5:00 a.m.....snooze. 5:10.....snooze. Repeat until 5:30.....get up. I don't know what I was talking about when I said the 6:30 class was too late. For now...today, at least...it just felt right. I'm not going to let myself blow another entire day/week/month because I can't get up to make an earlier one. It just means I'll work a little bit later...but chances are I'd be working later anyway. And now I'm so glad I didn't sleep in. Because here's what I would have missed:
500 meter row
50 jumping chin-ups
500 meter row
50 situps
500 meter row
50 air squats
500 meter row
50 pushups
500 meter row
50 slam balls
My time: 25:54 (I think)....
The 5:45 class had 18 people in it this morning. 6:30 had....two. Just two. I'm so glad Jenn was there. One, because that meant I didn't have to do this alone. And two, because (and she doesn't know this) she pushes me. She's always just a little bit faster than me. And she makes everything look easy. But for the most part this morning, I kept up. My row is improving and I stayed focused (as opposed to spacing out at some point and falling off pace...which might actually be drifting in and out of consciousness and I'm somehow unaware of it...)
AND, I finally got knees to elbows!!! Maybe not all of them, but I got at least two during the warm-up today. The others were at least knees to armpits, which is still a progression from knees to boobs and that, for me, is pretty exciting.
Know how I know I'm back? Aside from being upset and irritated that I can't go on Tuesdays and Thursdays because of school now, I've now told myself that I can watch "The Bachelor" tonight only if I do kettlebell swings during commercial breaks. This morning's WOD looked like it was going to kill me. But it didn't. And now I'm bouncing off the walls and I haven't even had coffee yet.
Today is also the first day of the gym's Whole30 paleo challenge. I have a special love for Whole30. It's one of my favorite things and just how I personally feel a paleo challenge should be done. No cheats. I'm the kind of person that, in regard to food, if given an inch I will take a mile. You want a reset? Go all in. Don't say "I can't go without ________." Really? You can't or you won't?? Because there's a serious difference between the two. You actually CAN drink your coffee black. (Here's a tip: Don't drink it hot at first....let it cool off and down it. It's easier that way and you still get your caffeine hit.) You CAN eat salad without ranch dressing. You CAN make it through a paleo challenge without paleo candy bars. And you CAN stay off the freakin' scale. (I promise....this can be done. Let me set you free....) I'm not trying to sound know-it-all-ish. But I've done this. And I'm really, really good at it.
I will admit that I baked probably the best chocolate cake I have ever made in my entire life yesterday. J's birthday is Tuesday and I couldn't let an opportunity to have cake just pass right by. I'll refrain from a full description of the deliciousness of it, but I did enjoy two full pieces last night while making my gigante pot of paleo chili.
The next 30 days are going to be phenomenal. I can feel it. And it's nice to be excited again. I won't wish you all, my fellow challengers, good luck....because luck doesn't have ANYTHING to do with it. This is yours to make or break. Do it and do it well...because you're worth the effort.
Game on!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Don't Tell Me What I Want
There's this camera that I've been eyeing for quite a while. I've always had a special love of photography but haven't paid much attention to it for several years. But I couldn't stop thinking about this one camera. I would spend hours looking around online at various photo sites comparing images and specs. Not having ever purchased a digital SLR, I didn't know what most users were talking about.
Just after Christmas, my camera went on sale. I still didn't move on it, preferring instead to admire it from afar. I guess you could say I had a bit of a camera crush. One day, though, I got bold enough to go into a store and ask to see it. The sales person wasn't very impressed by my request. "This one's better....it's the one I have," he said as he pointed to one that I knew was actually a lower model. I asked him why he liked that one better. He mentioned a couple of features that I knew "my" camera also possessed. I replied, "Okay, but this one (the one I wanted) does bracketing....yours doesn't." I should have walked out when he said "I don't know what that is," but I didn't. Impressionable person that I am, I actually bought the one he recommended....
It sat there in its shiny new box on my kitchen table for three days. "Aren't you going to open your new camera?" my husband asked. "I guess....but it's not the one I really wanted." "Then go back and get the one you want."
So I did. And I was ecstatic. I still have no idea how to use it, what it's actually capable of....I just know it's what I wanted.
Don't settle. Don't let someone else tell you what you want. Only you can decide that for yourself.
Just after Christmas, my camera went on sale. I still didn't move on it, preferring instead to admire it from afar. I guess you could say I had a bit of a camera crush. One day, though, I got bold enough to go into a store and ask to see it. The sales person wasn't very impressed by my request. "This one's better....it's the one I have," he said as he pointed to one that I knew was actually a lower model. I asked him why he liked that one better. He mentioned a couple of features that I knew "my" camera also possessed. I replied, "Okay, but this one (the one I wanted) does bracketing....yours doesn't." I should have walked out when he said "I don't know what that is," but I didn't. Impressionable person that I am, I actually bought the one he recommended....
It sat there in its shiny new box on my kitchen table for three days. "Aren't you going to open your new camera?" my husband asked. "I guess....but it's not the one I really wanted." "Then go back and get the one you want."
So I did. And I was ecstatic. I still have no idea how to use it, what it's actually capable of....I just know it's what I wanted.
Don't settle. Don't let someone else tell you what you want. Only you can decide that for yourself.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
To Honor One Little Girl Lost
"Christina"
20 minute AMRAP of:
9 pull-ups
9 squat cleans
9 kettlebell swings
9 toes to bar
9 push press
9 burpees
This is a new one. A new workout of the day to honor one little girl, Christina Green, killed in Tucson, Arizona on January 8, 2011.
9 for Christina's age, 6 elements for the 6 who died, 20 minutes for the 20 injured.
This morning, my first actual morning back at the box in ages, was better than I could have imagined. As soon as I read the board, my anxiety backed itself right on out the door. This wasn't about me. At all.
I would not dare complain about that 65 lb bar, wishing instead that I could have pulled the 95 Rx weight with the speed and proper form that this memorial workout deserved. It got a little heavy, but not one time during those 20 minutes did I wish it was lighter. I wonder if Christina herself even weighed 65 lbs. Such a little girl. My burden is not heavy. 3 and 1/6 rounds is not enough.
I pray every day for the protection and safety of my child and I cannot imagine the agony that now belongs to Christina's mother. We cannot change the events of the day her light went out. But we will do what we can to honor the life that was taken too soon.
Rest in peace, little one. You will not be forgotten.
20 minute AMRAP of:
9 pull-ups
9 squat cleans
9 kettlebell swings
9 toes to bar
9 push press
9 burpees
This is a new one. A new workout of the day to honor one little girl, Christina Green, killed in Tucson, Arizona on January 8, 2011.
9 for Christina's age, 6 elements for the 6 who died, 20 minutes for the 20 injured.
This morning, my first actual morning back at the box in ages, was better than I could have imagined. As soon as I read the board, my anxiety backed itself right on out the door. This wasn't about me. At all.
I would not dare complain about that 65 lb bar, wishing instead that I could have pulled the 95 Rx weight with the speed and proper form that this memorial workout deserved. It got a little heavy, but not one time during those 20 minutes did I wish it was lighter. I wonder if Christina herself even weighed 65 lbs. Such a little girl. My burden is not heavy. 3 and 1/6 rounds is not enough.
I pray every day for the protection and safety of my child and I cannot imagine the agony that now belongs to Christina's mother. We cannot change the events of the day her light went out. But we will do what we can to honor the life that was taken too soon.
Rest in peace, little one. You will not be forgotten.
Hiding and Seeking and Writing it Out
Sometimes I wonder what people think of me, knowing what they know based on what I write here. I wonder if they see me as damaged or messed up or fragile or just a few thoughts shy of normal. There are only a handful of people that I know who read these posts with regularity, the rest I have no idea who they are, what they think, or if it even matters. But I know they're out there.
I love it when I get feedback, even if it's just a word or two. It really does mean a lot to me. That someone would take the time to offer a few words in response to mine still surprises me.
I was excited to see that this blog is read in Canada, Russia, France and the UK. I'm international, baby! But conversely, it also made me a little bit (more) self-conscious. Because truly, these are just my thoughts, my ramblings, my insecurities put on display. Some of the things I write are intensely personal and I would never, ever be comfortable announcing them to the world with my actual audible voice.
So I hide. Behind my writing. Behind one photo. Even behind the name. (It actually does mean something).
But this, here, is my therapy. I've learned that sometimes it's okay to let someone else get close. I don't have to be pretty or perfect or poised. I make a lot of mistakes. But I think what compels me to say the things I need to say here is the thought that it might, just might, help someone...even if that someone is just me.
I write mostly about CrossFit....and loss. I know both. And believe it or not, one helps me deal with the other. I finally have a physical outlet for my emotional pain. I can't say that it gets better with each passing day. Some days are really good. And some days that pain swells and leaves me bruised on the inside. It's that internal pain that's hard. I can handle physical pain...it's easier and it goes away. To effectively turn myself inside out for others to see has been an incredible, rewarding, and healing experience.
I've been blessed to see that the posts that hurt me the most to write are the ones that end up having the greatest impact. I can see that by the number of times any one post is viewed. I wonder if maybe someone sees it, recognizes something in someone else they love and passes it on, just to let that person know that there is someone, some girl, that gets it. That thought stays in my head, but mostly I write them for me....to help myself heal, to work things out in my own language.
Thank you for allowing me to do that. And thank you for taking the time to look through these windows. I'm learning to leave them open and let the soft scent of friendship surround me. It's an incredible feeling.
I love it when I get feedback, even if it's just a word or two. It really does mean a lot to me. That someone would take the time to offer a few words in response to mine still surprises me.
I was excited to see that this blog is read in Canada, Russia, France and the UK. I'm international, baby! But conversely, it also made me a little bit (more) self-conscious. Because truly, these are just my thoughts, my ramblings, my insecurities put on display. Some of the things I write are intensely personal and I would never, ever be comfortable announcing them to the world with my actual audible voice.
So I hide. Behind my writing. Behind one photo. Even behind the name. (It actually does mean something).
But this, here, is my therapy. I've learned that sometimes it's okay to let someone else get close. I don't have to be pretty or perfect or poised. I make a lot of mistakes. But I think what compels me to say the things I need to say here is the thought that it might, just might, help someone...even if that someone is just me.
I write mostly about CrossFit....and loss. I know both. And believe it or not, one helps me deal with the other. I finally have a physical outlet for my emotional pain. I can't say that it gets better with each passing day. Some days are really good. And some days that pain swells and leaves me bruised on the inside. It's that internal pain that's hard. I can handle physical pain...it's easier and it goes away. To effectively turn myself inside out for others to see has been an incredible, rewarding, and healing experience.
I've been blessed to see that the posts that hurt me the most to write are the ones that end up having the greatest impact. I can see that by the number of times any one post is viewed. I wonder if maybe someone sees it, recognizes something in someone else they love and passes it on, just to let that person know that there is someone, some girl, that gets it. That thought stays in my head, but mostly I write them for me....to help myself heal, to work things out in my own language.
Thank you for allowing me to do that. And thank you for taking the time to look through these windows. I'm learning to leave them open and let the soft scent of friendship surround me. It's an incredible feeling.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A fine line between love and hate
I could be upset with myself for yesterday and today....but I'm not. Yesterday morning I was in a rush, as usual. Not getting in bed until midnight the night before meant ignoring my 4:15 a.m. alarm, which means I didn't make it to CrossFit. The 5:00 a.m. was right out and 5:45 didn't seem any more appealing. And 6:30 is just too late these days. So, good girl that I am, I packed a bag with clothes and shoes so that I could make the last class of the day straight from work. It would be great if said bag had actually made it into my car. :/ Boo. Fail. But I didn't get to leave work until 6:45 p.m. anyway....
No use being mad at myself for missing today either...I skipped my 8 a.m. Sociology class in favor of a couple of hours of sleep. Last night didn't work so well....I was up until 4:30 this morning and I have no idea why.
It's for weeks like this that I bought myself a 35 lb kettlebell online this weekend....and I'm ridiculously excited about it. Sometimes I just need to swing something heavy to make my troubles go away, even if it's just for a moment. And I kind of wish I could be there to see the scrawny little mail carrier haul it up to my doorstep when it arrives later this week. I bet they love those packages. Small and unassuming until you try to pick it up. :)
I also bought myself a band for assisted pull-ups....because even after seven months, I still can't pull my chin up over that bar without help. I will....I just can't do it yet.
I don't know what goes through other people's minds while they work out, but I'm working on things. Emotional things, spiritual things, and physical things. The longer I do this, the less the physical seems to matter....most of the time. But this week, I can't seem to shift my focus away from it.
I read an excellent blog post yesterday over on Paleo Chix. Aileen Ryan wrote about why she doesn't see the need to put herself through another strict paleo challenge ever again. And I think this might be why I couldn't sleep. The point of her post was that such challenges, when repeated out of fear, are not necessary. That hit me so hard. See, on January 3rd, I started my second self-imposed Whole30 strict challenge. Not because I wanted or needed to learn anything new from it....and I didn't realize this until yesterday, but it was out of guilt and fear and self-loathing....punishment for everything I put in my mouth over the holidays. Here I've been, preaching about how we need to be kinder and gentler and more receptive to our emotional selves....and this whole time, I've been feeding myself good, whole, clean food not out of love but out of self-hatred. That's just backwards!
I am absolutely not saying that no one should undertake a strict paleo challenge. Not at all. I believe that going strict (and I mean STRICT....no paleo-fying junk food here, people) for 30 days will reset your body so that it can tell you what it needs and what it doesn't need. But to do it again for the wrong reasons is just, well, wrong. I've been punishing myself with healthy food. That just does not make sense.
And on the other hand, I've been hiding from the gym. I know what some of the reasons are, but the others probably have a lot to do with the same self-loathing, guilt and fear. I'm punishing myself for not being where I want to be skill-wise by....not going?!? Seriously??? (Do you see how I work things out right here?)
That fine line becomes so clear at times. That fence I've been sitting on isn't so comfortable anymore. It never was. It's just a matter of deciding that it's time to jump off.
No use being mad at myself for missing today either...I skipped my 8 a.m. Sociology class in favor of a couple of hours of sleep. Last night didn't work so well....I was up until 4:30 this morning and I have no idea why.
It's for weeks like this that I bought myself a 35 lb kettlebell online this weekend....and I'm ridiculously excited about it. Sometimes I just need to swing something heavy to make my troubles go away, even if it's just for a moment. And I kind of wish I could be there to see the scrawny little mail carrier haul it up to my doorstep when it arrives later this week. I bet they love those packages. Small and unassuming until you try to pick it up. :)
I also bought myself a band for assisted pull-ups....because even after seven months, I still can't pull my chin up over that bar without help. I will....I just can't do it yet.
I don't know what goes through other people's minds while they work out, but I'm working on things. Emotional things, spiritual things, and physical things. The longer I do this, the less the physical seems to matter....most of the time. But this week, I can't seem to shift my focus away from it.
I read an excellent blog post yesterday over on Paleo Chix. Aileen Ryan wrote about why she doesn't see the need to put herself through another strict paleo challenge ever again. And I think this might be why I couldn't sleep. The point of her post was that such challenges, when repeated out of fear, are not necessary. That hit me so hard. See, on January 3rd, I started my second self-imposed Whole30 strict challenge. Not because I wanted or needed to learn anything new from it....and I didn't realize this until yesterday, but it was out of guilt and fear and self-loathing....punishment for everything I put in my mouth over the holidays. Here I've been, preaching about how we need to be kinder and gentler and more receptive to our emotional selves....and this whole time, I've been feeding myself good, whole, clean food not out of love but out of self-hatred. That's just backwards!
I am absolutely not saying that no one should undertake a strict paleo challenge. Not at all. I believe that going strict (and I mean STRICT....no paleo-fying junk food here, people) for 30 days will reset your body so that it can tell you what it needs and what it doesn't need. But to do it again for the wrong reasons is just, well, wrong. I've been punishing myself with healthy food. That just does not make sense.
And on the other hand, I've been hiding from the gym. I know what some of the reasons are, but the others probably have a lot to do with the same self-loathing, guilt and fear. I'm punishing myself for not being where I want to be skill-wise by....not going?!? Seriously??? (Do you see how I work things out right here?)
That fine line becomes so clear at times. That fence I've been sitting on isn't so comfortable anymore. It never was. It's just a matter of deciding that it's time to jump off.
Friday, January 21, 2011
"Mommy, can I snuggle with you?"
"Jesus bless you and keep you safe always." These are the words I whisper over my little boy's head every night as he goes to sleep, and every morning that I have to leave before he wakes up.
As I was sitting in my Sociology class this week, the class discussion turned to the subject of women working outside of the home. The professor asked how many of us had children. A lot of hands went up....all women. Of those, he asked how many also held jobs. One woman said she needs to work to get away from her kids. This kind of comment always pisses me off, mainly because I would give anything just to be able to stay home with my little boy.
That was a dream that is now faded and far off; one that escaped, unrealized. My baby will start kindergarten next fall. I never got the chance to stay home and play with blocks and have tummy time and pull him in a little red wagon on a sunny afternoon. All of those things that a good mom is supposed to do.....
This is why my evenings and weekends and early mornings are so important to me. It's why I turn down dinner invitations and girls' nights and why I could have my husband take him to Grandma's house in the mornings or to preschool on the days that he goes, but I choose to do it. I want to do it. If I hadn't taken him to school this morning, I would have missed his little voice singing all the words to "Spirit in the Sky." Those few minutes in the car have carried me through this day that has otherwise been very sad.
I think this is also why I've been so lax about getting up in the morning to go to CrossFit. Actually, I know that's it. I'm becoming more aware every day that his childhood is slipping through my fingers. I can't hold on to it. And when he crawls into bed with me at 4 a.m. on these cold mornings, I find it so, so hard to tear myself away from his sweet self, his soft little hand holding mine. So, I don't. I have so few of these days left. So, I will make it in to work out when I can. And I will be more disciplined with my schedule so that I'm not stretched so thin and will actually make it in those three times a week that I pay so dearly for. But that little boy comes first. And he always will.
As I was sitting in my Sociology class this week, the class discussion turned to the subject of women working outside of the home. The professor asked how many of us had children. A lot of hands went up....all women. Of those, he asked how many also held jobs. One woman said she needs to work to get away from her kids. This kind of comment always pisses me off, mainly because I would give anything just to be able to stay home with my little boy.
That was a dream that is now faded and far off; one that escaped, unrealized. My baby will start kindergarten next fall. I never got the chance to stay home and play with blocks and have tummy time and pull him in a little red wagon on a sunny afternoon. All of those things that a good mom is supposed to do.....
This is why my evenings and weekends and early mornings are so important to me. It's why I turn down dinner invitations and girls' nights and why I could have my husband take him to Grandma's house in the mornings or to preschool on the days that he goes, but I choose to do it. I want to do it. If I hadn't taken him to school this morning, I would have missed his little voice singing all the words to "Spirit in the Sky." Those few minutes in the car have carried me through this day that has otherwise been very sad.
I think this is also why I've been so lax about getting up in the morning to go to CrossFit. Actually, I know that's it. I'm becoming more aware every day that his childhood is slipping through my fingers. I can't hold on to it. And when he crawls into bed with me at 4 a.m. on these cold mornings, I find it so, so hard to tear myself away from his sweet self, his soft little hand holding mine. So, I don't. I have so few of these days left. So, I will make it in to work out when I can. And I will be more disciplined with my schedule so that I'm not stretched so thin and will actually make it in those three times a week that I pay so dearly for. But that little boy comes first. And he always will.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Absence and the art of getting out of bed
I can't seem to get back on schedule. Everytime I look in the mirror I see puffy eyes that my new eye cream is supposed to be handling, but seems not to be taking seriously. Maybe it's allergies, or that sinus infection I suspect I have, or maybe I'm not sleeping well or enough. Two months ago, I was a machine. Wake every weekday morning at 5:00 a.m., drive to the gym for my daily dose of CrossFit kool-aid and back home again to shower and get ready for work. Each day ran like clockwork. I was getting stronger. I was running on adrenaline. And I was happy.
And then I had to stop.
A forced removal from active participation in my own life...hibernation in the pursuit of academic credit. Talk about throwing a wrench into the gears that run my existence, my being, my place in the everyday. I gave myself a break for what I thought was the immediate after but has since turned into a new normal, and not one that I'm comfortable with.
I still set my alarm for the same time every morning....and nearly every morning for the last month, I've found myself unable to muster whatever that drive was to get out of bed. I have no excuses. I can run in the cold. I can do anything that the whiteboard asks, albeit sometimes in modification. But I just don't want to. I guess that's it. I've lost my "want to."
I know that once I find it, I'll be that happier version of me again. And this is not about being lazy. I have stuff to do, I've just somehow forgotten how to juggle, forgotten how to say "Wait...I have to do this...it's important." I've lost my figurative voice. Or maybe I just feel lost.
I want to go back today. No, really....I do. I didn't want to do it at 5 this morning. But I want to go...after work if at all possible. I know today is deadlifts and sprints and I remember that I love those. And maybe if I keep going...force myself to slip out from under the covers, one foot on the floor and then the other...maybe I'll find my "want to" again.
And then I had to stop.
A forced removal from active participation in my own life...hibernation in the pursuit of academic credit. Talk about throwing a wrench into the gears that run my existence, my being, my place in the everyday. I gave myself a break for what I thought was the immediate after but has since turned into a new normal, and not one that I'm comfortable with.
I still set my alarm for the same time every morning....and nearly every morning for the last month, I've found myself unable to muster whatever that drive was to get out of bed. I have no excuses. I can run in the cold. I can do anything that the whiteboard asks, albeit sometimes in modification. But I just don't want to. I guess that's it. I've lost my "want to."
I know that once I find it, I'll be that happier version of me again. And this is not about being lazy. I have stuff to do, I've just somehow forgotten how to juggle, forgotten how to say "Wait...I have to do this...it's important." I've lost my figurative voice. Or maybe I just feel lost.
I want to go back today. No, really....I do. I didn't want to do it at 5 this morning. But I want to go...after work if at all possible. I know today is deadlifts and sprints and I remember that I love those. And maybe if I keep going...force myself to slip out from under the covers, one foot on the floor and then the other...maybe I'll find my "want to" again.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Another first day down
Because the previous post was rather heavy in subject matter, and because I'm still struggling to put it behind me, I thought I'd blog my first day back to school for the spring semester.....just to lighten things up around here.
I still get nervous on the first day of school. I'm 34 years old and you'd think this wouldn't be an issue anymore. But as soon as I hit the access road to 1604 this morning, I realized I forgot my phone...my lifeline...my connection to the outside world...and I'm fairly certain this is today's equivalent of feeling naked. Too late to go back (Note to self: must leave well before 7:15 on Thursday...) and caught in a monster traffic jam, I just had to let it go and pray that no one would need me for the next three and a half hours...and that I wouldn't need anyone else...or Facebook.
Made it to school in a surprisingly efficient manner, but without a lot of time to spare. Opted to park in the north campus garage to maximize the time I did have....for a fee. So, after the tuition, fees, books and already purchased parking permit, it cost me an additional $7.50 to park today. Awesome. That's okay, I didn't really want lunch....
Did I mention it was butt-ass cold this morning?? Well, it was. And I'm kind of glad for that, as it gave me reason to bust out my super sweet new Uggs. Not the kind of Uggs that 13-year-old girls wear during the summer with their short shorts and malnourished stick legs....but they do have genuine sheepskin lining and my toes were most thankful. I was warm from the knee down (I have a penchant for wearing knee socks) and from the waist up (down filled puffy jackets are my favorite). Apparently, jeans just don't cut it in cold weather. The wind pretty much cut right through them.
Braving my way through the cold air, I made it to class and settled into my seat in the back, thankful that I had at least remembered to bring my coffee. The lecture hall was less than packed but full enough that sitting in the back would not be considered inappropriate. I like it when the seat to student ratio allows for a good 2 to 3 seats between each person....so why the guy who walked in at the last minute chose to sit right next to me, I don't know. And, he had the burps. Fantastic. And my stomach only growled once and I'm pretty sure he thought it was his.
All in all, I had a good morning. I like my first professor, and my second professor is tolerable, though he seems to have a bit of an arrogant streak....and by that I mean he gave us an outline for how we are to e-mail him, and if the e-mail is not in proper form, he will not respond. A little on the picky side....
I'm optimistic that this semester will not wear me down the way last semester did. See what new boots can do for one's outlook?
I still get nervous on the first day of school. I'm 34 years old and you'd think this wouldn't be an issue anymore. But as soon as I hit the access road to 1604 this morning, I realized I forgot my phone...my lifeline...my connection to the outside world...and I'm fairly certain this is today's equivalent of feeling naked. Too late to go back (Note to self: must leave well before 7:15 on Thursday...) and caught in a monster traffic jam, I just had to let it go and pray that no one would need me for the next three and a half hours...and that I wouldn't need anyone else...or Facebook.
Made it to school in a surprisingly efficient manner, but without a lot of time to spare. Opted to park in the north campus garage to maximize the time I did have....for a fee. So, after the tuition, fees, books and already purchased parking permit, it cost me an additional $7.50 to park today. Awesome. That's okay, I didn't really want lunch....
Did I mention it was butt-ass cold this morning?? Well, it was. And I'm kind of glad for that, as it gave me reason to bust out my super sweet new Uggs. Not the kind of Uggs that 13-year-old girls wear during the summer with their short shorts and malnourished stick legs....but they do have genuine sheepskin lining and my toes were most thankful. I was warm from the knee down (I have a penchant for wearing knee socks) and from the waist up (down filled puffy jackets are my favorite). Apparently, jeans just don't cut it in cold weather. The wind pretty much cut right through them.
Braving my way through the cold air, I made it to class and settled into my seat in the back, thankful that I had at least remembered to bring my coffee. The lecture hall was less than packed but full enough that sitting in the back would not be considered inappropriate. I like it when the seat to student ratio allows for a good 2 to 3 seats between each person....so why the guy who walked in at the last minute chose to sit right next to me, I don't know. And, he had the burps. Fantastic. And my stomach only growled once and I'm pretty sure he thought it was his.
All in all, I had a good morning. I like my first professor, and my second professor is tolerable, though he seems to have a bit of an arrogant streak....and by that I mean he gave us an outline for how we are to e-mail him, and if the e-mail is not in proper form, he will not respond. A little on the picky side....
I'm optimistic that this semester will not wear me down the way last semester did. See what new boots can do for one's outlook?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Six years and not forgotten
I'm just warning you. This will be a hard one to read. I know, because it's a hard one to write. I've tried over and over and over again, but haven't ever been able to get past the first few words. But I'm determined to get it out. It might explain some things about me....or it might not.
I get an uncomfortable lump in my throat, so big it almost chokes me. My nose starts to burn and my eyes well up with tears. I can't help it. Happens every time I think about it. And I think about it at the oddest times and in the oddest places....the on-ramp from 410 to 281 South, sitting at my desk, minding my own business, in the grocery store. A familiar panic sets in....don't do this....not here....not now. (Even now as I write this, I keep having to get up and walk around, run to the ladies' room and pinch the bridge of my nose until the burning stops but unable to do anything to prevent the big, fat tears from falling to the small square tiles on the floor. You know the kind of tears....so big that they splash.)
Her little face appears. I know it's her because a mother knows the face of her child. And she looks exactly like Wes did at that age. It first happened about six months after I sat there in the doctor's office, on that cold and uncomfortable black plastic chair, the doctor's words echoing in my head while she placed her hand over mine, held her head with her other hand and struggled to hold back her own tears. "This is not a normal pregnancy...."
If I close my eyes I can still see it today. It was January and we were at April's house, in her driveway just outside of the garage. The driveway is long and distinctive, with curves and a turn around, and a cedar tree that's missing a limb because I very gracefully backed my husband's truck into it one day. I don't know why we were there, but I was holding her on my left hip, swinging her around and around in circles, her soft light brown bangs brushing her face in the breeze. Her brown eyes sparkling as she smiled into mine. In my dream, she must have been about 2 years old. Small white sweater buttoned at the top and a thin red ribbon in her hair. It was just a moment. That's all I was given. All I have of her.
I buried my face in the pillow and pleaded with God, my knees tucked underneath me and my hands fashioned into fists, trying desperately to go back to sleep, back to the place where for one brief moment...."Please, Lord, just a few more minutes....just a few more minutes....please!" ..... He said no. But He's allowed me to remember every detail for these six years since.
And I'm grateful.
I get an uncomfortable lump in my throat, so big it almost chokes me. My nose starts to burn and my eyes well up with tears. I can't help it. Happens every time I think about it. And I think about it at the oddest times and in the oddest places....the on-ramp from 410 to 281 South, sitting at my desk, minding my own business, in the grocery store. A familiar panic sets in....don't do this....not here....not now. (Even now as I write this, I keep having to get up and walk around, run to the ladies' room and pinch the bridge of my nose until the burning stops but unable to do anything to prevent the big, fat tears from falling to the small square tiles on the floor. You know the kind of tears....so big that they splash.)
Her little face appears. I know it's her because a mother knows the face of her child. And she looks exactly like Wes did at that age. It first happened about six months after I sat there in the doctor's office, on that cold and uncomfortable black plastic chair, the doctor's words echoing in my head while she placed her hand over mine, held her head with her other hand and struggled to hold back her own tears. "This is not a normal pregnancy...."
If I close my eyes I can still see it today. It was January and we were at April's house, in her driveway just outside of the garage. The driveway is long and distinctive, with curves and a turn around, and a cedar tree that's missing a limb because I very gracefully backed my husband's truck into it one day. I don't know why we were there, but I was holding her on my left hip, swinging her around and around in circles, her soft light brown bangs brushing her face in the breeze. Her brown eyes sparkling as she smiled into mine. In my dream, she must have been about 2 years old. Small white sweater buttoned at the top and a thin red ribbon in her hair. It was just a moment. That's all I was given. All I have of her.
I buried my face in the pillow and pleaded with God, my knees tucked underneath me and my hands fashioned into fists, trying desperately to go back to sleep, back to the place where for one brief moment...."Please, Lord, just a few more minutes....just a few more minutes....please!" ..... He said no. But He's allowed me to remember every detail for these six years since.
And I'm grateful.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Resolutions are for habitual quitters
If I get one more e-mail that says anything remotely close to "New Year, New You" in the subject line, I swear I will slap the person sitting closest to me at that moment. No, LIVESTRONG, I don't want to log my daily food intake with you. And Weight Watchers, I know I have unsubscribed from your e-mail list at least half a dozen times. Do you require notice of a restraining order?
For the first time I think ever in my life, I do not have a New Year's resolution that has anything to do with my weight or clothing size. Instead, I resolved to wash my dishes every night before I go to bed. I realize most people probably already do this, and if you're going to judge me for not doing it then we probably don't need to be friends. But I'm happy to report that I have been 100% successful in keeping this resolution....nevermind that it's only January 4th.
My other goal (I don't actually like the term "resolution" anymore) was to write something...here...every day. That, I'm sorry to say, has been an absolute fail.
This is where I come to work things out, but lately it's felt dark and damp and not at all welcoming. I feel the need to keep my coat on, just in case I have to dash out the door that I didn't quite close all the way for the very same reasons. I can't say exactly what's keeping me in this state of uncertainty, I just know I feel it.
2010 was a year of monumental changes for me. I don't know how ready or prepared or comfortable I am with any more changes that might come forth in 2011. But I'm also excited. It's all silly, really, being confined by the four corners of a calendar. At the same time, it's how we compartmentalize our lives.
2010 ended with the quiet sense that I'm not so sure of where I belong anymore. And the second it took to go from one year to the next didn't bring any clarity. But the difference in this New Year and New Years past is that I was a little sorry to see 2010 go. It was a year of change, but it was a good year. I made great strides as an individual. I tried new places and new things and sort of found a new sense of being....which is probably why I find those e-mails so irritating. Do we really need a new us every new year? Because I'm pretty sure that would qualify as schizophrenia.
So I'm not great at keeping all of my goals or resolutions. People change and so do our views. And I'm still not sure of some things that hitched a ride on the hands of the clock as it struck the first midnight of 2011. But at least my dishes are clean.
For the first time I think ever in my life, I do not have a New Year's resolution that has anything to do with my weight or clothing size. Instead, I resolved to wash my dishes every night before I go to bed. I realize most people probably already do this, and if you're going to judge me for not doing it then we probably don't need to be friends. But I'm happy to report that I have been 100% successful in keeping this resolution....nevermind that it's only January 4th.
My other goal (I don't actually like the term "resolution" anymore) was to write something...here...every day. That, I'm sorry to say, has been an absolute fail.
This is where I come to work things out, but lately it's felt dark and damp and not at all welcoming. I feel the need to keep my coat on, just in case I have to dash out the door that I didn't quite close all the way for the very same reasons. I can't say exactly what's keeping me in this state of uncertainty, I just know I feel it.
2010 was a year of monumental changes for me. I don't know how ready or prepared or comfortable I am with any more changes that might come forth in 2011. But I'm also excited. It's all silly, really, being confined by the four corners of a calendar. At the same time, it's how we compartmentalize our lives.
2010 ended with the quiet sense that I'm not so sure of where I belong anymore. And the second it took to go from one year to the next didn't bring any clarity. But the difference in this New Year and New Years past is that I was a little sorry to see 2010 go. It was a year of change, but it was a good year. I made great strides as an individual. I tried new places and new things and sort of found a new sense of being....which is probably why I find those e-mails so irritating. Do we really need a new us every new year? Because I'm pretty sure that would qualify as schizophrenia.
So I'm not great at keeping all of my goals or resolutions. People change and so do our views. And I'm still not sure of some things that hitched a ride on the hands of the clock as it struck the first midnight of 2011. But at least my dishes are clean.
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