The Aron Ralston Problem

So, somewhere along the way, about once a year, I encounter the same question. Trainings, conferences, magnets that  Whole Foods distributes, speakers at the yearly event for the the program I volunteer with . . . somewhere along the way, year after year, the following question is posed: What would you do if you could not fail?

Most recently, I encountered this question in a TED talk. (Yes, yessss, I post links to way too many TED talks . . . It keeps me feeling like I'm part of a learning community but somehow magically from my couch. There are worse addictions . . . )

What would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?

I'd write. I'd work for NASA mission control (A secret dream I'm just admitting now). I'd learn how to blow glass (no jokes, please) and I'd make a living by some combination of these disparate but thrilling skills. I'd jump out of a plane and dance and sing and take photographs and hike and climb and swim races. I would master the making of chocolate mousse.

I think that there's a lot of things we all would do if we knew we couldn't fail - flying and making really complicated stuff comes to mind. The question I've been wondering about is: what would we do if we HAD to? What would we do if our survival depended on it? What would we do even if success was unlikely because doing it was so important, or not doing it was reckless and wrong?

Asking ourselves what we would do if we didn't fear or face limitations is a worthy question. It helps us identify the limitations we assume, the weights we agree to when we rule things out. In turn, that leads us to consider if the limitations outweigh the passion we have, or if they are even real guard rails or just imagined ones. It helps us honestly own what we desire to dedicate ourselves to. It makes us speak what most makes our hearts sing.

So, I don't mean to sound jaded or removed from the idea of "what could we all achieve and contribute if we didn't have to pay bills and be grown ups." I watched Sesame Street and listened to "Free to Be" just as much as the next kiddo. I think dreams and believing in them are good and not to be squashed.

But, in the world where all of our dreams and plans aren't as we imagined them, sometimes it pays to ask, "What would I do even if there was no assured pay off?"

I refer to this as the Aron Ralston Problem.

Often, when people refer to Ralston, it's him having been trapped in the Blue John Canyon in Moab for 127 hours before freeing himself by severing his arm with a multi-tool. I watched, transfixed, as he gave interviews in 2003 and 2004. I read the book in 2005. I saw the movie in 2011. So, I'm a bit of a Ralston nerd, as it were. It's not the gore or the outdoorsy-ness. (Though, those things are cool, to be sure.) For me, I'm captivated by how he worked through things, processed, and figured out his options as the full weight of what he was dealing with settled on him. I mean that literally as well as figuratively since he was trapped by an 800lb boulder that suddenly moved as he was descending into a slot canyon and settled directly on his arm, pinning him between the boulder and the wall. He had planned to bike in the morning and hike in the afternoon, so he had only a day-trip's worth of water and food with him. What occurred to him first was that he needed to ration that, and that the water would be the bigger of the two problems. Having not been clear on his hiking plans with anyone, he realized next that even if anyone started looking for him, they would be looking too late, and not know where to search. I'm amazed that he survived long enough to have the choice to amputate because if it had been me I might have panicked and done things to make a terrible situation worse. Even if I hadn't, would I have been wise and focused enough to ration my food and water, recycle my own urine, use the rope and climbing equipment I had to allow my legs to rest and myself to sleep, and kept warm for five days? Of course we all want to say yes, but in reality, would I have been able to come up with all of those strategies while staring at the boulder trapping me and possibly causing my death? I don't know.

Somewhere on day two or three, Aron considered amputation but he also found it was very hard to use the knife/multi-tool he had to . . . uhhhh . .. get in there. He hadn't packed for technical climbing or camping so he had a fairly simple and dull multi-tool. Later  he realized that although the boulder trapped his arm, it also provided the leverage he could use to break his bones. This meant he could cut through flesh and nerves (soft-tissue), but not have to cut through anything dense and hard. The boulder that could have ended his life became the very means to save himself. That boulder, an incredible will to live, and a dull multi-tool.

And one other thing: the ability to do what was in front of him, without any certainty that it would work. 

What I always say when I reference Ralston is this: it's not that cutting off his arm meant he would survive. What's incredible is that by amputating his arm MAYBE he would live long enough to find water and people. He cut off his arm knowing there was NOT enough time to make it back to his car before he bled out and only hoping that he would find water and help soon enough.

Ralston knew he didn't have the water, food, or strength to last another night at the bottom of that canyon. If he had stayed he would have certainly died. But he made a choice that most of us cannot fathom without any assurance that it would mean that he would live. That's what blows my mind.

It's perhaps difficult to imagine our lives without limitations of time, money, training, responsibility. That's what makes the question of what would we do if we knew we couldn't fail an interesting mental exercise. I think it is harder still to imagine ourselves facing doing something where the probability of success is against us. What would be so important that we would do it anyway? Would we have the will to do something really hard, really painful, really unimaginably against our instinct if we knew it might-not-probably-would-not work?

When we watch Ralston interviews, or read about him, or (for some, best of all) watch James Franco on 127 hours, what we wonder, what I wonder, is Could I do what he did if I had to?

Stick a pin in that for a minute and let me ask this instead: how many things do we do with no persuasive evidence that it will work?

This isn't even me writing more about faith or belief. It's about trusting ourselves to go out and do things in the world (which, ok, for many people is wrapped integrally around faith and trust. Yes.) In college philosophy we examined the idea that we actually don't KNOW that the sun will rise tomorrow. It has risen every day SO FAR. But even that overwhelming evidence doesn't guarantee that there wouldn't be an event that could stop the sun from rising tomorrow. We believe it will because it's easier to go on the evidence of what has happened and because so much depends on it. But what about the things we do where we don't have overwhelming personal data to shore up our actions or beliefs?

I know several people who have gone skydiving, but one in particular who did it BECAUSE she was afraid of heights and wanted to push the envelope . . . right out the door of the plane, as it were. Who are these people who step out the doors of planes?! As human beings, knowing the statistics of sky-diving safety and safe jumps has got to be intellectually puny compared to the will to actually JUMP when terror has overtaken rational thought. But people do it.

All evidence from my life of . . . ahem . . . more than 30 years suggested that getting on a bike was a bad idea. Let's really think about biking for a sec: when I look at it rationally, ohmigoodness. It's aluminium tubing connected to two wheels that I'm supposed to balance on while speeding through the open air with moving traffic and/or other bikes around me? Yeah, that seems like a good idea! Moreover, I'd had bad experiences on bikes. Why would I ever get on a bike and ride dirt and single-track trails. And yet, that's just what I'm doing . . . for several hours a week. Also in the realm of sports, this may not be news to any of you, but most people don't like getting hit in the face. But I BEGGED my Sensei to help me come up with an individualized plan to get me from the beginning belt curriculum  in American Freestyle karate to the intermediate curriculum and to prepare me for sparring. I knew at the time there were no other women sparring in the dojo and that this would mean getting hit by men who were stronger, faster, and more advanced than me. Life-evidence would suggest that getting hit isn't fun, but I found some way to ignore that and suited up to get kicked and punched. Um, a lot.

We do other things, every day, that seem so hard if we really think about them. Why would we get up in front of a room of people and give a presentation? What imperative could be so strong as to motivate us to move past our natural fear of being vulnerable to do that? Or perform on stage? Why would we ask that person out knowing that there's just as good a chance that they'll say no as yes? Why would we move away from the people we know and love and make a new life somewhere else? As adults, I can tell you, this is very hard emotional work and takes weeks and months to settle out to where we can see if we landed in the right place with the right people. I did this four years ago, and a friend recently described her experience of trying to re-settle herself and meet people as being, "tired out by the small steady bits of courage it requires . . . " That was my experience for months. I mean, really? Why would we do these things?

And yet, we do. We run marathons and cliff dive and go to new countries. We get pregnant and labor for over 24 hours, we have major surgeries and move far away and give giant presentations and suit up to jump out of planes or get beat up by someone bigger than us. We do things that, out of context, seem INSANE.

I discussed with my therapist yesterday a time, at age 17, where I seriously sought ways to leave home. I was persuaded otherwise, and there was a brief reprieve, but I was prepared, that night, to pack a suitcase and go live elsewhere given some things that were just untenable at that point. Less than a year later I found myself completely responsible for the cost of my college education. At 18, I didn't know how to come up with $7-$10,000 of "family contribution" to college tuition. I'm not sure that 18 year olds are supposed to know how to do this. And each year I would tell the staff I worked with that I couldn't guarantee that I would manage to do it again, and that if they wanted to be safe, they should hire to replace me. And I meant it. I never knew, for sure, where all of that money was going to come from every year. But every year I did it, and thusly I graduated (without pause) in four years having constructed a complicated and rigorous concentration of studies (read: self-designed major), a network of amazing friends, colleagues, and mentors, and knitting together ten or twelve different things I did for money in order to afford life and tuition for that time.

So, maybe the question isn't, "could we do the thing which seems really scary and impossible if we HAD to?" but instead, "how do we know what we can do until we do it?"

I think the answer is, we don't. We can't imagine amputating our own arm, cutting through nerve with what amounts to a pocket knife (that we would struggle to use to trim a stray thread on our shirt), breaking our own bones, and hiking out of a canyon with no reason to believe that we would find help in time. But we also probably can't imagine ourselves doing a lot of things we end up doing until we find ourselves on the precipice of doing them. Although hindsight is 20/20, things don't always make sense looking up ahead too far. Focus in too closely and a pebble can look like a boulder. Step back and it is a minor speck on the road. We can't see the whole picture if all we're focusing on is the point at which we cut through our own flesh and endure pain. We can't see all the things that brought us to that moment, we can't appreciate being between a rock and a hard place and using those surfaces to squeeze ourselves out into what awaits us next.

So, I'll say it again - how do we know what we can do until we do it? In this way, the question of "what would we do if we knew we could not fail" takes on the same flavor. Both kinds of questions lead us to admit that we are more powerful than we acknowledge when we're just going day to do brushing our teeth and making coffee and deciding between chicken or turkey. Much more powerful.

Sometimes at those moments, it's important to acknowledge that failure is possible, and then move past that moment. Ralston describes knowing that he would die someday, maybe even (probably even) THAT day, but choosing that he wouldn't die standing in his grave in that canyon. He wanted, at least, to surmount that. He wanted, at least, to have done what he could to survive past that boulder or be somewhere where his body could be found. He acknowledged that he might not make it to medical attention, and then moved past it and did it anyways. And, when I'm headed down a really big hill on the bike I'm typically saying, out loud (Like a crazy idiot), "I might fall. That's ok. I've fallen before. Ok, this is really steep. I'm doing it. Here comes that tricky turn." Ahhhhhhh.

Game face ON!

Until I got to the bottom of that hill without falling, I couldn't imagine doing it. So, if I based the decision to move forward on what I could see, what had already happened, what I knew, past performance (which involved falling down that hill, getting up and then falling down again) the evidence suggested I should be thinking, NO WAY JOSE! But walking my bike down that hill without trying was unacceptable to me. What that left was accepting that I might fall. That I probably will fall on that hill again (it's a toughy) but that heading down it is better than accepting defeat. Game face on is better than pulling up the covers, trapped by the proverbial boulder.

All of this is to say, it is hard to keep applying with no evidence so far that it is going somewhere. My person said recently that this was most definitely an exercise in faith, which is interesting since he is probably a more spiritual person than I am and I am probably the more religious of us two. It requires faith, yes, but also the understanding while I don't have any data that my job search is leading somewhere, not doing it assures a continuation of things I'm not fond of. If it means thinking about how to take on a part or full time job that is less than stellar (probably admin. Siiiigh) in the next month or so and then running around to babysit, tutor, and do other part time work to "make up the difference" that is what it means. But. Butbutbut at 17 and 18 I had no idea how to support myself and pay an adult amount of tuition each year. And I did that. At 24 I did't know how to spar, and I let big men hit me in the face as a way to learn. At 28 I had no earthly clue what I would do as I was leaving grad school, but within a week of the semester being over, I had a job. Ralston describes the "miracle" of beginning to lose strength from the blood loss and no longer having adrenaline pulling him down the path. Of reaching the point where he'd have to climb up and out and just then encountering the rescue helicopter. But when he hacked off his limb, there was no way to know that would happen that way.

Miracles for me tend to be smaller events, and not always as seamless in timing as I might like. I am a bit of an obsessive project manager, after all, and I do like to line things up perfectly. I can't wait for a helicopter to swoop in without doing the work to get on the path, is what I'm saying. It might not happen as I wish it would, but taking a paycheck-job, or making plans other than the perfect next thing is a chance to remind myself that I have done hard things before. That I have made it down scary and steep roads and will again. I'm really not expecting a last-minute movie ending or to be saved, nor for things to be as dramatic as all that, just to keep moving forward and look back some day and say, "I had no idea I could do that . . . until I did."

Meditation and giving myself a grade

As is often the case when I have several half finished posts, it seems completely reasonable to me to start a brand new one. Ha!

So, about 6 months ago, my therapist suggested I start a daily breathing practice for myself. He was very careful not to refer to it as meditation (smile) but was about the 5th person to recommend it to me including my endocrinologist, my trainer, a dear friend who I wish I had realized was a dear friend when we were in high school together, and several others. I suspect I appear a little . . . anxious, or that the signs of how thoroughly I work myself over show more than I pretend they do, and so people think, "it could help a LOT if she would just sit and appreciate what's good right now."

When I first tried to do this, a couple of years ago, it was on advice from my trainer and a friend, and it was so hard that I barely managed a few minutes each day. I would pull up a cushion, sit, and after a few breaths think, "Uggggggghhhh. That's good enough, right?" My blood pressure and sleep habits said otherwise, and then with two injured knees, that became my excuse to stop - sitting was a little complex then. I felt relieved, because, man had I not done well at implementing that, but still uneasy thinking, "Why can't I just breathe?"

Fast-forward to late 2011 when I found myself mired in dishonesty from a lot of corners of my life. Nothing sets my blood on fire like dishonesty, and ultimately, I wasn't coming clean with myself about what I could and couldn't do. It actually got to the point where I was sleeping only 2-3 hours at a stretch because my thoughts were so restless. My therapist not-so-gently pointed out that I take everything I come in contact with as my responsibility to right, and then judge myself harshly when it doesn't work. A terrible Midas touch that paints me, constantly, as a failure in my own eyes. He suggested that someday it might be possible to stop seeing the world as win-loss, success-failure, good-bad but that for now, the best thing I could do was gently acknowledge those moments that I was steeped in judgement (almost all the time, as it turns out) and then just breathe through them instead of letting them mount and gain momentum.

So, now, I try to sit every day. Here's the truth - it sounds so simple, but it's the hardest thing in the world for me. Given the choice of singing, naked, in front of strangers, and sitting on a cushion for an hour trying to empty myself out and just notice the moment I'm in, it would be a toss up. It's ironic, right? That I might rather be vulnerable to others, than be still and see if I can be vulnerable to myself? Of course, there is no requirement that I sit for an hour (and I don't) but I am very aware that when I am sitting, time goes by very slowly, painfully even. And I am always trying to get better at this.

Yesterday, I had to walk for 90 minutes before I could bring myself to sit. I was always within a mile of Boulder's amazing Shambhala Center but kept walking to get out some of the raw anxiety before trying. Then, of course, instead of heading to the big, beautiful rooms with air and light, I headed for the "practice" room. Translation: small, dark basement room. I don't even light any of the candles, I just sit there glad that it's everyone else's last choice and that I can wrestle with the idea of just. right. now. by myself.

On Tuesday, we talked about my practice (such as it is) in therapy. My therapist (who is still being careful not to talk about meditating or sitting, but instead about a daily practice, by the way) remarked that if I am constantly giving myself a grade on everything, then I am choosing always to judge myself, and worse, often not giving myself the grade I deserve. I told him that sitting felt like work, and that I really can't manage it for more than 10 - 20 minutes. Somewhere in the middle, if I've metered my breath and let go of some of what I carried in with me, there's a quiet moment where all I feel is my hands on my knees and my chest rising and falling, but very quickly, everything comes rushing back. He used the word "loud" in that all of my stuff gets very noisy in my head, as a pendulum swing off of things having gotten quiet.

He reminded me that it's a practice, and that that word is deliberate. That like a runner who practices every day, sometimes times will be longer, and sometimes shorter, but what matters is how they accumulate. Sitting isn't meant to get judged and graded each time - there is no good or bad. It just is whatever it is on that day. He also said that if I'm only sitting when I feel bad, it will take a long, long time for me to feel anything other than tired by it. Finally, he said, trying to get me to ease up and be a little less hard on myself, I suspect, "If you practice today, you can't expect it to solve everything! Just sit and breathe and let it be only that."

Grasping for control, trying to fix everything, and then (of course) not being able to succeed under that weight and thus kicking myself until I bleed is the lather, rinse, repeat I've set myself up on. And it's got to go. I have to evict it, even if I can't give it the boot all at once, because it's that treadmill that kept me in bad patterns and bad relationships. And when I say relationships, I mean all relationships, not just romantic ones. Friends, family, boyfriends, girlfriends, my relationship with my work, myself, my former employer, all of it.

So, I sit. I read this book and and this one. I listen to the beginning of "Joking" by Indigo Girls over and over and over trying to understand how it would feel to "Forget about your ego. Forget about your Pride. And you will never have to compromise." this is what I want - to live more out loud, and not compromise my happiness. I talk a good talk here, in this blog, but I admitted "on the couch" this week that right now, while everything is going so well (minus, you know, the obvious absence of a new job) for me, I find I have all this anxiety that I will mis-step and mess it all up in one swell foop.

So I sit. and I breathe in and out. And I try to grok the idea that the only thing I can do is nurture this moment. and in the next moment, and only when it arrives, then that one. But I can't plan, control, fix, heal, solve, berate, pre-ordain, judge, plot, arrange, engineer, project, steer, contrive or chart what happens in the next moment, the next day, the next month, the next year and expect to get it right, get what I want, get that A.

In the vein of Indigo Girls philosophy, I want to not just forget about my ego, and not compromise, but to sidle up on "Closer to fine" in that I understand the smart thing I said to someone yesterday. He said, "I don't always see the full scope of what needs to happen right away." I sounded, I'm sure, like I was assured of the high horse I was sitting on when I answered, "No one does. That's why we use the verb 'process' to describe thinking and coping - it's a process. It's not an event."

It's all fine and well for me to tell those things to other people, but I do a laughable job of reminding myself of them in the day to day. I can say this - I've done much better than I had predicted at keeping myself happy, grateful, calm, and productive in unemployment. This is why I'm doing well enough to fret about messing it all up. But, the choices I made before this frighteningly delicious free-fall of creating a new life for myself tell a less flattering story. It's hilarious to me, actually, how I sometimes lean into danger - I will move more than 2000 miles across the country knowing no one, I will spar men twice my size - but play things so safe and close to the vest when it comes to asking for and admitting what I really, really want and doing the work to arrive there.

"Darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, and lightness has a call that's hard to hear. I wrap my fear around me like a blanket. I sail my ship of safety 'til I sank it. And I'm crawling on your shore."

So, this girl, this one who had to hold one of her best friend's hands when plunged into 20 seconds of pitch black on the Cave of the Winds tour because she is so deeply afraid of the dark, sits in a small, quiet very dark room daily, knowing that everything scary in there is something I brought with me. And knowing, even more, that that means it's with me whether or not I go into that room and sit on that cushion. And I listen. Very hard. To the noisiness in my neurons, but also to that call that's hard to hear. Because I'm pretty sure I'm done signing up to crash ships of safety.

Change and inspiration

A new friend and I have found ourselves in a recurring conversation. The conversation goes something like this. There are two different kinds of people in the world. Almost everyone sorts themselves primarily into one of these two categories, though of course, almost nobody is an absolutist about this. There are people who enjoy following a process, having a routine, and completing tasks generally by checking things off a list. They may or may not have been involved in creating that process or generating that list, but once there is a flow chart or operations process in place a process person will follow it unless there is very strong motivation to do otherwise. Then, there are people who look at a process, list, or assignment and instantly start thinking of improvements, ways to be more efficient, or something cooler to do. These are the people who would not do well as a personal assistant or as a prep chef - they're not going to do it the way someone else wants them to do it, but rather in the way that makes the most sense to them given their knowledge, experience, what seems most pressing at the moment, and what results they place weight on. These people won't follow a recipe, but they'll happily make one up. Or take a recipe and completely deviate from it and re-invent it. And it will at least be interesting, and likely be very good.

It will not surprise anyone to hear me say I am more the former than the latter (I know. Me, solid and boringly process oriented. You guys are all going to have a heart attack and die from that surprise). At least in things I am less confident in, I really want external validation or need to be seen as clearly doing a good job and so I'll revert to a process or shadow someone else's footsteps before I carve my own path. I once stood in a friend's kitchen an chopped root vegetables into a dice finer than a Kitchen Aid could have delivered, and was completely happy for that hour. (And if I do say so, made a fine white-goy-girl contribution to a Sephardic Orthodox Pesach with that salad) When I bake cookies, they are placed in rows as they cool. (Unless Rob is around to make fun of my and push my boundaries all at once by quietly and wickedly rearranging and de-row-ifying them. Smile) And I am the queen of checklists.

It's not an absolute for me, and there are places where I am more creative. There's no right and wrong in my writing life, so there's no operations process to measure myself against. More to the point, my writing isn't anyone else's writing so it's not really worth the time to compare apples to watermelons when I consider my writing. But if I'm baking, my mother is somewhere metaphorically over my shoulder, so yes, I am following the recipe exactly. Then again if I'm cooking? Anything could happen. I'll cook following a recipe only a few times a year and when I do, I'm usually starting to alter it about two steps into the process . . . vegetable broth here instead of water, less sugar there, and this should have rosemary in it!! I also stopped following anyone else's process for teaching after teaching my first course and find it reee-heeally constraining now if I'm limited by curriculum, materials, or too-specific expectations of what I'll deliver in any class meeting. So, I'm not all process, but I'm certainly not firmly planted in the camp of innovation either.

I am driven, often, by concern about doing things well. I suppose I never felt particularly competent at anything growing up, and didn't have a lot of confidence. That started to change for me in college, but it was late in coming. In the back of my head, there is usually a recurring floating thought of, "Am I doing this well enough?" And doing something well is easy to confuse with doing something right. I often feel like what I'm really hoping for is an unambiguous right way to do something so that there is no question of how well I'm going about whatever is in front of me. So, if handed a checklist, I'm likely to follow it for a decent bit before questioning if it's actually working to get the results I want. Over the years, I've gotten better and better at really analyzing what I'm doing or what I'm being asked to do to in terms of what goals I'm trying to achieve and then thinking about the process I'm following, working backwards from the result I want to the process to get there, further back to the starting point I'm standing at present. But if pressed, if it's important to me to seem like I'm doing a good job, or to be seen as being reliable or competent, I'll stfu and follow the process, whatever it is.

There are good things about this, in that I have learned how to be extremely driven, determined, and to make a process work. I am reliable and can often get significantly reproducible results. If given a goal, I will set to meeting it, and then exceeding it as soon as possible. I take everything seriously, even blog "assignments" my friend gives me . . . which this topic is. I will get things in on time, and early. I can translate what someone else was doing into a process, and then write a manual on it. And, no bed that I sleep in ever doesn't have hospital corners. Process people are good for some things, methinks.

The downside is that I often get . . . stuck on things I don't like or aren't working, and fail to evaluate if there is another, better way to tackle it. If I'm teaching, I'll back out and try again. If I'm writing, I'll take a break and then come back and see a better route to go. If I'm cooking, or if I'm doing a job function I've already excelled at, I'll suggest better ways to go about things. But, the rest of the time . . . hospital corners, cookies in rows, and assignments done the day before they're due.

Recently my therapist said to me that with "my personality type," skills, and accomplishments, I am the kind of person who can do something that "changes the world." (Not my words. His. I thought, "umm, really? The WORLD?") He said that people like me who have balanced out all of the pathologies, analyzed, processed, and integrated can write books, give speeches, become president, start movements. (Sidenote: It's always a little hard for me when he talks about "my personality type" because he hasn't really told me what he thinks that is . . . but I'm going with it.) This shocked me, since I'm such a routines person and fall so heavily on the "process" side. Aren't we the boring people? Aren't we the people who become the quiet backbone of the exciting, innovative people's work? Then again, I did very deliberately go to a college where absolutely everything was open ended and structure was there only if you created it for yourself so . . . maybe.

Of course, at the end of this impassioned speech he was giving me, there was a huge BUT. And it was, "you can do amazing things BUT you won't be able to do anything but make the same choices over and over if you don't change this pattern right now. " He was deeply convicted and passionate about this. Any of you who read this blog will not be surprised that some of the things he named as needing to change were making the safe (easy) choice, steeping myself in judgment and obligation, leading to feeling resentful, and taking care of others or considering it my responsibility to fix others before myself. We had talked a lot about patterns in my life, patterns in my family, and hard choices I had made in the last 20 or so years so none of this was surprising to me. And he's not the fist person to note that the overwhelmingly negative voices in my head sometimes outweigh my ability to function as highly as I could - to hear the creative muses, to feel my feelings on time, to think bigger than my little corner of the universe.

I don't actually want to become president, or be a politician of any kind. But moving people, making people think, generating and sharing big ideas does sound like the person I set out to be when a much younger me left home. So I had to sit up and pay attention when he said this. Not because he was flattering me, but because he was describing the painful way in which I have often found myself painted into a corner, holding the offending brush, paint gleaming as it drips down my arm and wondering how I got there.

But changing things means more than just not picking up the brush. It means not going near paint for a long time. It means avoiding corners and their very tempting gravity.

It means doing almost everything differently and shedding all the things that were holding me back before. It means that when I think about working out, I have to remind myself that it's now my pleasure to work out, and get out of the house and out of my head. It means seeing food differently, and giving myself a hand when I get it right. It means I have to find the "grateful" in folding my laundry, which I used to avoid. It means I have to not spend time on people or places that aren't good for me or that hold the same kind of dark gravity corners do. It means considering possible jobs I didn't in the last couple of years, and imagining myself making not just those tasks work, but that lifestyle work. It means asking potential employers hard questions instead of just nodding my head and accepting a job offer in a parking lot an hour after my final interview (which . . . perhaps I did about 6 years ago. Perhaps).

If I look very thoughtfully and brutally at the last two years of my life I see that I fought to find the time and opportunity to put singing back into my life, but somehow stopped listening to music for fun. Not at work, not in the car, and rarely at home. I made lists of what I should and shouldn't eat, but basically stopped cooking - which is really sad since I cook pretty darn well. I started writing, but only read about 5 books last year. How does that make sense? All of this speaks to me that I was very, very unhappy but avoiding staring that unhappiness in the eye. Had I looked long and hard at it, I would have been forced to make some changes, and as I wrote to a friend earlier this week, "You know how flexible and gracious I am about change." (He was my boss and the lead Sensei at a Karate studio and once, at work, gave me the "Most flexible and adaptable" award. Ha! It was ironic because I could do full splits but would have to take a moment to get over my attachment when he needed me to change lesson plans. )

So, now I'm scared . . . you know, more than a little . . . but happy. Sometimes it takes a scary moment, or 2 months of them, to force change. It's funny to me, actually, how I got launched into this by other people's decisions. I am not sure I would have made these decisions on my own, but I am weirdly grateful for them, and learning to find the grateful in folding my laundry too. It's also amusing to me because there are people in my life who see my rows of cookies, and want to mess with them to point out how structured and "process" I am. (I'll note, some of those same people roll their eyes at my itemized shopping lists but are forced to admit that they helped get the shopping done faster, and with no return trips. Ahem.) But then there are people who look at me and say, "you are so brave. You'll just go out there, see what needs to change, and do it." Those are actual words from another friend.

I suppose process vs. innovation is relative. I won't keep doing things once I'm sure they aren't getting me where I need to go. But, I don't always see what isn't working for me personally. As a consultant, I was incredibly skilled at examining other people's data and summarizing what I thought was the right story to tell about successes and areas of improvement from that data. I would do my homework with this data, engineer a conversation where someone would begin to see for themselves what I had already seen, and then use it to convince them of some things we might work on changing together. I think my instructors thought of me very often as being the harbinger or agent of change. Or maybe they just thought I was pushing them to break out of doing the same things over and over and making them change . . . sometimes painfully.

If I think very carefully about it, then, change for me is about three things. The data demonstrating the need, the will to do it, and a thought about how to change or how to go about doing things differently. But then, I also have to say, I need to unglue myself from whatever structure existed before, and that requires some inspiration to motivate me because who has two thumbs and loves structure? Not me. I have no idea what you're talking about. So then . . four things.

But, here is something else I know. There is a limit to how much change a single person can make. Running an entire region by myself for more than three years, I learned that lesson over, and over, and over again at work. I'm not sure it's different if the thing I am trying to change is me. Someone I really think highly of commented early  in this blog that the crux of what I was writing was boiled down to, what would I change, how would I change it, and how much can I change. I think that is still the main focus .  .  . just a lot of things have changed since then! I still need this accountability and mirror. And I'm still seeking other opportunities to push me when I feel like digging my heels in and pointing to  a process I'm comfortable with.

An important friend told me recently, that you never know who is watching you. Who is inspired by you. Who is moved by you. I hadn't thought about that in a long time. I think I . . . focused so deeply on the process that worked for me at work last year, that I stopped thinking about how I looked from the outside. I stopped thinking of myself as an agent of change for those people, even though that's what I was, to them or anyone. My friend is, I think, a little supernatural. She and I hadn't spoken live in weeks when she gave me a blog assignment last week that spoke to the exact thing I had been struggling with in that moment. This week she asked me to write about this just as I started digging deep down into what needs to change for me in order for things to be truly different. And in the same moment where someone else said to me, "I see and appreciate what you've done, what you've walked through, the struggles you've done. You have more courage than anyone I know."

I want that to be true. I want to be brave enough to do the right thing, even when it's not the easy thing. I want to always walk out the door with the courage of my convictions. I want to have the insight to look at my own life the way I used to analyze business data, and pick out what is working, what isn't, and how to change things so I keep the things that are working, and kick the things that aren't straight out the door.

The thing is, I want it to be true more these days because I want to inspire myself to do things, than I want to do it for others. I want, more than anything, to stop caring so friggin much about other people's expectations. I want to define for myself what winning looks like, and then do that. And. Nothing. Else. All the time. I recently said to someone, "when it comes to getting through school, I think inspiration matters more than we often talk about." I was inspired when I was in school. I haven't been since . . . I'm not sure when it wandered off but it now seems to me to be the only way for me to get back to being happier.

It's strange, right? To say I want to be more self-centered? I think it is, but it is also probably the only way for me to be the change I want to see in my own life.

I might be onto something. I sleep better now, read more, write more, listen more, eat healthier, enjoy my runs, and feel somewhat released from judgement. I've made it this far in the process, able to sleep at night (more than I used to!) and look myself in the eye in the morning, and I've done it mostly by not caring what other people think I should do. So, now the voice in my head is usually mine, and not the voice of what I think someone else thinks. That means, if I lie very still, I can hear what I really want and need now, and if I'm feeling judged or penned in by a process or habit, I'm doing it myself.

Change is painful, but funny too. I laugh a lot these days.

How would your friends describe you?

It's no secret that I am busily interviewing around and trying to close myself a job offer.

Interviews are interesting places for someone like me. I typically present pretty well since I am an ENFJ. I have some typical ENFJ strengths such as being a communicator, and strong verbally. I come across as being very self-aware (and I think it's not just an act, most of the time), intuitive and empathetic, friendly, and gregarious. This bodes well in an interview, especially since at this point I'm seeking only jobs where I would be impacting people.

I've heard recently that employers are asking people strange questions just to see how they deal with curve balls. Well, if my interview involved being on an actual baseball field and hitting a ball, no way, but I'd like to think I handle those questions ok. I've been asked what my greatest accomplishment was, if I've ever inspired anyone, what the most courageous thing I've done at work is. None of that seems too out of bounds. I have a friend who was asked, recently, "Do you believe in UFOs?" So, I've been gearing up for weirder questions just in case.

The question that has stuck with me afterwords the longest was, "How would your friends describe you." I have been asked a version of this question a couple of times now. And, of course, I start listing things that I think are true of me but also things that have a positive spin on them.

In my most recent interview, the conversation was so open and un-contrived, I felt free to give a deeper picture. I said, "I think my friends would tell you that I'm loyal, talkative, gregarious, and friendly. I tend to be outgoing, and to get along with different people well. I think my friends would also tell you I'm fairly determined and structured, and that there are good and less good things about this. I'm definitely the planner of the group - I'm likely to be the person who finds something for us to do, sends out the email, sends out the address, makes the requests for who is bringing what to the potluck and keeps track of all of that. I think my really good friends would tell you I'm not a surface person and that I listen carefully and am pretty thoughtful and considerate and often generous. My friends often tell me I'm funny and quirky but I don't always experience that from the inside as much as they see it on the outside. I also think my closest friends would tell you there is very little I do lightly. That I take myself very seriously and am very careful and analytical when I'm thinking something over or making a decision."

I think most of those things are fairly true. If you asked my closest girl friend and best friend from grad school, she would tell you that my need for structure and inflexibility was legendary, but that I would never have not been there for a friend who needed me, including her. If you asked one of my most interesting friends, and my best friend from college, he would tell you that I sometimes was a pain in the ass, but that he knew it came from good intentions, and that even when we struggled with each other, I was unwilling to give up on our friendship because of my determination and loyalty. He would also say that my tendency to be driven and focus on things too tightly was sometimes detrimental to my relationships and to my inclination to not just beat myself up, but to flog myself. If you asked my closest friend from . . . ever he would tell you, well, everything! That is the deal when you know someone for 32 years. He's known me as long as one of my siblings has, and longer than two of my siblings, and our deal is to tease each other with all the stories we have of each other's past.

What would he say? I think he'd say that I am determined, and deeply committed to doing the right thing, not just by a process or job, but by the people in it. And that when I love, I love fully. I suspect he'd also say that I'm generous and loving, but also sometimes mislead by those tendencies. And his husband? Well, I think he'd tell you that I often overthink things, but that I work to put those thoughts together in the right package blending humor, analysis, and human needs. I also think he'd tell you that I'm very, very honest and sometimes more independent than is good for anyone but that I wear my heart on my sleeve and whatever I have is something I'm willing to give. My guess is that if anyone were to use the world moral to describe me, it'd be him. Although I have NOT known him for 32 years, we have a lot in common, and most of the things he would say about me are things I would say about him. There is a reason he has become another best friend (not just husband-of) in my life.

I asked a couple of my friends and this is what I got back:

Loyal - actually all of them said this. So, I guess this is true of me. I don't guess, I know. I stick with people, sometimes to a fault. In fact, I wrote a post about this.

Loving - you know, this is true of me but sometimes I wish it were more true. I want to see, recognize, accept, and offer more love. It is a value of mine so when I sink into being judgmental, or insulated, I really feel I have failed in this

Generous - this is also a value of mine. It matters to me to be giving of my time, attention, and concern. It matters to me to treat people with that open spirit, and it matters to me to be giving in more tangible ways. It was nice that some of my friends said this.

Driven - I am. There is no doubt. and there is an appealing side to this, and a less appealing side to this. Sometimes I persist in ways that are really destructive and even annoying, or present my enthusiasm and above-and-beyond-ness as being pretty intense or pushy.

Tenacious - I've written about this. I'm not a "nice" girl. Which is to say, I am a caring person (see generous and loving above) but I'm not one who will sit back and let things roll by me without comment. I speak up, and I have a strong personality. It's not for everyone, and I know that. But it is also what allows me to be strong and do challenging things. Tenacious is also, I think, about the fact that I'm tough. There's a hard outer coating. It's not a facade, and it's also not obvious to everyone that I'm armored, but I am because sometimes I need to push through things, and often, I've had to do it too much on my own.

Dogged- yup. I was glad one of my friends put a pure negative out there. I am. I get stuck in my patterns and ruts and expectations, and if I'm too focused, I will stay on that even if it isn't good for me or the people around me.

Dedicated - this is the flip side of being sometimes dogged. I'm determined. In my work, this means it matters to me to GET IT RIGHT. In school this meant I was more than willing to put extra work in on things that weren't my forte. And in my personal life, this means I don't let go and work very hard to do what needs to be done to be there for my peeps. It also means I accept a high level of responsibility and demand of myself a high level of accountability. This sometimes looks and feels very intense from the outside, I've learned in the last 6 years or so.

Planner - what a shocker to hear this! This is a very nice way to say I'm a freak about structure and organization. People benefit from it, to be sure, when I organize my choir or help a friend make lists and plans or pack and move, but it doesn't make anyone's heart sing as much as it does mine! And it also has high potential to rub people the wrong way. The liability to this is I sometimes get too attached to my plans. I've had a lot of growth in that in the last 5 years, but it is still true that it can take me a beat to release a plan and be appropriately flexible.

Knowledgeable - my good friend here in Colorado said she thinks this is why I can get along with so many different people, from different perspectives and walks of life. I think there's some truth to this. I was talking to someone else in my personal sphere last night and said, "I'm a voracious learner. Not always a fast learner, but an avid one." I truly want to understand what I'm hearing or seeing and I have a bit of weird brain in that I carry a LOT of that with me and it gets blurted out in conversation. I know all kinds of nerdy, nerdy things and often cringe as I hear myself saying, "Well, I read a book that said . . . " Ugh. I'm still that girl from high school some days.

What I started thinking about though is, What would my siblings say about me? (Mua hah hah hah) They know me too, and let me tell you, unlike my friends they would NOT hold back in mentioning the difficult things about me.

I think my brothers would have a lot to say about me being too structured. At least one of them would flat out say that means I am bossy and demanding. There is real truth to this. It was more true when I was younger and the oldest child. Now that we're all adults I try to make decisions and plans collaboratively. But sometimes, in dire moments, I will just tell people what to do. I had an interesting conversation with my aunt who is the oldest of six kids (oy!). She was helping me and her daughters make some plans and laid it all out in a well planned email, with time lines, addresses, etc (sound familiar?). She was laughing at herself and referring to herself as "Das Commander." (Umm, lol, by the way) and I said, "But who else was going to make that happen?" The thing is, sometimes someone needs to be bossy to get things done. And when that's what's needed . . . I fill that role. The trick is to recognize when that is NOT needed! I have put a fair amount of work into that in the last decade.

My youngest bro would tell you that I sometimes have ridiculous reactions to things. This is due in part to the fact that sometimes what I think or feel is not something he can fathom as a man living a very different life than me. But sometimes it is because I've over-reacted! He would also tell you that when I over-react to things it's because I really care; it's not an act. He would maybe not use the words my friends used, but probably express that my love is generous and unyielding. I think he also knows me as being loyal and caring. About a year ago I spent a couple of nights listening to him deeply, and as we walked away from our beers he said, "You know. I don't tel you enough. But you are a really awesome big sister. It's good to have you on my side." I love him fiercely, so I was glad that he felt it.

Of all of my family, I think he is the one most likely to work to give you a clear and balanced picture of me. We have talked really openly about how we both tend to be hard on people, and to thrive with a level of structure that isn't comfortable for most. We've talked about the liabilities and benefits to being driven, intense people. He is also very likely to find some combination of words to express that he thinks I am tough or brave in some way, and that I work hard to not be anybody's victim, but that I also sometimes play things safer or aim lower than I should. He's not wrong. He is also the person in my life that is most likely to say, "Well, you knew that wasn't good." He knows me on that level because we are both really uncomfortably honest people at times.

My middle brother is very mysterious to me . . . so I suspect that means I am puzzling to him too. We are very different people, and very different personalities. I think we often don't make a lot of sense to each other. He would have a lot to say about me assuming the in-charge role too much, but also about my being analytical, well-read, and interested in information and philosophy. Unfortunately, I think he experiences my different perspective, my working brain, and my love for structure as me judging him. Sometimes I think that's about how things look from where he sits, and sometimes I think that is about what I put out. The truth has to lie somewhere in between, and I have to accept my share of that responsibility.

I think my sister would tell you I am quirky and funny and loving, but also that I overthink things, and that my standards are too high for anyone. Me, her, anyone. I think, based on her comments, she experiences me as being very cerebral and principled and that she is often not sure how that fits with my caring, considerate side. I do think she feels like I am good to others, but not to myself, and that I am not as open with feelings as I could be. I think she feels and experiences that tough outer shell more than other people do. A lot of people don't see it - they view me as being open and friendly and talkative and gregarious. And I AM. But I'm also, as  I've mentioned, reluctant to let everyone all the way in. I pick and choose my people and moments and situations for that. And where others might mention this as me being tough and resilient, I think she feels it as me being somehow really, really hard to be close with. Maybe not as hard as some of our family, but harder than she wishes. And I am hard. I make people work for it - I don't do it manipulatively, but it is a definite pattern in my life. I think she sometimes finds my nerdy, verbal, tough outer shell a little intimidating or intense. I think she also appreciates that I am someone who likes to get shit done, and since we both grew up as the oldest (she in her house, and me in mine) I think we see what each other is like in this regard - and that sometimes someone has to take the lead.

It's interesting to think about how people know me, and if I have any grasp at all on how I look from the outside. I like to flatter myself and think that I do but it makes me wonder if employers called up three of my friends randomly, and one of my siblings, what would they hear? And what would that make them think of me? I also, of course, wonder what my references will say about me. I asked my therapist once what he thinks about me as a functioning person in the world, and he named self-awareness and analysis as some of the things that have seen me through, so hopefully I'm not way off base . . . geez it would be bad to hold myself out in some way, get a job, and then find their interpretation of me as a fit was wrong on all sides. I am blessed to have had enough time and healing from my last job that I've arrived at a policy of integrity in this job search, and of presenting myself well, but with careful honesty. Fingers crossed that it will see me into the right job - you know, one I can delight in being LOYAL to.

ATM Fraud

That's right. Today, I planned to divide my time very carefully into quarters with one-fourth devoted to submitting applications, one fourth to finishing up my self-training on MS Project 2010, one fourth to my interview and interview prep, and the remaining quarter to pounding out a run on a treadmill or roadside. (Cardio has ceased to be something I purely loath. I still don't like it. That may never change. But, I'm getting better at it, and that helps. Also, I am in a co-dependent relationship with it right now. Cardio needs me to get it done, so I can lose weight and look my trainer and cardio partner in the eye. I need it to help my brain from feeling like it could explode from the effort of staying positive in the face of all this uncertainty. So, we'll stick a pin in that and write another of my many posts about cardio another day.) That was my plan. And y'all know how much I like a plan.

Well, last night, while I was pounding out some cardio, and smashing my weight lifting workout in fact, apparently my ATM number was in Yuma. And this morning while I was sleeping (biding my time until I could call the fraud line at my bank) that same card was turned down in Austin to buy gas. Weeeeeee!

I've been the victim of fraud and identity theft before. And my experience getting that dealt with (once the conveniently placed long weekend in which I watched weird check amounts being cashed and wandering out of my account helplessly was over) was pretty good. The money I needed to buy my books and pay my insurance and rent was back in 5 days, and I had a new account set up pronto. I had three days of watching money walk away, and practicing deep breathing. They caught those people and uncovered their scam (pretty elaborate, as it turned out, but not very well executed) and I had the opportunity to write something about my experience as the "victim" (HATE that word) of this crime maybe a year later. I had food in the house, so while I couldn't go out with my friends that weekend, and had some stress since I was a poor graduate student at the end of a long month of no paycheck, I wasn't going hungry. And ultimately damage repaired.

So, when I saw money being spent a couple of states away I assumed that if fraud had gotten more tricksy, that fraud response had improved as well. And I was right! My card was shut down last night, which means THEIR copycat card was shut down too. Sorry, guys, no gas for you in Austin. And this morning, I called the number, got my instructions and an order for a new card placed. But, I also had to go to my branch and get a temporary card. Of course, it can't do everything a real one can, alas. But I can buy groceries until the new one comes, and my account is safe. Whew.

Day briefly derailed, money safe and plenty of time for me to go about getting ready for my interview.

What does this have to do with anything, right? We all go through this unless we live like conspiracy theorists. I mean, that's sadly probably true. I got some scary statistics from talking to the bank. In 2009 nearly 5% of the population had to deal with this, and spend, on average, 21 hours and $300 plus dollars resolving the crime. That was 2009! I would be eye-balls-popping shocked if those numbers hadn't gone up in the last 2 years. Lightening struck twice for me, so I asked my new banker friend if there was any way to find out how this happened. Since I know where my card is at all times, and have the right protections on my account, it mystified me. He told me that since my data wasn't leaked anywhere that placed me on a known-concerns list, this was probably a completely unpreventable occurrence. My card was probably picked up by a scanner when I bought gas or used an ATM last weekend. No way to know it. Am I supposed to stop using my ATM card? Suspiciously interrogate everyone who gets me a latte or beer? No.

What I've been thinking about for the last day is that even as recently as  a year ago, this issue would have enraged me. And not having a person to be angry at specifically and feeling helpless would have lead me to turn this fury on the world. I would've and been pissy with everyone from the desk clerk at my gym, to my friends, just because I allowed it to permeate my world for several days. I'm not someone who will tell you that anger is a completely "useless emotion." I think there is healthy anger. I think there are cases where anger can spur people on and lead to determination, motivation, and purging of old hurts. What I am going to tell you is that for me, anger is most often not healthy and instead of leading to motivation or something positive, leads to being short, unpleasant, and unable to be happy about much of anything for days.

When I'm genuinely angry and hurt, I often don't process it right away. Somewhere a long the way I learned that I was deeply alone. And I was for awhile. And even when I wasn't, there was a longer period of time where it wasn't safe or comfortable for me to have my feelings out loud. So, for me, anger turns inward. It is a dark and twisty spiral and it has spikes. It lays in wait, and sets a bomb wrapped in barbed wire. And what happens then is, I take this bomb, and quietly lay it on a shelf. For days or weeks or hours or years, and then I detonate it when I'm all alone. It sounds noble, as though I'm saving others, but it isn't. It actually serves to hurt more people because the bomb goes off at a time and in a way in which I cannot deal with it in a healthy, non-destructive way. The bomb can't be defused. It has to GO OFF and leave emotional shrapnel. And I spend the following days and weeks feeling the after-shock, and passing it on to innocent bystanders, or worse, going back to the person who accidentally hurt me long past the time in which they remember what happened and setting a bomb for them. It's awful.

So, I could be angry that my plan was derailed and I lost time. I could be angry that doing something completely normal like going to an ATM or getting a box of tampons may have set this theft in motion. I could, but who would I be angry with? I guess I could be angry with whomever thought it was a good idea to take my info and run off to Yuma (Really?! Yuma?!) but, I don't know them. I don't know why or how they did this. Maybe they're in a desperate situation. Maybe they have a sad story. Or maybe they don't. Either way, being angry at them, attaches me to them, and forces my brain to think about how and why this happens. And fraud prevention services told me that this is probably a lost cause - it is probably not possible to track exactly how and when this happens. Why would I attach myself to a lost cause? (I say this like I'm all wise and strong, but this is just EXACTLY what I've done in the past.)

This is like the 6th time in the last month that I've been presented with this lesson. There's a doozy of an example here - ahem, losing my job. A number of people have suggested I explore my anger at my former employer, or even seek legal counsel. But if I did either, that would keep me attached to them for a long, long time. And guess what, I already had more than enough time stewing over anger with them when I was employed with them! For me, anger would do nothing but feed the unhealthy connection I had with that organization. It would lead to . . . nothing but more anger and judgement. That is the very definition of empty calories in my life.

So, look at me, I'm growing. With this fraud, I was curious, I was focused on what I needed to do to rectify the situation, I was open to hearing anything I could do to prevent this in the future. But I wasn't angry. I didn't waste time on that, because I really needed to get back to my carefully orchestrated day. (And i was hoping I could finish up at the bank in time to get a cup of coffee) The banker was all," I'm so sorry this happened, and took your time." Well, ok, but I didn't have to spend 21 hours, or $300 plus dollars. I spent 2 hours, thus far, and have some minor ATM card inconvenience for a week. So, I responded, "Well, this has all been handled really quickly and professionally so I'm satisfied this will be completely ok very soon!"

The lesson I'm trying to learn here, and have been hit over the head with for the last month, is that LOVE PROVIDES AND PROTECTS. I heard that last weekend. Yes, I heard it at church. And so my minister's point was that God's love is without boundaries and unending, and will give you what you need. I struggle with that, and I also have friends who don't believe in God or that kind of God. But I think the application is relevant to the me that wants to believe in that God, and the me that often questions that. (So, I hope it applies to my friends who aren't in that relationship with God too.)

Whether or not you believe God helped me deal with my identity theft, or is walking with me in my job search (which is much more than just hide-and-seek-find-a-job but really me seeking a better life than I had), the reality is, I have been very loved and protected in all of this. My bank protected my account, and quickly. My friends' love has provided for me over and over and over. And over. I have been provided with help understanding my options, the offer of a place to stay if needed, lunches and dinners out with people I love celebrating my "freedom", the offer of help for my healthcare costs, personal training, some part time job offers, introductions to helpful people to network with, supportive rally cries by phone, mail, text, and FB message, help getting my resume together, help getting my resume out there, editing of my cover letter template, people asking to be my referrences, company as I work out my demons by sweating out some cardio, and just so many hugs, high fives, "atta girls" in person and at a distance that I've lost count. I had someone who I met and worked with for every bit of three days and who no longer works with my former employer look me up so that she could reach out to me, ask if I was alright, and if I needed help getting my resume into the hands of an educational company.

I am loved. Whether you think that love comes from God through people, or from people who are awesomely loving and giving, and who I have the amazing good fortune to have in my life, the bottom line is that I am loved. (I think both. Because the God I know gives people the complete freedom to have the morality of frog spit, or to be loving, kind, and generous.) And that love has provided and protected me.

If I needed any further proof of this I would need only to look at this:

In case you're wondering, that's love sitting on my kitchen table cut into the shape of beautiful flowers. I am loved.

(Have you ever gotten one of these Edible Arrangements? They are the bomb. I love getting flowers, and I love getting candy, and this is like both rolled into one, only most of it is healthy. Wow. Luck has nothing to do with it. I am loved.)

And focusing on that, instead of anger, has garnered me the chance to interview for 3 part-time positions, and 4 interviews for full-time positions. I don't want to pat myself on the back too much here, but I'm a little proud that I haven't spent my time stewing and dreaming up evil plots and dealing with a bomb and the ensuing emotional shrapnel. I'm proud that I've taken the time to reflect that it's ok for people to love me and help me. I'm proud that I'm putting my energy into the right place. Also, I really liked that fruit.

Vacation

Being away from routine and the known can be a difficult prospect for someone like me who has dietary restrictions that are both medical and by choice. Routine and predictability are often the watchword of anyone dieting or trying to combat food allergies. Beyond that, I learned in grad school that the best way for me to eat cheaply, but also with health in mind was to cook on the weekends and then choose from pre-metered out leftovers for the weekdays. Later, as I began making choices such as limiting carbs, doing “cleanses”, increasing my protein intake, and even going on a campaign to reduce gluten in my diet significantly it became very necessary to use the personal strength I have in planning to get the job done.

Yes, I’m a planner by nature, but I really did come by my tendency to be a detail-oriented, ingredient-reading fiend, control freak about food honestly and with good intentions.

It is both liberating and mildly terrifying to let it go. 

And then, of course I had to hand over my eating plan  in favor of seeing a nutritionist. This means that right now I have no plan other than to try and “eat right” (which has as many permutations as there are people who use that phrase) and exercise. Honestly, I don’t how to extend that to find the right fit for my mini-vacay.


To make matters worse, of course, my insurance doesn’t cover a visit to the nutritionist. So, I need to save up some before I go. So, I’m adrift on my own for a few weeks before that happens. Off in a sea of food choices, no lifeboat. I have to be my own lifeguard. Luckily, I’m a strong swimmer.


This vacation was ill timed in some ways, but perfectly timed in others. This is not an ideal time for me to take time off from work, but then on the other hand, I am beginning to think that with the month of non-stop, balls-to-wall, life in my car work I have ahead of me, some pre-emptive rest is in order. It’s not great for me to stare down the prospect of eating on vacation right after two months of eating-on-plan were suddenly brought to an abrupt stop, but on the other hand, being able to function around food is a pretty big deal. My dad felt it was important for me to be strong in math and able to use chopsticks. My mom made sure we could all swim by the time we were in Kindergarten. So, perhaps it is time I learn the skill live my life around food without fearing what will happen.


Well, here is what has happened so far. A lunch upon my arrival in Seattle where I selected a plate of two small slices of pizza (about half the size of normal slices), and a salad. An emergency run to get food when my blood sugar was crashing and a smoothie. Some Indian food where I ate a quarter cup of rice. A cup of cereal (Special K). A few chocolate covered cherries. A seriously decadent dinner in Ballard (I want you all to know, I love, love, love my sibs. But this restaurant is so good I would recommend you go to Bastille even if my bro wasn’t an important fixture on the staff and management) where I enjoyed the free cocktail he sent over, as well as a taste of pate, some pork belly and some tomato salad appetizer, and then ordered of all things . . . a burger. It. Was. So. Good. Simple but good.

Then today, I cooked for three hours for a BBQ (So I damn sure was going to eat it). I made bean salad, kale salad and corn salad, fried chicken, shrimp kabobs for the grill, and asked my sisters to help me with a recipe for homemade ice cream sandwiches. Then I went for a run to clear my head and get out of kitchen mode. When I came back, the party was on so I had some of each of the three salads, chicken, shrimp, grilled veggies, half a brownie, a small ice cream treat, some angel food cake, a bite of watermelon, a small taste of chips, and two margaritas and three beers.

I don’t regret the burger. I don’t regret the rice. I certainly don’t regret (and will never regret) the Indian food. I’m pleased that I got a run in. (I thought I was so smooth. “Oh, this run will be easier than normal because I’m at sea-level here!” Um, hills, dear Christie. Hills.)

Of all the things I’ve eaten here in Seattle I second-guess only two things – the pizza and the emergency smoothie. I am fairly certain my blood sugar would have been low on Thursday no matter what I ate. I had not slept enough on Wednesday and done quite a bit of rushing, running, and dealing with anxiety when trying to catch my flight on Thursday (it was a Murphy’s law situation where anything that could go wrong DID). Fatigue, changed schedules, travel, and anxiety can all drastically change how “even” my endocrinology is. So, I might have been fighting with myself anyways. But, I’m sure the pizza didn’t help. And, predictably, by 7pm, my body was sending me siren wails of, “WTF! It’s been 6 hours! What did we do wrong? Are you made at us?” It got bad. So, being stuck in the cell phone lot at the airport I just looked at my peeps and said, “I need to eat something NOW.”


I’m all about the up-side since I’m on vacation, so I do think the positive is that I actually heard and identified true hunger signals and blood sugar crash auras. On the less positive, one bad food choice lead to another less than stellar one: the smoothie. I’m all for smoothies when I make them (real fruit, no sugar, Greek yogurt – because it has more protein and no fat – and almond milk because it is higher in protein as well) but I need to let y’all know, when you get a smoothie out in the world it is probably made with a metric shitload (scientific term) of sugar/corn syrup as well as prepackaged junk-fruit that probably has as many liabilities, chemicals and preservatives as it does nutrition.Mostly empty calories.

But want to hear something? Although I haven’t stepped on a scale I believe I’ve lost a couple of pounds. My shorts are looser. Ahh, the powers of de-stressing, Seattle walking, and sisters. Speaking of that . . . there is a lot of giggling going on right now, and a new sister coming in to tell me I’m a good person, hug me, thank me for cooking. And even better – she’s read my blog!

More to come. For now I'll say this. I don't think what I'm eating now is the version of "eating right" I will take home with me. But, for vacation, it is right to eat indulgently at my bro's place. It is right to eat fried chicken that I made. And it is right for me to enjoy my food without counting calories because I'm also walking more miles than I can count, and learning more from my sisters than I can possibly present here! For now, suffice it to say I will never look at a coke can the same way again, and if I should ever record and album I might seriously consider naming it, "The one-eyed bartender."

"Life is hard at 1500 calories a day."

"Life is hard at 1500 calories a day."

This one sentence changed my whole plan of how I have been tackling my eating, empty calories, and losing some weight over the last couple of months. And as you may have read I'm a girl who loves me some structure.

I have been on a plan that combines pre-packaged foods with meals that contain proteins and certain vegetables. This meant a drastic cut in calories for me (though, interestingly, because the "plan" foods were so high in protein, no cuts in protein). Now, part of that cut was that I wasn't being 100% honest with myself before about portion sizes, and oh yeah, there were those boxes of microwave popcorn.  But even on my best, most awesomely healthy eating days, I was always eating between 1800 and 2200 calories.

The vast reduction in calories wasn't what drew me to this plan though. I was inspired by two friends who had lost over 50 pounds with it. That was more than half of my goal loss amount! And they had done it in 6 months. What really drew me in was that this plan allowed me to eat some "real" food, but really helped to meter out food through the day in small amounts. It demanded that I eat 4-5 of the plan foods at 4-5 sittings, plus one or two small snacks, and one or two smallish-but-healthy meals. This meant I was eating, at a minimum 6 times a day, and on some days, more often. (Woo-hoo! More eating!)

This is something I've always known was important -  to eat smaller amounts but more times a day, especially for someone like me who has hypoglycemic tendencies. And despite that knowledge and education, I've always sucked like a Dyson at it. I have issues with time, and with cravings that become cyclical. I'm a busy person, busier than everyone I know  except maybe two exceptions. So, sitting down to eat is something of an event for me. It might be my only time for the next 4-6 hours to do something just for me, or to take a break from work, driving, errands, working out, and whatever else is on the list. I find that once I've made the time to eat, it makes logical sense in my mind to just take a few more minutes, make a bigger meal appear on my plate, and eat it. It's the same process that causes me to be at the gym for close to three hours on some Saturday mornings - I'm already there so why not run and swim and teach swimming all in one go of it??

As for cravings, well. (Yes, I know that was a fragment). I explained it to my doctor this way. I love fish. I love beans and lentils. I love vegetables and fruits (no cabbage please!). I love to eat healthy because I genuinely love those foods. So, I do a great job eating healthy choices . . . until I don't. And then my eating habits become an avalanche racing down the hill, burying my every attempt to insert some good choices and outpacing any shreds of willpower or self-esteem left standing on the side of the mountain. I have a friend who described this as "F.R.E.D. Frequent Ridiculous Eating and Disgust." And man, I never liked the name Fred.

So, this plan handed me a built in structure. I could pack three or four of these little packages of joy and protein in my purse, some water, plan a lunch and a dinner filled with chicken, fish, broccoli, kale, and other green wonders, and head off into my day with my food decisions made for me before I even put my shoes on.

And it worked! Sort of. Er, mostly. I knew right away this was going to be a different experience with different results for me than others. While others talked about adjusting after a few weeks and not feeling hungry anymore, that never quite happened for me. And I had some pretty bad blood sugar readings along the way. And despite fighting through all of that and working out more than I have in two years, I was losing only about half of what others on this plan lose per week. I should've known, right?

Yes, I should have. But see, one of the side-effects of FRED for me is that I lose faith in myself and my inner-hearing becomes really faulty. I start to doubt what my body is telling me because it becomes hard to distinguish the cries of, "I'm really hungry! Help!" from the inner sounds of, "Hello, little girl, would you like some candy?"There's a thing that happens in my head when I'm way off track where the volume is very loud on every food related thought. And once everything is so loud in my head, there is so much distortion that I can't distinguish the "pure" signals from the misleading ones. The inside of my head is banging with sounds loud enough for a heavy metal concert and inside it, I might hear that I'm hungry and also hear, "Hey, there's a grocery store three blocks away just full of ice cream, frozen pizza, popcorn and Cheezits!" The litmus test for which is psychological and which is biological is to question myself, and I learned long ago I was an unreliable witness.

So, my body told me things. It told me when I missed a workout with my trainer because of a migraine. It told me when I was tired all the time. It told me when after all of the sacrifices and feeling as hungry as I assume Kate Moss is all the time, I got weak results. It wrote me memos, stood up and waved it's arms in the middle of oncoming traffic, and finally gave up and appealed directly to my Endocrinologist. "Hey Doc, didja you get those labs? did you see the liver enzymes were a bit off? And the cortisol? And that A1C - that's what shows how stable the highs and lows of the blood sugar have been over time, right? Yeah, that used to be one of our best labs but that's been tanking lately. What can we do to convince her this isn't the right plan for us?"

Despite being very much a scientist at my core, I still fought the evidence, presenting my own case. "Well, maybe this is just how I lose weight! I never lost more than 5 pounds before since I've been in your office, so maybe this is just what it takes. It could be worth it in the end to lose weight and have those health benefits," I countered (out loud, not in my head!). When of course, what I really meant was, I'd endure being sick if it meant being thin. (Oh, how I wish I could report something more enlightened and empowered here)


She put her hand on mine and said, "Life is hard at 1500 calories a day. And that hardship isn't worth it if your body is going to fight every pound and be ill. Let's switch plans."

So, I'll see the nutritionist, and we'll come up with a new plan. I am trying with all of my everything to see this as a positive. I am working very hard to say, "Christie, this doesn't mean you should go off on vacation and eat chocolate every day. You've learned about your habits. You've learned about your triggers, and most of all, you've learned that planning and structure makes will power and good choices possible." But honestly, I fear having that many choices again. And I'll be traveling with some pre-planned snacks and my food journal by my side. Enough to ward off the monster FRED? Stay tuned.

When plans change

So, I knew this day was coming, I had just thought I would write about this another time. My job.

I work for the world's largest after-school education program. The business model is that most of the after-school centers are run by franchisees; so instructors who are also small-business owners. I work for the franchisor doing . . . well, a lot of different things. I do franchise development (training and guiding candidates who want to become instructors and franchisees), as well as supporting current instructors. This last means I do something different on each day. Sometimes I offer a professional development training (yes! public speaking!), sometimes I do one-on-one consultations to train a franchisee, I help set goals, go over results,  and sometimes I do observations of students. I give tests, arrange training opportunities for instructors, and help them get licensed. Most people in my position work in a "branch office" comprised of other Field Consultants like me, an admin, a branch manager, etc. They share responsibilities such as giving presentations, and have resources and support to get general office tasks done.

I do not.

About 3 years ago I took an experimental position in an area that belonged to a branch office but was remote from it by more than 500 miles. So . . . here I am. And it's just me. That means a few things. One, I do my own admin (financial reports, copying, appointments with vendors and repair people, stuff like that), and since my "office" is the small second bedroom in my house, I can't meet with instructors in the office as many other field consultants do. So, while many others in my position are on the road 2-3 days a week, I'm on the road 4-6 days a week.

Is this good for me? Hard to say. Sometimes, I really relish the time in my car. It's time that belongs to me. I can call people on the east coast and catch up, listen to really loud music, listen to a book on CD, and I have even been known to rehearse singing in the car when getting ready for a performance. On the other hand, I deal with traffic, having to carry the office on my back (not to mention often packing my meals, up to 64 oz of water, my gym bag, and anything else I'll need), and long hours almost every day. It's not unusual to find me eating dinner at 9pm or at the gym even later than that. God bless free on-demand and Hulu or or I'd never see the shows I'm hopelessly addicted to. (The company used to give a bonus for graduating from the training program for this job. I suggested that they should give consultants DVR. I wasn't kidding.)

So, you'd think that when an instructor calls me and says they have to cancel an appointment about 4 hours before the appointment, I'd say, "Wow. thanks for letting me know! We'll reschedule," while thinking to myself, Sweet! Day at home! Regular meals! Getting caught up on office work while in PJs! Woooooot!

But when I got that call today, I thought, Damn, I'm already showered. I'm already dressed. And now I'll have to reschedule and fit this appointment into an already packed schedule in a couple of weeks. Of course, what I said out loud was, "Oh, I totally understand. thanks for letting me know. Let me open my calendar so we can reschedule," because I'm not a total cretin about customer service. And because I know that I too have had to cancel things when there's been an emergency somewhere else at work, a flat tire, a flooded road, or something else I couldn't control or predict.

On the days that working from home really means being at home, I love it. I love having a real lunch, not some stuff I threw into a bag. I love starting a load of laundry while I'm waiting for something to finish copying. And I love, love, love working in my soccer shorts and old black t-shirt. So, why was I so anxious with this serendipitous schedule change?

The operative word here is the last one: change. Of all things I resist and dislike (cabbage, washing windows, shopping for dresses, having my time wasted) change is so, so difficult for me.

I am a type A+ which does not mean I'm a type A personality that is also a good student! It means I plan to the nth degree. About two months before a vacation, I can be found reading a guide book and looking up options online. I have a calendar on my smart phone, a dayplanner, and a white board calendar. I leave myself reminders to text and call people at times I said I would. I go swimming the same time every Saturday. This girl loves to plan.

If I dig deeper, I know what this is really about is control. I like to control things. I try not to have that spill over on other people like my friends, my voice coach, and my clients. I've gotten better and better at that but am admittedly not perfectly achieving that goal. But, for me and my life, I really think I should be able to plan everything. What I wear, which days I was h my hair, what I'm going to eat, when I'm going running, when I'll call my mom.

I have been actively seeking ways to let go of some of this craving for control. I trusted someone to tattoo me. I threw a party this year and invited more people than my house could handle knowing that it would work out as long as everyone had fun - and it did! People called up last minute saying they couldn't make it, and other people showed up who hadn't planned on being there and every seat was filled. It was an awesome night. And I took a singing class that challenged me to perform with my emotions, not controlling them . . . and even though it was the scariest thing I've ever done, I'm about to do it again!

I'd like to go skydiving. See how that frees me up from being the boss in charge of my little world.

So, why can't I be ok with a sumptuous day of soccer shorts and black tee-shirt, getting work done in the office? Well, part of it is logistical. I had already showered and gotten all gussied up for being professional out in the world. If I'm being honest though, more of it is that now I have to change my calendar, fight for a spot for this individual in my crazy September schedule, and roll with the punches.
I am a trained kick boxer, but rolling with the punches in my life fills me with more dread than getting actually punched in the face! Sometimes it helps to remind myself that my plan is not THE Plan. sometimes it helps to hand things over to the universe and to remember that the forces that are bigger than me are not just bigger than me, but are massive. (It's an entirely separate post as to why it's a little twitchy for me to just say the name, "God" here.) But there's also something just threaded into me that demands a plan!

It's so silly!

So, I took this 20 minutes, to breathe, get into a different mindset, and convince myself this is a good thing. Now I'll go re-align my calendars - ha!