Posted on in anxiety

Chaos and Calm

For me, it is the calm that causes the storm that I try to chase away.  A swirling numbness that haunts and hurts. When it swings through my mind and heart, all I can do is ride out the storm and busy my mind as chaos is my ticket out of my ride that causes nothing but misery. This is not daily. Nope. But when it hits, it hits. I am not alone.

All of us have issues. No one gets through life without a few scars, and the hurt we survive comes in many forms. Some chosen crutches are to numb, cry, run, meditate, and seek help, but we all have issues that are only mounting for the generations that will keep our social security churning. As a teacher, I see students shut down over minor issues and have no understanding of how to get out of their own minds and into life with a sense of purpose and a bit of their own chaos or whatever calms their own storms.

Posted on in epilepsy, health, sixty, weight loss

Enjoy the Ride

A mantra firmly planted on my wall in front of my bike. During a ride, I read it over and over and extend the meaning beyond my pedals. Currently, I am relearning the art of enjoyment. Depression is odd. I know I am blessed, have a great daily life as a teacher, make a difference, and am loved. But the feeling persists. A dark cloud that chases me and, at times, hovers. On good days, it allows the sun to shine through for my reminder me that life is amazing even with a depressive persona. This will never go away. Clouds will be off to the side waiting to dart towards my life, but the clarity of life is my goal, and my understanding that this is one big ride is a milestone that I celebrated by taking a chance and talking to my physician about the dreaded topic of weight. I had gained. I knew it. For many reasons, this was a bold move, but I was ready.

Now, having a weighty conversation is awkward, but it is  better to have it with a doctor who has known you for years. You can at least forgive their bedside horrors, and frankly, facts are facts. So, we started with the number. He just pointed to my chart. I cried, and during my blubbering, I was proud of myself as I made no excuses. Nope. I owned my issue, not worrying about how many clouds would chase after me, bringing me that feeling of dread. To my surprise, I left lighter and full of hope as I have three months to get new habits, a weigh-in, and then the discussion if I need medical help. We both are fighting that one, but this is Mayo. Their plan is stronger than the corner shot clinic, and my goal is thirty-five pounds. For me, this will take six months to a year due to the list of meds that keep my epilepsy in check. I left with a caloric target and a protein goal. A huge one to keep carbs and bad fats away. This, with a serious upgrade in riding, a bit of low weights, pilates, or yoga on off days is the ticket.

Fast forward to day four. I am hungry, but protein seems to keep me in check. I miss food but realize this is life, not a diet. Eating correctly and working out or suffering an alternative far bleaker than a dancing dark cloud is my choice , and I can not break my eating or fitness patterns  anymore, as 61 is 61 and while weight loss will not chase all my clouds away the sunshine will peer through occasionally as the success of consistency brings hope and hope is eternally powerful force for those living with depression.

Posted on in anxiety

Not My First Rodeo

Starting a new therapist always brings hope. Now, it has been fifteen years since I last needed this boost. But the adjective is the same. The first session insights of my new partner are boredom, and I am wondering if they are any more qualified than I am doing self-talk in the car. But I proceed through the session until they make sense and give me homework. I love homework because it gives me a sense of accomplishment, which I need daily. So if I already know this, why go. Why commit to a new dance partner? I actually have no answer, other than it chases the blues away, makes me feel less alone in the battle and causes me to go deep and forgive my parents and myself for a failure that still haunts me to this day. You need to find your reason, so your week two becomes a week three and beyond.

So, go find your why and start your own rodeo that will not start wild and rocking. Everything or anything might not be solved, but it will help you rope in your feelings and move to understanding  and hopeful guide to better days.

Posted on in anxiety, book

No Applause

I met a woman who has never felt a day of depression in her 91 years. “It must suck,” was her response. All I could think was yes, yes, it does. She continued to ask me, “Why are there depression commercials?”  My response was,”I don’t know.” My head went to a different place. Everywhere we turn, there are reminders, commercials, pills, quick fixes, etc. Worse yet is the new oddity of the open person who is applauded for their bravery for coming out and sharing the story of the sadness, despair, and their first world worries that lead them to not enjoying life to the fullest. They do a journal, go to yoga, talk to a pricey shrink, and are cured. So applaud if you will, but I am more of a lifer and do not want it, I just want this numb feeling to go away.  I have been relatively numb for thirty years off, and on. Mine is not caused by  getting the nanny I wanted or having to travel business class or not having enough me time. No, mine is more.  Most of the time, it is very controlled. No one knows the high functioning depressed type. We are low-key and a chameleon by necessity as it hits for days, not years in a row, just a rollercoaster of numbness. No attention is needed or wanted. Just relief.  So, I am going to write. Alot. In this blog. Remember, it’s cool, and in my essay book. Still messy, chapters out of order and truly represents a life that is a little numb that wants an awakening that might just come through, yes, the process. The work that must take place to stay away from the sad I feel for absolutely no reason. So work I will. I know I am not alone, and perhaps my out of shape body, mind, soul, and chapter book will finally come together.

Posted on in education

This Teacher Could Do More…It Was A Choice

At large gatherings of movers and shakers, I receive repeated questions, and I am fine with my answers to the questions and comments towards my choices. “So what are you up to now?  “Thank you for what you do.” Plus the follow-up.”What are you running for next?” But last night it hit wrong as my answers and overt gestures were once again teacher, eye-roll, and NO. It hit as if I had settled. I didn’t. I fulfilled my campaign promise. I would go back into the classroom, win or lose, for kids. I should have mentioned I am teaching summer school, just to eek out a tad over 60k. Just a tad and attending another teacher certification for an additional 5k on my contract. People, that’s big bucks in my world. Insert pity, look, and  commentary of how we miss you politically. Blah, blah, blah. You would have been great. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

It is a sad state when the classroom teacher is pitied. It actually hurts as I love my daily life and the lives I touch, and while I could have gone to law school or stayed in broadcasting, or not veered from my path as a retail buyer. I wanted more. My desire to make a difference not with wins or story segments or even a new line of clothing that sells as soon as it hits the floor. My desire was to teach and have a family and a career that fit our lifestyle. 

So today, I am pitied by others as my profession has gone through more unnecessary changes and hoops that scare off the newly minted college graduate. I agree that my world will never be the same but as I roll with the punches, I still see the same light in the eyes of students from time to time, and that is why I put in the work, year in and year out. Don’t pity me or any teacher. Please applaud.

Posted on in grey hair, health, sixty

Tipping Over Sixty

Sixty was hard. I felt my age. Middle-age extras in all areas, a few injuries, comfort food, and a lazy attitude kept me feeling my age. My mind kept going to the elder thinking ways, as I lost a parent. That will make you think for a bit. My thoughts lasted too long, and every pang was an emergency. Finally, I woke up and dusted off my sixty years to embrace sixty-one and beyond. It’s never been the number it’s always been about life with the number and sixty stunk. Lots of lots. Leave it at that, nothing insurmountable, I come from strong stock. But the moments plus my looks that turned accelerated the feeling of old when anything but. Did I mention I am vain. Oh yes, and while no model beauty, the little I have, I treasure, and in my eyes, the slow crumble was devastating.

Until now, actually last week. I just snapped out of it, got on my bike, rejoined Weight Watchers, Oprah or not, and am doing things the right way for my body and my life. Of course, with my newer fluffy body in shrink mode. I made peace with the neck. It’s not going away. My thought is that if the other pounds slowly melt, fitness increases, and my grand buddy and I explore the world more. I don’t care. I want to keep up with him and enjoy. Nugget thinks I am pretty. All the time, except once when I herniated my disc and told me I needed a shower. But that is another story, and he was right.

So sixty-one has a few gadgets trying to minimize lines, better makeup on my weaker areas, simple comfy styles as I shrink and feel happy wearing, and my notation that size and weight do not matter, it is overall eating to live and moving to move everyday, without fail that is key. Sixty-one is enjoyment, love, travel, family, and feeling youthful per mind and body. Why not! Sixty-one is designing sixty-five, i.e., retirement to create a busy fulfilling next season. I have ideas. It’s a start, but no concrete plans, and I know I am blessed to be at this stage.

Bring on Sixty-one!

Posted on in education

Spring Break=Recovery

Let’s face it, a teachers’ spring break is different. Not because we are teachers with less spending ability, anyone can save, but because we are exhausted. Let me rephrase, teachers who have taught over twenty years have different looking spring breaks. We are in recovery from the sights, sounds, and smells of school. Not the work, just the chaos of kids. No matter their behavior, they are still busy. 

I had the best break. I listened to my body and slept. Now, don’t get me wrong, I did clean, organize a bit, watch way too much nonsense television, wrote, and played with my dogs. But I slept so much that I finally felt normal six days later. I’m not sad or in hiding, just doing that self-care bit. I actually had some excitement planned, all canceled due to the need for rest. My body gave out, and I did not feel robbed or have feelings of FOMO as my friends traveled because I slept.

Today, on the last weekend of break. I will do laundry, set up my clothes for the week, organize my meal delivery, and watch some basketball to ease back into life, but probably throw in a nap because after twenty years I have earned it!

For those with far fewer years. You are recovering from a trip and throwing life together, enjoy the crazy years, and look forward to your naps.

Posted on in anxiety, essay, family

It Was My Choice

Recently, I reconnected with a family member, while not estranged, we were never in the same zip code, and life moves quickly. A question asked with innocence crushed my soul. “Who are your people in the family?” I could not answer. I was baffled. All I could think about was my dad, my bridge into a world that was not mine. No one made me feel different or out of a loop, but 3,000 miles will do that to any relationship, no matter the level. He is gone. It is still heartbreaking as he was my person. I understood him like no other in my family. The link is broken, and again, I am alone.

I blamed the strength and oddness of genes for giving me a family at a distance, but yet my moving was never my choice. My far away western local was done for my grandmothers health and my own mothers attempt to hide from the mess that was created, not due to anything but love, but still much to clean with no guidance as the early 60’s were rather a socially neat era.  I listed off who I would love to see. But that’s all I have, that and a feeling of being detached from a clan, that innately I feel so attached to, but yet so far away. I have no bitter feelings, just an occasional sigh or feeling of sadness, all of which were stirred with one question. “Who are your people.”

The conversation led to my dads passing, and my trying to explain my missing his day.  While there was an actual reason for my no-show due to logistics, timing, and a huge chunk of change. Let’s face it, I made a choice. I did not go to my father’s funeral. I mourned at home and still do. So, why not go? Yes, money was a small part of the equation, but it became a scapegoat that I used to become my mother, running away from facing the truth.  Her running away from a life without him by her side, and my sprint away from his passing. I still struggle daily, not due to the missing of the service but the detachment I feel. The love I lost. The man I truly never knew, at his core, was the father I wanted, needed, and had in our own distant relationship. As odd as it sounds, perhaps the miles might have been for the best. Distance can never leave. It is already gone. Too many “dads” had come and gone in my life to have the real one, faults and all, leave me in this life. As such, I still can’t bear to say goodbye. It was my choice.

Posted on in family, granparent life, grey hair, health, life, menopause, travel

An Aha Moment with Disney Grandma

The joy of seeing not only your five-year-old grandson squeal with delight upon every twist and turn of the Disney experience, but also your son watching his son, is priceless. After the two days of steps into the high five digits per day, crowds, and the mastering of the Genie +, which is a necessity if you go…it is my all-time favorite trip to date. Yes, it beats any European or fancy trip I have taken. My smile has still not left my face. I am already ready to plan our next adventure, LEGOLAND and then a Disney Cruise for all to enjoy. Even with all the fun, I struggled with my pictures, my thoughts, my looks in the mirror, and of course how difficult 30K steps really are at sixty. I felt my age. This was the first time I FELT sixty. I have tried to ignore this age until this trip hit. I felt it. I am it. And it isn’t so bad. I stood tall and survived with absolute delight at the entire trip. My current bronchitis and ripping my back on a doggie crate have nothing to do with my days off from school afterwards, one needs to separate the two, or I will really feel my age. The bronchitis is due to other teachers showing up sick and passing it along. Thanks. The crate and back are my stupidity and rushing. But I digress. Back to the show.

Disney, while a hit in every way possible, I would go again tomorrow, was my reality that I am aging. I need to take care of myself and not feel bad about it and think about the end stages of work i.e. retirement. I want more out of life than another group of students and a new classroom decor. I have decided. Three more years of work and my health patrol to keep me going to fully enjoy life and not to sit on the sidelines. So, I am eating well, losing an ounce or two a week and working out through the Instagram motivation of all the other silver ladies that walk, ride, lift light weights etc. so the body will go back to what it is to be…a healthy age without a number. Not a drastic med enhanced thinness, just real. So, while my pictures may dwindle on social media…or I may not look as often, as I do love to post. I need to fall in love with myself again and figure out my new figure attire, as I dress for my body transformation moment, that I am blessed to have as it is part of the journey of life. I have officially entered the Disney with a five-year-old grandson who will chase down any Disney character for him part of my life. It is amazing.

Here are some great Disney links for silver mamas and grandmas out there who need to plan your daily adventure at Mickey’s House, walk in faux lululemon style and comfort, say good-by to foot pain, and count your steps with ease. So, book the trip and smile all the way home.

  1. Genie+ https://disneyland.disney.go.com/genie/
  2. Baleaf https://www.amazon.com/stores/page
  3. Alegria https://www.amazon.com/Alegria-Women-Indigo-Athletic-Walking
  4. Lululemon https://www.amazon.com/s?k=lululemon
  5. Oura Ring https://www.amazon.com/s?k=oura+ring
Posted on in family, fitness, weight loss

Enter Tovala

My Best Friend

I have not felt this sort of initial love in decades. It is as we were made for each other, as this is my answer, to all things cooking. Imagine a scan and go technology with the ability to churn out meals that have ingredients only tasted by my household in restaurants. I can’t cook, but marvel at those that can and actually love the process. I applaud you. I am more of the shop, five minute prep and scan girl. Oh, I can do chicken nuggets and lunchables but charcuterie still comes in plastic with my shop, open and go mentality, and I am ok with this.

The hubs heard of this Christmas gift to myself and he balked. You can cook, it will be costly, yadda yadda. I ignored. So far, he likes it. It is not a love match as he has his own eating peculiarities (bariatric patient) but so far I have received a positive reaction. I am just learning to order for him and myself separately. I am low calorie and he gets what wants and divides it up. It works and makes me happy. Tonight is a Korean pork dish. Yum.

The upsides of this new countertop space grabber far outweighs its bulkiness in a world gone minimal. We are eating balanced low calorie meals that are portioned correctly and enjoying our choices, more time together, and sometimes a fancy lunch, if leftovers or an extra chicken, does no meet his tastebuds.

So run do not walk to www.tovala.com and find you machine, meals, and your new best friend.

Salmon, brocoli and fancy sauce