I received this in my In box the other day, and it just struck me as VERY humorous... thanks, Cousin Naty!
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl."
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?"
"Yes, Father, it is."
"And who was the girl you were with?"
"I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."
"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?"
''I cannot say."
''Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?"
''I'll never tell."
"Was it Nina Capelli?"
"I'm sorry, but I cannot name her."
"Was it Cathy Piriano?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"
"Please, Father, I cannot tell you."
The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight-lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now, you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"
"'Four months vacation and five good leads."
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Riding The Wings Of A Dragonfly
The following is a poem written for me by my good friend Ellen Johnson. Thank you, Ellen. XOXOXO
For Shirley
I meant to comfort my friend
Whose life crashed twelve months ago
On a road she never meant to take
Sabotaged without warning
Still spinning, weeping and moaning in laughter
To chase the razor sharp cuts from opening
Again
What to say to a damaged heart
Without the predictable rhythm she once shared
Out of love
The mending is methodical winding down paths
She never imagined taking
And still she finds substance in gentle touches
Healing thoughts and the occasional lasting lyric
I told her time would go by
People would forget to hold her hand, for now she must
Become a soldier of endurance
Like the rest of us
The innocence rests in a safe place carved out in careful consideration
Of losing your child
You will dance out your afflicted demons in denial
Or find brilliant words to get through another hour
Cares will crash, smiles will collide and
The luminous bereaved butterfly will appear
And you will stand on dragonfly wings
On a trip down moonlit waters
Waiting for darkened dawn
Collecting your strength
And finding deeper dimensions than you ever conceived
And you will be alive
Vibrant with vision
With appreciation on your shoulder
Experience in your eyes
And my friend will have new meaning...
September 24, 2009
For Shirley
I meant to comfort my friend
Whose life crashed twelve months ago
On a road she never meant to take
Sabotaged without warning
Still spinning, weeping and moaning in laughter
To chase the razor sharp cuts from opening
Again
What to say to a damaged heart
Without the predictable rhythm she once shared
Out of love
The mending is methodical winding down paths
She never imagined taking
And still she finds substance in gentle touches
Healing thoughts and the occasional lasting lyric
I told her time would go by
People would forget to hold her hand, for now she must
Become a soldier of endurance
Like the rest of us
The innocence rests in a safe place carved out in careful consideration
Of losing your child
You will dance out your afflicted demons in denial
Or find brilliant words to get through another hour
Cares will crash, smiles will collide and
The luminous bereaved butterfly will appear
And you will stand on dragonfly wings
On a trip down moonlit waters
Waiting for darkened dawn
Collecting your strength
And finding deeper dimensions than you ever conceived
And you will be alive
Vibrant with vision
With appreciation on your shoulder
Experience in your eyes
And my friend will have new meaning...
September 24, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
In The Pink
You're angry... I know this
You're lonely... I feel this
You're crying at night
When nobody else is home
Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you, darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad
There are so many things I want to say to you
You're the girl I used to be
You little heartbroken - me
You're laughing... but you're hiding
God, I know that trick too well
You forget that I've been you
And now... I'm just the shell
I promise, I love you
And everything will work out fine
Oh, just give it some time
The pain you feel is real
You're not asleep... but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime
Oh, don't lose your passion
Or the fighter that's inside of you
You're the girl I used to be
The pissed off, complicated - me
Until we meet again.
- Excerpted from "Conversations With My 13-Year Old Self", Pink
You're lonely... I feel this
You're crying at night
When nobody else is home
Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you, darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad
There are so many things I want to say to you
You're the girl I used to be
You little heartbroken - me
You're laughing... but you're hiding
God, I know that trick too well
You forget that I've been you
And now... I'm just the shell
I promise, I love you
And everything will work out fine
Oh, just give it some time
The pain you feel is real
You're not asleep... but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime
Oh, don't lose your passion
Or the fighter that's inside of you
You're the girl I used to be
The pissed off, complicated - me
Until we meet again.
- Excerpted from "Conversations With My 13-Year Old Self", Pink
Monday, September 14, 2009
Christian Seely
I was getting dressed the other morning, and in the process of trying to hook my bra behind me I felt this shooting pain in my right hand. I let out a loud curse, and my dog Winnie immediately jumps up from her pillow and runs over to me, wagging her tail and making sure I was okay. Now, THAT’s love. If she were another person, that nice gesture would most likely be followed with a “Did you HAVE to make that noise? You freaked me out, I thought something was REALLY wrong!” See, that’s where animals get it right, and human beings just screw it all up. My dog loves me unconditionally, without reservations, without stipulations, without ulterior motives. There’s a saying I’ve heard before that sounds very “cutesie” at first glance, but really has a significant message if one stops and thinks about it: “My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.” – Author Unknown. I LOVE a good saying…
Since starting my workout routine with the personal trainer, I increased my daily Winnie walks from one to two a day. Yes, I know it sets the bar higher, but knowing how much she loves to go for a walk, and how excited she is being able to walk twice a day now keeps me motivated to be consistent with it. Winnie asks me for nothing, yet she is always there with love to give me. Next to my son, I spend most of my time with her – one of the few non-virtual relationships that doesn’t make me feel boxed in. No expectations… I get to do whatever I want; very much like when the Bunny was alive.
So, Winnie and I were on our morning walk, and periodically – as dogs tend to like to do – she would forcefully stop in her tracks so she could smell this bush, or that brick wall… most likely holding evidence of some other dog passing by earlier. I use the word “forcefully” because most of the time I am in a hurry (I’m always in a hurry), rarely are these walks the meandering, ambling kind… Generally we walk the same route through my neighborhood, although sometimes I do feel compelled to turn left at the corner instead of right – just to switch it up for Winnie so it doesn’t become too boring – for both her and myself. She likes to stop in the same places usually, and one such stop today put us in front of a house I have walked past many times before. There is a particular bush Winnie always likes to investigate, directly to the right of the driveway.
For some unfathomable reason, I happened to look down at the pavement of the driveway, and noticed a message scratched out in the corner, most likely when the driveway was originally poured. I’m sure you’ve seen this before in the world, where there is wet concrete and random people carve their initials into it, to remain there indefinitely once the concrete hardens. I looked closer – it’s some kid’s name: Christian Seely. Probably either a current or previous inhabitant of this house. Underneath Christian’s name, a date: May 17, 1990.
May 17th is my wedding anniversary. So, on our morning walk, my vision registers this date, and immediately I get a tidal wave of thought coursing through my brain. How much longer will I look at the date and be able to say “that’s my wedding anniversary”? Technically speaking, I am no longer married – therefore, no anniversary to acknowledge. That thought makes me extraordinarily sad, and I am overtaken again by thoughts of “life is UNFAIR!” And after a few minutes of self-pity, my mind once again takes control and gently – because it understands, and also feels in its own way, the pain my heart is feeling – reminds me that all I can do is keep moving forward. One step at a time, Shirley. Don’t be so quick to get past this... your heart goes at its own pace. Don’t leave it behind.
They say that dogs – I guess all animals? – are very receptive to the thoughts and feelings of their owners. Winnie is a good girl; she finishes her investigation of the bush, and we continue on our journey. As is her way, she is just “there” with me. She doesn’t ask me questions, doesn’t make me talk about my feelings, doesn’t impatiently wait for me to “get over” anything. She just…. loves me. As for my heart, I’ve come to the realization that I will always love the Bunny. He changed my life; he added all the beautiful colors to my world.
And whoever has the thought to come into MY world is going to have to understand that...
...and just love me.
Since starting my workout routine with the personal trainer, I increased my daily Winnie walks from one to two a day. Yes, I know it sets the bar higher, but knowing how much she loves to go for a walk, and how excited she is being able to walk twice a day now keeps me motivated to be consistent with it. Winnie asks me for nothing, yet she is always there with love to give me. Next to my son, I spend most of my time with her – one of the few non-virtual relationships that doesn’t make me feel boxed in. No expectations… I get to do whatever I want; very much like when the Bunny was alive.
So, Winnie and I were on our morning walk, and periodically – as dogs tend to like to do – she would forcefully stop in her tracks so she could smell this bush, or that brick wall… most likely holding evidence of some other dog passing by earlier. I use the word “forcefully” because most of the time I am in a hurry (I’m always in a hurry), rarely are these walks the meandering, ambling kind… Generally we walk the same route through my neighborhood, although sometimes I do feel compelled to turn left at the corner instead of right – just to switch it up for Winnie so it doesn’t become too boring – for both her and myself. She likes to stop in the same places usually, and one such stop today put us in front of a house I have walked past many times before. There is a particular bush Winnie always likes to investigate, directly to the right of the driveway.
For some unfathomable reason, I happened to look down at the pavement of the driveway, and noticed a message scratched out in the corner, most likely when the driveway was originally poured. I’m sure you’ve seen this before in the world, where there is wet concrete and random people carve their initials into it, to remain there indefinitely once the concrete hardens. I looked closer – it’s some kid’s name: Christian Seely. Probably either a current or previous inhabitant of this house. Underneath Christian’s name, a date: May 17, 1990.
May 17th is my wedding anniversary. So, on our morning walk, my vision registers this date, and immediately I get a tidal wave of thought coursing through my brain. How much longer will I look at the date and be able to say “that’s my wedding anniversary”? Technically speaking, I am no longer married – therefore, no anniversary to acknowledge. That thought makes me extraordinarily sad, and I am overtaken again by thoughts of “life is UNFAIR!” And after a few minutes of self-pity, my mind once again takes control and gently – because it understands, and also feels in its own way, the pain my heart is feeling – reminds me that all I can do is keep moving forward. One step at a time, Shirley. Don’t be so quick to get past this... your heart goes at its own pace. Don’t leave it behind.
They say that dogs – I guess all animals? – are very receptive to the thoughts and feelings of their owners. Winnie is a good girl; she finishes her investigation of the bush, and we continue on our journey. As is her way, she is just “there” with me. She doesn’t ask me questions, doesn’t make me talk about my feelings, doesn’t impatiently wait for me to “get over” anything. She just…. loves me. As for my heart, I’ve come to the realization that I will always love the Bunny. He changed my life; he added all the beautiful colors to my world.
And whoever has the thought to come into MY world is going to have to understand that...
...and just love me.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Photograph Eve
Tomorrow is photograph day – the one I first mentioned back in my July 14th post. I went back and had to reread what I had written, to remind myself of the purpose of this project, because today, “Photograph Eve,” I realized I was feeling pretty agitated. I’ve been on edge since I got up this morning, and as the day has worn on, I have felt nauseous deep in the pit of my stomach… the feeling getting stronger and stronger with each passing hour.
I’ve been practicing my “sad look” – which of course requires that I fill my mind with the Bunny – and I have been mentally telling myself that once this project is completed, I cannot afford to spend any more long stretches of time pitying myself, wishing for things that just cannot be, or feeling ripped off by life. Yes, as positive as I try to be, I still feel those things. Once the sad look is captured in the photograph, I can stop carrying it around with me.
Things are still changing. Last week my cousin Lisa was visiting from Chicago, and spent part of the week at my house. She is in the part of my family that I am really close to, and as many friends and acquaintances as I have gathered in my life, there IS something about family that makes them special – something I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it is because all the barriers we put up to protect us from our everyday interactions with people just cease to exist with family. It’s quite an anomaly. Of course we spent some time talking about the Bunny and last December. My cousin wasn’t able to make it out at the time, but in hindsight it was a lot more enjoyable for me to have her here now, eight months later, when my life isn’t completely overwhelmed with emotional challenges. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a bunch of those! But not quite as many to deal with as back then – or maybe I’m just stronger to better handle them now? Hmmm.
After my shower, I was in my son’s bathroom drying my hair (the light is better in his bathroom than in mine), and my sad look ended with me bursting into tears. It’s not a long drawn-out thing; it's like I'm being skewered with a long sword, rather than suffocating slowly in a gas chamber. Intense, then nothing. I think that’s me doing that; I used to be great at shutting down my feelings, and I guess some things you never forget how to do, like riding a bicycle.
I imagine that this is what it would have been like had I known, that Saturday night before the Bunny’s accident, that my happy life with the Bunny would be finished. Looking back, I think the knowledge would have ruined my happiness. I often talk about that Saturday being the “happiest day of my life” – I had just gotten laid off from a job I hated, I was going to be able to work independently on things I enjoyed, I had my wonderful husband who adored me – I’m thankful for that Saturday, because it gives me a benchmark – a goal to work towards as life moves forward.
Tomorrow is the Bunny’s day. One of the last that we will spend “together.” I’ve got one more of these days left – the next one not till later in June of next year. I expect that one to be even tougher. But I also know I have all of my loved ones – friends and family – to get me through it.
I’ve been practicing my “sad look” – which of course requires that I fill my mind with the Bunny – and I have been mentally telling myself that once this project is completed, I cannot afford to spend any more long stretches of time pitying myself, wishing for things that just cannot be, or feeling ripped off by life. Yes, as positive as I try to be, I still feel those things. Once the sad look is captured in the photograph, I can stop carrying it around with me.
Things are still changing. Last week my cousin Lisa was visiting from Chicago, and spent part of the week at my house. She is in the part of my family that I am really close to, and as many friends and acquaintances as I have gathered in my life, there IS something about family that makes them special – something I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it is because all the barriers we put up to protect us from our everyday interactions with people just cease to exist with family. It’s quite an anomaly. Of course we spent some time talking about the Bunny and last December. My cousin wasn’t able to make it out at the time, but in hindsight it was a lot more enjoyable for me to have her here now, eight months later, when my life isn’t completely overwhelmed with emotional challenges. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a bunch of those! But not quite as many to deal with as back then – or maybe I’m just stronger to better handle them now? Hmmm.
After my shower, I was in my son’s bathroom drying my hair (the light is better in his bathroom than in mine), and my sad look ended with me bursting into tears. It’s not a long drawn-out thing; it's like I'm being skewered with a long sword, rather than suffocating slowly in a gas chamber. Intense, then nothing. I think that’s me doing that; I used to be great at shutting down my feelings, and I guess some things you never forget how to do, like riding a bicycle.
I imagine that this is what it would have been like had I known, that Saturday night before the Bunny’s accident, that my happy life with the Bunny would be finished. Looking back, I think the knowledge would have ruined my happiness. I often talk about that Saturday being the “happiest day of my life” – I had just gotten laid off from a job I hated, I was going to be able to work independently on things I enjoyed, I had my wonderful husband who adored me – I’m thankful for that Saturday, because it gives me a benchmark – a goal to work towards as life moves forward.
Tomorrow is the Bunny’s day. One of the last that we will spend “together.” I’ve got one more of these days left – the next one not till later in June of next year. I expect that one to be even tougher. But I also know I have all of my loved ones – friends and family – to get me through it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Flying Blind
I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately, what with trying the internet matching and trying to put myself in the “dating” mindset – the mindset of a single, reasonably attractive woman in today’s world. It’s difficult for me, because I am unfamiliar with the social customs and traditions of dating; the “rules” that guide people’s behavior in those situations. I am used to two modes: alone, or in a serious intimate relationship – zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds. I am not one of those girls who really understands what it means to “casually date” or even date several people at once. I’m not sure I even want to learn how to do those things. But this is a whole new world, and nothing is off the table yet…
I’ve said many times that I was really lucky to have found the Bunny. REALLY lucky. I wasn’t looking for him – he found me, and he made me so happy – I loved being married to him. I wouldn’t have called us similar – we liked lots of different things, but I think they were complementary things. I think the most important thing was that we shared the same perspective of the world, our world… we fought fair (without getting “ugly” as I have seen some couples do), we agreed to disagree, and there wasn’t any problem we couldn’t work through with communication. This last point was very important, because when we first got together, my modus operandi in an argument was to shut down and say nothing. This response was carried over from my childhood – my mom would be screaming her head off, and I would just mentally shut down to escape it. Cut off my emotions so I wouldn’t have to feel it. So nothing could hurt me. This is what the Bunny inherited – one of the many challenges in being intimately involved with me, I guess.
Back in one of my earlier posts, I was talking about this guy I met that I really liked – the first since the death of my husband – yea, that didn’t work out. My heart, as usual, held on a lot longer than it should… There were many clear signals that there was absolutely no chance for a relationship, but in these situations, my heart dictates the pace of acceptance of reality. So… it happened again. Another guy – completely monopolizing my thoughts. Makes me happy on various levels when I’m around him. But it’s the same thing as before: many clear signals that there is absolutely no chance for a relationship (he’s already married). But my heart isn’t ready to let go – what a masochist!
I try to keep this on the down low for the most part, because while I am perfectly comfortable with torturing myself, I would not purposely want to worry the people in my life that care about me – and knowing I was all emotionally hung up on some married guy would definitely worry them. But I refuse to hold anyone accountable for feelings – myself included. My belief is that feelings cannot be controlled; like the tides of the ocean. Like the sunrise. Like the pull of gravity.
What I am accountable for are my actions. Where lots of people go wrong is that they allow their feelings to justify doing things that they know are wrong. I could be sitting here, thinking: I’m really attracted to this guy. I DESERVE him. So what that he’s married? Why should that stop me? And you know what? It does. And it’s not about what I deserve or don’t deserve. If I believe that the reason I am who I am is because I am a product of all the relationships in my life, I have to apply the same logic outside of myself – this guy’s relationship with his wife is one of the things that makes this guy who he is, too. Having been married a few times already, that is THE relationship out of the many in one’s life that completely dominates your perspective. I know this, based on the size of the hole that the Bunny left me with.
I get emails daily from the internet matching site – I sign in, I read the profiles of men the site has decided are “compatible” to me. A lot of them like to cook. Clean their homes. Take care of children. At least a lot of them also like music… that’s the only common interest that doesn’t make me want to vomit. Most of the time I’m laughing my ass off, because I’m not looking to date myself in male form. I still don’t have high hopes for the whole internet matching thing.
But take heart, all you lonely people out there: the best things in life come to you when you aren’t looking for them. And I’m guessing a few of them are going to come my way sooner or later, too. Peace.
I’ve said many times that I was really lucky to have found the Bunny. REALLY lucky. I wasn’t looking for him – he found me, and he made me so happy – I loved being married to him. I wouldn’t have called us similar – we liked lots of different things, but I think they were complementary things. I think the most important thing was that we shared the same perspective of the world, our world… we fought fair (without getting “ugly” as I have seen some couples do), we agreed to disagree, and there wasn’t any problem we couldn’t work through with communication. This last point was very important, because when we first got together, my modus operandi in an argument was to shut down and say nothing. This response was carried over from my childhood – my mom would be screaming her head off, and I would just mentally shut down to escape it. Cut off my emotions so I wouldn’t have to feel it. So nothing could hurt me. This is what the Bunny inherited – one of the many challenges in being intimately involved with me, I guess.
Back in one of my earlier posts, I was talking about this guy I met that I really liked – the first since the death of my husband – yea, that didn’t work out. My heart, as usual, held on a lot longer than it should… There were many clear signals that there was absolutely no chance for a relationship, but in these situations, my heart dictates the pace of acceptance of reality. So… it happened again. Another guy – completely monopolizing my thoughts. Makes me happy on various levels when I’m around him. But it’s the same thing as before: many clear signals that there is absolutely no chance for a relationship (he’s already married). But my heart isn’t ready to let go – what a masochist!
I try to keep this on the down low for the most part, because while I am perfectly comfortable with torturing myself, I would not purposely want to worry the people in my life that care about me – and knowing I was all emotionally hung up on some married guy would definitely worry them. But I refuse to hold anyone accountable for feelings – myself included. My belief is that feelings cannot be controlled; like the tides of the ocean. Like the sunrise. Like the pull of gravity.
What I am accountable for are my actions. Where lots of people go wrong is that they allow their feelings to justify doing things that they know are wrong. I could be sitting here, thinking: I’m really attracted to this guy. I DESERVE him. So what that he’s married? Why should that stop me? And you know what? It does. And it’s not about what I deserve or don’t deserve. If I believe that the reason I am who I am is because I am a product of all the relationships in my life, I have to apply the same logic outside of myself – this guy’s relationship with his wife is one of the things that makes this guy who he is, too. Having been married a few times already, that is THE relationship out of the many in one’s life that completely dominates your perspective. I know this, based on the size of the hole that the Bunny left me with.
I get emails daily from the internet matching site – I sign in, I read the profiles of men the site has decided are “compatible” to me. A lot of them like to cook. Clean their homes. Take care of children. At least a lot of them also like music… that’s the only common interest that doesn’t make me want to vomit. Most of the time I’m laughing my ass off, because I’m not looking to date myself in male form. I still don’t have high hopes for the whole internet matching thing.
But take heart, all you lonely people out there: the best things in life come to you when you aren’t looking for them. And I’m guessing a few of them are going to come my way sooner or later, too. Peace.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Competing Objectives
Yesterday I began working with a personal trainer. Which is ironic when you consider that I hate to exercise.. about as much as I hate taking vitamins. Okay, maybe “hate” is too strong a word. How about “REALLY hate.” Back in the days when the Bunny was still doing his 50-mile bicycle rides every other weekend (before the Roadstar), I was the one who could always be counted on to stay home and cook up a nice spread for the gang when they finished riding – appreciative recipients in one of my favorite activities: cooking for friends.
I’ve always been at odds with my physical appearance. I feel it brings me too much attention already, and one of the by-products of conditioning my body is that it potentially might look better to others. Yikes. If this were the only consideration, it would be enough to motivate me to NOT exercise (no matter how cute the personal trainer). But before the Bunny died – when we still had the luxury of discussing death in those hypothetical terms that people tend to use when they are young and relatively healthy – he made me promise that should he die, it was my mission to take his ashes to the top of Half Dome. For the uninformed, Half Dome is this huge mountain in Yosemite National Park. The Bunny and I were married in Yosemite, in a meadow directly in front of this very mountain. The Bunny himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice previously, that I knew of. Myself, I never had the slightest inclination to leave the campsite, much less strap on hiking boots and spend the better part of a day traipsing around on some mountain. According to documented information, it’s approximately 15.5 miles roundtrip (with a 4737-foot altitude gain). If you are looking for me, I’ll be napping in the tent.
Exercising elicits a wide spectrum of feelings from me. My trainer’s intent is for me to “get more in touch with my body” which draws a strange parallel to my formative years, when I tended to suppress all of my true feelings and emotions because what with all the trauma in my life it was just too overwhelming – there were too many intense feelings to process. Getting in touch with my body implies that I have to care about my body, I have to love my body, I have to nurture it, take care of it… right now, my body and I have this truce, more or less. I need to be nice to it or it’s going to screw me over. So it receives the bare minimum – food, rest, regular cleanings, etc. But love and nurture it? Hmmm. That’s a lot to ask.
Just to annoy me, my body’s reactions to exercise range from “making me feel nauseous” to something almost sexual. As I said, it’s a wide spectrum. Kind of like people who are addicted to drama, and feed off of the extreme highs and lows. So it makes it hard for me to get my head wrapped around what I am doing; to develop a rhythm… also working against me is the recognition of my goal – my goal in exercising is to climb up that mountain. My goal is to let go of the life I had with the Bunny. At this very moment, his ashes are sitting in a box on my dresser. The box is wrapped in plain white paper – the kind of paper you would wrap a fine piece of china in, to protect it from damage during a move. The kind of paper you would wrap seafood in, a nice piece of salmon that you found at the meat counter. It’s anything but pretentious, mostly unnoticed with all the clutter in my bedroom – but I notice. Every time I walk in there. Every time I go to sleep. Every time I put my clean socks and underwear into my dresser drawers. I notice, and I remember.
I go back to work with my personal trainer in four days. He’s coaching me – and trusting me – to do these exercises on my own, at home. He is absolutely confident that if I work hard, we will get me and the Bunny up that mountain, approximately 10 months from now.
Getting myself back down, alone… is entirely up to me.
I’ve always been at odds with my physical appearance. I feel it brings me too much attention already, and one of the by-products of conditioning my body is that it potentially might look better to others. Yikes. If this were the only consideration, it would be enough to motivate me to NOT exercise (no matter how cute the personal trainer). But before the Bunny died – when we still had the luxury of discussing death in those hypothetical terms that people tend to use when they are young and relatively healthy – he made me promise that should he die, it was my mission to take his ashes to the top of Half Dome. For the uninformed, Half Dome is this huge mountain in Yosemite National Park. The Bunny and I were married in Yosemite, in a meadow directly in front of this very mountain. The Bunny himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice previously, that I knew of. Myself, I never had the slightest inclination to leave the campsite, much less strap on hiking boots and spend the better part of a day traipsing around on some mountain. According to documented information, it’s approximately 15.5 miles roundtrip (with a 4737-foot altitude gain). If you are looking for me, I’ll be napping in the tent.
Exercising elicits a wide spectrum of feelings from me. My trainer’s intent is for me to “get more in touch with my body” which draws a strange parallel to my formative years, when I tended to suppress all of my true feelings and emotions because what with all the trauma in my life it was just too overwhelming – there were too many intense feelings to process. Getting in touch with my body implies that I have to care about my body, I have to love my body, I have to nurture it, take care of it… right now, my body and I have this truce, more or less. I need to be nice to it or it’s going to screw me over. So it receives the bare minimum – food, rest, regular cleanings, etc. But love and nurture it? Hmmm. That’s a lot to ask.
Just to annoy me, my body’s reactions to exercise range from “making me feel nauseous” to something almost sexual. As I said, it’s a wide spectrum. Kind of like people who are addicted to drama, and feed off of the extreme highs and lows. So it makes it hard for me to get my head wrapped around what I am doing; to develop a rhythm… also working against me is the recognition of my goal – my goal in exercising is to climb up that mountain. My goal is to let go of the life I had with the Bunny. At this very moment, his ashes are sitting in a box on my dresser. The box is wrapped in plain white paper – the kind of paper you would wrap a fine piece of china in, to protect it from damage during a move. The kind of paper you would wrap seafood in, a nice piece of salmon that you found at the meat counter. It’s anything but pretentious, mostly unnoticed with all the clutter in my bedroom – but I notice. Every time I walk in there. Every time I go to sleep. Every time I put my clean socks and underwear into my dresser drawers. I notice, and I remember.
I go back to work with my personal trainer in four days. He’s coaching me – and trusting me – to do these exercises on my own, at home. He is absolutely confident that if I work hard, we will get me and the Bunny up that mountain, approximately 10 months from now.
Getting myself back down, alone… is entirely up to me.
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