Progress!

Well, I came on here to blog about something else but saw my last post and must comment on it. I have gotten quite a lot of that list done!! The garage is fairly tidy now. The basement is now painted white and tidy and is a nice gym area!!! It was  LOT of work but I'm much happier now going down there and things are more organized! The clothing situation and the kitchen are not quite done but I will get to that too. :) Yay me!

Cleaning out my closets

It's funny how the psyche works. For the past few months I've had this nagging compulsion to tidy up my life. I don't just mean file a few papers or organize my iTunes playlists. I mean everything.  I don't have a lot of time so I haven't gotten very far but here's what I've managed to do so far:

1. Clean up the garage. What that meant was going through boxes of stuff, throwing out things that were obviously garbage, reorganize and reboxing a BUTTLOAD of books that will eventually be donated or sold, restacking everything so it's not taking up so much space and then sweeping. 

2. Clean up basement and paint it white then get remnant carpeting for floor. This has proven to be much harder and is still a work in progress. Before doing any of this I needed workmen to come in and remove some old cabinets left by the past homeowners. That got done a few weeks ago. All of the paint/tools/etc from that cabinet is now at least in boxes or bins. I have an Ikea unit I need to build to put the TV and Wii on but first I need to paint. I have not had time to actually paint. Also, there are boxes of more books and random crap in the basement that need to be reboxed and binned, organized and stacked. So... it's going to be a while before the basement is ready.

3. I did make a call today that will hopefully make getting rid of books easier. Turns out the local community college will take most of our books if we can get them over there. So one week I will make that a priority. I swear we have about 20-30 boxes of books.

4. Clothes. I've started sorting clothes - mine and Rich's and I'm bagging and binning and donating. Also promises to be a long term project.

5. Kitchen items. I barely cook and yet there is so much clutter in the kitchen cabinets. For starters, today I carefully wrapped an old china set we had been given. I labeled the box clearly, taped it up and put it in the garage. Why did we even have that out? 

It occurred to me that I'm packing things up as if we're moving. We're not. We're about to redo the bathroom. But somewhere deep in my psyche I feel like I'm preparing for that possibility and I don't want to be scrambling at the last minute. Weird.

Lies of Omission

I'm reading a NY Times Bestseller. I won't say which. It's not relevant. But the main protagonist - a man - just said he is a "big fan of the lie of omission". It made me put the book down and blog. Because lies of omission are my least favorite lies. I hate them. They are the most deceitful of all. Because you can't see 'em coming or going and, often times, when they finally come to light, you are completely sideswiped by them. Nope. Give me a good bold in-your-face kind of lie. If you are going to lie to me, do it like that, because it gives me a chance. A chance to detect a foul stench lingering in the air – even if all I get is a faint hint of it.

A lie doesn't have the ring of truth to it that truth has. Something about it is "off key". The lie hangs in the air a microsecond longer than the truth or else it skips a beat and races. It's cadence seems uneven.  As if the molecules of exhaled CO2 get caught in gauze and have to squirm to get free before the sound hits your ear. Something about it doesn't go smoothly but it’s happening at such a meta level that most of the time we aren’t even aware we reacted to it. We might brush something off our clothing or squirm in our seat or bite our lip. Still listening but mildly unsettled… or very unsettled if we’re certain we’re being lied to.

Yet I have come to value these horrendous acts of betrayal because, even if at the time you had no idea you were being lied to and accepted it as truth, somewhere in your psyche it got red flagged. Lies get stored in a little “Lying Space” in your brain. Of this I'm certain. There are the ones you might think you actually believe, the ones you pretend to believe because it's just easier, the ones you don't believe at all but can't prove and the ones you know for a fact are a lie but the liar will not budge and you find yourself at an impasse. We won't discuss the lies you actually can prove.  I believe all these other lies get flagged and stored. At some point - minutes, days, years later, when the truth comes out, even if you're angry or sad or disappointed because you'd been hoping maybe it wasn't a lie, you kind of feel relieved to be able to pull the red flag off that one. At least now you know you weren't imagining things. You feel somehow vindicated. The liar did not totally dupe you. You had that little red flag on the play all along.

But the omissions... They are a way of keeping any and all knowledge of foul behavior from you so you can't even put your guard up when necessary. It leaves you totally defenseless and unprepared. These anger me the most because, usually, the liar thinks they are magnanimously saving you from a truth you cannot handle. And most times they are only saving themselves from the disgrace of discovery.

So phooey to lies of omission. Boo to the darkest of lies. Right this moment someone you love might be keeping something from you which later will anger you. Do yourself a favor when it finally comes out... Blink at them and walk away. Once it comes out, what they want is a showdown followed by eventual forgiveness. Even if you plan to forgive them later, don't let them off the hook that fast. Make them sweat it out. Just walk off leaving them in the dark about what will happen next. It's the least you can do.

Mother's Day is Coming...

God damn it! I am bending over backwards to be nice to my mother. I realize she's lonely since dad died and I realize she really has no one else to run to with every little thing so I try to be patient. But I am BUSTING MY HIDE trying to revive whatever might be left of an opera career and, frankly, I've never worked this hard at it before. I just got back from Minneapolis from a visit with another dear singer friend. I love her. She's like a sister. But in part I wanted to also do a little networking because I realize that most of my more successful friends are good at the networking part of this business. And I think I may be going back for auditions now. Good. But I get back and call mom and what does she do? "Oooh! Good, you're back!?" I know this doesn't sound like a crime but you don't get it. It's not "oh I miss my baby"... she literally went on to say that she "doesn't know what she would do without me." So I proceeded to tell her that if things go well I will be gone longer and more often. She went quiet then asked, "But you'll be here for my next doctor's appointment in July, right?" You see?

She didn't ask about my trip, showed no interest in whether or not I got anywhere while I was there... nothing. Proceeded to describe her visit to her doctor and sounded panicked whenever I tried to say anything about my progress. My tarot cards for the last two weeks have described a woman who will try to sabotage my efforts. Each time that card has come up I had a very strong feeling it refers to my mother. Not that she would "consciously" try to sabotage me. But the energy she sends in my direction and the energy she sends out to the universe is the opposite of what I really need. Which is why I have now made a very conscious decision to only deal with her when I have to. And, frankly, she should be happy I'm doing that. I keep her accounts, pay her bills and when I go visit I do whatever needs doing. She can't be happy that I'm trying to live my bliss then I can't give her more than a business relationship.

 God damn it... Happy Mother's Day.

Hurt Feelings

I’m watching this stupid movie, “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men”. Men’s ideas regarding a variety of things, but mostly about women and sex. As I’m listening it has occurred to me that when a woman is sitting there crying her eyes out because a man has wronged her, it’s really because of her unrealistic expectations. Often, if we’re being lied to, we kind of know it. Often, when you’re being played and some asshole is convincing you that you are the center of his universe, you are skeptical… but you want desperately to believe maybe he’s telling the truth… until you catch him kissing someone else. Then the crying happens. But what are these hurt feelings? We expected something else. We keep expecting better behavior from them than most of them are capable of. Perhaps it would hurt less to go in expecting less. If you were nursing a limping calf back to health, you wouldn’t expect it to carry you anywhere, would you? Just consider that men are limping calves. They will always be limping. Don’t expect much. You won’t be disappointed.

Mindful Eating

I dabble in Buddhism. "How is that?," you ask? Easy. The same way I'm a reformed Catholic. I believe in the tenets (which is, frankly, more than I can say about my Catholism) and, when I can get it together, I actually make attempts to follow the principles and even meditate. I wish I could stick to it long enough to call myself a true Buddhist but I obviously lack the discipline. So I guess you might call me a failed Buddist. Except in Buddhism there is no such thing. You do your best with each passing moment and don't judge it. It's a beautiful concept. That brings me to the concept of mindful eating. Like everything else Buddhist, the idea is to approach a meal with utter and sublime awareness. Sit without distractions. Take in the smells, texture, colors and tastes as if each morsel were a grand work of art. Allow it to nourish your body and feed your soul. Then stop when you are truly full. Not in the belly but wholly. This is something we do not do nearly enough. Why is it that restaurants play music? Serve alcohol? Because the noise, while adding "ambience" and the alcohol while "relaxing" you, also makes it impossible for you to actually be mindful of what you're eating. And so we often overeat. We are over stimulated. Today I sat down and had a brunch in total silence. The sunlight was streaming through my dining room window and there I sat with only the slight hum from the refrigerator coming from the kitchen behind me. I realized how loud my own chewing seemed within this utter quiet. But then, as I ate more, I also realized I was paying attention to chewing my food more thoroughly. Spending more time with each bite. I wasn't shoveling fast like I sometimes do when I'm busy talking over a meal or playing on the laptop while eating. I was noticing the textures of what I was eating and my coffee seemed tastier too. It made me wonder if perhaps some of my weight issues don't begin with the lack of mindfulness during my meals. It is something to consider. I will make attempts in the coming days to be more mindful while eating and I will post again in a few with my observations. I think it's worth taking a look at.

The Problem with Hope

Shiny new hope sucks. Because it inevitably gets kinda dull and rusty and one day just plain old breaks. And there you are, sitting on the floor crying because it will not come back. What’s worse is the next time you see shiny new hope you eye suspiciously with sidelong glances. After several rounds with shiny new hope you might start barring the door to it or opening an umbrella against it as it descends. Maybe you resort to running from it like it’s a large black dog and you are wearing a fire hydrant costume. Yep… shiny new hope…. I’ve got my eye on you.

I Was Born This Way.

For the past few weeks I’ve been really good about eating healthy, more veggies and fruit. I’m working out a lot more than I had been so I feel stronger, I look better BUT after roughly a month I’d only managed to lose 2 pounds. I had a bad emotional week and for 2 days ate a little more than I have been. Mind you, I didn’t pig out. I just upped my calories for a couple of days and probably had a little more fat than I’d been having. Even so, I did a very good work out on one of those days and walked a lot on the other. I figured that might help even things out. It didn’t. Got on the scale this morning. I’m back up 4.5 lbs. So, in my frustration, I decided to search the internet.

It has occurred to me that in my life, I’ve known plenty of people, slim and heavy, who have succumbed to diabetes or heart disease. Some were fit, others not. My father, for instance, jogged just about every day. He’s never truly been overweight, although in his 30s he’d gotten a bit chunkier than normal and when his doctor told him he needed to change his habits because he was developing diabetes, he went on a health kick. The day he had his major heart attack, he was very fit. He’d been dancing for several hours that day. Turns out he hadn’t been eating all that well but, more importantly, he’d stopped taking a medication that probably could have prevented the heart attack. This has made me question many things.

For starters, it seems my dad and I both carry a gene that makes us have large, sticky platelets. Dieting and exercise does not help this. I found this out a few years ago when I had a full blood workup done. I was horrified. So, while it will help to not eat high fats that would only exacerbate the problem, being skinny probably won’t guarantee I won’t have a problem with this someday. I have no unhealthy numbers otherwise in my blood test results. The only other issue is a somewhat high C-reactive protein and markers for autoimmune disease. If you piece all that together I’m a walking time bomb for a host of autoimmune diseases and/or a heart attack. But these are genetic and environmental issues which won’t be much affected by what I eat. Again… while I try to diet and exercise, my body seems hellbent on staying at the upper end of the scale and the autoimmune stuff doesn’t help. I STRONGLY BELIEVE in a healthy diet and exercise program. But I realize that they won’t help me a lot against these built in health risks.

So I eat very little red meat and lots of fish and I should eat more fruit. I drink only water with maybe the exception of one or two glasses of soft drink in the course of a month. I love to dance and walk and do pilates. I feel relatively physically good most days. While I look at myself and think, “I can look better than this.” I also don’t totally hate my appearance. I can get it together some days and look pretty good. Judging by the days when men have tried to hit on me, I guess I haven’t become completely unacceptable.

Where am I going with this? Here: I googled, “How do I diet successfully when I don’t mind being fat?” Truth is, because I know how difficult it is for me to lose even 1 pound and how healthy I do actually attempt to be, and how I just don’t want my whole life to be about my weight (one way or another) and I see that genetics will be playing a role in my ultimate fate anyway, I wish society would back the hell off on the whole weight loss thing. I realize being thinner means more/better opportunities. That’s also true of being taller, smarter, faster and stronger. But for those of us who are genetically/spiritually/psychologically/emotionally challenged regarding weight loss, why should society ostracize us for choosing to just stay fat? Some people willingly stay stupid. They could go to school, learn something and get better jobs. But they don’t. They just don’t see what all the fuss is all about. And yes, they usually suffer for this by having to take shitty jobs. But is there a national campaign making them feel bad for willingly being stupid? No, instead, a lot of them end up on TV making thousands of dollars an episode. I’ve had it with the constant badgering from the media and even the First Lady trying to tell me I’m unacceptable this way.

It’s me - I try to change me but me just keeps happening.

While googling, I found this old post from a guy on a web site which deals with weight issues. I liked it so much I want to quote what he said. Hamish is my new personal hero.

====================================================

Hamish 07-16-2002, 04:01 PM

Full thread here: http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/archive/index.php/t-125868.html

I'm not overweight for my height by any medical definition, but I certainly have enough pounds to be looked down on, especially in the gay community. Since my weight poses no physical danger to me, I decided a few weeks ago that the weight wasn't the problem, my disgust with it was.

…Fat is not a moral issue -- in extreme cases, it is occasionally a health issue, but not nearly as often as it is claimed to be. A person with a few extra pounds does not necessarily lack willpower. Body types are different.

And even when it's not a question of body types, it may simply be a question of priorities. Except for a few lucky souls, most people have a lot of trouble reaching the weight standards society sets --and some people have better things to do than live at a gym. And some of us would like to enjoy a well-prepared, rich meal without the guilt -- our own at that foisted upon us be self-important anoerexics.

And let's talk about guilt, shall we? Why do I live in a society that doesn't mind what it's doing to the environment, doesn't care that little children are putting together its running shoes, doesn't care about ther homeless, but feels incredibly guilty about eating the slightest bit of fat?

There are better uses for guilt than to make you feel you should be spending all your waking hours trying to achieve that Sally-Struthers-will-be-speaking-on-my-behalf-look.

Letter to America (Or "Why you need to get over the Weiner")

Dear America,

I was just reading about the Weiner “scandal” and after I was done rolling my eyes and smacking my lips like I learned from the black girls in Brooklyn where I grew up, I decided to write you a letter. Because I think your priorities are completely up your a$$ and it’s time someone spoke up about it. Why not me

America, you were founded on good, Puritan family values. What that boils down to most of the time is a fear of all things sexual and a moral compass that resembles the dreaded snake from the Garden of Eden. Yes… I said that. I tell you why. Because I can’t count how many times famous evangelists and politicians have been caught with their pants down. I can’t recount the number of inappropriate things men in both high and low positions have said to me, personally, over the years and stories I’ve heard from other. America, grow the fu$$ up!!! This is human nature. So long as it’s between two consenting adults, why are you getting yourself all in huff about it?! Does it change whether or not that person is getting their job done? Are the schools better because of him/her? Are the roads being fixed? If so, stop worrying about whether or not they’re sending people pictures of their penises or putting cigars inside interns. That’s for their wives to deal with.

At this point, America, I know the look you have on your face. It’s all screwed up to one side and you are reaching for some holy water to douse me with. But really… you know what I’m saying is right. You just can’t let go of your twisted morality. The very same morality that goes right out the window when it comes close to home. Then you have excuses – lots of them. And rationalizations. Because it’s YOU now. Puh-lease. Now you’re going to argue that this behavior is indicative of a deceitful nature and THAT’S why it’s alarming. Oh yeah… I forgot – America, you think politicians and evangelists should be truthful and upfront and if they’re not they should get out. If that were actually the reality of the situation, our Congress, Senate, and houses of worship would be pretty devoid of any leadership. Get over it, America! That argument doesn’t hold water. Count the number of lies, large and small, you tell in one month just to keep the peace in your households. Now imagine having to make several thousand people who count on you all happy. It’s impossible. Lies will be told. So stop it already! Stop thinking like these are colonial times. You’ve grown up so much. Can’t you be a little more mature about this too? Focus on the things that really matter. We aren’t hiring our leaders for what they do or don’t do in their bedrooms. That should be the least of our concerns.

Sincerely,

A 21^st Century Woman

Lapu Lapu

Today I learned about Lapu-Lapu. “What is Lapu-Lapu?,” you ask? Is it a new breed of dog? Or a great health drink? No. Lapu-Lapu was a Philippine warrior, who on this date (April 27th) in 1521 defeated and killed Magellan when, in the course of discovering foreign lands, he and his mates attempted to convert the native population to Christianity. Why do I know this and why does it matter?

Because, coincidentally, today is the 1st Anniversary of my father’s death. And the universe has gifted me with this information in a totally unrelated internet search. I find it interesting that not only can you share a birthdate with someone famous, but you can share a deathdate with them too. So my father now shares Magellan’s deathdate. Frankly, I hope they’re not in the same place. Magellan, like so many early explorers, did deplorable things in the name of Christianity. My father, lived his whole life trying to perform good works. Like Jesus and Mother Theresa. What’s ironic is Magellan is known for his works and my father… not so much. What’s further irony is that they probably are in the same place and my father is starting to realize what complete assholes the Christians were and is probably questioning his earthly alliances.

All I know is that Lapu Lapu sounds like a real badass. Today is a holiday in the Phillipines because of his strength and conviction to not be stripped of his right to worship whatever god(s) he worshipped in whatever apparently fucked up way he wanted to. I’ve heard stories of enemies’ hearts being used as the focus of certain ancient ceremonies. If that’s true, maybe Magellan’s heart was finally put to good use.

Damn It!

I do not want to give up on my dreams yet. But I feel like life keeps nudging me elsewhere. Is it trying to tell me to hang it up? It sure seems like it.

Musings on a Monday Afternoon

I just looked out my kitchen window while making a sandwich and tea and saw what appeared to be a cloud of billowing smoke rising from my the neighbors' yard over my fence. Two of their little boys were scurrying around (roughly 8 and 7 years old). One of them looked a bit agitated. The older one ran towards the source of the problem with a large flat yellow plastic item. Perhaps the cover to a toy chest. My first thought was, "great, they've started a fire." I didn't have a clear view because whatever it was, it was very close to the fence on the other side. If it was a fire, my fence, which is wooden, would shortly be ablaze which would have signaled me to place a 911 phone call. However, apparently, whatever it was, it stopped once the yellow lid was dropped on it. Perhaps it was a fire and this child knew enough to go find a giant snuffer to put it out? I don't know. All I know is I lingered at the window long enough to watch their little faces relax as they looked down into that corner of the yard. Apparently, whatever it was, it was now over.

Being more relaxed myself, I paused to peruse the faces of the boys and I mused how the eldest looked so much like his mother. Then I noticed that all along, one of their other boys had been sitting inside a play car (there are a total of 5 boys and 1 girl next door). The little one, about 1 year in age has straw colored hair and it dawned on me how much his features are like his father's. This produced a warm inner smile in me. The recognition of the awesome magic that a parent must feel when they see themselves in tiny form, smiling back from a face that is not their own. I imagined the sheer awe at knowing that your genes, your parents' genes, their siblings's genes, and on and on, are now residing within that tiny person. And when you are no longer here, this tiny person will live on with your eyes, your teeth and hopefully escape your family's history of diabetes.

I have chosen not to partake in this passing of the genetic baton. But at that moment, while looking out my kitchen window, procreation and parenting made sense. I understand the drive that makes so many people want to do it. Children really are a blessing. Even if they might accidentally be burning down your fence.

Really?

The things I learned this weekend could make your head explode.

My Christmas Poem.

You Prob'ly think this Poem's about You.

Your love have I always chased down.

for years I kissed your feet.

I lingered here; there followed you

never ever feeling complete.

I joined you at the equator

where I melted in the burning sun.

My boots did not shield me from freezing

When through Antarctica we’d run.

Disheartened and in shatters

In a dark room alone I mused.

“would I ever be a person

who’s emotions you’d not abuse?”

the answer came from my candle

as it flickered to light breezy draft.

My transparency was suicidal,

my obstinance - clinically daft.

so it’s taken me quite by surprise -

the reaction to my retreat.

you seem sullen and shaken and cross.

cold attentions though previously unseen.

never garnered I more a reaction

than I have since the day I refused

to have anymore dealings with your kind;

choosing no more to be misused.

Your slack jaw and wide eyes are laughable

as on Christmas you bend to the tree

noting emptiness there in the space

where there used to be presents from me.

it amazes me you cannot fathom

whatever brought on this change.

you have stomped and cursed and hollered

but the truth of the matter remains

that you have as much care for my feelings

as a toad might have care for a fly

and you’ve given your own misdealings

every pass, every sickening decry.

Yet you paint me as a villain -

a shrew, a miser, a witch

but I’ll have you know that I’m over you.

"Merry Christmas", your favorite bitch.

Little Red Shopping Cart

I bought this little red shopping cart from a neighborhood shop up in Washington Heights back about 15 years ago. I bought it so when I went grocery shopping 6 flights down and 4 blocks away, I could roll my groceries home with ease. I remember that when I bought it the rubber smelled funny. Like it had come from a warehouse where there had been a fire. It smelled of smoke and ash. It was so bad that hosed it down in my Manhattan bathroom with soap and water - on two separate occasions. Still, the smell remained. I rubbed stuff into the rubber handle - Febreeze, other sprays, perfumes. Still, it kinda smelled. So eventually I locked it deep in a closet and only brought it out when I needed it. It was being punished for smelling bad.

Eventually I met my husband and we got married and moved into our house out in New Jersey. I brought the little cart with me. By then it didn't smell so much but I could detect remnants of that smell on it if I got close. I couldn't bear to part with it. It symbolized my independence. My New York singlehood. My attempts to deal with the difficulty of hauling things around Manhattan with no car, no help - self-sufficiency in a high lacquered red sheen with rubber wheels.

Here in New Jersey, it has lived in the closet in my husband's office. I thought there might be a time to bring it out and use it for this or that. But in suburbia there's very little call for carts of this type. So for the past 6 years it has just been lodged inside his closet. Punished for being unnecessary.

Today I have pulled it out because I'm taking it to Brooklyn. My mom, now newly single for the first time in over 43 years, has been learning late life lessons in self-sufficiency. She needs this cart more than I've ever needed it. I think it will see the light of day much more in its new home. Oh, and the smell seems to finally be gone.

It's got me thinking how much life changes us, the people around us. If you told me, 15 years ago, when I bought this little cart, that I would one day be giving it to my mom so she can do her grocery shopping, I would have looked at you sideways and sucked my teeth. No way. How can that even be possible? I could not have known then what a strange rite of passage was going to take place in the future. But here I am. About to hand off my little red shopping cart to my mom. Perhaps I will be writing about it again 15 years from now? One never knows.

Introduce Yourself

I wish the me I don't know would come out and introduce herself to me already.

Obesity

Make no mistake about it - obesity doesn't kill. The things that lead to obesity are what kills. The things that eat you up inside making it nearly impossible to become less obese - those things kill you. Obesity is a symptom of a much larger problem. As usual, everyone wants to cure a symptom.

Strange Calm

I felt the need to post today. I think I'm having a strange transcendental experience. I need to blog about it. I guess I'm hoping that if I just write, it will begin to coalesce into something I might actually be capable of verbalizing.

For the past few years I have had quite the traumatic, dramatic ride. I've been all flailing arms and stomping feet and gritting teeth. Unhappy about the way my marriage has turned out, restless, acting out, carrying on, jumping up and down, running in and out. Ruminating about a different life. Practicing the new one in my head, except it changed regularly. Unhappy that my "career" was still to be seen after years of pursuit. Unhappy that my dad has died and suffered terribly. Unhappy that my mom suffered terribly and is now very dependent on me. Yet, a fascinating thing has occurred - I feel fine.

It's as if I had been suffering from a horrible illness and had fevered delusions and sad declines but now I am recovered. I think I owe it all to a combination of therapy and the rediscovery of my Buddhist inner self. I've been reading Pema Chödrön's "When Things Fall Apart." Perhaps it too is responsible for this feeling of calm that has come over me. But I think it's more a matter of "when the student is ready, the teacher will come." I think I've been arriving at this point for a few months now.

I am still working on my voice and I have a few projects I'm attempting to put in motion. There is music I'm slowly learning despite the numerous interruptions in my schedule. I hope to speed up the process in the New Year when I'm done with the B.A. I've been completing. I am no longer unhappy in my marriage. I have been seeing my husband with a new found admiration and gratitude and my life doesn't have the grey pall over it that it seemed to have just a year ago. I have found a rare, rare thing. Acceptance. I don't know how long it will stay or if this is just a resting area on the way to some other state of being, but it feels good. It feels right. It's not a sad, "my life sucks but I think I'll keep it" acceptance. It's things-really-are-better-than-I-thought acceptance. I am living my life as I want. I am free to pursue my dreams. And whether or not any of those things pan out, I have the opportunity. That is an incredible gift.

And speaking of gifts, I finally love my voice. For years I fought with it and didn't think it was good enough or "right" enough or "worthy of being heard." So, part of my failure has come from hiding myself away in shame. Shame, if you do not know it, is a master, monster emotion. It is one of the most destructive of all emotions. Shame, I have come to realize, has been an undercurrent throughout many of my years. What an incredible waste! I know this now. But, alas, I couldn't know it until I knew it. And that time is now.

I love me. I finally do. I love me when I'm doing what I "should" and when I'm doing what I "want" and when I'm doing what I "need". I love me in all my unlabeled variations. Others can judge me if they want, they haven't walked in my shoes. I have only done what a flailing, shameful, scared woman would do. And now... well now maybe I will do less of that and more of what my true pure soul craves.

I feel that I am about to enter a period of using more of my energy to forward my true self and hopefully spend less time catering to all the things that steal me of my energy and authenticity. It doesn't make my life more perfect. But it makes me happier. And calmer. Imagine that.

Being skinny does not automatically make you healthy!

I just read some internet posts where people were arguing "Is fat sexy?" Of course, as you'd expect, the vast majority of people said that it isn't. A bunch of other people said things akin to "beauty is in the eye of the beholder." But the one thing that kept coming up over and over no matter which side of the argument I read (and something that has irked me for years) was the notion that it was better if a person were "a healthy weight." Why does this irk me? Because I happen to think that the whole obesity epidemic is bullshit. It makes my skin crawl to know that if a fat person and a skinny person walk into a room, the skinny person is automatically assumed to be "healthy"even if they're holding a cigarette or their 4th beer.

I think it's the greatest hypocrisy ever that people have been brainwashed into believing that being thin is healthy. In theory, it should be true. But as an overweight woman, I think it's safe to say that throughout my life, most of my friends and colleagues were what you would call "healthy weight" individuals. Yet, for every 10 of those people, I could name 1 who actually worked out regularly and 1 who ate healthy on a regular basis. The other 8 smoked, abused a drug or two or did harmful things to their bodies to maintain that "healthy weight". So then, I ask, how is it they get the "healthy" seal of approval and I don't? I am heavier than those 10 friends but I've never smoked, I work out pretty regularly and I generally make attempts to eat healthy. I have had bouts with bulimia in the past and decided that it was healthier to just let the food remain in my belly than to hurt my throat and digestive system by throwing it up. Yet, I know this is a weight management tool many skinny people employ. How is that healthier than just allowing yourself to be somewhat heavier?

I think the media attention around weight has reached a point of hysteria. I can't turn on my TV without hearing how we all need to be thinner for our health. Biggest Loser makes my stomach turn. Yes, those people should try to take off weight. It is healthier to weigh less. I'm not arguing that the extra weight is good for you. I'm arguing that it's gone too far and people seem fine with watching someone practically kill themselves for several weeks on TV to be thin and that is deemed acceptable. Frankly, I've tried to lose weight the sensible way - watching what I eat and exercising. It is nearly impossible. I was successful one time and that was only after I committed to a year where I would eat one meal a day (which I would break down into 2 or 3 tiny meals) and I worked out daily for 2 hours. It took a whole year and finally 40lbs came off. I did this during a year when I was taking a break from singing because that 2 hours would have been practice time and I just couldn't fit both activities into a normal day. Do most people understand what it means to work a full time job, have a life and still manage to put aside 2 hours a day to go to the gym (plus time getting there and back) and to obsess all day every day about NOT eating? No. Until you've lived like that for a year, to only lose 40lbs, you don't know. You can't imagine giving up that much of your time and energy when there is so much more you'd rather be doing.

I've come to the conclusion that for people like me, maybe we need a kamakazi weight loss approach. Maybe we need several weeks at a camp where we're being deprived and where a drill sargeant is in your face screaming to make you sweat for 8 hours a day. That might be the only way I'll ever get all this weight off. I DO think that there are many people out there who CAN'T take off weight without going to some extreme measures. And THAT can be unhealthy and impractical and, unless you have a lot of money or get on a show like Biggest Loser, you're just not going to have that chance. So I get mad when I hear skinny people on TV who have never really had to lose a substantial amount of weight, doling out advice about how it's done. Maybe the formulas don't work for a lot of people and what makes them unhealthy is their ever desperate attempts to lose the weight.

The NIH doles out money to whatever research is "sexiest" and for the past 10 years it's been very en vogue to do studies on obesity. The numbers get skewed in a lot of these studies and there are misrepresentations. Why? Because people need to keep this going because it's paying bills. Insurance companies love it because they're hoping soon they can justifiably charge heavier people more money - after all, there is scientific proof. It's all such utter bullshit.

If they were really that concerned about obesity, they would begin creating obesity institutes. Much like Heart Institutes and Cancer Institutes. Places where the obese could go and their insurance would pay for that boot camp approach that would help them lose the weight. But instead someone wags a finger at them, hands them a list of healthy food and sends them home. Most insurance companies won't even pay for a gym membership. Think about that for a minute. If they really wanted to put a stop to it, they could incorporate real weight loss strategies into the fabric of the health care system. They want to label it an "epidemic" but then they won't provide any solutions. They just want to keep the wheels turning on this one. It's a lot like the "Just Say No" campaign. How many drug addicts were helped with that one?

I'll end this with one more thought. Education is great for prevention (usually). But once you have something you are labeling an epidemic, it's time for intervention. Talking about broccoli and exercise probably won't help. Giving people access to the tools they will need to become healthier might. If NIH and CDC can dole out millions for the study of obesity, then why not use that money to create weight loss centers that, much like cardiac rehab centers, could be tailored to prevent future costly diseases associated with obesity? What's that? It's just more fun to point fingers and berate the fat person? Yeah, I thought so.

Absence of Faith

This past year or so have been difficult for me. I tried to keep a good outlook when my mom was sick and I doggedly and determinedly got her through her illness but I neglected my father in the process. I put him totally on a back burner and then when he went to the hospital I felt guilty. I feel guilty now that he's passed that maybe, if I'd been giving him some of the attention mom was getting from me, he would still be here. I would have maybe discovered he'd stopped taking crucial medications. I would have maybe taken more of an interest in his financial problems. Instead, the few times he came to me to complain about his hardships, my answer was basically, "let's just get mom through the end of her treatments and then we'll sit down and figure out what to do about your problems." And I meant it. I couldn't deal with both of them drowning at once. I needed him to keep himself afloat long enough to get mom on dry land, then I was gonna come and get him too. But before I could do that he drowned. And I feel horrible. And it's made me question everything.

I feel hollow. I feel like I let down my dad in the worst way possible. On top of being mistreated by my sister for most of a year and feeling depressed about that. On top of being burdened with mom's illness and his own runaway diabetes, his oldest daughter was putting him on a back burner. Who was there to care for my father in his final months? Did he feel alone and scared? I think he did. One day when mom and I got out of her chemo session he looked like he'd been crying in the car. At first I thought it was something that had happened, a phone call, a fight with someone we didn't know about, but I could tell he was deeply unhappy. He put on a brave face, but I made a mental note to ask him about it. That must have been around early December. Weeks went by and he was just getting more depressed, I could tell, but I still kept saying in my head, "mom only has treatments now till end of January, then I will sit down and talk to dad." A couple of times I basically told him to suck it up till then. I said mom needed us to be strong for her and we would deal with the rest of our problems once she got through all her chemo and radiation. I wonder if that made him feel even more desperate. I worry I made him even sadder. He didn't make it. January 19, 2009 came and knocked him off his feet. He wouldn't quite get back on them and then April 27, 2010, he was finally completely bowled over. And so was I.

I hoped he'd get at least well enough to have a talk with me about all that. So I can tell him I was sorry if I'd neglected his well being over mom's. I wanted to ask him if I'd failed him somehow. But for most of that year all I could do was be there, tell him I loved him and once or twice sing to him. I remember him at his 66th birthday, when he was well enough to show his appreciation to all his friends who showed up. He cried and pointed from his heart to all the people in the room. I know he loved us all for being there. He felt love for us and us for him. I felt he loved me too but sometimes I felt he was still a little angry at me for not coming to save him sooner when he was drowning.

It's very unfair. He didn't deserve anything that happened to him. And I don't think I can believe in the God he prayed to all those years. That God he held sacred above all other things could have given him a few more weeks till mom's treatments were over. I would have sat down with him and gone over his finances, maybe then he would have divulged that he stopped taking his Plavix. I would have insisted he get back on them immediately and maybe, just maybe, what happened didn't have to happen. God could have bought him a few more weeks but chose not to. Why?

People will say that he was a grown man. He should have gone to his doctor. He should have done this or that. But mom had become a full time job. He had no time or energy for anything else. I totally get how his own health got away from him. I lament not having been paying closer attention. One day he called me, when mom first got sick and told me she was a tyrant. She expected him to be there all the time. Demanded too much of his attention. I went all tough on him and said, "Look... she only needs this from you for a few months to maybe a year. You can do it. When I was a little girl you would make me sit at home with her while you went off to your church meetings and stuff. If I could put up with her all those years, you can do it for a few months." It was kinda tough to say this to my dad, but at the time I needed him to suck it up and deal with the situation. Now I regret it. I had no idea it would kill him. I think it did. It literally killed him. He was not cut out for it.

And so I have lost my faith in a greater good. I have lost that innocence that says, "things will somehow work out." As far as I can tell, it's all very horribly random. Worse than that. It's all horribly clustered. One person gets more than their share of misery while another gets more than their share of happiness and good fortune. Whoever said life wasn't fair knew about this clustering. And yes, there are reversals of fortune and changes in fate. But those seem pretty random too. So what is there to have faith in? A moving target? Cuz that's all I see now. A moving target. No way of knowing when end of the arrow you will end up with or for how long or how deep. Totally fucking random.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this new information after a life of being told to have faith in the Lord. He will provide. Provide what exactly?