I really want to try to explain something, if I can. I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels this way. I have no idea how prevalent this feeling is, but I can't possibly be the only one.
"Pregnancy is a beautiful thing." That's a comment I hear a lot. And I've said it too. I sure believed it. I might still believe it, actually, but I think it's too general a statement. And it's about half wrong. It makes sense to me why people say that. But "beautiful" is no longer the word I would use to describe it. "Amazing" "awesome" "interesting" "complex" and "wonderful" are words I would all use before I would use the word "beautiful" to describe pregnancy, at least from in here.
"You're glowing." That's another thing I hear a lot. I'm not glowing. That's physically impossible for humans to do. I'm not a firefly! If you think I'm glowing that's probably either bronzer or sweat! Lol. Sorry. Pregnant women do not glow.
I can accept the idea that pregnancy may look beautiful to some people, from the outside looking in. But let me tell you from my own experience - it is NOT beautiful in here! My head hurts, my back aches, I can't sleep, no position is comfortable to lie down in, I feel fat, I feel cumbersome, I feel useless because I can't even lift my dogs. Food either sounds amazing or revolting. Smells make me want to throw up. I miss my old body. My skin feels tight, like it's being stretched, because it is. I am terrified.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's amazing and cool that there's a child growing inside me! It's a 6-inch-long little stranger sharing a body with me, and I can't wait to meet him/her, find out what he/she is all about. Yeah, it's not really a lot of fun to be pregnant, but I wouldn't undo it! No way!!! I love this baby. I just don't love how I feel for the time being and, conceivably, for the next 4 and a half months.
But it's fine! Here we are at June 30th. July is tomorrow! I can't believe I'm writing those words, finally. Back in March and April, it felt like time was literally standing still. Those were horrible days. I can't find words to tell you all how incredibly relieved I am that those days are over. Horribly dark days where I spent more time crying than not. Now summer is here for real. June is nearly gone, only 42 minutes left of June 2014 and then it will be gone forever. July will begin, and eventually it will end. So will August, September and October. Then in November, by the grace of god, this baby will be born healthy and on-time. I can make it until then!
Monday, June 30, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Look At It This Way
I'm finding that, when it comes to saying something to somebody about being pregnant, there are generally 2 kinds of people: people who say nothing about it, or people who say everything about it!
Most people I come across belong to the first category; they don't say anything about my fairly obvious baby bump until I bring it up, and then they might ask a polite question or two, but that's about it. I would be one of those people too.
Today I was at the mall with Corky, and when it was lunch time, Corky wanted "mall food." Well, you might imagine that I'm not a huge fan of "mall food," but the mall does have Jamba Juice, and that is something I can go for!
As the girl behind the counter was pouring my Make-It-Light Mango-a-gogo, she said (more like shouted over the blenders) conversationally, "So when are you due?"
I blinked. Like I said, most people belong to the first category of people, the people who don't say anything. It seemed overly bold of this young girl, all of maybe 18 years old, to ask me that. For a second I thought, "aw man...." Obviously I'm pregnant now. Big belly. Whoopee.
But then I thought, wait a minute....! Isn't this actually a really great thing that just happened? I'm 4 and a half months pregnant now. I've had several people tell me that when they were at 4 and a half months, they were still in that Is-She-Or-Isn't-She-Pregnant stage. But I'm obviously pregnant enough that this girl noticed. Which means that I must still look pretty small all over except for my belly, right? So this is actually really GOOD news!
"November," I answered her.
"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" She jammed a straw into my smoothie.
"I think it's a boy, but I'll find out in about a week. My husband thinks its a girl."
She handed over my smoothie. "Everyone I know who was pregnant had boys within the last year. Weird huh! Well, congratulations and have a great day!"
You know what? I think I will have a great day!
happy sunday!!! xoxo :)
Most people I come across belong to the first category; they don't say anything about my fairly obvious baby bump until I bring it up, and then they might ask a polite question or two, but that's about it. I would be one of those people too.
Today I was at the mall with Corky, and when it was lunch time, Corky wanted "mall food." Well, you might imagine that I'm not a huge fan of "mall food," but the mall does have Jamba Juice, and that is something I can go for!
As the girl behind the counter was pouring my Make-It-Light Mango-a-gogo, she said (more like shouted over the blenders) conversationally, "So when are you due?"
I blinked. Like I said, most people belong to the first category of people, the people who don't say anything. It seemed overly bold of this young girl, all of maybe 18 years old, to ask me that. For a second I thought, "aw man...." Obviously I'm pregnant now. Big belly. Whoopee.
But then I thought, wait a minute....! Isn't this actually a really great thing that just happened? I'm 4 and a half months pregnant now. I've had several people tell me that when they were at 4 and a half months, they were still in that Is-She-Or-Isn't-She-Pregnant stage. But I'm obviously pregnant enough that this girl noticed. Which means that I must still look pretty small all over except for my belly, right? So this is actually really GOOD news!
"November," I answered her.
"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" She jammed a straw into my smoothie.
"I think it's a boy, but I'll find out in about a week. My husband thinks its a girl."
She handed over my smoothie. "Everyone I know who was pregnant had boys within the last year. Weird huh! Well, congratulations and have a great day!"
You know what? I think I will have a great day!
happy sunday!!! xoxo :)
Thursday, June 26, 2014
The Bathroom Counter
My friend did a post recently (yesterday? I think?) called "What's in my handbag" and so I'm doing my own version of that! Since my purse is downstairs and I don't feel like going down there right now (it's freezing downstairs), I will explore instead the bathroom counter.
It's a little messy, consider yourself warned!
1) A biggish, silver makeup case with 3 drawers and a big pocket. This contains 6 makeup brushes, the Naked2 palette from Ulta, 2 mascaras, an eyeliner pencil, a sharpener, 2 nail clippers, about 10 eyeshadows, bronzer, foundation, and eye-lightening powder.
2) A bottle of diphenhydramine
3) A dropper bottle of skullcap
4) A dropper bottle of "pregnancy tonic," which is possibly the grossest stuff on the planet, given to me by my naturopath. It's supposed to help with water retention.
5) 2 plastic cups
6) a tube of neosporin
7) Crest toothpaste
8) a toothbrush holder, holding my blue toothbrush and a flosser
9) a bottle of hairspray
10) a bottle of Aussie Sprunch spray
11) 2 Bath & Bodyworks lotions - White Citrus and Twilight Woods (no, I don't like Twilight the books/movies!)
12) My hair waver (Bed Head Wave runner)
13) a random assortment of hair ties
14) my vast collection of Zumba bracelets
15) Palmer's Stretchmark lotion
That's all for MY SIDE of the counter. On Corky's side....
1) an empty tylenol bottle
2) an empty mouthwash bottle
3) Crest 3D white toothpaste, nearly empty
4) Lubriderm unscented lotion
5) a toothbrush holder with Corky's blue toothbrush (different blue than mine)
6) another empty tylenol bottle
7) a full mouthwash bottle (Listerine)
8) a plastic cup
9) a giant bottle of ibuprofen
10) a bottle of ginkgo biloba
11) a bottle of melatonin
12) a pen (lol!)
13) Old Spice Denali deodorant
14) Aussie mousse (for his half-inch of hair, ya know!)
15) the key to MY motorcycle!
16) a box of tissues
17) a hand towel
18) a Sonicare electric toothbrush
Geez! Our bathroom counter is messy!!! There's more crap on Corky's side than on mine! Which I find hilarious! At least there's nothing really strange in here, although if you had looked under the sink in the guest bathroom at the old condo, you'd have found a turkey baster! Believe me, this lead to a lot of funny looks when Corky's mom and stepdad were helping us move and were clearing out the guest bathroom.
It's a little messy, consider yourself warned!
1) A biggish, silver makeup case with 3 drawers and a big pocket. This contains 6 makeup brushes, the Naked2 palette from Ulta, 2 mascaras, an eyeliner pencil, a sharpener, 2 nail clippers, about 10 eyeshadows, bronzer, foundation, and eye-lightening powder.
2) A bottle of diphenhydramine
3) A dropper bottle of skullcap
4) A dropper bottle of "pregnancy tonic," which is possibly the grossest stuff on the planet, given to me by my naturopath. It's supposed to help with water retention.
5) 2 plastic cups
6) a tube of neosporin
7) Crest toothpaste
8) a toothbrush holder, holding my blue toothbrush and a flosser
9) a bottle of hairspray
10) a bottle of Aussie Sprunch spray
11) 2 Bath & Bodyworks lotions - White Citrus and Twilight Woods (no, I don't like Twilight the books/movies!)
12) My hair waver (Bed Head Wave runner)
13) a random assortment of hair ties
14) my vast collection of Zumba bracelets
15) Palmer's Stretchmark lotion
That's all for MY SIDE of the counter. On Corky's side....
1) an empty tylenol bottle
2) an empty mouthwash bottle
3) Crest 3D white toothpaste, nearly empty
4) Lubriderm unscented lotion
5) a toothbrush holder with Corky's blue toothbrush (different blue than mine)
6) another empty tylenol bottle
7) a full mouthwash bottle (Listerine)
8) a plastic cup
9) a giant bottle of ibuprofen
10) a bottle of ginkgo biloba
11) a bottle of melatonin
12) a pen (lol!)
13) Old Spice Denali deodorant
14) Aussie mousse (for his half-inch of hair, ya know!)
15) the key to MY motorcycle!
16) a box of tissues
17) a hand towel
18) a Sonicare electric toothbrush
Geez! Our bathroom counter is messy!!! There's more crap on Corky's side than on mine! Which I find hilarious! At least there's nothing really strange in here, although if you had looked under the sink in the guest bathroom at the old condo, you'd have found a turkey baster! Believe me, this lead to a lot of funny looks when Corky's mom and stepdad were helping us move and were clearing out the guest bathroom.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Two Weeks (belly pics)
Hi! Sorry.. I do not know what my deal is with not posting very frequently. Probably you're all glad to get a break from my words. Lol! But anyway! Here I am.
I can't remember if I posted my 16 week belly shot. It doesn't matter because I'm going to post it again here in a side-by-side (top-and-bottom?), 16 and 18 weeks. Crazy growth in 2 weeks!
Yes, I feel like a balloon.
No, I do not like it.
Yes, I do realize it's only going to get worse.
No, I am not excited for that.
But what can I do about it? Nothing! Just hold on and wait it out. What else is there to do at all? I don't have an option. All I can do is try to keep the "damage" to a minimum. And yes, before you ask, it is absolutely terrifying.
2 weeks from today, July 7, we'll find out whether the baby is a boy or a girl.. I'm taking bets! Any guesses? :)
I can't remember if I posted my 16 week belly shot. It doesn't matter because I'm going to post it again here in a side-by-side (top-and-bottom?), 16 and 18 weeks. Crazy growth in 2 weeks!
Yes, I feel like a balloon.
No, I do not like it.
Yes, I do realize it's only going to get worse.
No, I am not excited for that.
But what can I do about it? Nothing! Just hold on and wait it out. What else is there to do at all? I don't have an option. All I can do is try to keep the "damage" to a minimum. And yes, before you ask, it is absolutely terrifying.
2 weeks from today, July 7, we'll find out whether the baby is a boy or a girl.. I'm taking bets! Any guesses? :)
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
June-uary
**Warning: I have no idea what I'm going to say in this post. Beware of triggers, 'cause that's always a possibility!**
It's been a while, since maybe 2011, since we've had a June-uary. June-uary is when the weather teases you with summer, lets you get comfortable with believing the rain and cold are gone for the season, and then BAM! You get hit with 50 degrees and rain for about a week. Oh we always get rain and cloudy days in June, but they're not usually under the 65 degree mark.
Usually, June-uaries are a pain in my ass and nothing more. They don't derail me or really bother me very much. After all, we've just come out of 8 straight months of rain, clouds and cold, so what's another week, right? This June-uary, however, is a different story! Before I was pregnant, my moods were never really affected by the weather very much. At the worst I would be mildly irritated by the rain messing up my hair or soaking the backs of my pant legs.
Spring in general, as I've mentioned probably 100+ times on here, is really hard for me. This past spring was really, really, REALLY hard! Toward the end of May I was crying every day, the shitty weather and my stress, fear and hatred of my body taking their toll at last. Then the sun came out and I felt better. I went a week and a half with no crying jags. It was heavenly.
This past weekend, my friend from Curacao came. If you read my posts from November about Curacao, you will see me talk about my friend C. She was here from June 13-16, and did a few Zumba Jam sessions and a master class. I was kept pretty busy all weekend, which were days 3, 4, 5 and 6 of June-uary. Once C left yesterday though, I immediately realized how incredibly exhausted I was.
Maybe the baby is having a growth spurt. Maybe I was just exhausted from the weekend's activities (although I'm still just as tired today, so the growth spurt idea is looking more likely.) All I know is that I am exhausted and hungry. And so fucking scared. I hate being hungry. There is almost nothing more horrifying to me than the feeling of being hungry. Knowing that whatever I eat is going to put weight on me, for sure. I should go work out, I should go to more Zumba... but I just don't have the energy! My eating disorder is beside itself, screaming at me that I'm lazy, stupid, fat, and that I deserve to hate myself. The rational part of me, small as it is, plus everybody else is telling me, no, you're fine, you're growing a baby, that's hard work! Of course you're tired! Don't beat up on yourself. You're fine if you don't work out for ONE DAY. And so on.
Yesterday I went and saw Maleficent with Corky at the theater. Corky had Coke Zero and let me have a few sips. My craving for Coke Zero has gone absolutely nowhere. I still want it so bad it hurts. And yesterday I realized that maybe it's not the actual Coke Zero I am wanting so much. Yeah, it tastes good, but that's not all. I think I'm also really just missing what Coke Zero represents to me. The short version: I miss my old life. Of course I love this baby. Of course I want this baby. Of course I would never do anything to undo all that I have. But damn it I want to be skinny again. I miss it so much it feels like my heart has a huge crack down the middle. Words can't describe it. It's staggering.
Time seems to be standing still and flying by. The weekend is already over. My dad had heart surgery last Thursday. C has come and gone. The baby turned 17 weeks last Saturday. It's only about 3 and a half weeks until I'll find out the baby's sex. But it seems like it's been roughly 5 months til my due date forever!!! The time elapsed is moving, but the time to go is standing still. How is that possible?? It isn't, but that's what it feels like is happening. I just want to skip the rest of it. I want to go to sleep and wake up when it's all over.
It's been a while, since maybe 2011, since we've had a June-uary. June-uary is when the weather teases you with summer, lets you get comfortable with believing the rain and cold are gone for the season, and then BAM! You get hit with 50 degrees and rain for about a week. Oh we always get rain and cloudy days in June, but they're not usually under the 65 degree mark.
Usually, June-uaries are a pain in my ass and nothing more. They don't derail me or really bother me very much. After all, we've just come out of 8 straight months of rain, clouds and cold, so what's another week, right? This June-uary, however, is a different story! Before I was pregnant, my moods were never really affected by the weather very much. At the worst I would be mildly irritated by the rain messing up my hair or soaking the backs of my pant legs.
Spring in general, as I've mentioned probably 100+ times on here, is really hard for me. This past spring was really, really, REALLY hard! Toward the end of May I was crying every day, the shitty weather and my stress, fear and hatred of my body taking their toll at last. Then the sun came out and I felt better. I went a week and a half with no crying jags. It was heavenly.
This past weekend, my friend from Curacao came. If you read my posts from November about Curacao, you will see me talk about my friend C. She was here from June 13-16, and did a few Zumba Jam sessions and a master class. I was kept pretty busy all weekend, which were days 3, 4, 5 and 6 of June-uary. Once C left yesterday though, I immediately realized how incredibly exhausted I was.
Maybe the baby is having a growth spurt. Maybe I was just exhausted from the weekend's activities (although I'm still just as tired today, so the growth spurt idea is looking more likely.) All I know is that I am exhausted and hungry. And so fucking scared. I hate being hungry. There is almost nothing more horrifying to me than the feeling of being hungry. Knowing that whatever I eat is going to put weight on me, for sure. I should go work out, I should go to more Zumba... but I just don't have the energy! My eating disorder is beside itself, screaming at me that I'm lazy, stupid, fat, and that I deserve to hate myself. The rational part of me, small as it is, plus everybody else is telling me, no, you're fine, you're growing a baby, that's hard work! Of course you're tired! Don't beat up on yourself. You're fine if you don't work out for ONE DAY. And so on.
Yesterday I went and saw Maleficent with Corky at the theater. Corky had Coke Zero and let me have a few sips. My craving for Coke Zero has gone absolutely nowhere. I still want it so bad it hurts. And yesterday I realized that maybe it's not the actual Coke Zero I am wanting so much. Yeah, it tastes good, but that's not all. I think I'm also really just missing what Coke Zero represents to me. The short version: I miss my old life. Of course I love this baby. Of course I want this baby. Of course I would never do anything to undo all that I have. But damn it I want to be skinny again. I miss it so much it feels like my heart has a huge crack down the middle. Words can't describe it. It's staggering.
Time seems to be standing still and flying by. The weekend is already over. My dad had heart surgery last Thursday. C has come and gone. The baby turned 17 weeks last Saturday. It's only about 3 and a half weeks until I'll find out the baby's sex. But it seems like it's been roughly 5 months til my due date forever!!! The time elapsed is moving, but the time to go is standing still. How is that possible?? It isn't, but that's what it feels like is happening. I just want to skip the rest of it. I want to go to sleep and wake up when it's all over.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Table Rock
4,881 feet - the highest point of Table Rock.
We went hiking last weekend, at Ramona Falls. It's a 7.1 mile trail, round trip. It gains 1,000 feet of elevation, or so it says on the website. After today, I don't believe that! Either Ramona Falls was way less than 1,000 feet elevation gain, or today's trail was WAY more than 1,500.
Last weekend, at Ramona Falls, by the time we got to like 3 miles, maybe 3.2 miles, I was like.... ready to be done. I'm still in decent shape, despite not having been able to work out at my normal intensity (or my normal amount) since March 24th, and we passed a few people on the trail. But... going uphill, even at a pretty slight incline like Ramona Falls was, without the ability to use your abdominal muscles is a little on the difficult side. I kept stubbing my toe on rocks, bees were dive-bombing me every twenty seconds, I was sick of going uphill, and I got annoyed. Soon, though, we finally made it, and of course it was all worth it.
Ramona Falls, as it turns out, did nothing to prepare me for today! It's not like I'm an inexperienced hiker. I'm just an inexperienced pregnant hiker. It's way more difficult when you can't use your abs to climb a hill.. and you're on a trail that goes practically straight up! The beginning of the trail was gravel and relatively flat. But before too long, it turned into woods and roots and dirt.. and a serious incline. After that, we came across a huge boulder field. Walking over and around boulders isn't too difficult, unless you can't step down hard (too jarring for the baby.) So my quads took the brunt of that.
After the boulder field came the hard part. The trail went DOWN for a while, with loose rocks all over. Gravel doesn't stick well on a downgrade like that, so I was constantly looking for rocks stuck into the trail to brace my feet on. After that nice little stretch, the trail changed again and became woods once more... and went straight up again to make up for all the elevation we lost on the loose gravel. Just when my hip flexors couldn't take anymore.. the trail opened up and we were totally on the top.
You could see Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams (I think?), the 3 Sisters, 3 Fingered Jack and Mt. Bachelor (I think?) from up there. It was SO pretty, and SO worth the agony and pain of the total 4 and a half hour hike.
4, 481 feet.
4 months pregnant.
Like a boss ;)
We went hiking last weekend, at Ramona Falls. It's a 7.1 mile trail, round trip. It gains 1,000 feet of elevation, or so it says on the website. After today, I don't believe that! Either Ramona Falls was way less than 1,000 feet elevation gain, or today's trail was WAY more than 1,500.
Last weekend, at Ramona Falls, by the time we got to like 3 miles, maybe 3.2 miles, I was like.... ready to be done. I'm still in decent shape, despite not having been able to work out at my normal intensity (or my normal amount) since March 24th, and we passed a few people on the trail. But... going uphill, even at a pretty slight incline like Ramona Falls was, without the ability to use your abdominal muscles is a little on the difficult side. I kept stubbing my toe on rocks, bees were dive-bombing me every twenty seconds, I was sick of going uphill, and I got annoyed. Soon, though, we finally made it, and of course it was all worth it.
Ramona Falls, as it turns out, did nothing to prepare me for today! It's not like I'm an inexperienced hiker. I'm just an inexperienced pregnant hiker. It's way more difficult when you can't use your abs to climb a hill.. and you're on a trail that goes practically straight up! The beginning of the trail was gravel and relatively flat. But before too long, it turned into woods and roots and dirt.. and a serious incline. After that, we came across a huge boulder field. Walking over and around boulders isn't too difficult, unless you can't step down hard (too jarring for the baby.) So my quads took the brunt of that.
After the boulder field came the hard part. The trail went DOWN for a while, with loose rocks all over. Gravel doesn't stick well on a downgrade like that, so I was constantly looking for rocks stuck into the trail to brace my feet on. After that nice little stretch, the trail changed again and became woods once more... and went straight up again to make up for all the elevation we lost on the loose gravel. Just when my hip flexors couldn't take anymore.. the trail opened up and we were totally on the top.
You could see Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams (I think?), the 3 Sisters, 3 Fingered Jack and Mt. Bachelor (I think?) from up there. It was SO pretty, and SO worth the agony and pain of the total 4 and a half hour hike.
4, 481 feet.
4 months pregnant.
Like a boss ;)
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
If You Wait Until You're Ready...
I was just reading a blog post by Ruby, a girl from Ireland who has struggled with addiction and anorexia/bulimia (still struggles with the latter!) and she wrote the following sentence:
"I'm not ready to be healthy."
That is such a raw, honest statement. But here's the thing... is anyone ever really ready for anything? Anything big and worthwhile, I mean? You can be ready for a vocab exam. You can be ready for bed. You can be ready to get a haircut. But what about the really big things in life?
Marriage.
College.
Medical problems.
Parenthood.
Total lifestyle changes.
Growing up.
Are we ever totally ready for those things? I don't think so. How could you be?
When you're getting ready for bed, you have a checklist to follow. They are measurable, attainable goals. Brush your teeth. Take your sleeping pills, if you have any. Put on your pajamas. Plug in your phone. Set your alarm. Fluff your pillow. Whatever else you do. Once you've done those things, you are really and truly ready for sleep. Whether you are ready for what tomorrow brings is a different story. :)
It's like I told my friend, S. S got licensed for teaching Zumba almost 2 years ago. Our mutual friend, also a Zumba instructor, told S she wanted him to lead a song in her class. He kept telling me, "I'm not ready, I'm not ready." Same thing for teaching a class of his own.
I said, "If you wait 'till you're ready, you'll never teach at all." Because you'll never be fully prepared. You can't prepare for teaching a class. There's always shit that comes up that you didn't prepare for! Your iPod malfunctions, someone falls down (heaven forbid it's you!), the speakers blow out, the floor is wet, someone doesn't like your class, you suddenly feel sick... any one of a million things.
Now, I am proud to report, S teaches not one, not two but THREE classes per week! And he's damn good at it too. :D
But really... is "not being ready" a good enough reason not to do something? It depends on what it is. And it depends on how "not ready" you are. Let's use S and Zumba as an example. If you meet the following criteria you are, in my opinion, "ready enough" to teach an hour long Zumba class:
-have at least 1 hour's worth of music and choreography
-want to teach a class
-have a space in which to teach it
-have a sound system that works
-expect the unexpected
If you are missing one or more of those things, then yeah, probably not ready enough to teach. But even if you read that list and go, "Yup, I have them all!" then even then you can't be 100% prepared to teach. I sure wasn't! I had about two minutes notice that I was going to teach my first ever Zumba class (my instructor was caught in traffic and I was the only licensed instructor within miles.) I didn't even have time to get nervous! And you know what? It went fine. Sure, I wasn't "ready".. but from that experience came my ability to sub a class at the drop of a hat! I never go anywhere without my iPod!
So, to my friend Ruby, I say, "You're doing fine!" Since nobody can ever be totally ready, we might as well give it a shot with the best we have, right?
"I'm not ready to be healthy."
That is such a raw, honest statement. But here's the thing... is anyone ever really ready for anything? Anything big and worthwhile, I mean? You can be ready for a vocab exam. You can be ready for bed. You can be ready to get a haircut. But what about the really big things in life?
Marriage.
College.
Medical problems.
Parenthood.
Total lifestyle changes.
Growing up.
Are we ever totally ready for those things? I don't think so. How could you be?
When you're getting ready for bed, you have a checklist to follow. They are measurable, attainable goals. Brush your teeth. Take your sleeping pills, if you have any. Put on your pajamas. Plug in your phone. Set your alarm. Fluff your pillow. Whatever else you do. Once you've done those things, you are really and truly ready for sleep. Whether you are ready for what tomorrow brings is a different story. :)
It's like I told my friend, S. S got licensed for teaching Zumba almost 2 years ago. Our mutual friend, also a Zumba instructor, told S she wanted him to lead a song in her class. He kept telling me, "I'm not ready, I'm not ready." Same thing for teaching a class of his own.
I said, "If you wait 'till you're ready, you'll never teach at all." Because you'll never be fully prepared. You can't prepare for teaching a class. There's always shit that comes up that you didn't prepare for! Your iPod malfunctions, someone falls down (heaven forbid it's you!), the speakers blow out, the floor is wet, someone doesn't like your class, you suddenly feel sick... any one of a million things.
Now, I am proud to report, S teaches not one, not two but THREE classes per week! And he's damn good at it too. :D
But really... is "not being ready" a good enough reason not to do something? It depends on what it is. And it depends on how "not ready" you are. Let's use S and Zumba as an example. If you meet the following criteria you are, in my opinion, "ready enough" to teach an hour long Zumba class:
-have at least 1 hour's worth of music and choreography
-want to teach a class
-have a space in which to teach it
-have a sound system that works
-expect the unexpected
If you are missing one or more of those things, then yeah, probably not ready enough to teach. But even if you read that list and go, "Yup, I have them all!" then even then you can't be 100% prepared to teach. I sure wasn't! I had about two minutes notice that I was going to teach my first ever Zumba class (my instructor was caught in traffic and I was the only licensed instructor within miles.) I didn't even have time to get nervous! And you know what? It went fine. Sure, I wasn't "ready".. but from that experience came my ability to sub a class at the drop of a hat! I never go anywhere without my iPod!
So, to my friend Ruby, I say, "You're doing fine!" Since nobody can ever be totally ready, we might as well give it a shot with the best we have, right?
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Hey, Man! (A Memory)
Yikes! Sorry for my absence! It's been a long time since I've gone more than a week without posting (unless I'm out of town.) Just had lots of stuff to do and honestly didn't really feel like posting. This has been a really difficult season for me. Spring is always hard, I always hate it, but this particular spring has been worse than usual.
Today I was driving home from meeting my mom at the old condo and there was nothing good on the radio and my iPod was dead. So I fished out my huge CD case from the depths of the backseat, grabbed a random one and popped it in. The orchestral swell of the beginning of "Hey, Man!" by Nelly Furtado reverberated around in my car.
(Click HERE to hear Hey, Man! and read the lyrics.)
As I listened, a slew of memories washed over me. Stopped at a red light, I remembered the series of events that lead me to listen to this song, grabbing out a few particular parts. I'm not always a huge Nelly Furtado fan; I think her voice is a little too whiny and nasal at times. But the chorus of that song got my attention:
There's a shadow in the sky
and it looks like rain.
And shit is gonna fly
once again.
In late 2008, after the majority of the Kartini-induced weight had been lost, my parents and doctors finally figured out that, hey, I actually wasn't cured by Kartini (imagine that!) and I was actually still pretty sick. I just wanted to be left alone, but my doctor was all, "I refuse to see you anymore unless you go to treatment again of some kind......" but, bless her soul, even SHE knew better than to mention the words "meal plan" to me. I wasn't underweight, but I was headed that way.
So my parents, who still had medical guardianship of me at the time, decided I needed to go to this other place called Portland DBT. (Click HERE to read about Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, or DBT.) To be honest with you all, I don't remember a whole lot about how that happened or how I actually ended up there.
But here is what I do remember. My therapist was a guy in his mid-40s, we'll just call him Bob. He wore green and brown every single day, and he was kind of short and had short legs, and I remember he would sit with his legs crossed and his pant legs were short and I could see his green or brown socks all the time. I can't remember what we talked about much, but I remember I didn't really like him. Toward the end of my time there, he admitted to me that he had struggled with an eating disorder when he was younger, and I remember thinking that it would have been nice if he'd told me that sooner.
The program I was part of in Portland DBT had 2 parts - individual therapy and group therapy. The group therapy I was in involved eating a meal together. The group was like 2 hours long or something, and we ate right in the middle. We didn't have meal plans provided by a dietitian, but we had to have a "proper meal." Whatever the hell that meant!! I remember eating a PB&J, baby carrots and drinking skim milk out of a container like they give you in elementary school.
The group therapy was, in a word, disastrous. But that's a story for another time. The main memory that washed over me as I listened to Nelly Furtado this morning was actually about the idea of immersion therapy. Every time I went to individual therapy with Bob, he weighed me. I hated it. I refused to look at the scale, even though he told me I could. That, in fact, I should. I was having none of it.
One day, Bob and I got into an argument about that. He was trying to convince me that I should know my weight, that it would help ease my fears if I just knew, that I probably wasn't as heavy as I feared I was. I called Bullshit. It wouldn't help me at all! Why would I need to know that? Don't most ED places want you to not know? Because it shouldn't be about the number, right? Apparently Bob didn't think so.
I remember sitting in his office, across from him and his damn green and brown socks, and I just KNEW that he was about to tell me my weight. Despite my best efforts to make him understand that I did not, under any circumstances at all, want to know, I knew he was going to blurt it out. That realization came to me in a fraction of a second, and it was like slow motion. Before I could say, "No" or "Stop," he said the number.
True to form, I freaked out. I was yelling at him. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?? Do you know how TRIGGERING that is for me? Are you STUPID??? What part of 'I don't want to know' is hard for you to get your empty skull around?" I slammed out of his office and made it to my car, barely, before I started bawling. Of course that number was way higher than I hoped to hear! (It's actually still just ever so slightly higher than I weigh right now, at 3 and a half months pregnant!)
As I drove home after that, barely able to see through my tears, I found myself singing "Hey, Man!" Mostly the chorus. ".... and shit is gonna fly... once again..." I think I must have known that Bob was going to tell me my weight that day, because I was listening to that song on the way over.
And, as Nelly Furtado said, it was cloudy and it sure did look like rain.
Today I was driving home from meeting my mom at the old condo and there was nothing good on the radio and my iPod was dead. So I fished out my huge CD case from the depths of the backseat, grabbed a random one and popped it in. The orchestral swell of the beginning of "Hey, Man!" by Nelly Furtado reverberated around in my car.
(Click HERE to hear Hey, Man! and read the lyrics.)
As I listened, a slew of memories washed over me. Stopped at a red light, I remembered the series of events that lead me to listen to this song, grabbing out a few particular parts. I'm not always a huge Nelly Furtado fan; I think her voice is a little too whiny and nasal at times. But the chorus of that song got my attention:
There's a shadow in the sky
and it looks like rain.
And shit is gonna fly
once again.
In late 2008, after the majority of the Kartini-induced weight had been lost, my parents and doctors finally figured out that, hey, I actually wasn't cured by Kartini (imagine that!) and I was actually still pretty sick. I just wanted to be left alone, but my doctor was all, "I refuse to see you anymore unless you go to treatment again of some kind......" but, bless her soul, even SHE knew better than to mention the words "meal plan" to me. I wasn't underweight, but I was headed that way.
So my parents, who still had medical guardianship of me at the time, decided I needed to go to this other place called Portland DBT. (Click HERE to read about Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, or DBT.) To be honest with you all, I don't remember a whole lot about how that happened or how I actually ended up there.
But here is what I do remember. My therapist was a guy in his mid-40s, we'll just call him Bob. He wore green and brown every single day, and he was kind of short and had short legs, and I remember he would sit with his legs crossed and his pant legs were short and I could see his green or brown socks all the time. I can't remember what we talked about much, but I remember I didn't really like him. Toward the end of my time there, he admitted to me that he had struggled with an eating disorder when he was younger, and I remember thinking that it would have been nice if he'd told me that sooner.
The program I was part of in Portland DBT had 2 parts - individual therapy and group therapy. The group therapy I was in involved eating a meal together. The group was like 2 hours long or something, and we ate right in the middle. We didn't have meal plans provided by a dietitian, but we had to have a "proper meal." Whatever the hell that meant!! I remember eating a PB&J, baby carrots and drinking skim milk out of a container like they give you in elementary school.
The group therapy was, in a word, disastrous. But that's a story for another time. The main memory that washed over me as I listened to Nelly Furtado this morning was actually about the idea of immersion therapy. Every time I went to individual therapy with Bob, he weighed me. I hated it. I refused to look at the scale, even though he told me I could. That, in fact, I should. I was having none of it.
One day, Bob and I got into an argument about that. He was trying to convince me that I should know my weight, that it would help ease my fears if I just knew, that I probably wasn't as heavy as I feared I was. I called Bullshit. It wouldn't help me at all! Why would I need to know that? Don't most ED places want you to not know? Because it shouldn't be about the number, right? Apparently Bob didn't think so.
I remember sitting in his office, across from him and his damn green and brown socks, and I just KNEW that he was about to tell me my weight. Despite my best efforts to make him understand that I did not, under any circumstances at all, want to know, I knew he was going to blurt it out. That realization came to me in a fraction of a second, and it was like slow motion. Before I could say, "No" or "Stop," he said the number.
True to form, I freaked out. I was yelling at him. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?? Do you know how TRIGGERING that is for me? Are you STUPID??? What part of 'I don't want to know' is hard for you to get your empty skull around?" I slammed out of his office and made it to my car, barely, before I started bawling. Of course that number was way higher than I hoped to hear! (It's actually still just ever so slightly higher than I weigh right now, at 3 and a half months pregnant!)
As I drove home after that, barely able to see through my tears, I found myself singing "Hey, Man!" Mostly the chorus. ".... and shit is gonna fly... once again..." I think I must have known that Bob was going to tell me my weight that day, because I was listening to that song on the way over.
And, as Nelly Furtado said, it was cloudy and it sure did look like rain.
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