Looking Back and Moving on...

Well, that was definitely the issue---expectation. Since my little epiphany the other day, I haven't had any subsequent grief about the raw deals as of late; in fact, I've been feeling rather indifferent, so we're going to go ahead and chalk that up to having moved on. And good, because holy crap do I have a lot to go onto right now...

I just got back from derby practice, at which I had to do my annual tests. We've just had an international ruleset update too, so a written test was also required. Being a career test taker, the latter was pretty easy, but let me tell you something, I'm freaking glad I've been running a few times a week because doing 27 laps around that rink in five minutes is a serious $&#@!...not to mention all the other jumps, backwards skating, stops, turns, and agility drills I had to pass tonight, ugh; if it weren't for this stupid 5-hour energy thing I drank, I'd totally be unconscious right now.

BUT, the good news is I passed everything... just in time to wrap up our season, ha :) We have about a month left (June), and then we'll have a month off before starting back in August. And hear this, dear reader, by then, I plan to be made out of granite---they're rechartering teams in August/September you see, and I'd rather like to make the travel team next season, which goes to Nationals. That means P90X is going to resurface starting next week in addition to running, and I figure between that and the green smoothie addition/gluten elimination tweak in my diet lately, I should be well on my way.

SO, that's the plan. I'm down to about a size 8-10 again, but to be honest, I don't even care. I think this is how I know I'm now in a sport that's resonating; there are no size stereotypes to bend yourself backwards into; you just need to be fast, agile, and strong to be good, and for the first time in my life I'm one of the first string players. I mean, I've always played sports, but even when I made the varsity team I was never first on the field; it feels pretty good to be there now, and I think I have triathlon to thank for teaching me how to push through even when it seems like there's nothing left; there's always one more mile in me. Funny how things scaffold in life, huh?

And I think that's that... school is out in a few weeks, our kids are wrapping up a successful first year in the new school district, and despite a few trees in my path this year, I'm pretty happy with where I've wound up.

Yep. Here's to new adventures...

Sometimes, You Just Need a Long Bus Ride

Had a fun day on Laura's band trip to Indianapolis today! We went to the Symphony and then to the Children's Museum, and while the whole day was fun, I think what I needed most was the six hours in my own head while riding to and from on the bus as the kids slept. 

Whew... see, lately I've had a few rude awakenings about some people in two separate areas of my life, especially in the last few months, and for the first time in a long time, haven't known exactly how to get past the obstacle of it. Their level of audacity and callousness, I just don't know, took my by surprise I guess. But the thinking I did today brought me to the following conclusion: You can't make sense of what others do sometimes, but you can try to look at the situation as a learning experience--one that teaches you to appreciate yourself more. We all have traumatic things or misunderstandings that happen in our lives, and the ways in which we handle them are infinitely different. 

Some of us protect others as best we can from our personal storms, and some of us go out of our way to draw attention to them and put others in as much pain as we're in. I guess it all comes from a place of suffering, but man, the latter just isn't my style. I absolutely know this about myself, and it helps to acknowledge it. What else I'm not? I'm not like others who walk around like self-proclaimed demigods, rapt to dish out judgement at the first sign of anything they perceive to be a flag when all the while they've just lost touch with reality...with the human aspect of the thing they were lucky enough to ever be part of in the first place. Still others stand by and watch the injustice play out, too afraid for themselves to do anything about it, and you know what, I'm not like those people either.

So, all that time reflecting today made me realize that I've been so hung up lately because I guess I was focusing on what I expected of others based on what I would do (or NEVER would have done), and was thus grossly disappointed. It didn't make sense, and I just couldn't get over it as a result... but by feeling some compassion for the shortcomings of these people, I actually no longer feel hurt by them; I'd have been stronger and wiser, and I know this because I've been in their shoes and was. 

In the end, maybe that's the good, hard look at myself that's been waiting around for me to notice...must be, because it genuinely feels like I can let it go now.

Huh...

Well, maybe I should get pissed off beyond all reckoning and then have a grand mal panic meltdown more often. It's good for my run game.

Today I woke up feeling like I'd hiked to Jesus for some reason, I mean, like whoa. I didn't stay up too late, didn't do anything too strenuous via workout, not sick, so I don't know. Welcome to life after 35 I guess. Anyway, I had the morning to myself, the weather was *just* trying to rain, which if you've been with me for a while, you know is right up my alley, and it just seemed like the thing to do. I didn't have a plan, haven't run for distance for a handful of months now, so just decided to see what I could do off the cuff.

Um...

Nine miles.

8:42 pace.

What kind of crap is that? I train for a race for MONTHS and can't even get close to that pace at that distance. Weirdest part, I never felt burned at any part of the run. I just started out with a whatever pace (that I didn't even know), and stopped when my watch beeped at the last mile-goal distance I'd programmed into it. Yep.

I dunno.

What I do know is that it's nice to feel like I can crash into a wall I never saw coming and after a beat, still get up swinging.

Thank you, Ironman.

Made it back just before it started pouring :)

Grateful for Good Friends

Well, today started out AWFUL, and wound up pretty decent.  I mean, I was inside-out last night and through to mid-morning, at which time I knew I needed to make a few phone calls and talk to some old friends. The completely unconditional support I got from them realigned whatever got knocked out of joint in me beforehand, and I honestly can't thank them enough... Von and Steve, you guys are the best. Thank you for saving the day :)

Ghosts

Well, that hasn't happened for a while...suffice it to say, it was a long night.

But, as is my way, I look for the lesson: Apparently, you can't ever take your eyes off an enemy, even one you think you've killed. They're never really dead.

I don't want to think about the years of my life I spent chasing demons up hills, down baking asphalt roads, and through early April chop. How many times did I risk my life in the very attempt to save it? Riptides, tornadoes, no brakes down 10% grade hills, running through hail storms...all for the experiences, the proof to myself that I was a survivor. All this to get locked down again in my kitchen of all places, like some kind of rabbit caught in the screen door. All this as soon as I was alone and finally free, finally safe in a place I built. I guess I just wasn't prepared.

When it used to happen all the time, at least I had some warning...I could feel my throat closing and my fingers go cold, and if I could stay calm, I could wait it out. But that warning system has been offline for years now, so it was like the first time all over again.

My predominant emotion is anger, I think. Not fear, but that's perhaps what I do with fear...turn it into a war. I don't know, but there's no way in hell I'm going through all that again. I don't know what I need to do yet, but if I've learned anything about myself throughtout all this, it's that I can figure it out. And that sooner rather than later, I will.

Imagine Dragons - Radioactive

This about says it...

Consumption

I come to the pine lined bank to drink 
like a doe,
like submission.
To sit me inside that rotted out
willow body and whittle knuckle bones 
from birch limbs,
wrenched free and ripped wet freezing.
I bend them like hands to hold
my head, to stroke
my cheeks like fingertips.
In between whisky river swells
I sip unfrozen,
swallow churning--
Watch burn gutted
the frayed stumps cauterizing
under a new November skin fall.

Waking Up

Seems I've been a little delusional for a while now about more than I thought, which I've come to realize thanks to an arrogant and often rude awakening recently (with rather uncanny timing, I might add, considering the crossroads I appear to be at here in my life right now). What's really blowing me away more than anything, though, is how effortless some of the changes in my perspective seem to be here this last week. I feel unstuck for the first time in a long time, back in touch with something fundamental in myself; maybe it's a resonance at a certain frequency, I don't know, it just feels like  buzzing and clicking... like static -- something has clicked on.

When I'm not feeling awesome about this, I'm actually a little afraid of it because it's almost like I'm not driving... I don't know if that's because I've just been kind of going through the motions for so long or what, but this is a weird, primal kind of focus I'm suddenly feeling; things are out of my way, and I'm not sure what's going to become of that. Walls keep things out, but they also keep things in, after all... and maybe that's what I'm nervous about in the end.

Progress

Some hard won praise from my MFA director about my first cut of poems for the book. Finally feeling like I'm getting somewhere....whew.


"There's an interesting blend here--Ai's sensibility is strong, though the voice is your own. And the poems feel mythic (there's some Stanford influence)--but I think the poets you are working with are good--they're pushing you away from overwriting... I like how these poems are so funky, and dark, but also like some weird autobiographical Alice in Wonderland thing... I think that aspect of the WORLD captured in the poems makes them cohere to some extent.These are blazing, but in some ways they're subtle. That's hard to do . . . Very good ..."

The Beginning

... of something new, that is. After all, I'm a long way from the start of all this. What I've come to realize, though, is that there is no point to point journey like I originally thought. You don't just decide on a path, take it, arrive after a while, and voila, you're done... free to live the rest of your life like normal, uncluttered people thereafter. In fact, in light of recent wake up calls, I feel a little stupid for having so recently believed such a thing, but I suppose that's the price we pay for progress.

That said, I've decided it's pretty clear to me know that we never stop. There are only levels that we pass through, each with its own crucibles and opportunities, and wise to this now, it's no wonder I've had such a difficult time shutting doors behind me. I've been under the impression there was no where else to go, nothing else to figure out or discover about myself, and nothing more out there in terms of life lessons for me to interpret, which, yes, in hindsight---hell, typing it now---seems so impossibly naive I'm embarrassed to even admit it. But there we are, I suppose. And because of realizing this, I can  now really move on.

To start off, I guess the best thing to do at this point is to take some inventory. What am I leaving here at this hub, what am I taking with me...and you know, I'm leaving this idea that I somehow need to prove anything to anyone. I haven't needed approval for a very long time, and even then it was only ever my own that I needed to recognize and accept. Life is too short to worry about judgement, especially about that of people who don't have the compass with which to even begin mapping me. I think by leaving this here, I'll be free to take risks that will pull me out of my comfort zone... sounds like a logical first step, no? I mean, how else can a person get anywhere? Can't say where it'll take me, but it'll get me moving again, which is all that matters.

And what am I taking... let's see...I think that will have to be this perspective that there is no finish line I want to find anytime soon, and that processing these "life projects" isn't something I can check off my to-do list of elf-actualizing accomplishments, PTSD unpacked baggage, or anything like that because they aren't finite like I thought they were. Ironman was a leg of a journey, and this is another. I don't need to prove to myself that I'm strong enough to endure, that I have the courage to face my fears, or that I can conquer them like I once did. Now, I need to forgive myself for all the mistakes I've made along the way, and I need to stop feeling guilty about pursuing my own interests again...I don't have to sacrifice everything in the name of perceived retribution for the five years I spent climbing out of a hole in my spare time because damn it all, I never missed reading a story, a tuck in, or a tooth fairy note, even with 20-hour training weeks. To the rest of the world, no one was shortchanged by my dragon slaying, so the only thing I can think of that could cause this guilt is the knowledge that I didn't have enough of myself in tact to appreciate what I had in my life for how amazing it was, and I can never get that back. I missed that whole time of being aware, to the degree that I know I'm capable of feeling it, and that kills me. But I have it now---I mean, I'm in tune enough to really experience these feelings of appreciation, and that ability isn't in jeopardy just because I take some time to do things that help me evolve as an individual too.

So, I guess we'll see where this takes me. As for what direction to decide to go in, let's pick what scares me the most, because there's obviously something waiting for me there...I'm dusting off my skates, and am going to seriously contemplate embracing, and in doing so, confronting why certain aspects of this sport such as the unabashed, unapologetic self-expression of it make me so nervous. Suffice it to say, the hot pants and fishnets may not be my style, but I can't unilaterally decide that without honestly trying them out, or I'll never know if it's really just my comfort zone holding me back. Yep, I'm the head of an English department, a book worm, and I live in a conservative small town... but I worked pretty hard for these thighs, too, now didn't I? And at the end of the day, I suppose no frogs will fall from the sky if they see the light of day once in a while.

In public.

In front of people I know.

Gulp. Well here we go...

Forward

Time for a new story.

What a Ride

Everyone is asleep upstairs now, the bread machine is whirring down here, and my house still smells like buttercream frosting, or maybe that's just the way everything smells to me now considering I've been wrist deep in it all day. But, it was worth it. The cake turned out pretty decently considering I only had an hour to decorate it between getting everything made for it and getting other stuff ready for people to come over... so, I'll take it. It was small and simple, but Michael liked it, and that's all that matters (see the link below for a picture).

All in all this has been a much lower key birthday season than in years past, most likely because we've forgone the epic themed parties with 25 friends for  family "adventures." We took Michael to the Museum of Science and Industry during Robot Week for his birthday this year ---he is CRAZY about robots--- then just had a small family party... click here for the pictures. The kids seem to like this new tradition even more than the themed parties of old, which is fine with me because I really don't think I could pull those off anymore -- holy cow, just this family party was a lot of work. Indeed, once upon a time, maybe I really was Wonder Woman ;)

That said, as I sit here in the dark reflecting on things, I must admit it's been a pretty good day. Ebb and flow, huh? I guess learning to work with the waves has always been hard for me, but at least I've learned that most of the time, if I ever fall out with anyone, it's because I assume they share my best qualities, but they don't, and they assume I share their worst qualities, but I don't. It's so uncanny that it's comical...disappointing either way, sure, but if the worst thing I ever do is give people too much credit in this world, I guess there are far worse things. I'd definitely rather hope than not, so it's just a risk I'll have to take.

So, with that perspective and the memory of Michael's excited face today, I suppose I'm not too worse for the wear with all the undulations of late.

As ever, what a ride...

Post 100 -- Birthday Streamlining

Been away for a bit, sorry; it's been a little stressful the last few weeks in dealing with a surprise tax bill, total schedule craziness, and in learning that I've just criminally overestimated the character of some people for probably several years now, but I've worked it all out---both for now and in the long term. I never want to be in that situation again, so, by this time three years from now, we will have absolutely zero debt... no credit card bills, no mortgage, nothing. I guess it takes something like a surprise tax bill and schedule stress, topped with burning the bridges of old friendships that have grown brittle to kick your life into complete streamlining mode...I mean, if you're going to clean house, clean the whole damn house, right?

SO, that's what I did---revamped our investments, restructured our budget, reimplemented the 4:00 a.m. wake up to facilitate three days of yoga, two days of running, and one day of writing, and once and for all rid myself of counterproductive people and practices. As a result, my book project is almost finished, my head is clear, and maybe for the first time in my life, I feel genuinely free to appreciate and enjoy each day; amazing what a little life spring cleaning will do.

All that said, there's a busy week ahead! Michael's birthday is tomorrow, and since we've all become Doctor Who fanatics, Michael has requested a "Dalek Supreme" cake. My exceptionally talented, awesome husband snapped the following shot of Michael's made-from-scratch Dalek prison, complete with locking mechanism and alarm system (um, holy cow; the stuff this kid does with LEGOs blows me away) to illustrate:

Thus, I give you the cake template I found online; except the Dalek I'll be making will be white:

Wish me luck!

I'm also excited to report that Laura is now officially a published poet! We just got this letter in the mail:

Click all pics to enlarge.

She's also getting a district recognition award for academic excellence (GPA of 3.5 - 4.0), and another for exceptional achievement in visual and performing arts! I'm beyond proud of her.

It's hard to avoid thinking you're not doing enough as a mom, but our kids are happy, successful, confident, polite, and kind, and as long as this remains, I'll consider my life a success. The amazing bonuses of health, some true friends, a fantastic husband and family, and a career that I love are all things that I am also incredibly lucky to have---all of which are that much easier to see now that I've cleared away the clutter in my life. Here's to heading into year 39 next Saturday with gratitude for the rough path that has been, appreciation for where I am now as a result, and the utmost hope for what I dare believe may just be a much more peaceful road ahead. 

Finally, I'd like to send a special note out to Alison and Rhys: Please know that I also count you among those true friends I mention above. Thank you for your support and companionship all these years; it's hard to believe that oceans lie between us :)

Witchgrass

by Loiuse Glück

Something

comes into the world unwelcome

calling disorder, disorder—

If you hate me so much

don’t bother to give me

a name: do you need

one more slur

in your language, another

way to blame

one tribe for everything—

as we both know,

if you worship

one god, you only need

one enemy—

I’m not the enemy.

Only a ruse to ignore

what you see happening

right here in this bed,

a little paradigm

of failure.  One of your precious flowers

dies here almost every day

and you can’t rest until

you attack the cause, meaning

whatever is left, whatever

happens to be sturdier

than your personal passion—

It was not meant

to last forever in the real world.

But why admit that, when you can go on

doing what you always do,

mourning and laying blame,

always the two together.

I don’t need your praise

to survive.  I was here first,

before you were here, before

you ever planted a garden.

And I’ll be here when only the sun and moon

are left, and the sea, and the wide field.

I will constitute the field.

A Journey to Rival Ironman

Wow, this is hard. Stepping up from just basic, relaxing yoga to Ashtanga (power) yoga is ... whew. I tried to set up the foundation for the two arm stands pictured below last night, and could barely wash my hair this morning thanks to the lactic acid rigor mortis that resulted in my shoulders. The women in those pictures must be able to lift a car. Back at the grindstone Saturday...

The Day's Debrief

New article written for DerbyLife, new poems written and edited that I LOVE, working theme for my collection identified, and a new personal trajectory launched...there's just nothing like the occasional all nighter (well, two hours of sleep anyway) to reprioritize your emotional energy allotment. Suffice it to say, I'm happy to have processed the funk I was in. You do what you can do, and then you just have to do something else.

So, that said, starting next week, guess what I'm learning?

Holding these poses is the goal. So excited to start!!! 

The Whole Story

And then, sometimes things aren't what they seem. You'd think I'd give that possibility a go before assuming the worst, but nope.

I hope that's something that gets easier the older I get. For now, though, at least I'm lucky to have some friends who will still help me see the whole story, even amidst my completely certain, raging assumption.

Yes. Thank you for that.

Coming Home

You can't go back, no matter how you delude yourself into thinking you can. The people you left there are not the same; the things you thought you understood were simple only because you were also simple then. The act of leaving and living adds layers to you, takes out notches, and after a while you just don't work in the same worn soft grooves anymore. Coming home fits like betrayal.

The first instinct is to rail and condescend, but soon enough, if you've really lived, you see the defense mechanism for what it is. That it just buffers the sinking in of the hit that follows the shock of the first, and you know the only thing you can do is leave for good---try to remember the things you built as a kid, the games you played, your old hiding places, and not hate them because you're not you anymore, and they're still them.