OUCH!..Here's Your Sign

I was in Fire class today and instructor/sweetheart Amy was talking about yoga positions that open up the throat chakra to improve your communication. Now you have to consider that this is a funny thing to be telling a group of mostly women, seeing as we girls usually do not have trouble finding something to say.
But it caught my attention because of a book I read a few years ago by Christianne Northrup, "Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom". She is an ob/gyn who says there is no seperation between mind and body, that in fact what you are feeling physically is a direct manifestation of what you are feeling emotionally. In other words, we store our emotions and thoughts in our bodies. Especially with pain, it is often a signal of emotional baggage that we have not dealt with.
She lists the chakras and suggest the different types of issues associated with certain areas--and boy did she nail it.
One of my re-curring problem spots is in my throat--thyroid, a tendency to go hoarse and a few other issues; and this area is, as Amy mentioned, related to communication. Huh? I am a female, a mom, a type-A personality, a former sales rep and a writer--of all issues, you would think I could take a pass on communication. But it turned out that the true root of my issues--especially at the time I was reading this book, wasn't about not knowing what to say. It was about not feeling heard. I'm sure so many moms know this drill--yelling at the kids, disciplining but seeing no change, circular arguements with your husband that never get you anywhere. I was also facing some extreme challenges with my mom and I was desperately lonely from moving half way across the country. It was really eye opening to
"see" a result of the emotional pain I was pretending not to have.
Realizing that my measuring tape did not read "practically-perfect-in-every-way" was humbling, but it was eventually liberating. My aches and pains are waving their hands and shouting, "Here's your sign." And at moments when I am brave enough to look at the damn sign, it typically has an arrow and reads, "Start here," putting me on a path of honesty leading to real healing.

Getting Stuck in the Tracks of My Tears

I don't know whether it is coming through my posts or not, but I have been struggling lately and as it goes, I don't always know immediately what is at the root of it, since there are several obvious issues we plod through everyday (namely Kyle's insane workload).
Well, yoga has provide a quasi-consistent way for my inn(h)er to work it's way out(h)er and today somethings really hit home--so much so that I began to cry once I entered Sivasana at the end of class. When the damn breaks...
At the root of it is expectations and disappointment, and the sad part about this is that it is all self inflicted. I am disappointed in me. I feel like I should be working on my novel with more fervor, like I should be searching for new venues to publish my work, that I should be at least bringing in more money if the other two aren't being accomplished and if all three of those are going the way of most good intentions, then what the hell do I have to show for my time? (Certainly not a clean house or a zen-filled parenting approach.)
Why is it not enough to just be happy with me--as is--right now? Goals are good. I am a huge believer in their power to keep you moving onward and upward, but I am somehow getting stuck in their trap of not enough...writing, exercising, earning, cleaning, listening.
Is it guilt? Maybe. I do feel guilty that Kyle works so hard and that I now have space in my life thanks to full-day kindergarten.
I do feel guilty that others have it more difficult than we do and that I still get sad. I mean, really, what do I actually have to be sad about? I have a beautiful family. I am allowed to pursue my passion. We are healthy.
I have tried to structure my days and calendar more effectively to become more productive. (This is a favorite band-aid of mine I use to convince myself that if everything is orderly then the magical, yellow brick road leading to the land of Perfect will appear before my every step.) But, it is not in my personality to fold my underwear or keep the pencil drawer from turning into the junk drawer for more than 2 days.
Where is the peace? I pray and I know that there is a lesson to be learned, but I can't find it yet. Give it to God vs. Pull Yourself Up by Your Bootstraps?
I actually don't think there is anything wrong with a little melancholy now and again. If short lived it can make you uncomfortable enough to do things differently. I don't believe every second of every day is supposed to be sunshine and bunnies, but I don't have to like it when I'm in it.
I do wonder if other people do this? Without naming it DEPRESSION, do other people get sad?

Winter Blahs and Band-aids

OK, the grey sky is seeping into my soul. This little light of mine peeks it's head out after hot yoga for about an hour before sulking back into the mist of winter. Ugh. I don't know how anyone endures this for more than a few months. My hats off to them.
So my oldest little boo broke his collarbone at school tripping over his own feet. It's true you can't keep a good man down. He is bouncing, running and harrassing his brothers (at risk to his own health) through it all. I guess this is just a live-through-this moment in time.
Finally the scale has moved and The Grand Total is -4 lbs. Not earth shattering, but enough to give me hope. I needed it after last weekend's back slide into cookie dough. You won't believe, I actually ate a sweet potatoe for lunch yesterday--wha.? Maybe there is hope for me afterall, or maybe they can just figure out how to make alcohol healthy. Where are the forward-thinking scientists when you need them?
I gave up a list of things for Lent and cookie dough was definitely a bigfat NO. So when I confessed to hubbie that I slipped, he just replied, "That's alright. You'll only burn an extra day for each of those bites." ?!? What a sweetheart!

Say hello to my newest girls!

So to fight the grey I have been reverting to bandaids--boot shopping(clearance sales, whoop whoop, nobel prize for Nordie's and Dillards for giving February a boost), hot yoga and reading Malcolm Gladwell(gladwell.com). Now, I know the last two might seem more like a root canal than a day at the beach, but hear me out.
In regards to reading nonfiction, Gladwell is perfect for inspiring thoughts that have nothing to do with my immediate reality--nerdy escapism if you will. (Yes, I definitely have closet nerd in me.) Also, in his book The Tipping Point, he outlines three different personality types that drive social epidemics. It has gotten me thinking that many of us may over-state the importance of A TALENT--musical, artistic, athletic--in evaluating our worth, because who you are at your core might be even more influential than you know.
And... I had a yoga epiphany yesterday, or actually it was given to me by the divine yogii Amy. While Bikram yoga has been referred to as the torture chamber, she pointed out that by allowing your body to work so incredibly hard, it takes the pressure off your mind giving the ever active and neurotic electrical impulses a little peace. It's true--by focusing on breathe here, balance there, strengthen this, tighten that and bonda where the sun don't shine, it is absolutely impossible to obsess or worry about anything outside of those blue walls. It is optimal timing for that message too, because I was NOT happy during Bow and Locust. http://www.sivananda.org/teachings/asana/locust.html
Funny sidenote, as I was searching for a link for Locust, I literally laughed out loud when I saw the full progression of this position. It is safe to estimate that my feet are probably 2 inches off the ground and probably safer to estimate that they will never, never be anywhere near my head. Hillarious!
So that's how I am trudging through the last days of winter. Any other band-aid ideas would be greatly appreciated!

Resolution Sabotage

Self sabotage is my middle name, and it's insanely pathetic that I know this.
Let me back up and tell you a little about my New Year's resolutions, because probably references to these will be made over the next 11 month seeing as I am a (supposed) former over-achiever and some habits die hard, like perpetual goal setting. Onward and upward as they say.
So here were/are my resolutions.
1. Typical female must of losing 10 lbs. How it got to be ten, I don't know. OK, yes I do. Buf wild wings+too many sanity necessary beers+late night munching+ more freelance jobs=lots of time sitting on my ass and 10 extra pounds. Anyways...
2. Build more community. As I've told you, charming, cowboy boot wearing husband is a workaholic. Think less than 1 day off per week, no real vacay in 10 years, 60+ hours per week(conservitively). He's in the oil field. It sucks. He hates his schedule, I hate his schedule and yet we keep on chuggin. Well, I do OK with this usually, but it definitely catches up with me and most recently, my reality check came in the form of an epiphany about my kids' sports. The boys are good athletes(come on, I'm allowed a little mama bragging!) and we are typically at a field of some sort 4 days per week. So welcome november and december and a lull between seasons and good-bye socialization and getting out of the house. I had to come to grips with the fact that I had a major case of the L-word. Lonely.
So I am making a major push to actually use all the numbers I have in my phone and re-claim some version of normal. I am prowling for friends.
3. Take yoga at least 3x's per week. I want to check out the mind, body, spirit thingy.
4.Finish my chic lit novel and take my writing to the next level. That means turning down the easy to get, paying jobs to try and land dream jobs.

So what am I doing about this? Eating a buffalo chicken sandwich (with bacon--did you know you could do that? yuh-ummh) on french bread, taking a break from writing one of the ten deadlines I accepted that I said I wouldn't, using my new tatto ;P as an excuse why I am unable to do any yoga at all this week and writing about it in my blog instead of calling one of my local girls to confess so they can give me a much needed kick in the pants(that I am not fitting into very well).
Oh well, back on the wagon tomorrow.