Krav Maga…aka, Awesome Workout aaaaaaaand I Got to Hit Stuff!!!!!!

Ikms-logon following through with my plan to check out Krav Maga Seattle, aka KMS, I got up early, ate a healthy breakfast in plenty of time to let it digest before I headed down to the gym.  It was really easy to find, and there was plenty of free street parking.  I walked in, was instantly greeted by Ally, who helped me get set up for my free week trial (this is usually $20, but there’s a special going on right now where the trial week of unlimited classes is free!  Can ya say kismet??) and I took a seat and watched the final few minutes of Krav Maga 2 class, and holy friggin wow!  That class was no joke!  The amount of self defense, combat training, and technique going on amongst these amazing athletes blew my mind!  I decided to just watch the Krav Maga level 1 class today, but was planning on taking the KMS Bag class, which I’ll get to soon.

So, Krav Maga Level 1….yeah, not for the faint of heart!  The pre-workout, good gawd, I got sore just watching the class.  And after about 10 minutes or so, they all partnered up and started working on punches.  There was every kind of body type, fitness level, skill level, and intensity out there.  The first timers to the class were well instructed and people were so willing to help them do things correctly.  The veterans were friggin inspiring.  One chick in particular, she had dreads and a black bandana and she was a beast!  Her technique was impeccable, her focus was formidable and her intensity was inspirational!  They moved on from punches, to working on knee strikes.  They then worked on getting out of a hold if someone grabs you around the neck from the back and tries to choke you.  I just loved everything I saw, and can’t wait to take my first level 1 class.  Ally taught the class with help from a few other instructors, with the owners keeping watch and shouting out words of encouragement and inspiration throughout.  Everyone gave 110% in that class, and it was a powerful thing to watch!

An hour after that I checked in, grabbed a pair of boxing gloves from the loaner bin, and headed to the mat for my first KMS Bag class.  And Chau, one of the owners started us off.  We all grabbed a jump rope and jumped for 5 minutes.  That doesn’t seem like that long, but when you haven’t jumped rope since the 80s, yeah, it was so long!!  I instantly realized how out of shape I am, but I fought through the pain.  Fought through the burn.  And lasted the full 5 mins.  After that, we did some across the floor work, engaging our core, warming up the entire body.  I felt slow, and weak, but I pushed through.  Then, Ally took over the class and we strapped into our gloves and all grabbed a heavy bag.  And that’s when the magic happened for me!  Not only was my body already sweaty and exhausted, but it was invigorated and craving more!  And this is what I was craving!  I got to hit on the heavy bag!

Working in 2-3minute intervals on different punches, it felt so good to get back to working on a heavy bag.  My body instantly remembered the form I need for accurate, effective punches.  I heard my grandfather’s voice in my head telling me to center, engage my abs, use my hips, keep the punches at shoulder level, and exhale.  And I did.  And it felt great!  All was well until we had to drop down and do sit-ups, and that quick change of level send the first wave of nausea and dizziness.  Coming off of 65 days without sugar made it tough because my body was low on fuel!  My pace may have been a lot slower than the rest of the class, but ya know what, I didn’t quit!  I went at my pace, but I didn’t quit!

I got back up and pushed through.  More dizziness came.  More nausea.  The coaches checked on me, I slowed my pace, but I didn’t quit.  And somehow, at the end of class, I was able to complete a pyramid series of punches, roundhouse kicks, and splays and did so without puking all over the gym!  It hurt.  It burned.  My brain and muscles were screaming for me to stop.  But my heart was too far into it.  My soul was too hell bent on finishing.  I remembered that I have the word Forza, which means Strength in Italian, on my arm for a reason!  I am stronger than I’ve been lately.  I am one tough bitch when I want to be, and I was NOT going to give up!  And when I finished, not only was I so proud of myself, but all the coaches gave me high fives and congratulations!

For the first time, in a long time, I felt so welcome somewhere new.  It felt like I finally found a place I belong!  And even though my heart was pounding out of my chest, I was breathing harder than I have in a long time, and my entire body was shaking, I felt such elation, I can’t even tell you!

I am going to finish out the free week, cuz why not, but I can tell you right now, I’m already a member of KMS.  I am so stoked to workout at this place 5 days a week.  And the best part, it’s friggin walking distance from my office!  No excuses!  This was meant to be on so many levels.

I got to my car, checked in with my best friend so he would know I survived.  And then, I cried.  I cried a release of tears I didn’t know I needed to cry.  The release I got today from all the tension I have been carrying around for the past 6 years finally felt like it was letting go of me.  The weight I’ve been carrying felt lighter.  Yes, I’ve tried yoga.  Yes, I’ve tried diets.  But none of that gave me the endorphin rush, the fulfillment, and the sense of personal accomplishment that this KMS Bag class gave me today.  Some people run. Some people yoga.  Some people crossfit.  Me?  I like to hit stuff.  I like to spend an hour with a heavy bag. I like to learn to defend myself while getting fit.  I’ve found the place that is going to help me reach all my goals, both fitness wise and nutrition wise.  How’s that, you might ask?  Well, because they have a nutritionist there that I am going to work with to ensure I’m fueling and recovering properly for this level of pushing my body.

I more than found a breadcrumb today.  I found a lost piece of myself that I’d forgotten about, and was so ecstatic to find.

Ciao for now,

M sm

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What Do I Do With That?!?!

Sitting around a table at a dive bar with two men, one of whom is young, and the other is a little older  than I am, the subject came around to dating, mostly discussing the young one’s dating life, because as he’s young and pretty, has the most active dating life at the table.  I made a comment about my lack of dating life, and how I’m cursed to always land in the friend zone no matter what, and this is where the unsolicited free advice started.

“I would argue that you get friend zoned because that’s where you put yourself,” said the young one.  And as I blinked at him, he added, “You’re a beautiful woman, and my guess is that you don’t believe that.”  He’s not wrong.  I don’t see myself that way.  Never have.  And again, before I could respond, he goes, “You’re really fun to be around and one of the most interesting people I’ve met, and so I think in order to not get friend zoned, you’re going to have to open yourself up more.”

As my best friend, the older, and wiser one at the table just cackled, I couldn’t help but squint at the young one, because these are almost the same verbatim words that my best friend has said to me on numerous occasions.  Additionally, getting this advice from a young man who has never even once made a pass in my direction, has no desire for anything other than friendship from me can sit there and so quickly and easily blame it all on my is a bit bizarre.

So, in finally finding my voice I say to the young one, “I agree.  You’re 100% right on all accounts.  The problem is, I have no idea how to do what you’re suggesting.”  And the quizzical look he gave me showed me he didn’t believe me.

I tried to explain to him that, the time in life that most people figure out how to maneuver dating is in high school.  That’s where you should be cutting your teeth on learning the dos and don’ts about navigating romance.  I, however, wasn’t given that option.  My mother had me programmed to never see myself as attractive.  And God help any boy who even remotely found me so, as she’d figure out a way to run them off.  Whether it was forcing me to break up with them once summer hit because, “I was too young for something that long and serious” or talking a boy into breaking up with me because “I needed to focus on school and not boys” or manipulating all of my guy friends to act as body guards to ensure that no other boy ever looked at me as anything more than a friend.  And when all of that is happening without your knowledge, you learn to see yourself as nothing more than the friend.

This has continued into my adult life.  I can be at a party, gathering, event with single men, and while they might enjoy talking to me, and might laugh at my wit, they never ask for my number before they leave.  They never want to get to know me better.  They never pursue me.  So, in explaining this to the young one, he blatantly says, “Yeah, but that’s because you don’t seem open to it.  You have a logical way of looking at the world, compartmentalizing everything into a neat little box, so you aren’t open to being pursued.”  My best friend adds, “They can see your ‘Keep Out’ sign that is tattooed on your forehead.

And I’m baffled.  What the fuck are they talking about?  I have no idea what they’re talking about.  I had no idea that’s how I am perceived.  When I meet new people, I always try to just ‘be myself’ and I’m now realizing, that in doing that, I’m some how also giving off an unavailable vibe.  And i have no idea how or why that’s happened, so with all this very honest advice that I’m getting, as I sat at that bar staring at them, all I could think was, “What do I do with that?!?  How do I fix a problem I don’t even know I have?”  It’s not that I don’t believe them.  I’m sure they’re right.  I’m sure they’re telling the truth.  But how the hell do I fix it because I don’t see it?

I have no idea how to do things differently.  I have no idea what personality traits I”m supposed to hide, or which ones to make bigger.  I have no idea how to navigate this in any way, shape or form.  Mostly because when I do meet a guy I find attractive, I do try to get to know him, but the way I do it always lands me in the friend zone, so in addition to not knowing how to be pursued, I clearly don’t know how to pursue either.

And it occurred to me.  How is this completely all on me?  How is there not a guy out there who would see past the ‘keep out sign’ that is supposedly on my forehead? Back in the day, I’ve learned since my mother died, there were quite a few guys who wanted to pursue me, but didn’t for either fear of my mother or fear of my friends.  As an adult, only two men dared try to be with me, both not giving a crap about my mother’s tactics to run them off, but i was too obedient to choose them over her once the ultimatum was thrown down by her.

It’s been almost 24 hours since all this truth was laid at my feet, and still, I have no idea how to fix this problem.  No idea how to ‘be more open’.  No clue whatsoever.  Perhaps the curse of the friend zone is my fault.  But since I don’t know how to fix it, I guess it’s just going to have to stay as it is for now.  Maybe an epiphany will come to me.  Although, it does suck that being myself isn’t enough.  It does suck that who I am, who I know myself to be, and the things I like about myself aren’t enough.  That I somehow now have to figure out some way to be more.  I don’t know that I want to do that.  But I don’t want to be alone forever, either.

No breadcrumb, this time, sadly.  Instead, I fear this conversation and the emotions and frustrations that have come from it have led me down a new path of self evaluation that is taking me further away from the life I’m meant to have.  I probably should stop this path, and just go back…but I don’t know that I can just ignore it now that it’s out there.  Truth. What do I do with that?

I have no idea….

Ciao for now,

M

Be The Change

One of the things I’ve worked really hard at most of my life is not turning out like my mother.  I didn’t want her small town life, her small town job, or her small town ideals.  And more than anything, I didn’t want her health problems.  I managed to fail at all of those things.

I ended up doing the same job she did, although I am finally doing that job in a larger city making more money than my mother could have ever dreamed of making.  I never had her small town ideals, although when you live there for a while, those ideas can sometimes creep in.  However the biggest failure is that I totally have her health problems.  I’ve been ashamed to say it for a few years, I ignored it, I pretended it would just go away, but the truth is I’m diabetic.  I ignored my own health to focus on hers, and that wasn’t right.  And now, it’s been almost two years since she’s been gone, and my own health has fully freaked me out!

But, unlike my mother, I’m not going to ignore it and avoid it until I have no choice but to take insulin.  I don’t want to lose my eye sight, or a limb, or the function of my kidneys.  So, 43 days ago, I went to see a doctor and got a bunch of labs done and started a weight loss program that will help get my pancreas the break it needs.  I’ve started tracking my progress on another blog, Ideal Michele, so check it out if you’re curious what I’m doing to get better.

btcI hate that it took a scare of a super high blood sugar reading to have me finally focus on this.  I hate that I’ve let myself get to the point where blood sugar is even an issue.  I spent a lot of time beating myself up. But now, I realize that I can beat this thing! That it’s not a death sentence.  It’s a wake up call!  And I can be the change I want for my life, and I can make that change happen now!

If you’re so inclined, check out my other blog, follow it, and feel free to leave supportive comments for me, as I can use all the inspiration and support I can get!

I don’t have to end up like my mother, with dialysis and numerous meds as my quality of life.  I’m still young enough to fix this, and her fate doesn’t have to be mine unless I want it to be.  And I do not!

Breadcrumb enthusiastically found!

Ciao for now,

M sm

Feels Like Home…But Not To Me

home-iconBreadcrumbs have popped up here and there since I started this journey, yet they are too few and far between for me to feel like I’m really getting anywhere new.  I feel so horribly lost, still, somewhere between the path my daughterly duty had me stuck on for years, and the one I’m supposed to be on.  And in the search, something occurred to me tonight.  The final breadcrumb I find that will be sitting in the middle of my path will be called one thing:  Home.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I absolutely hated the house I grew up in.  I hated it as a child, ran from it as an 18 year old, and only went back to take care of my mom.  And after her passing, having the chore of cleaning it out and getting it ready for sale was one of the worst experiences of my life.  And doing it completely alone just reinforced how much I absolutely hate that piece of real estate.  It holds no sentimental value to me.  It meant nothing to me to sell it.  I moved, and never looked back.

How strange to spend most of your life in one place and somehow not feel like you belong there.  And yet, that’s how I’ve always felt about this house.

And then this holiday season began and it hit me completely out of left field that this will be the first Christmas in my entire life that I won’t be in that house.  It’s not my first Christmas alone, that was last year.  But it wasn’t so much of a big deal, because there was something ‘normal’ in being in that place on Christmas day.  Cooking Christmas dinner in that kitchen.  Watching TV in that living room.  Hating it, yet comfortable in it.  However, this year, I can’t go there.  And it’s not like I want to go there.  I have no desire to go there.  But the finality of it brought up a ton of emotions this past week.  I blame the yoga (see previous post here for explanation).  Any way, as the tears stop falling, and the sobbing subsides, the end of my journey revealed itself to me.

I will finally be ok when I find my home.

I have no idea where that is.  It’s not the Tri-Cities.  It’s not Seattle, although Seattle will do for now.  It might be Venice, as I felt more at home there than anywhere else I’ve ever been in my life.  Cannon Beach holds a close second.  But neither of them gave me that sense of belonging to a place.

I want to find my place so badly.  I want to have that place that, when I walk inside, I feel peace.  My home.  My sanctuary.  The place that, no matter how hard it gets out there in the world, I can go home, close the door, light some candles and breathe.  And up to now, every place I’ve lived in has been rented, so never felt like mine.

Does that mean it’s time to buy?  Perhaps.  But I won’t until I am sure I want to set roots down.  All this haze still surrounds me, but I do see the light through it…I am ready for a home.  Not an apartment, not a rented condo, not a rental house…a home.  My home.  In my place.

No idea where that is.  No idea when it will happen.  But I trust that when I find it is when this journey, this journey of finding my way the life I’m supposed to have will be over and I can start the next one, whatever it may be.

Can’t wait to find that last breadcrumb.  Hoping it arrives sooner rather than later, cuz God knows I’m not getting any younger.

Ciao for now,

M

An Unexpected Release

butterfly-release

Release.  A simple word.  Yes, unbelievably powerful.  In my journey toward my new life, finding a few breadcrumbs along the way, some are more profound than others.  And some sneak up on me when I least expect it.  And the other night, at yoga, a crumb snuck up on me big time.  And the crumb was titled:  Release.

Between starting a new job and moving to a new place, yoga fell by the wayside for a few weeks.  And sadly, I’m too new to it to just jump right in, so when I finally got back to my mat Monday night, oh sweet baby jesus did it hurt!  My body was screaming in protest.  My muscles shook in revolt!  Bending was tough, twisting was torture, and balancing, gawd, that wasn’t even going to be an option.  I left feeling defeated, deflated, and exhausted…yet, proud that I’d gone.

Tuesday was a tough one at work.  Very busy and a long day.  I barely got home in time to change and get to yoga.  I stepped on my mat, and was full of pride for dragging my ass out there.  Practice began, and all was well until we got to the twisting section.  Suddenly, a bout of nausea that I have never felt erupted inside every time I bent in half.  The instructor said forward fold, and I tried, oh how i tried, but every time, it felt like I was going to vomit.  And being the ridiculously competitive person I am, especially with myself, I refused to let my body win over my mind.  I used every ounce of self control I had to push down the nausea, fight off the urge to vomit, and breathed through the pain.

I seemed to get a hold on things, and continued on with class.  And all was well, until we got to the damn half pigeon pose.  I bent my right leg, extended my left leg back, and leaned forward to release the tension.  And somehow, released more than that.

Out of nowhere, tears began to fall from my eyes.  No sobbing.  No crying, just tears.  A waterfall of tears cascading over my lashes, and I was unable to stop it.  The tears rolled and flowed down my face.  And I thought, jesus, am I working so hard that now my eyeballs are sweating?  Cuz this is fucking ridiculous!  And yet, the tears continued.

I closed my eyes once we reached Shavasana, and did my best to center and get the tears to stop, but they just continued on and on.  Until we came out, and bowed to honor our practice, and in that bow, the tears dried up, as if they were never there.  It was weird.  I did not enjoy it.

I spent the evening confused, frustrated, and irritated at my inability to control my emotions.  As I’ve written in past posts, overdoing emotions was really allowed in my house.  Too many tears were quickly ordered to cease.  I got really good at hiding how I truly felt.  I am a master at pushing emotion down and away from my reality so that they are not in control of things.  I literally feel incapable of fully breaking down and letting go.  Elsa, I am not.   Or was never allowed to be.  Either way, this level of tears freaked me out.

So, I reached out to my big sis, who is a yoga instructor, to ask what the fuck happened to me in that class.  And her wisdom, always being blunt and helpful in formed me that, what happened was that finally, in my yoga practice I was able to release.

She explained that certain poses, the sleeping pigeon especially, is meant to release negative energy we hold in our joints.  And sometimes that release comes as nausea, other times as tears.  And for me, since I wouldn’t let it release out my mouth, it released out my eyes.

Release.

Suddenly, the fear of what had happened, and the frustration made complete sense.  I’ve done physical work as an actor and acting teacher that has brought up a release of emotion like that but it was usually as an empathic situation to help one of my students find new levels in their performance.  Never, has it been my own release.  And now, I finally had let go of crap I’d been holding on to for god knows how long.

I felt relief.  I exhaled.  It was freeing.  Could yoga be the therapy I so desperately need?  Could, while I strengthen my body, I also manage to purge it of all the, as my best friend says, tears and screams I never allowed myself to have while I was doing my daughterly duty?  I think so.

Breadcrumb acquired.

I went back to yoga on Wednesday, and it neither hurt, nor did it make me cry.  It did make me feel stronger.  Did create stronger self pride as I went to all three of my classes this week. My dedication to my practice has been reestablished and reinvigorated.  And I can’t wait to see what it will bring to me next week.

Ciao for now,

M

Is My Mirror Broken?

Anyone who suffers from self esteem issues, or who is going through some sort of self-improvement physically has those days where you look in the mirror and thing, “Ugh.  I’m hideous.”  And I’m no exception.

However, lately, I’m having the opposite experience, and it’s kind of tripping me out.  For example, I HATE to have my picture taken.  I’m not photogenic.  Never have been.  It always takes hundreds of shots from random angles to get just one shot where I don’t look like quasimoto who has been on a drunken/drug induced bender for 18 days.  And godless digital photography and all filters and tweaks one can make to photos.  It’s helped me a ton.  Anyway, I digress.

Whenever anyone wants to photograph me, I always say, “Oh no, I’m much better in person,” and I say that because that’s truly what I think.  The live show is much better than anything anyone could catch on film.  But it got me thinking, why is that?  Why does the image of me captured through a lens not look at all like what I see when I look in the mirror, because in the mirror, I think I look pretty damn good.  Is, somehow, my mirror broken?

broken_mirror_by_E_NigmaDesignMirror Mirror on the wall, who’s not looking too bad today?  This chick!  Or at least that’s what I will think when looking at my reflection and if it’s good enough I think, “I should snap a pic of me, I look great today!”  Take a pic and look at it on my phone, and poof!  Happy moment shattered as I look at the not so cute reflection staring back at me, and I’m baffled.  I look back in the mirror, and things still look good.  Is my mirror broken?  Is my perception of myself so unbelievably off?

I’m not sure why this keeps happening to me, but it does.  Often.  Makes me think something is wonky in my brain.  My friends compliment me a lot, my best friend especially.  And I trust his opinion on all things, yet have a hard time trusting his assessment of my physicality because a photo doesn’t lie.  But, neither does my bestie.  Yet the two images don’t add up, so one of them must be lying.  Or maybe it’s my self-loathing flawed moments that are lying.

Perhaps it boils down to photogenic vs. non-photogenic, and nothing more than that.  But wow, would it be nice to just have a quick photo snapped and love how it looked.  Perhaps when I get a better hold on my insecurities and remove them from my life, perhaps how harshly I judge myself in photos will lessen.  I know I have a lot of work to do on myself still, and am happy with my progress so far.  And maybe, just maybe, the way I’ll know when all my breadcrumbs have been found is when I can take a pic of myself and simply like the image I see staring back at me.  Maybe.

The search continues….

Ciao for now,

M

Awaken Your Joy!

awaken your joy

I had an unbelievable experience on Saturday night that I have to write down so that I don’t forget it.  I went to this event with my best friend.  It was called Sea Compression, and the theme was “Let Them Eat Cake!”  It being October, it was a full costume party at this amazing Seattle location, and we fully dressed up in the spirit of the event.

Now, it’s important to note that my best friend and I go out quite often, and inevitably, something goes wonky during the outing.  Sometimes the wonky thing is a huge deal breaker and ends the night before it begins, and sometimes it’s just a small irritation, but never do we get a smooth, easy, drama free night.  Until Saturday night, that is.

I arrived at my best friend’s house where he was ironing the last bits of his costume.  With me in my black corset, black leggings, over the knee leather boots, full bustle floor length skirt in the back, and my cute tri-corner mini hat with its cheeky hot pink feather securely pinned amidst my mile high hair in true Marie Antoinette fashion, and my bestie in his leather pants, white vest, blood red collared shirt, and black velvet calf length livery coat, we were quite the pair.  Another friend joined us, and perfectly clad in her leather corset, and donning one of my venetian metal masks, off we went to this mysterious event.

We arrived and found a perfect parking spot one block away.  My bestie chose to leave his phone at home, so we were not interrupted while out having fun.  We met nothing but wonderfully nice and friendly people, and as we were there quite early, we didn’t even have to stand in line to get inside.

My best friend is one of the most amazing people I know, but he’s also very introverted most of the time.  Rarely liking to be touched by those he likes, and almost never wanting to be touched by strangers, his wit and sass often make him the most sought out company in any arena, whether he likes it or not.  And being an introvert myself, there were A LOT of people at this thing and it was slightly overwhelming.  At one point, my bestie said, “I’m feeling really exposed, I wish I’d thought to wear a mask.”  To which I said, “Well, why don’t you wear the one our friend here is wearing,” and she agreed wholeheartedly and gave him the mask.  And when he tied it on, something magical happened.  And that thing…..is joy.

Donning that mask awakened the joy inside him somehow, and even here, two days and many hours of processing later, I am still not sure what was the trigger.  But the minute the mask was on, he became a different person.  He was open, and happy, and friendly, and dare I say extroverted in the most beautiful way possible.  I’ve known him for so many years, and never in all that time had I ever seen him full of so much joy.

And that joy was beaming out of him like a lighthouse, calling all of the other joyful people home, as his magnetism and happiness attracted many people to come say hello, share a dance, or simply introduce themselves as they complimented our costumes.  He was the belle of the ball, so to speak, and it’s a mind blowing experience I will never forget.  And from the moment we left his apartment to the moment we returned, the evening went smoothly without one hitch, and each moment was linked together by one thing:  his joy.

As someone who is in constant search of happiness, not knowing where to find it on a consistent basis, and often only finding it in false idols and half truths, to watch someone have their joy fully awakened and embraced got me thinking:  what will awaken my joy?

Which actually led to the deeper question of, is there joy hidden somewhere inside me at all?  Do I have joy to be awakened?

And the reason I ask this is because after the event, in reliving the details, my bestie said, “I used to be this joyful all of the time.  I don’t know when I lost it!”  And I had to admit to him, as we keep no secrets from each other, “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

Joy and happiness are not things that come easily to me, and not emotions I remember having either as a child or as an adult.  Ask my friends to describe me, and I guarantee you, out of all the wonderful adjectives they choose, happy would not be one of them.  Loyal, funny, sassy, sure, but not happy.

I don’t remember being a happy child, I remember being a disciplined, serious child.  Not a child at all, really, I was always just kind of a little adult.  Always making the responsible choice, always focused on the future, so much so that I never fully enjoyed the present.  A good example of this is high school.  I was so focused on getting good grades and excelling so that I could get into a good college and out of that podunct town I grew up in that I didn’t take the time to really enjoy myself and build and develop lasting friendships.

And since then, not a lot of joy has come my way, and I’m wondering if it’s because when it did arrive, I had no idea of how to be grateful for it and enjoy it, but instead would just worry when it was going to leave.  How have I survived living like this all these years?  And how the hell did I never realize this before?  I think the answer is, until Saturday night, I had never seen joy in it’s purest form.  And now that I have, I want to feel it for myself.

In all this processing I’ve done over the past two days, I am so happy to say it has brought me to a new breadcrumb, in that I need to learn to live in the NOW!  Enjoy and be grateful for the things I have NOW!  I must stop rehashing the past in my brain and trying to make sense of all the things that didn’t work that I can’t change even if I want to change them, so as Elsa says, I need to let them go.  I must also stop worrying so much about the future and what is possibly lurking around the next corner.  And I must start living in this moment.  In every moment.  I think enough moments have been wasted.  It’s time to awaken my joy, which I now know, has to be inside me somewhere.

Breadcrumb very emotionally found.

Ciao for now,

M

Love While You Can….Please!

Love has been on my mind for quite some time, and it’s still there, but taking an interesting turn these days.  In an answer to my needy vs. not needy post, a song came across my iTunes and I’m sure I’ve heard it dozens of time before, but for whatever reason it really hit me hard today.

“Love whenever and wherever and however you should.”

This song is from a new play on Broadway called If/Then starting the great Idina Menzel and one of my favorite voices, La Chanze.  This song just slapped me in the face today, and I wanted to put it out there so I didn’t forget this feeling.  Love is friggin fantastic in all of it’s forms, so I need to stop waiting for and worrying about only the true kind, but instead, just be grateful for all the love in my life.

Take a listen….I don’t think you’ll regret it:

Ciao for now,

M

Don’t Be Needy! Or Do?

I’ve never thought this was a true statement: needy For me it was a punchline.  I hate, loathe, despise, and abominate needy women.  I find them pathetic, and useless, I mean, come on!  Stand on your own two feet!  Why do you NEED a man so desperately?  I have worked very hard to be a woman who would never be desperate or needy.  And I’ve unbelievably succeeded. However, the men I’ve met recently have all had the same constructive criticism on my personality:  we don’t work because you don’t need me.  WTF?

I wrote, earlier this year, in a post here called “I Can Do It Myself!” about an ex-boyfriend of mine who started this whole “you aren’t needy enough” bs line with me.  The excerpt said:

…He dated a woman after me, and even proposed to her.  They had decided to take a break, and he and I became good friends.  Platonic, good friends.  And one day I asked him why, through all the ups and downs with the woman after me, why would he put so much effort into her, when after we broke up, he wouldn’t even give me a second chance.  He, being the cowboy that he is said, “M, it’s like having two horses in a pasture.  One is stunning, and healthy, and independent, and sure, she likes it when you’re around, but she can find her own food, her own shelter, and she can take care of herself.  She doesn’t need me.  The other one, well, she’s got health issues, and she’s a little scared of life, and she’s more fragile, and she depends on me for food and shelter, and needs me to take care of her.  Which horse do you think will get more of my attention?”  He said it so matter of factly, I didn’t know what to say.  And I always know what to say.  I didn’t that day. So, what do I do?  Do I start being more needy?  

Do I have to erase this independent, take care of myself attitude in order to be cared for?  Maybe.

The reason I bring this back up, is I’ve been watching quite a few relationships that my friends are in lately, and they are all with needy women.  Seriously needy women.  And they fight for these women.  Put up with these women.  Do friggin everything for these women.  And these men are some of the most amazing men i’ve ever met.  And yet, I’m always single.  So, it made me wonder, are desperation and neediness attractive qualities and no one told me?  Do I need to be needy in order to have a man in my life? Why, when I feel like I’m so giving, loving, and stable, am I always alone.  Yet women who I see that are bat shit crazy, needy, manipulative, and even go so far as to use sex as a weapon, why do they always have men in their lives.  Is this really who I need to be to attract a mate in 2014?

Are there men out there who want a strong, independent woman?  Are there men out there who want a partner/lover/best friend all rolled into one and not a grown child they have to take care of because she has daddy issues?  Are there men who want a drama free relationship, or do they actually like the drama as much as the women like to create it?  I suddenly find myself silently singing the anthem from Footloose that the amazing Bonnie Tyler gave us waaaay back in the 80s.

Cuz where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?  Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?  Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?  Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need!   Oh, sing it ladies:

Where the hell is my hero? Wait, I just re-listened to that song and watched the video.  She’s totally the damsel in distress.  Ugh.  Apparently needy is in.  So where does that leave me? I’ll be pondering this one for a while.

Ciao for now,

M

Release

I’ve started seriously practicing yoga.  Joined a studio.  Bought a matt and a grippy, aka yogi toes, towel. And have spent three days a week the past two weeks trying my hand at candlelight beginner yoga.  And last night, in my sixth practice session, I struggled.  I couldn’t focus.  Couldn’t keep my mind clear and open.  It constantly filled with minutia and stress and fear, causing my poses to be less than stellar.  I strained through the twist sequence.  I struggled through the balance section.  And the core work threatened to kill me!

And then we got to the end.  To the Shavasana pose, also called corpse pose.  And in laying my hands out at my sides, and stretching my legs long, and centering back into even breathing as sweat dripped down my face, I heard my teacher, Gus, say the words “When you’re ready, release…”

And there may have been words after that, I don’t know, because I took a deep breath, exhaled, and released.  And something in me, deep inside me, released, and I truly let go.  I felt tears well up in my eyes under my closed lids, I felt my breath fully even out and happen with ease.  I released a release I didn’t even know I needed.  And it felt amazing.

I have been through so much over the past year or so, and I thought I’d let most of it go.  But last night, I let go of something I didn’t know I was holding on to, and it made me wonder.  What else am I holding on to?  When will I sense it so that I can release it?  What am I hiding from myself, or more honestly, what am I hiding from?

Now is my time to shine.  Now is my time to explore.  Now is my time to be anything I want to be, and yet I still feel so stuck most of the time.  But not last night.  Last night I felt free.  Last night I felt release.  And as I said, it felt good.  And I want more of that.  Line a glass of good wine, or an amazing orgasm…..I want more of that.  I. Want. More. Of. That.

And damnit, I’m going to get it.

Ciao for now,

M