Connections

I like to make connections.

Whether, it’s the act of connecting with people, connecting people to each other, or connecting ideas to create bigger ideas, I really like to make connections.

One connection that has been a game changer in my life is finding the connection between anxiety and body image. A lot of work went into each of the parts, beginning with finding the words to say “I have anxiety.” I see myself as someone who is able to be sensitive of my situation, adapt, and flow with it. I have that ability but after some therapy I saw that it came from a need to read the room because I was worried about what might happen if I didn’t respond appropriately. It also took a long time to realize that my ongoing belief that my body needed to be smaller was not rooted in fact. It was rooted in the belief that there was something inherently flawed about my body that needed to be fixed. The facts are that I spent most of my childhood, teen years, and young adult life with a healthy, appropriately sized body for my build but I felt the need to be smaller by the age of 6. (Sadly, this is not uncommon for girls in our culture. A 2016 study showed that body image issues can be present in children as young as three to five years old. Yikes.)

Three to five years old. Seriously?

When life out there feels unmanageable my body responds by feeling anxious. Anxiety is a very physical experience! For me it’s meant neck and shoulder tension, migraines, insomnia . . . trust me: anxiety is not just in your head. When our bodies feel uncomfortable, what do we try to do? Control it.

My thoughts took that learned dissatisfaction with my body and connected it with the unsettled feeling of anxiety. When I made this connection, I realized that many of my “I need to be smaller,” and “I don’t like my body,” were really my body saying, “You feel out of control.”

Image from Frozen II. Copyright Disney Studios (2019)

Now when those too familiar feelings of body dissatisfaction creep in and I hear “I wish I were smaller” thoughts, I know there’s a good chance my anxiety is up. Now I know to pull out the tools to manage the anxiety — am I walking? am I yoga-ing? am I journaling? am I spending quality time with friends and doing meaningful work? — instead of getting into a downward spiral of being hard on myself.

It has been a game changer. Instead of the paralysis of anxiety, I have some movement toward something good. Instead of stepping back into diet mentality, I move toward healthy, body accepting behaviors. My body is not a problem to be solved. Neither is yours.

Whether body image or anxiety or both are part of your day today, take a moment and breathe with me. I’ll be connecting you with some resources here that have helped me; maybe they will help you too. You are not alone in this. Whether it’s anxiety, body image, depression . . . whatever it is, you are not alone. We are all connected.

Confessions

My best friend and worst enemy

If you know me, you know I love yoga.

What you may not know is that sometimes I hate yoga.

My goal has always been to have a consistent home practice and I have done a better job with that this past year than ever before (thank you, pandemic). Don’t misunderstand me. I love going to a studio and doing yoga with other people. There’s an energy about the collective experience that isn’t found when I’m on my mat at home.

But at home, I have to deal with myself. Granted, there are none of the insecurities of a public exercise class, but neither is there the collective energy to continue with a practice or posture when it gets hard.

And let’s face it: yoga can be hard. Even “basic” yoga is hard when you have a large body and I have a large body.

“See if you can sink lower into the fold and bring your chest onto your knees,” the thin yoga teacher says. “Girl, please — mine was there as soon as I started the fold,” the large-chested, full bellied me replies.

I get frustrated with myself — frustrated with my body — for not being smaller and lighter. I get frustrated with the yoga for not being easier.

Yes I can modify and I do. Yes I can use props and I do. Yes I can practice self acceptance and body neutrality and I do.

But there’s that word: practice. We practice things because they are not easy and accepting my body is not easy for me. I am still practicing. Yoga is a mirror to all of the negative internal dialog that I still have.

So I’m here as yoga teacher and advocate of self care and self acceptance to let you know that I do not have it all together. I am still practicing this because it is still hard for me. I still want my body to be smaller and lighter and easier to deal with.

But just like doing yoga at home, I will not quit. I will do the hard things and I will acknowledge the hard-to-hear internal dialog and some day, the inner yoga will be easier even if the outer yoga is not.

Tired

Today, I am tired.

I am tired in ways that make me want to go home and get under a blanket and sleep.

I am tired in ways that make me wonder how I will ever get all-the-things done and make me wonder if I’ve ever actually accomplished anything or if I’ve just always been tired.

But I have done things. I have accomplished things.

Today alone I have had coffee, made breakfast, re-read parts of a book to prepare for book club, met with a book club (a real post-COVID meeting with people and laughter and glorious conversation!), and I have ordered groceries to be picked up tomorrow and I have attended a session of a conference on promoting mental health in the library workplace. I have gotten my planner updated with scheduled meetings that will take place later today and tomorrow and I have done some preliminary research to prepare for those meetings.

When I look at my “done” list instead of my to-do list, it’s no wonder that I am tired.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

Let’s make a promise, OK? Let’s promise that we will remember the things we have already done rather than only feeling the enormity of what is still left to do. Let’s remember that we have already accomplished things and that our tiredness is there for a reason. It isn’t because we are not enough. It’s because we ARE enough and we are showing up every day and doing the work.

We are enough. We do enough. We do not need to be more or do more.

We are enough.

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

one year ago

A year ago today COVID-19 was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization.

A year and one week ago, I wrote on this blog wondering why I don’t write more often. One week later — so, a year ago today — I was in the hospital having emergency gallbladder surgery about 12 hours after coming home from a trip to Chicago to see our not-a-child-anymore Sophie during Spring Break. Another not-a-child-anymore Daniel was also on Spring Break and came with us.

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We did crazy things like go to museums and ride on public transportation and go out in public without masks. On the trip up to Chicago, O’Hare was business as usual. On the trip home, all international travel had been stopped and it was eerily empty. There were no lines anywhere; we walked up to every counter or kiosk we needed and went straight through security. We got home on Tuesday night and about 8 hours later, I was in the emergency room with the highest level of pain I’ve ever experienced.

Note to everyone I know who is contemplating a future in medicine: When a 50-something-year-old woman looks at you and says, “I had four babies without any pain medication and this hurts more than anything I have ever experience and my regular doctor has said I will need to get my gallbladder out,” please believe her. Do not make her sit through several hours of tests before offering her more-than-childbirth-worthy pain meds and do not — I repeat DO NOT tell her she needs to go home because you can’t find anything wrong.

(Two rounds of morphine followed by dilaudid was what it finally took to keep the pain at bay, by the way.)

Doogie Howser intern to me when morphine is not working and dilaudid has not kicked in yet: Well, I don’t really see anything conclusive on the tests so you can either go home and see what happens or you can go upstairs and they may schedule an exploratory surgery.

Me to Doogie Howser: Going home is not an option unless you’re going to send me home with a morphine pump or a prescription for dilaudid because I think it might be working.

Doogie Howser: So you would rather go upstairs and be checked in for more tests than go home?

Me: I am telling you that going home is not an option so yes — I will go upstairs.

Doogie: Ok, I’ll make arrangements, but the tests don’t show it’s your gallbladder.

It’s a very good thing that there were doctors beyond the interns working. When the surgery consult saw the films, he immediately knew that my gallbladder needed to come out and I had surgery about an hour later.

Something I’ve not talked about much is how scary that night was for me. Only a few months before, my dear friend Lis had also gone to the ER with what she believed to be gallbladder issues. The tests didn’t show gallbladder problems, though. In time, Lis learned that she had cancer; an aggressive cancer that took her life a few short months later. All night as test after test was inconclusive and pain med after pain med did not work, I kept thinking of Lis, who had come to this same hospital with her concerns. I kept thinking, “please, God, not cancer.” It was a very scary night for me and for my sweet daughters who had all loved Lis as much as I did.

Surgery went well and I expected to be off work for a week, but while I was home, all Harding employees were sent home and students were told to stay home rather than returning after Spring Break.

In the last year, I’ve recovered from surgery, maintained a home yoga practice, returned to teach yoga in a studio with limited numbers, increased disinfecting measure, streaming to clients at home, and checking temperatures of people who come into the studio. My full time job shifted tremendously because finances required a coworker to be let go and I absorbed a time consuming part of his job. When we re-opened the library to students in the fall, we had to maintain space between students and ensure everyone was wearing a mask. This Spring, I received both rounds of the Moderna COVID vaccine (thank you, Dolly Parton). The world is beginning to move forward but it is still a very different place than it was March 11, 2020.

This week is the beginning of the “one year ago” markers. One year ago, COVID was called a pandemic. Soon, it will be one year since Breonna Taylor’s killing, then George Floyd’s and the protests that followed. We’ve seen conspiracy theories fuel an attempted takeover of our nation’s government by its own people. It has been a year that very few of us would ever choose to repeat and as we bump into these one-year markers, we need to be aware that we may feel restless . . . sad . . .uncertain. It will be a time for personal and community kindness and grace as we hit these year markers together.

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

In the past 12 months, we have experienced each of these times and due to the nature of communication and information, much of it has played out in front of our eyes. My hope is that we will take what we have learned about ourselves — the good, bad, and the ugly — and move forward with our strengths and set aside our weaknesses.

There is a time for everything,
and I choose to use my time and this season for some things, but not everything.

I choose to be reborn each day
and plant new life where old is uprooted.
I choose to seek healing
and rebuild the parts of me that have been battered by fatigue and worry.
I choose to weep when I need to and always remember to laugh
I choose to mourn with those who mourn and dance with those who dance
I choose to gather, but not stones.
I choose to gather my people and embrace them
I will give up what does not suit me
and quit searching beyond myself for what I know to be true.
I will keep and mend and speak and love and always, always, always
Seek peace.

Lenten writing, day 5

What are some things you need more of in your life?
In my yoga group, I added this to the prompt: Let’s tweak this a bit: What are some realistic self-care things you need to do more of? No guilting ourselves about not “doing good” enough. We are made in God’s image and it doesn’t get any better than that.

This was my answer:
1. Writing in a journal. A lot of my writing happens on a keyboard, which is good but not the same.
2. Time with friends.
3. Walking and being outside. Now that we’re approaching Spring, this will be more likely.
4. Phone calls instead of messaging so I can have real conversations with people.
All of these are realistic and would add joy to my days.

That was a few days ago.

• I am still struggling with writing, whether here or in a journal. Is it time management? Maybe. It’s more likely, though, that I’m avoiding some of the difficult things that I would write about. I would 100% rather focus on easy and light things. Unfortunately, I also have a lot of difficult and dark things too. Sometimes, life is just hard, and it adds up over time.
• Compared to what I hear others talk about, I think I do a pretty good job with spending time with friends. In fact, when I wrote that, I was reflecting on a wonderful Saturday evening around a fire pit that we had just had and I knew that having even more would be good for my soul.
• This is very weather-dependent but lately our weather has been cooperative. Thankfully, on Friday we are going to Chicago for a few days and will be doing lots of walking there. I’m looking forward to it so very much.
• This is hard for me because I feel like I am bothering people.

But here’s to baby steps that could add more of these good things into my life.

Lenten writing, day 4

Today’s prompt: Pray for peace in the world, for our government and for elected officials.

This is my prayer for our nation, our members of government, for all people, and for me.

Happy. Free. All beings.

And may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute some way to happiness and freedom for all. I have a ring that I wear almost every day that has the Sanskrit characters inscribed. Perhaps it feels too generic; perhaps I should mention specific people . . . specific leaders. . . specific meanings of “happy and free,” but I’ve done the specific prayer model for years and have found that longing for specifics tends to lead to disappointment and hurt. Perhaps the purpose of prayer is rewiring my own thoughts, words, and actions and not willing specific things (even what seems to be a good thing for someone) into being.

Lenten writing, day 3

Today’s prompt: Prayers for your family.

Oh, this is a tricky one. It sounds easy, doesn’t it?

Pray for your family. Family, however, is where we find our greatest joys and our biggest heartbreak. It’s where hope springs eternal with the birth of each baby and where dreams are dashed when relationships are difficult and life paths diverge.

Pray for your family. Pray what? For health? Then why chronic illness? Why autoimmune diseases? Pray for a continued lineage of faith? But people grow and find new ideas, new beliefs. . . or maybe no beliefs. Pray for them to have their own families? Then the cycle starts all over of relationship and hurt and divergence.

Pray for your family. Pray for protection from this world? From evil? From themselves?

I don’t know if I know how to pray. I know how to question. I know how to ponder and wonder and I know how to say, “I am bringing this to You. I do not know what to say or what to pray, but I am bringing this to You.”

And so today, I am bringing my family to You. I do not know what to say or what to pray, but I am bringing my family to You. Many days, I do not even know who You are, but I know that You are and I know that I am and we are and we are made for relationship, so I am bringing my family to You.

Lenten writing, day 2

What are your goals for this Lenten season?

I’ve written a lot here about feeling unfocused with reading and writing. A few years ago I experienced a major trust violation with a writing project, which is part of why it’s been hard for me to write. I used to have goals (or maybe just dreams) of writing a book someday. I don’t have that dream anymore. I’ve encountered my humanity in big ways over the last few years and honestly don’t feel like I have much to say that could be helpful to others. I have no answers. I have tons of questions. I have lots of thoughts, but can really only speak to my own experience. I do not claim to be exceptionally knowledgeable about anything, even though I am a decently intelligent person.

I’m good at learning. I’m not so good at knowing.

That said, my goal for this Lenten season is set aside my pattern of having evenings in front of the tv and do more reading and writing. I have a lot of processing from past and current things that I need to do. Writing keeps them from bouncing around in my head all the time. I will continue to work through these writing prompts, but I have some personal pen-to-paper writing to do too.

So that is my goal for this Lenten season.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Still going

I am still doing daily yoga and will absolutely testify to it being a game changer. In case you’re wondering how anyone manages to do yoga every day, I fill you in on how it’s happened for me.

First, what daily yoga doesn’t look like:

• An hour long practice every day.
• The same routine every day.
• A practice that is springing from within with no external guidance.
• A practice that perfectly suits my own preferences.

Now, what a daily practice does look like:

• 15-30 minutes most days. Occasionally longer
• A variety. Some days are more high energy flows; some days are seated, grounding practices
• Using Yoga with Adriene’s monthly calendars and YouTube channel
• Modifying and doing what I can when her thinner body cannot create the same shape and/or movement.

And so, along with a Facebook group for accountability, I have done daily yoga for over two months. I am intentionally keeping the group limited to people who actually know at least one other person in the group. Some people have shown up daily. Others stay for opportunity and encouragement but don’t always make it to the mat. I aim for a no-guilt approach in life and also in my Yoga group.

I have also begun leading classes again. I’m in the rotation for a community class at a local mental health facility and teach about every 3 weeks. I am also part of a group of teachers that will be leading in a new studio that’s opening, Mindful State Yoga. We should be opening in April so follow us on Insta and help us bring an abundance of mindful, restorative yoga to Searcy.

Today is Ash Wednesday. I am not part of a faith tradition that practices Lent or follows the liturgical calendar in any way. However, I love the idea of taking a season to be intentional. Not perfect; intentional. What do I need to release? Where can I focus my attention? How does any or all of this honor God rather than indulging myself. If we are (if I am) created in the image of God, is there a difference in those two things?

If anyone still reads here, you are more aware than others how often I say, “I want to start writing again,” and for Lent, that is my goal. I found a set of prompts that I will follow because — like my yoga practice — I do best when I do not expect things to spontaneously flow from within.

Today’s prompt: Make a list of 5 things you are grateful for today. Contentment is inevitable when counting your blessings.

• I am grateful for the friendship I had with Lis Jones. She is no longer with us on this earth, but today was her birthday so she is on my mind. She was a faithful, faithful friend. I miss her. I am better because I knew her.
• I am thankful for the daily opportunity I have to do life one more day. Oh, how much I mess up every day! With people, with kindness to myself, to fulfilling responsibilities, to appreciating the world around me. Every day, though, I have the opportunity to try again to live in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Hopefully, some days I do an OK job with that, but if not, I still have time and opportunity to make amends and try again.
• I am thankful for financial stability. I have had big eras of my life where I did not know what that felt like. I am thankful, thankful, thankful that I do not have to worry about having money for groceries, utilities, or clothes. I hope, however, that I never forget how very real those fears can be and that many people live with them every day.
• I am thankful for a mind that works and allows me to read, write, and learn. Where would I be without that? Who would I be without that?
• I am thankful — so thankful — for my sweet husband Jason and that I know what it means to have a partner who listens and supports and encourages. We talk for hours every day and truly do life together. Not on parallel tracks. TOGETHER. And I am so very thankful for that.

PS

When I was young, I wrote a lot of letters. Many of them ended with a PS, and most of them also had a PSS with an occasional PPSS. Although I have always had a lot of words, I have a lifelong struggle with organizing them.

This post serves as a PS the last one. It is now January 7, so it’s been a few weeks. As an almost 52-year-old, I’m hesitant to say, “I’ve learned,” but it’s possible that last semester’s losses taught me something. I am still wary of adding busyness to my schedule. When I’m asked to do something, I consider the following questions:

1. Do I actually want to do this?
2. Am I fooling myself into thinking I want to do this when what I really want is to not upset someone by saying, “no”?
3. Will this feed my soul?
4. What will I *not* get to do if I do this?

If I cannot answer these in the moment, I’m OK with saying, “let me get back to you.” How has this played out? Well, last semester was the first semester in almost 3 years that I haven’t gotten sick. I have learned to value rest. I have read more and spent more time with friends.
PS: Where the Crawdads Sing is a really good read! Bring tissues!

I cannot say that it has removed all of my stress or that I now live in a happily ever after state of perma-joy. There are still hard days, and although I may not have gotten sick, but at the end of last semester, I had neck and shoulder tension at a higher level than I remember ever having. I worked through it, though, which is a gift.
PS: It took 3 massages in 3 weeks and a two-week break from work to dial it down.

By the end of our Christmas break, the physical manifestation of stress was at a manageable level. Yesterday was my first day back at work and I can tell that it’s trying to return, but I’ve had a more consistent yoga practice lately and that helps a lot.
PS: I’m considering teaching again, but am only going to do it if it’s a structure that serves me instead of me serving it.

One thing I definitely learned: Yoga is a game changer. Even a small amount each day makes a big difference. The last few days of last year, I restarted doing an Adriene video each day in order to set the stage for participating in her 30 Days of Yoga in January. I started a Facebook group for accountability and so far, each day has been a challenge and a joy.
PS: Slow and steady really does win the race. Small, incremental changes are the only ones that last.

So if you want to join me in a yoga goal, let me know. I’ll cheer you on from the side. I still don’t know what I want to do with this blog in the long run, but I may hop on here through this challenge to process some of the thoughts that come up. I may also write about my go-to thoughts that keep me off the mat.
PS: It’s true what they say: the hardest part is showing up to the mat.