A lot of people, when they decide they are going to quit something – pigging out, cigarettes, drinking, etc. – make a calculated decision to have a final binge, sort of like a person on Death Row has their Last Supper on the eve of their execution. (At least, according to movies they do). That’s sort of how this time of year feels to me in some ways. We are all so busy getting stuff done, with the final deadline of Last Day of School/Christmas Eve/New Year’s Eve looming over us. Gotta get all the shopping, wrapping, baking, cleaning, Elf-moving, card-sending done, while at the same time keeping commitments to holiday parties, Nutcracker performances, religious services, charitable causes. It’s exhausting. And the first thing to go is our self-care. Who has time for yoga, decent bedtime, 10 minute meditations, preparing meals from real food? So, we are running around like wild turkeys with our heads cut off and eating all kinds of sugary treats and sipping on (or gulping down) “well-deserved” cocktails, and then, when we get sick, we blame it on the fact that the flu shot doesn’t work this year, or “it’s that time of year” so obviously, it was inevitable.
And then January 1 hits us and we say, I need to detox. I need to get healthy.
Hopefully, I am preaching to the choir here and this post will be a validation of everything you are doing. Most of us, though, are probably not quite choir material, at least not in action. We may know something needs to change, but either it’s too overwhelming, or we really don’t know what to do.
These are the 12 steps I recommend following – as part of a solid self-care plan. And if you are too busy to do them, then you need to REALLY do them. Someone asked the Dalai Lama once, “How long do you recommend I meditate each day?” He answered, “20 minutes is good.” So then the person said, “But I am too busy for that.” And the Dalai Lama said, “Well, then you need to meditate for 2 hours.”
Today is the beginning of the rest of your life. Not January 1. Today. Right now, this very breath. Why wait until you have hit your version of rock bottom? A heart attack, a panic attack, a horrible hangover, an affair, a breast lump, a blood sugar level, a financial meltdown, 30 pounds of overweight, a child in crisis (because they are our best mirrors, but their little bodies and brains aren’t able to absorb as much – so pay attention!) – these are all signs that we are living an unbalanced life. Follow these 12 steps and chances are, things will fall into place.
One of the highlights of my week is the Spanyoga classes I teach at a local preschool, to 3-5 year-olds. For about half an hour a pop, I lead these adorable little sponges through yoga movements, often cueing in Spanish (arriba, abajo, toca los pies, vaca, gato, perro, respire por la naríz…), as well as songs and conversation in Spanish. Playing – I mean, working – with kids is one of my favorite things to do, in large part because they haven’t yet become stuck in their ideas, stories, beliefs about the world and themselves. When I hang out with them, I get a front seat to observing real, live child-like wonder. So awesome.
Yesterday, I mentioned to them that sometimes, I don’t know a word in Spanish because at least during my time in Mexico (from ages 7-17), it was not a word that was relevant, either to my life paradigm, or maybe even the geography of where we were. Every class, I read a book to the adorable tykes, but most of the books I have access to are in English, so I basically have to translate them on the fly. There have been a few times that I didn’t know the word, and had to look it up. A few times, there was no translation. So, yesterday, after practicing the word for snow (nieve) and snowing (nevando), I shared with them that the Eskimo actually have about 50 words for snow. Cue: eyes open wide in childlike wonder. I explained that in places around the world where snow is prevalent, stays a long time, and has all kinds of uses, the cultures have adapted a vocabulary to differentiate between the different kinds of snow.
Lately, I have been thinking about this in terms of where I am on my health and wellness journey. For a while, I have been mulling over this belief I hold that as humans, our brains, and our intellectual grasp on life, are currently incredibly limited. As a coach, I am fascinated by the concept of self-limiting beliefs, and I think a lot of it starts with vocabulary. We grow up, as young, impressionable kids, being told what and who and how we are, and that becomes our language. It becomes the way we think about ourselves and our place in the world, and who and what we may become. I am an athlete. I am not a runner. I suck at art. I have no focus. I am good at math but suck at writing. I am a talented pianist. I can’t dance to save my life. I am lucky. I am poor. I am diabetic. I am clumsy. I am a hard worker. I am adventurous. I am a Christian. I am a victim. I have a learning disability. I am special. I am a girl. I am lazy. I am a leader.
Words are so powerful, as they reflect the way we see ourselves and the way we interact with our environment. So, I think it makes total sense that one of the reasons we don’t experience the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual growth we are capable of, is because maybe we lack the vocabulary needed to explore further growth. Words and language are designed to help us understand our world, but they can also create misunderstandings (like when we had just moved to Mexico, and I was in my ballet class with the other seven-year-olds, and the teacher asked me to do something and I said no, because I was “embarazada” – which means pregnant. Oops!)
Those of you who are kind (or bored?) enough to subscribe to and read my blog, know that last week I celebrated one year of being completely alcohol-free. I announced this with a blog entry, and I quickly followed that entry with something I am convinced is lacking in the mental and physical health world, surrounding the discussion and exploration of substance use disorders, especially alcohol. I spoke of how many opportunities are lost, to prevent more advanced stages of addiction, simply because there is no official framework where people can assess or be assessed, in their alcohol use, before they hit the obvious bottoms. Check it out here: stages of alcoholism.
Today, as I think about the Eskimo words for snow, the power of language, the lies we tell ourselves because of what parents, teachers, coaches, babysitters, family, friends, media, society have told us and we have believed are true – it strikes me that there needs to be a new way to talk about what we now refer to in the very loaded, stigmatized term alcoholic.
As I stated in my previous blog mentioned above, although I am not a mental health or medical professional, I believe that alcoholism can be broken down into four stages (with some overlap between them). Going further, what I would like to suggest, is that the word alcoholic could be nuanced. Why? Well, I know for me, if I had known sooner about the concept of High Functioning Alcoholic, I may have been less likely to justify my socially-accepted, but soul-destructive behavior. I could not relate to the stories out there of complete destruction or extreme alcoholic behavior, but if I had heard the stories of women who were concerned that their alcohol consumption was eating away at their integrity and completely at odds with their breast cancer awareness pink ribbons (because alcohol DOES cause cancer- read THIS), I may have quit sooner. Maybe not. Who knows? But in my quest to help others avoid going further down the slippery slope, I would like to suggest we entertain the idea of adding some new words to our vocabulary about alcoholism and alcoholics:
In my conversations with other women in recovery, we have all experienced that once we share with someone that we are abstaining from drinking, the first reaction is often, “Is this forever?” and the next statement is, “but I never saw you drink any more than most people – surely you aren’t an alcoholic!” This is well-intentioned, but unfortunately, far from helpful. This is exactly why we ended up where we did – because we were telling ourselves that same story of denial for so long. In our minds, there was only one definition of an alcoholic, and it was an ugly label that definitely did not describe our current behavior, or the state of our lives. Being unable to identify with this loaded term – alcoholic – kept us from understanding our behavior, our health, the slippery slope progression. It kept us from seeking the help we needed, be it through self-help programs or professional treatment. How many of us have said, “I don’t believe I am an alcoholic, because I never xyz and I only drank xyz, so I am not going to go to a 12 step meeting, because I feel like I won’t belong” - ?
If we return to the staging framework I jotted down in my previous blog entry, similar to cancer staging – it would be like me feeling a lump in my breast (perhaps stage 1) and then having as my only option, as far as I am concerned, getting on the bus with the patients with stage 4 cancer and getting full-blown chemo. If that were the case with cancer, I would probably be so terrified, and consider the treatment so extreme and overdone for my stage 1 diagnosis, that I would stay in my denial and not do much. Kind of the same way people do with their problematic drinking – until it hits a low enough bottom that they can start to identify with the word “alcoholic.” In the meetings, we are urged to find the similarities rather than the differences, but this can be a tall order for someone who already feels uncomfortable, self-conscious, and may be looking for any reason to run out the door and never return. However, if I know about the staging in alcoholism, and can identify as a Problematic Alcohol User (Stage 2), and I am aware that if I don't control my dis-ease with a structured program that is open to anyone in all stages, whose shared goal is to abstain from drinking, I am probably going to be more likely to explore the program before my dis-ease progresses to a more advanced stage.
Words matter. Where I live, we may not need 50 words for “snow.” THANK GOD for that. We may not need 50 different words for the various landing points on the alcoholism slippery slope, but we definitely need a better way to talk about it, if we are going to be serious about prevention and treatment. As much as I dislike labels because of how confining and self-limiting they can be, I do appreciate how they provide a way to communicate, especially to ourselves, what it is we need to do, to take better care of ourselves and grow to our potential.
To humans, words are more than a means of communication, they can shape our beliefs, behaviors, feelings and ultimately our actions. Although swords can coerce us, and threaten, nothing is more powerful than a tool which can shape our opinions.
"The lubricant became a crutch that became a habit that became an addiction."
- L, a grateful alcoholic in recovery
When I shared in this blogpost, two days ago, that I had reached the one-year milestone of living in sobriety, I was showered with love and support. THANK YOU! I received several messages from people that really got me thinking, and validated my decision to be open to the public about my journey. These messages, both in the virtual world and in the real world, were some iteration of, “I thought I just needed to take a few days off of drinking, but your blog made me realize I need to make this a long-term commitment, maybe even a forever goal.”
During my year of recovery, I dove head-first into books and podcasts and documentaries on recovery. I tried on different types of recovery meetings. I saw it as a mission, to learn more about myself, and to learn more about the human condition. I thought, if I pay attention, and do the work, I will (hopefully) become a better person, and be better equipped to help others. In the way that I am eager for all my friends to hear about the latest and greatest shoes, song, restaurant, supplement, podcast I have discovered, I wanted to know what was available in the world of recovery tools, so I may share them.
I started to notice something in this world of addiction and recovery, that as far as I can tell so far, is really missing. This is what is missing: the discussion about the in-between period, between the period of "I drink socially, but I think maybe I should cut down," and the period of "I definitely am not drinking today" - only to pick it up and do it all over again, obsessively and compulsively. I think the fact it is missing is one of the reasons so many people are continuing to live lives of increasingly quiet desperation – unnecessarily. I think it’s one of the reasons that there is stigma, which really boils down to ignorance and fear. I think the lack of this discussion means we are missing out on a really important opportunity to intervene before things get really messy. We can prevent needless suffering if we would only recognize that we can actually be proactive way before the Rock Bottom.
When I first gave up drinking a year ago (after a few years of “controlled drinking” experiments), and started looking into different recovery programs, even going to some meetings, my Imposter Syndrome kicked in, as well as my typical “I don’t fit in here” feeling. I knew that alcohol was sabotaging my efforts to become the human I am meant to be. And yet, I could not relate to many of the stories I heard of complete disaster. I would hear of women who drank gallons every day, or who didn’t drink in social settings but started pounding as soon as they got home, or who drank in the morning, just to be able to function at work. It was easy to say “That’s not me.” And it would have been easy to say, “I don’t belong here. If I think I do, I am just being a fraud.” Many people on a solid recovery path will point out that that is my alcoholic voice trying to convince me that I am different, I am better, and I don’t belong in a recovery program, I just need to try harder at controlling my drinking, or, I can abstain from alcohol without any sort of program or structured support program. It didn't help that several well-meaning friends and family, upon learning of my abstention, would say stuff like, "But you didn't drink that much, did you?" And then I would find myself explaining that it may not seem like I merited AA membership, but I had made the decision to quit BEFORE their reaction could be, "it's about time."
Luckily, I told the voice in my head that doubted my "alcoholic qualifications" to f-off and I kept showing up. I kept reading the memoirs and listening to the podcasts. And, gradually, the labels, and all of the baggage attached to them (“alcoholic,” “addict”) while important as a reminder to practice humility and to be grateful to exit the elevator down, before sinking further – no longer became a loaded, stark definition that created separation between me and “those who really are.” As I learned more about the deadly power of alcohol, I learned about the progression of its grip on our organs, especially our brain, and on its dissolution of our soul. I realized that while I had not, by the grace of God, experienced calamity due to my drinking, it was very likely a statement that needed the word “yet” on the end: I had not experienced calamity – YET.
I began to think of my alcoholism the way we think of cancer. In stages. I had learned enough to know that problematic behavior around alcohol is a progression, and at some point, if not dealt with, takes a serious turn and can (does) lead to horrible crap, including death. I thought of it like cancer, in that, if we are diagnosed with cancer stage 1, we do not say, “well, it’s not really cancer, it’s just stage 1. I don’t really need to treat it or make any major changes.” That would be beyond stupid, I think we all agree on that. Problematic drinking is the same thing. It is not a problem that takes care of itself. Someone who read my blog from two days ago said, “I was going to take a few days off of drinking, but reading your blog made me realize this is more serious than I wanted to admit.”
If I go to my OB-GYN and she does a PAP Smear and it reveals I have cancerous cells, I am not going to say, “well, I will just carry on and see what happens.” No! I will listen to the doctor, do whatever follow-up I need to do, and make any necessary life changes. I will ask my closest loved ones for support and prayers. Same goes for if I learn that my blood sugar levels are at a point that I am pre-diabetic. I will adjust my exercise and diet and do what I need to do, because I now have this important information and I am empowered to make changes before my health worsens.
This is what we need to do with alcoholism. I really believe that we need to have a way to self-assess, and for our medical and mental health practitioners to assess, where we fall on the alcohol consumption spectrum. Because I am absolutely certain that millions of people are not doing what they need to do, because they do not identify with the label “alcoholic” as they know they aren’t “as bad as that.” And when they do this, they are missing an amazing opportunity to stop the progression, to be more connected and self-aware and healthy.
Roughly, I would suggest a framework like this:
If we have this type of framework, we can then, I think, have a better understanding of where we are, if we need to take steps, and then start the process of recovery before we get any further down. It’s sort of like when we weigh ourselves (actually, I don’t weigh myself – but I do know how my jeans fit me). If we realize we are ten pounds over where we know we feel our best, we then have the power to decide to do something about it before we continue down the path and perhaps end up 50 pounds overweight. It is harder to lose 50 pounds than ten pounds.
The other thing is that if we recognize stages this way, it makes it easier to discuss our problem with others. If we have more clarity, we are better at communicating what we feel and need. Our doctors no longer need to be completely misguided with their off-base questions like, “do you consider yourself a moderate drinker?” I know I always wanted an A on my physical so I always answered, YES! Put a check in the moderation column! If, on the other hand, he had asked me to fill out a questionnaire based on the stages, even if I had lied, it would have, I think, alerted me earlier to the need to speak honestly. As stated above, alcoholism is a progressive disease - and I do believe that whether we are in Stage 1 or Stage 2, if we don't make some major changes to figure out the root of this behavior, we will ride that elevator further down.
Finally, I really believe that when we are faced with a situation that gives us the chance to be honest, starting with ourselves, about our need to let go of perfection, to be truly seen and heard by others, to simplify our lives and connect with our spiritual side, whatever that means to us – only good things can happen. During this year of recovery, I have often had these moments of “omigosh, everyone could benefit from following this program! So much unnecessary unhappiness, anger, resentment, and shame could be resolved if more people did this!” If my writing, my message of “you do not need to be in Stage 3 or 4 of alcoholism to step into the wonderful world of sobriety and recovery” reaches just one person’s heart and plants a seed, it will all be worth it, for me.
My dog, Penny, will go to the front door, scratch it and then sit expectantly, waiting for someone to reluctantly stop the very important stuff they are doing, to go and let her out. We will open the door for her and she will sit there, sniffing, but not go out. And then, she will trot to the door to the garage and scratch there, and sit again. And we will go to that door and let her out the garage, and this time, she will go out. Both doors lead to the front yard – so no matter which door she goes through, she will end up in the same spot. And yet, she does this every day. For the last 6-7 years. If you think about it, it is rather insane. Frustrating, a cute idiosyncrasy, and absurd.
A year ago today, I started on my own journey to quit doing the same stuff, expecting, or at least hoping for, different results. After a couple of years of trying different routes, only to end up in the same place, I realized, on December 6, 2015, that I had exhausted all options and it was time to get off the hamster wheel before the nonstop insanity took me closer to disaster, or at the very least, to becoming more of who I wasn’t.
Today marks one year of an alcohol-free lifestyle. I did not set out to be a long-term teetotaler. I had simply reached the end of my rope, physically, mentally and emotionally, and I knew that my alcohol consumption was the greatest and most toxic symptom of my dis-ease. Deep-down I had known this for awhile, and as I delved deeper into mindfulness, meditation, yoga, authenticity – the cognitive dissonance became more and more apparent. In mindfulness, we practice tuning into our body, noticing stuff like fatigue, sleeplessness, restlessness, bloating, immunity issues, skin irregularities, aches, cravings, etc. We also pay attention to our emotions, with an intention to practice curious, non-judgmental, compassionate observance. Physically, my commitment to regular exercise and whole foods and high quality supplements, helped me, I guess, because there wasn’t much deterioration that I was aware of. Of course, one can only assume that on a cellular level, drinking several drinks a week starts processes only visible once the compound effect takes place. But mentally and emotionally, I knew that what I was doing, even though in many circles is considered normal and even deserved (hey, work hard, play hard, right?) was not something I could continue, without eroding my own sense of integrity, honesty, authenticity and self-compassion.
So, after having the worst momtrum of my life, which was a result of my being completely exhausted in every way – although I was completely sober when this happened, I knew that alcohol was a major factor in my exhaustion- I decided I needed to give my body, mind and soul a break. I quietly decided to “detox” by avoiding alcohol for a week or two. Not even a sip. Bill came home from his business trip, it was Friday a few days after my decision, and I declined the glass of wine he offered. I explained I didn’t want to drink for awhile, because the ugliness of five days ago still haunted me. I still didn’t know where I was going with this “detox” – how long – but I knew I would know the plan when the time was right, so in the meantime, I would abstain.
Now, keep in mind that most people who decide to abstain from alcohol (or sugar, another big source of addiction) regard starting during the holidays as impossible if not terrifying. But that is exactly what I did. That is how sick I was of myself – or rather, of the person I had become. I did at times wonder if this was the right time to start this abstaining thing, but at some point it hit me – this is the perfect time. Alcohol, which is celebrated for its ability to take off the edge, ease our stress, enhance a festive occasion, reduce inhibitions and facilitate connection – well, at this point I knew that all of this was a bunch of crap. Alcohol wants me to believe all of the above. But I was no longer believing it. I knew that to be the mom and wife and human that I want, and need to be – I need to have a clear mind, and a clear conscience. I need to be available for my loved ones. And ESPECIALLY during an important time of year such as Christmas.
About three weeks into my little detox experiment, I decided to come clean, so to speak, publicly, because of the role I play as a coach and mentor to many adults and kids. I was done with feeling like a hypocrite, wearing a running shirt that says “Kale Queen” and feeling like people were misled into believing I lead a totally healthy, balanced existence. I figured, if I share my own realization and experience, the pedestal people may have placed me upon will hopefully be knocked down, because it turns out, it’s pretty scary when you think people know you as being a certain way, they hold you to a certain standard, when you know you are not worthy of that standard. It was my way of staying authentic. Even more so, I suspected that there were (are) a lot of people just like me out there, and maybe my story will help someone else feel less alone, and perhaps even nudge them toward creating change, and getting help if they need it.
My revelation led to some pretty amazing stuff, which I guess happens when you are willing to be vulnerable, with the intention of being truthful and of service. So many of you reached out in support – so many of you said “me too! Welcome to this awesome journey!” – so many of you said “me too – I think I need help.” I created a private group on Facebook that has grown to a number I would never have expected (please let me know if you would like to join us). I started to realize that this was much more than a “detox” for me. I loved the mental clarity, I loved being available to my family. I started to explore recovery beyond simply abstaining from alcohol. Online resources such as blogs, recovery communities, as well as local meetings, and podcasts (see list below). I now have a whole shelf dedicated to books on recovery. I am in a text thread with five other women all over the country, who are on the same journey as me, and we have become like sisters.
One of the reasons I delayed facing the truth about what I needed to do to clean up my act and be the person I really am, is I was really scared that by not drinking, I was going to close off many areas of my life. I was going to reject certain parts of myself – the fun, wild, spontaneous parts. Alcohol is a huge part of our culture, and I was afraid that I was now going to be a boring teetotaler who was surely going to be a social outcast, even more of a square peg in a round hole than I already often felt. I was afraid that living in suburbia sober was about as tedious as life could get, and I would go nuts.
As I think over the past 365 days, and now, as I write the paragraph I just wrote, I cannot help but think, holy crap, Susanne, look how wrong you were! To say that my life has opened up is a gross understatement. I have met some amazing people. Every day, when I think of the people who only a year ago were not in my life, or who I knew but did not know at the time were also living in recovery – I am amazed. A lot of people who are susceptible to addiction or problematic drinking (it’s a spectrum), I am convinced, are extremely gifted – many are brilliant and have tons of energy – which when sober, will be channeled to starting businesses, non-profits, running marathons and finishing Ironman triathlons or longer. Many are extremely sensitive, so they are keenly aware of what’s going on around and within them – which when sober, can be expressed by reaching out to others through creative endeavors, and helping other lost souls find their mooring. There is something magical about being in a room, or at a table, with people who live every 24 hours with deep gratitude, and who really do their best to accept the things they cannot change, have the courage to change the things they can, and the wisdom to know the difference. The serenity is real.
I have heard there is a lot of stigma (certainly a huge amount of fear of stigma) out there about people in active addiction, as well as in recovery, which is a big reason many choose to remain anonymous. But I can tell you – if I hear that a doctor, therapist, lawyer, teacher, business person, or potential friend, is in recovery and actively working on recovery, in the way that works for them, I will probably choose them over someone else any day. I am a big fan of personal development, and I really believe that a recovery program is the best personal development program out there. A crisis is an opportunity to change, and when we embrace the opportunity, and work on recovery, which really is the less-traveled path, we are choosing to let go of mindless living, do the hard work, move through things instead of away or around them, while helping others do the same. When someone is judged, or stigmatized, for doing this, it is clearly out of lack of awareness of what it really takes to be in recovery. I don’t blame people for harboring fear (which basically is at the root of stigma). Most of what we know about addiction and recovery is the over-sensationalized trainwrecks in the media, or the relapses that end in tragedy. And, yes, those cases are real, and awful. And I hope that as more people are open about their recovery, people in general are less judgmental, and also, less afraid to ask for help. There is a lot of misinformation and misguided assumptions, regarding how to best support someone who needs or is asking for help. There also really is a huge lack of resources, and information. I have learned that when someone is ready to ask for help, the path is far from clear-cut. You can’t go into your doctor’s office and announce, “I am ready for rehab” and start the process of recovery. Well, unless you’re wealthy and/or a celebrity. For most people, it is a complicated, frustrating process, which I hope will begin to change as the awareness grows that alcohol is the most dangerous drug out there.
Something else I have learned this year, is how many shades of grey there are on the, shall we call it, problem drinking spectrum. Only about 10% of the people we would consider alcoholics are the ones you may think of as a typical alcoholic – drinking all day, life in a shambles, bankrupt or homeless, etc. The reality is that it can be much more subtle. I know of professionals, parents, in recovery, who drank maybe once a week, but often to excess and would hate themselves for the next few days. I know people who drank every day, be it one glass or five, sometimes more, sometimes less. I have come to the conclusion that since alcoholism is basically a self-diagnosed disease, and we all have such different lifestyles, biological makeup, values and priorities – if and when we decide to ask ourselves, “do I have a problem?” these are the real questions we need to ask:
When asking ourselves these questions, if we feel uncomfortable, this may be our gut telling us, look closer. I think if we try to evaluate our problem, or lack thereof, based solely or mostly on amount and frequency of consumption, we are missing the mark. We are enabling our justification to continue. The eating away at our soul is not something that can be measured in number of ounces of days of the week.
Somebody asked me the other day, how have I done it? And have I faced a lot of challenges? From the get-go, I told myself, alcohol is not an option. Just like, selling my child on Craigslist or allowing my children to dock their iPhones in their bedrooms at night. Sometimes tempting (well except for the iPhone thing), but totally off the table. The other thing that I think has been really important for me, is not to compartmentalize sobriety. When I talk health in any way, be it running, fitness, mindfulness, nutrition – I urge people to avoid compartmentalizing. If we want to become fitter, we can’t assume that a one-hour workout class followed by sitting for eight hours will do much for us – we need to move throughout the day. And let’s look at your food & drink consumption. And how you manage stress. And your sleep habits. And so on. I see my sobriety the same way. I abstain from alcohol but that is just the jumping off point – I also need to do the work to get to the root of the problem, the dis-ease, and create a framework that stops it from happening again. Life is hard, we get thrown so many challenges through incidents, circumstances, and people – and a solid recovery program helps us learn tools such as recognizing triggers, planning for known challenges, being connected with a tribe that gets us, and having the humility to accept that we are not always in control, and it’s a very courageous thing to ask for help. Alcohol is a powerful, highly addictive drug, and consuming it problematically (which, by the way, 51 million Americans do) is a symptom. When we truly live a life of recovery, which to a great degree means, prioritizing self-care, we start to move away from the person we had become, and toward the person we, deep down, really are.
Several years ago, an acquaintance on Facebook posted a status that said something like, “By the grace of God, five years today.” I suspected that must mean, sobriety. I was intrigued. A beautiful woman, a mom, always so put-together, as far as I was concerned, had it all. I thought – her??? That opened up something in me, some new level of self-awareness and inquiry. A couple of other people I know who have been sober for a few decades, would also post on their soberversaries. I was in awe, envious. Further self-awareness. A mom blogger whose theme was something like the “3 Martini Playdate” announced she was getting sober, Elizabeth Vargas came out as an alcoholic… all of these seeds were being planted and my journey of self-discovery in this area was starting to gain traction.
I am using this occasion of my first soberversary, to hopefully plant a seed in someone else’s journey. I know our culture glamorizes alcohol, and the current normal is to flaunt our alcohol consumption on social media. At the risk of being the biggest buzz kill in people’s newsfeed today, I urge you to consider that alcohol is the most addictive drug there is, and the main reason it is allowed so much freedom and publicity and legality is because it is a huge industry that makes a fortune off of people’s habits and addictions. More often than you probably realize, alcohol use leads to poor parenting, accidental deaths, diabetes, cancer, domestic abuse, violence against loved ones and against strangers, problems with the law, obesity, anxiety, depression, opiate and cocaine and other illegal drug use disorders, and all sorts of other personal and public dis-ease. I am hopeful that the tide will start to change, and more and more of the cool kids and adults will start to embrace a sober lifestyle. Many of them are – in fact, my relatively short time so far in the recovery world has given me a glimpse into a fascinating, compassionate, loving and grateful - and totally cool - world I didn’t know existed.
Below, I am listing some of the resources I would recommend to anyone who is wondering if sobriety is something they should consider, or if you are currently in recovery and want to add more tools to your kit. Please feel free to suggest others I may have left off, or haven’t come across yet.
I am deeply grateful, to all of you (you know who you are), for being incredibly supportive and generous this year. I thought I was starting out on the road less-traveled, and it turns out that I have never felt more accompanied.
Finally – I have a request of you. I started a Go Fund Me page (www.gofundme.com/sobriety-healing-recovery) specifically to help two incredible sober warriors who are struggling financially, and I want to help them attend a recovery conference that I know will be an enormous source of support for them. If you can spare $5, $50, whatever you can do, that would be amazing.
Okay, time to let the dog out.
Thank you for staying with me this far.
Drink – The Intimate Relationship Between Women and Alcohol (Ann Dowsett Johnston)
Understanding the High-Functioning Alcoholic: Breaking the Cycle and Finding Hope (Sarah Allen Benton)
Kick the Drink… Easily! (Jason Vale)
The Big Book (Alcoholics Anonymous)
Websites & Some Favorite Blogs:
Women For Sobriety
Crying Out Now
The Bubble Hour
Tommy Rosen Recovery 2.0
The SHAIR Podcast
That Sober Guy Podcast
I officially started training for my 8th marathon, the New York City Marathon, on Labor Day, which means that I trained for about 8 weeks. Definitely not something I recommend others do, and the only reason I would do this is because I have been running and doing triathlons for about 11 years now, so I have a decent base. The other thing is that I don’t really have a time goal. I am not trying to qualify for Boston Marathon (BQ), or beat my 4:03 PR. So, when I showed up on Sunday, after about 3 hours of sleep, for my first ever NYC Marathon, my expectations as far as finishing time were really low. As in, I assumed my time would be high – around the 4.5 hour mark. I wasn’t wearing a watch, and I wanted to save my phone battery for photos and videos along the course, so I didn’t use any tracking apps. I really had no idea what my pace or the time was the entire race.
I took loads of photos and videos. Of the start, with the singing of America the Beautiful, and the first mile as we ran across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge from Staten Island into Brooklyn.
I took photos of some of the many hilarious signs spectators had made to encourage us along.
When I came upon my husband and son and my friends, who had made the trip in to support me and another friend running it, I stopped each time, to hug them. I took pictures.
My husband texted me to tell me where they were located, and as the miles passed and my legs and feet started longing for some downward dog love, I clung to the expectation of seeing their beautiful faces 30 or so blocks away.
At a few points I thought, 26.2 miles is a helluva long way. It’s a distance that truly demands respect. I can’t believe I did this twice, after swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112 miles, in my two Ironman triathlons. And that I am considering repeating that feat. The enormity of what it does to your body and mind really hit home when at mile 25, a woman collapsed a little ways in front of me and was rushed off on a stretcher.
This particular marathon was not really on my radar until I was asked to join a team that was fundraising for St. Jude’s Children. I didn’t know that much about what St. Jude’s does until I accepted the invitation to run for this team, first for this past March’s New York City Half Marathon, and then this full marathon. A few times during Sunday’s marathon, when it crossed my mind that some of my lower extremities were a tad achy, I immediately thought of the children and their families, who were benefiting from St. Jude’s mind-boggling support (they don’t have to pay a dime for their cancer treatment or any associated costs – for life!). Who was I to complain about a blister or ailing toenail or tired muscle?
I didn’t know what my finish time was until a couple hours after crossing the finish line, when I was headed home. I pulled up my name in the marathon app on my smartphone and saw I had finished in 4:32. Huh. My slowest marathon to date. I thought about the time I had taken to fiddle with my phone (camera), hug my family and friends, pee. Since I hadn’t been tracking my progress, while I knew I had negative splits starting around mile 18, I didn’t know exactly by how much or how consistently. I suppose that would have been interesting to know. I knew I could have gone a bit faster, especially if I hadn’t smilepaced and treated this like a fun party as opposed to something to measure and prove. So, I sat with both parts – the part of me that is competitive and was a little annoyed I hadn’t pushed myself more, trained harder (or at least for longer!), that part of me that was ruffled when other people shared their faster times and PR’s. And then the other part of me that really and truly loves to be immersed in the whole experience of soaking in the scenery, the crowds, the effort that my friends and family make as they support me all year long in all of my endeavors, and especially on the day of the event. The part of me that loves to document it all, even if it means running 26.2 miles with a phone the size of a tablet (iPhone 7 Plus), in my hand, and running more slowly to get certain footage to share with those who aren’t up for the actual run themselves.
My first New York City HALF Marathon several years ago was one of my most unpleasant race experiences ever. I had made poor food and alcohol choices the night before. The morning of the race was much colder than expected (it was August, but was in the 40s), and around mile 7 the driving, cold rain and the dehydration from stupid choices kicked in and my knee became a throbbing mess. Every step was excruciating. It was all I could do to continue running. I just focused on one step at a time for the next 6 miles. I don’t remember what my time was but it wasn’t spectacular by any means. And yet – it will always be one of my most memorable races, one of the ones I am most proud of finishing. It was the closest I had ever come to quitting. But I didn’t quit. I grit my teeth and kept moving forward.
Some of my friends, real or virtual, complain after their races that they were dismayed by how lousy they felt. That their time sucked. They felt great in training – and yet they fell apart in the race. What happened? They ask themselves. When I got my triathlon coaching certification, one of my favorite workshops was with Bobby McGee, the author of Magical Running and a coach to elite and professional athletes. He explained that if we go into a race with a specific time goal, we are very likely to be disappointed. There are so many variables beyond our control, no matter what our training looked like. Weather, terrain, crowd behavior, opponents, etc. He suggested, instead, that we choose a time possible as a target, but that our goals be something we actually can control: patience; flexibility; gratitude. In other words, that we adopt a certain attitude as our goal. Because, inevitably, no matter how much or how we train, there will be surprises on race day. And if we are married to a time-measured goal or a rank, we are setting ourselves up for potential failure.
So – if your performance at your recent event was in your opinion, disappointing or downright mortifying – I invite you to look at it this way: did you quit? Or did you keep going, in spite of the fact that you were in pain, you wanted to puke, you questioned your sanity? So, you missed your desired finishing time by a few minutes or hours – what did that teach you? Maybe you need to tweak your nutrition (try FuXion by the way – it’s amazing stuff!). Maybe you need to build more rest into your training plan, especially if you have a stressful life. Maybe you need to do more strength training, cross-training, yoga. Maybe you need to say the Serenity Prayer on a regular basis. Whatever it is that you learned from this experience, the fact that it was an opportunity for you to learn more about yourself and about life, makes it in many ways an awesome race. I have a lot of finisher medals and podium medals and trophies, and the ones that mean the most to me are not always the ones that looked the best on paper (or in an App).
Sometimes success is not measured as much by a GPS watch as by what is felt in the soul. The fact that people can so easily track us now via race apps and social media can put a lot of pressure on us. But it’s good to remember that most of us are not sponsored by NIKE (though if anyone from HOKA or OOfos is reading this, I would love to be sponsored by you, you saved my feet!!!) – so our split times and finishing time is really not that important to most people. And all that work that we put into ourselves by living in the discomfort zone for hours on end each week, working toward something that very few people do – that cannot be measured by linear time as recorded by a finish line mat. No more than the love that we have for running can be measured by a ruler.
YOU ARE AMAZING.
Just. Keep. Going.
This often surprises people, even my close friends, but sometimes – often, actually – I find myself thinking mean things about my body. Usually, I am able to notice the thought (‘you used to be thinner’) and replace it with a compassionate statement (‘you look and feel amazing!’). But I have done a shitload of work, and am almost half a century old, so I can do this, pretty much as automatically as most girls and women immediately scowl at themselves when they look in the mirror.
Last night I went to see a local screening of the new documentary, Embrace. Do you remember that thing that went viral on Facebook in 2013, when a woman (Taryn Brumfitt) posted a Before and After picture? Unlike those annoying ones we usually see, that for most of us trigger a combination of “That’s inspiring/I hate myself” – Tamryn’s post showed a slim, beauty contestant Before photo and a fuller, more relaxed, tastefully nude After photo. Whoa, that was revolutionary! And the ensuing frenzy (3.6 million clicks!) showed she had clearly struck a nerve. And this realization led to the creation and production of Embrace.
The audience last night was all female. Mostly adults, a few teenagers there with what I presume were their moms. Women of varying ages, sizes, ethnicities. All of us taking the time out of our hectic schedules on a cold October evening (we had our first snowfall earlier in the day!), to spend an hour and a half watching an emotional, often disturbing visual analysis of how our self-image has been shaped largely by the media (which we can’t get away from today), a “wellness” industry that makes a ton of money from our feeling like shit about ourselves, and cultural/societal perceptions and definitions of beauty.
I have often said and written and posted my belief that if we girls and women spent less time and money and other resources on efforts to make our bodies and faces fit into what we’ve been led to believe is hot and sexy, world peace and hunger would be resolved, not to mention the state of our environment. I saw on Facebook recently some new trend with “macros” and I looked it up. When I saw what it involved I thought, holy crap, that looks really complicated and time-consuming – I could write several more chapters in my book each week with the time that would take to plan and count and track! I rather write a book than have a thigh gap!
Right now, with the presidential election less than two weeks away (phew!), and lots of people on soapboxes about women’s rights, and respecting women, and not objectifying women, etc – I have often found myself rolling my eyes. Not because I disagree. I totally agree. But I think so many of us are completely unaware of the fact that while it’s easy to hate on a public figure for what we consider misogynistic comments, we are completely letting the bitch in the attic get away with murder. You know, that voice we have when we look in the mirror, or look longingly at the jeans we wore before kids or before menopause, hoping to one day fit into again. That voice that says, “You have no discipline. Why did you have to eat all of that? Why did you drink so much? Why can’t you get your ass to the gym?” That voice that makes us believe those seductive Before and After photos, that makes us plunk down hundreds of dollars on cleanses and the new fad diet book and the new It workout. As always, it is far easier to complain and get furious at an external force, especially when it’s someone or something that is easy to make the scapegoat. It’s not easy to do some personal inventory and realize that gosh, I would NEVER talk to my daughter or my best friend the way I talk to myself. Gosh, how much time and money am I spending on this quest to fit into this image I have of what I should be like? Why do I believe that this will make me happy?
As a coach, I often struggle with this on several levels. I am a firm believer that I must walk the walk. So I am happy that I really do love to exercise. I love to run, swim, bike, do yoga, hike, snowboard, pretty much anything that works my body to the point of sweating and panting and adrenaline and endorphin release. I am also really happy that I genuinely love salad, fruit, green smoothies, healthy grains. I love how I feel after a healthy meal. So, my struggle is when people may believe that I exercise and eat healthy because I am highly disciplined and I do it to be skinny. Because this isn’t exactly accurate. Yes, I am disciplined. I love chocolate muffins but I choose to have green smoothies for breakfast, because I am an adult and I understand consequences. I love to exercise but yes, some days I really have to force myself out of bed early or outside in awful weather, because I remind myself that I have never ever said, ‘I wish I had taken the lazy way out and skipped my workout because I didn’t feel like it.’
There are a lot of exercise and dieting trends out there that make me cringe, because I see them as a way for people and companies to capitalize on the bitch in your attic, while you basically continue to practice self-violence. When I starve myself, or ignore my body’s cues and eat and drink and move in ways that are really stressful, both physically and emotionally, I am in a very real way, self-injuring. I am not talking about someone who one day makes the decision that her health needs to come back under control, supported by the results of a physical, and she embarks on a mindful, compassionate, gradual, sensible plan that incorporates exercise that is right for her body and lifestyle, and whole foods and adequate supplements, sufficient sleep, and efforts to manage her stress, with long-term goals. I am referring to drastic, quick fix efforts. I am talking about doing workouts that are much better suited for a 28-year-old than a 40-year-old. We need to listen to our bodies, no matter what social media wants us to crave.
I have a 15 year old daughter and I take my role as her mother in this area, very seriously. She will not give two shits what a presidential candidate says about a woman, but she will very much internalize and be informed by how I treat my body, talk about it, feed it, move it – and why I do all of the above (do I do it to be skinny or to feel strong and healthy?). She pays attention not just to how I perceive and treat my body, but the bodies and appearances of other women, in the real and virtual worlds. When a mom is indignant by a celebrity’s remarks about women, and then she complains in front of her daughter that she (the mom) is too fat for xyz, or wishes she looked younger, I am willing to bet my annual membership at the YMCA (which is precious to me!) that her daughter is on some level feeling her own self-worth starting to chip away, or at the very least depend on how she herself measures up in these areas.
We live in challenging times. Most Americans are following the SAD (Standard American Diet) eating plan, which means, most of what we eat and drink is some processed, sugarized, chemical something-or-other that does nothing for our immunity or stamina. We also spend most of our days sitting down, behind a wheel or a desk and/or in front of a screen. We are stressed out because of all of the above, plus we have to keep our kids away from opiates and guns and whatever the latest virus is in the headlines, but get them into college. We hate our commutes and our jobs but need to pay our bills. We have hundreds or thousands of Facebook friends but nobody knows how we really feel because we are scared people won’t like us anymore if they know the truth. We don’t trust anything that smells of religion, but we want to believe in something because deep down, we need that anchor. So, we fill the void. With addictions – food, alcohol, shopping, exercise, social media, cleaning, organizing, work, volunteering. They turn into addictions because they started out as a way to take off the edge, or numb from the discomfort of boredom, pain, lack of focus, ADD (Adventure Deficit Disorder), stress, hopelessness, lack of control – and then they start to interfere with our relationships, our goals, our ability to perform as parents, at work.
So, we come back to the easiest target – our bodies. Rather than look at what is really important to us, what feeds our soul, and what can really help us feel like we are healthy and living wholeheartedly – we listen to the bitch in the attic that says, get your body back. Get rid of the wrinkles. A lift here, a tuck there, the Gap.
JUST. STOP. IT.
You are beautiful. You are gifted. You ARE a gift! I believe in God and I believe God created you to be here to share love. To embody love. I believe that our health is not the main purpose or goal of our journey here on earth, it is something we need to nurture so that we can be the most effective love sharer we can be. Having an Athleta catalog model body is not your role on this earth, if it means you must spend lots of time and money forcing your body into this “ideal.” Yes, there are people whose journey through life includes a stint as a supermodel. And that is wonderful. There are people whose journey includes being an elite athlete and all of the hard work that that entails. And I truly admire them. Hopefully, that lights up their spark. And, there are many of us who love the thrill and the challenge of running marathons and doing triathlons and swimming across oceans and climbing mountains. Many of us love the taste of an amazing salad, and we love a big bowl of linguini, but we may opt for the salad because we know it feels better in our body. Or we may opt for the linguini because we really want it. It’s all good. The world will not be a better or worse place for our choice, necessarily. However, if we continually act in violence toward ourselves by making choices out of mindlessness, based in self-hatred rather than self-compassion, I do believe this affects our collective psyche. I do believe that the way I treat my body impacts the world. Starting with my daughter. And going further, like the ripple effect a stone has when dropped in a pond, because when I do not honor and accept and nurture my body, my temple, which houses me for the time I am on this earth, then I am not spreading a loving message through my own thoughts, intentions or actions.
So, let’s do this. Let’s all watch this movie and talk about it. Let’s pay attention to the messages we are putting out there. Let’s tell the bitch in the attic to shut the f—k up. We are worth it. We are enough, right now, as we are.
Yesterday was my birthday and I posted on Facebook:
So, I posted the above status and someone commented how she couldn’t even fathom swimming 100 laps (FYI my Y’s pool is 25 yards long). And her comment took me right back to something I find myself reminding myself, and my friends, and people I coach, pretty much every day:
One of the many lessons we learn in yoga, that is practiced on the mat, and then as we become more self-aware we take the practice off the mat and into our life, is that comparison is at the root of most Resistance, leading into Suffering. So, in other words, when I say, gosh, I am in awe of your ability to run an ultra marathon, I could never do that – I am comparing myself as I am today, with who you are today, and I am immediately not only discounting my own possibilities, but I am in a way ignoring the many hours of training and prioritizing and self-doubt and growth, that led to your ability to show up to your ultra race this weekend. Because, when I say, gosh, you are incredible, I could never do that, in a way, I am putting you into a demi-god, superhuman category. Which means, we are separate, we are not alike, and I may as well not even bother.
I recognize this because I have done this so many times in my life. I have been on both sides. And even as I write this, so much is becoming clear to me. In my coaching, I have always felt and said that I would much rather coach the underdog, who really doesn’t believe in herself and who doesn’t see what I see lurking below her surface (or buried deep) – than coach the super competitive athlete or otherwise driven person. I still feel very close to the turtle (“Tortuga”) I was in high school, earning me that nickname on the track team. I still feel like that girl I was in middle school who was so tortured by bullies, the girl I was in high school who felt somewhat comfortable yet not quite the right fit, no matter the social clique or country. Those feelings of not quite belonging, of not quite connecting, of the insides not quite matching the outsides – are still with me. And inform my coaching, and my personal seeking.
Several times people have told me that they appreciate how real and vulnerable I am willing to be when I write and speak. Vulnerability is the new Black, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. I vacillated over posting my admission to recognizing the uneasiness I felt about my drinking, and my eventual decision to quit drinking and begin a path into recovery. I decided to post publicly, because I felt the need to “come clean” with my peers and people who consider me a role model in the health sphere. I also posted it because I wanted my “audience” to have access to my new chapter in life. Most people that I know today did not know me when I was in my 20s and hated running. Facebook didn’t happen (to me, at least) until I was well into my triathlon “career” and parenting adventure. So most people who follow me today, virtually or in real life, didn’t see how much it really took for me to get to where and who I am today. Even if I did know them then, they probably were not aware of the good, the bad and the ugly of what it took to get to my current chapter as a mom, wife, triathlete, coach, entrepreneur. So, I don’t fault them for looking at me today and thinking, oh it comes easy to her. Of course she can do that – but I never could. Or, I totally suck, this is way too hard, why can’t I do it like she does?
Opening up about recovery is in a way, a gift to me as well as to anyone following my journey. I am still new to it. At this stage, it’s like I am doing the recovery program version of a Couch 2 5k running program. Which is pretty much accessible to anyone who can stand up from the couch. The recovery world is still one where anonymity is often encouraged, and when someone in recovery decides to go public, it’s a controversial move - and they are usually years and years into recovery (or a scandal forces the issue into the public realm). I didn’t take my going public lightly, and I still don’t. And I am so glad I did post that blog entry and have posted several since, because of the incredible people who have stepped into my life since then. Many of them admitted to me that when they read my post, they were flooded with relief, knowing that someone else was in the same boat as them. I was someone who like them, was also still just in the Prologue of their recovery journey, as opposed to most people who finally open up about their recovery and are years in (way past Book One).
This morning, I did a 50 minute yoga practice on my mat on my bedroom floor, followed by a 15 minute seated meditation. I shared this with my accountability group – a group of 8 women all across the US, who are in different stages of recovery. One of them remarked that she could never do that (yoga and meditation alone, at home) – her ADD would kick right in. Again, she is doing the totally natural thing of comparing her chapter 2 to my chapter 12 (well, actually more like 5 I think). I started with 5 minutes a few times per week and built it up. I still have to discipline myself into doing yoga and or meditation every day, or several times per week. I read, listen to podcasts, watch videos, attend workshops, because I want to follow people who are on their chapter 20 or their next volume. I remind myself – I want what they have and I just need to keep moving forward, one breath at a time.
We live in an instant gratification world, where people usually only show and post their Chapter 12 successes. (Though my 15 year old daughter has me intrigued with the whole Finsta thing – she and her friends have a real account as well as a Finsta account, as in “fake Insta,” and that’s where they post “fails,” and this Finsta account is only available to very close, trusted friends). This is normally what we are comparing ourselves to: the person who did a 30 day cleanse and posts the 60 pound-less After picture (but not the picture a few months later of 60+ lbs regain). The person who qualified for the bonus trip to Hawaii and posted the umbrella drinks on beach picture (but not the post each time they were rejected or laughed at). The person who kicked booze and painkillers (but not the picture of their recycling bin as they snuck to the local dump each week or several times a week, 5 years ago).
The truth is, every single success, if it is really important and meaningful and transformative, is the culmination of small, consistent steps forward. Steps that eventually add up to a new chapter in a book that is a series of chapters that build on each other. Sometimes the chapters feel like they are moving backward, as we make mistakes, or feel discouraged, or start the whole comparison game and feel like total losers. But this is just Resistance, and we need to recognize it as such. And let it go. And keep moving forward, writing our own, new story, and staying in our own book.
Now, go. Write your story. Start with the Prologue. Just Start It.
My mom always said that the best time to work on weight loss/maintenance, is when you are five pounds overweight. She said, it’s much easier to lose five pounds than it is to lose fifty. Common sense, right? This is one of the many nuggets of wisdom my mom in her sweet, tiny, shy way would share with us, verbally as well as through her actions.
This blogpost is not about weight loss or maintenance, though. Sorry to disappoint – though I’m thinking that if you keep reading, and you think about it, it may actually apply if that’s your goal. Rather, the main point I hope to get across, is that the best time to deal with something is when it’s first starting. The old ‘nip it in the bud.’ When I was at a monthly town meeting last week, organized by S.M.A.R.T., about The Drug Problem (and yes, this includes alcohol), a fun and educational activity was proposed for next August. I pointed out that September is National Recovery Month, so August would be perfect because it’s the month before Recovery, and even better than recovery, is prevention. Yeah, it was funny, but I wasn’t really joking.
I know this may come as a surprise, because I am now training for my 10th marathon (10th if you include two marathons which were the end of the two Ironman triathlons I did), and if you follow me over the years on Map My Run, you will vehemently disagree with this statement – but I am inherently lazy. I know right now my husband is thinking I am totally delusional, since getting me to sit on the couch takes an act of God, but the truth is, I would much rather take the path of least resistance. And all of my physical training, and the hard work I put into other areas of my life – nutrition, parenting, personal development, professional growth, relationships – is basically because I really don’t want to bother with doing really hard work.
When I was pregnant, I continued working out and eating well, because I couldn’t imagine dealing with a lot of postpartum weight to shed; when I had babies, I pushed through really hard times in breastfeeding because making bottles seemed like so much work. I insisted my kids eat well most of the time, and avoid video games, and resist travel sports as long as possible, because dealing with health and focus and social issues, and with a crazy family schedule, seemed like so much work. I spend a lot of money and energy on buying and preparing nutritious foods and supplements, because dealing with preventable disease further down the line seems like a terrible way to spend my golden years. I quit alcohol ten months ago in part because I was uncomfortable with how it was very likely creating a toxic environment in my body and in my brain, and certainly In my soul, and I was afraid that if I didn’t jump off the elevator when I did, I would be forced off it at a much lower floor. And gosh, taking the stairs back up to a better floor is not a climb I want to personally have to endure.
I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. Someone looking at a lot of the stuff I do may think I am super duper motivated, but if you look at WHY I do a lot of this stuff, it’s because I am super motivated to AVOID hard, messy work. I realize that I cannot control everything, in fact there is not much I can control other than my attitude and my choices, but I figure, if I am humbly mindful of that department, then at least I have done my best.
This month (October) is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I ran a 5k a couple of weeks ago related to the cause. As often occurs at athletic events where we train, to improve our health and feel and look our best – there was beer as part of the post-race celebrations. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, because I am certain that the alcohol industry (which has steadily grown over the last ten years in the US, with current sales at $211.6 billion per year), doesn't want this to get out – but it is pretty much proven through all kinds of studies, that drinking alcohol increases your chance of getting cancer. In fact, if a woman drinks as little as three drinks a week (and remember, these are scientific studies so that means normal pours, not your kitchen pour), she has a 15% higher chance of getting breast cancer. So, hopefully you see why I think that breast cancer fundraisers that are in the form of wine tastings or races that are featuring alcohol, are idiotic. I know, it feels good to wear pink and run 3.1 miles for a great cause. And you probably didn’t know about the alcohol and breast cancer (and plenty of other cancers and diseases) link, so I won’t hold it against you. The booze industry doesn’t want you to know. But now you know.
I recently read this really fascinating book: Drink – The Intimate Relationship Between Women and Alcohol (by Ann Dowsett Johnston). It’s a combination recovery memoir (she’s an alcoholic in long-term recovery) and public awareness cry. Backed by plenty of studies and quotes from reputable sources including the CDC, Drink points out some facts that I think most of us don’t want to hear. But I hope you’re still reading, so here’s a sampling:
I am going to guess that this will be one of my least-Liked, least-shared blogposts of all time. A friend once told me that she loved and hated me, because I was the one friend who would tell her what she needed to hear, instead of what she wanted to hear. I guess maybe this blogpost falls into that category. Because if you have read this far, that means that you may be (hopefully) a little more aware of the public problem we face today. And this is not a problem that needs to be decided by people who win elections, as much as by whether or not you spend your money and tax your liver on and with something that according to studies, is a growing problem for women in their 40s and 50s who are high-functioning and post really perfect family and vacation photos on Facebook.
Sometimes (actually, often, if not usually), the easier road is actually not the easier road to comfort and ease, but the fastest way to suffering and destruction. I recently heard someone say, “No kid says, I want to grow up to be a heroin addict.” It’s true – I really believe that each and every one of us just wants to feel healthy, energetic, significant, understood, peaceful, loved. And sometimes we think a certain road will give us that, at least in the moment. Reading up to this point, as you have done, means that you have it in you to explore uncomfortable roads, and I will bet you are willing to travel down them if you think they may lead to long-term health and wellness. I know I am far from alone on this road less-traveled, and I hope that you will continue to venture along it with me, ahead of me or behind me, but still on the same road.
I came home from my mom’s funeral with my 5-week-old baby and my 3-year-old daughter, in such a daze that it took a few moments to register that the shiny-new Honda Pilot Bill (my husband) had steered us toward in the airport parking lot was for me. I guess we had talked about getting a new car (I don’t remember) but in the chaos of a new baby and rushing down to Charlotte, NC (from CT) so William could meet his grandmother before she succumbed to the cancer she had so valiantly fought, it was not exactly the main topic on my exhausted, devastated brain. This was January, 2004. Today, that baby is just shy of 13 years old, and the Honda Pilot that Bill had so thoughtfully surprised me with that day, is no longer in our garage.
I am not a car person. I have always said, I don’t care what car I drive as long as it is reliable (taking the car to the shop is one of my least favorite tasks) and not too expensive, because I don’t want my day to be ruined because someone in the parking lot dinged it. And I guess because of my love of mindful living, I try to practice non-attachment, trying to see objects as things we use and enjoy, but do not cling to or depend on too much. So, when my Pilot malfunctioned this week and I finally realized, it’s time to get a new car, I was surprised by how sad I felt. When I mentioned it to Bill he said it felt like we were putting down a pet. It made me think of Rob Bell’s brilliant podcast on seasons. How change in our life is like the seasons, and when one season ends (e.g. we leave a job, a marriage, our kid goes to college), a new season will slowly step in, but first there is grief. Yesterday, before heading to the dealership, I went for a run and as I noticed the changing colors in the trees and the leaves already scattering lawns and roads, I thought about all of the adventures my family and I have had with this solid, reliable, convenient car, and I actually cried as I ran.
From that first trip home from the airport, the Pilot logged just over 229,000 miles, with no issues other than regular maintenance and wear-and-tear. A baby in an infant seat, a toddler in a car seat, all the way to today, where my oldest is months away from her learner’s permit, and the baby is now taller than me when he stands up straight. The Pilot has driven my kids to their nursery schools, preschools, one private school, public schools, another private school. It has driven my family and our bikes to dozens of running races and triathlons as far north as New Hampshire and as far south as Washington DC. It has taken us to Myrtle Beach to visit my dad and my stepmom, with surfboards tied to the roof. To Canada, with skis and snowboards on the roof. The last 7 summers, it has ferried up to 7 kids every day for 6 weeks every summer, for the kids’ triathlon camp I coach. It has been my rolling university as I have listened to hundreds of hours of motivational, spiritual, and informational audiobooks and podcasts. I was in the Pilot - parked, thankfully - when I received the news that my beloved cousin had died by suicide. The Pilot has reeked of boys and their hockey equipment, and Penny’s (our dog) farts. It has kept us safe during white-knuckled drives during blizzards.
Most people recognized my car, since what started off as a couple of stickers on the back turned into a ridiculous display that caused a few of my friends to refer to it as the “hippie van.” A few times, I came out of the local library or a restaurant only to find someone had added a magnet to the collection (thank you! That was cool!). Bill has a German car and I guess it demands minimalist accessorizing, so he expressed his bumper sticker love on my Pilot and sometimes I would come out to my car and find a new sticker on it. It became a family joke – let’s see if Mami notices the new sticker?
Yesterday we drove my Pilot to a dealership to take a look at a replacement. Thankfully, this car was exactly what we wanted, so after the laborious process of paperwork and credit checks and all that other stuff takes hours (I do look forward to when Amazon Prime delivers cars!), we put my plates on our new Pilot and piled into it. I was still sad, but the kids were so excited that they could now listen to the music on their iGods through the car speakers, that the sadness was replaced with relief. We have a new home on wheels and I pray that like its predecessor it keeps us safe, helps us accumulate many more exciting adventures, and is sturdy during life’s inevitable challenges. As for bumper stickers - this car’s policy is still TBD.
A new season begins.
Two days ago I posted a blog entry which basically said, quit making excuses and show up. It was read and Liked and even shared by a few people. Unfortunately, none of those people are local or have a free hour on Thursday morning because they didn’t show up to my brand new offering, a Poga class in Newtown, CT. In fact, nobody showed up.
I know, awkward. Hmmm, do I just wait another 10 mins? Embarrassing. Gosh, how embarrassing that no one is here, I feel so stupid! Annoying. Dammit, I just wasted the 20 minutes back-and-forth and the time waiting – I could have knocked out my 8 mile run by now! Blaming. I need to be better about advertising. I need to be more focused. I need to be more assertive as a business person. Insecure. What’s wrong with me? How come other people have a mass following who will pay massive amounts of money to take their classes, while my class is so cheap and you get everything your body and soul needs in an hour flat? I’m a loser, a fraud. Angry. I bet everyone is doing stupid laundry or getting a $4 coffee or getting their stupid nails or hair done. They just don’t get it. Self-pity. Yep, it’s just me here. As always. Just like when I started my whole mindfulness study several years ago, I was the only one around me doing it, now mindfulness is the new orange. Just like how I started getting healthier with supplements only available through network marketing, then started selling them, way before anyone I knew was even on Facebook, and now MLM is the key to financial success for so many. Just like now I am thriving in sobriety while most people are devouring any study that will support their daily cocktails. Yep, that’s me, always in a different time zone – a lonely place to be.
So, the above mental acrobatics took place for a few minutes and then suddenly I thought, I am going to take a selfie right now and send it to my Tribe (8 of us spread out all over the country who have never met but are so close that when Bill and I rewrite our will I am putting them in there).
Next, I recorded a 4 minute video for them with some moves I thought they should be doing today, spiced up with some salty language and self-deprecating humor (generally the way my Poga classes go). I sent it and left the studio, to do my 8 mile run. Before I started running, one of the warriors from my Tribe texted back that she was really impressed. She said that if the No Show had happened to her, she would have left in tears and vowed to never teach that class again. I replied to her that I really appreciated her saying that – and that she is comparing her chapter 2 to my chapter 10.
I am lucky enough to have dealt with plenty of rejection. As a serial entrepreneur, a network marketer, a writer, a wife, a mom, and as someone with an insatiable curiosity and a stubborn desire to share what I have learned with anyone who will listen, I am rejected pretty much every day. Usually it’s not in as tangible and public (though today’s scenario is only public because I have chosen to talk about it here) a way as today’s empty classroom was. Usually it’s in the form of knowing of an event I wasn’t invited to; people not showing up to a party or meeting I have organized; friends arriving habitually late to something I organized or helped organize; friends/family rejecting what I have to offer, which I know will help them. Friends not replying to texts, or saying No to every invitation I offer (at which point I stop inviting, out of self-protection). There are big rejections, like when a book I wrote a few years ago was never published because every agent I went to said No Thanks (if they said anything at all) - that book is tabled as I am now writing another one. Of course, I have a whole list of job rejections. Going back even further, I was rejected from every single sorority I rushed. As a kid, I was rejected by pretty much every boy I had a crush on (OK in all fairness, I don’t think they knew I had a crush on them, but still - they wanted the popular girls and that was not me).
Parenting has its own big chapter on rejection. My Rejection Resilience Muscle has gotten so much stronger thanks to my children. Unless there is mac n cheese somewhere on the menu, there will be a rejection notice from at least one kid, about at least one item on the plate. Then there are all those annoying things that we are supposed to say and do if we want to raise our wee beasties to be decent human beings, like teaching them to use silverware and actually chew their food, or use their words instead of shoving their sibling to get what they want. It would be so nice if for once they replied, “Gee, Mami, thank you so much for that advice – I totally get why you’re saying it and I accept your wisdom.” (Actually, if any of my kids said that I would suspect a robot had replaced them so that would not be a good thing).
My kids each experienced hurt in the form of rejection this week. This is another way parenting is a great part of the Rejection Resilience Curriculum. I won’t go into any specifics because I don’t like to tell their stories for them – but the rejection was big enough that each of them went through some version of the thought process I went through this morning with my empty class. Going through it with my kids is harder for me than when I am the one suffering from rejection, because well, if you’re a mom you know – there is nothing worse than knowing someone has caused your child pain. I have to rein in the mama bear that wants to seek revenge and build something up into a much bigger drama than it was. I have to tell the mama bear who wants to fix everything and clear the path for her cubs, to take a seat and just hug and listen. I know, harder than doing an Ironman.
So this morning, feeling like the Big Reject, I mama beared myself. I did one of the things I love the most and I went for a run – my version of a big hug. And as I ran, I thought about rejection. I thought about writing about it – how awkward and shameful that would be. I mean, don’t we all want to look really popular and successful, and like we’ve totally got our shit together? Isn’t that what Fakebook is for? Dare I share with the world at large that hey, I have parties (class, my version of a party) and no one shows up, and here’s the proof? I get scared, and insecure, and angry. I am also a coach, a mentor, I practice mindfulness, I start and lead personal development programs. I speak openly about my family’s experience with suicide and my own decision to get off the boozy elevator and live alcohol free. It is not an OR world, it is an AND world. I can be happy and healthy and well-adjusted AND be insecure, scared, angry. It is not a BEFORE and AFTER, it is a Now AND Now.
So, here you are. I am showing up for you today, by sharing a glimpse into part of my day, which involves rejection. In fact, if you really want to watch the Rejection Parade, check out how many Likes this blog entry gets. (I guarantee you the latest article praising a presidential candidate or, rather, destroying the other one, will get a lot more social media activity because it’s much easier to engage in that sport – Reject the Public Loser – than to tell people how we really feel, or read someone else’s truth and hold up that mirror).
You may not have been in Poga today but I really appreciate your reading this. Thanks for showing up for me. And, more importantly, for you.
Motivational coach, athlete, mom, entrepreneur. I love helping people mindfully reboot their health & joy.