'm not sure why tacos restaurants are suddenly so hip. Maybe it's because you can stick any combination of veggies and cheese in a tortilla and it's delicious? Perhaps having your meal folded in two is interesting...I don't know but I'd give this restaurant a two thumbs up.

Our server was prompt and friendly, two qualities I appreciate in a waitress. I loved her right away because she came to the table with chips in her hand. I like anyone who brings me food while they're greeting me. There were several choices for my carnivorous friend and a vegetarian taco for me. The server suggested I try the chile relleno as another vegetarian option. We decided to split that and each ordered tacos for our individual tastes. My friend tried the signature spicy margarita. A bit too much heat for me but still yummy. I stuck with the traditional margarita on the rocks. The food was great and as an added bonus some of the patrons and staff spontaneously burst in to song. I have no idea if this happens often but naturally I joined in. Who doesn't love a sing a long? I would definitely go back!