My dear friend, Sam, wrote an interesting blog post earlier this week called 'Mantras.' Her blog post got me thinking (which is, I think, what all blog posts should strive to do), and ultimately it inspired the post you are reading right now.
Mantras originated as part of Hinduism (technically part of the Vedic tradition which I believe came earlier than Hinduism but parts of it were absorbed into Hinduism--including the use of mantras). A mantra is a word, phrase, or sound that one says repetitively in order to induce a kind of spiritual transformation. Yogis make frequent use of mantras. The "ohm" sound most of us associate with yoga is actually the pranava mantra. The pranava mantra is the way the word Aum sounds. "Ohm". This is literally the sound of creation. No wonder it is used to bring about spiritual transformation.
I never put much stock into mantras. I thought they were silly. That is until this year. Right before my 27th birthday I decided it was time to make some major life changes. I was about to be 27 years old and I was miserable. In addition to being in the worst health of my life and struggling daily with congestive heart failure, about which I was quite bitter, I was also unhappy with my career (or rather lack thereof).
I couldn't breathe (both literally and figuratively). I ached all the time, all over. The things the doctors were doing to me to keep me alive hurt and I simply did not appreciate their efforts to force life into my dying body, and it was dying. I was dying. My big plan to be a professor simply didn't pan out, nor did it make me happy. I did not like the ignoble political games I was forced to play in order to get ahead. I dropped out of my graduate program because I felt it was a waste of my time and energy. I began applying for management positions at museums. I always made it to the final round of interviews, but I never got the jobs. I didn't have a M.A. in Public History. Like I said, I was miserable.
Then 2 and a half weeks before my birthday I went to see my cardiologist. My health was worsening and because I have such a complex series of diagnoses standard treatment wasn't working. I also have something called "inappropriate sinus tachycardia". IST makes your heart beat too fast, but doctors don't know what causes it nor do they know how to treat it. Doctors also cannot agree on how dangerous this disorder is. My doctor thought it would eventually kill me given my congestive heart failure. So he proposed a radical plan to improve my health, a wholly experimental treatment. It would be dangerous. He wanted me to do aerobics. People with CHF are not supposed to do aerobics because aerobics can lead to cardiac arrest for patients with this condition, patients like me. But my doctor said, "I don't know if this will work. I do know it will be dangerous. But something has to change or nothing ever will. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I think this is a desperate time."
That's when my life changed. That moment. In that second I decided that I had to change in order to live. I applied for admission to the Public History program at my local college. I was accepted. I would get that M.A. employers wanted me to have. I took up walking. I puked. I hurt. I turned blue. I kept doing it. I thought "I can't do this." I read The Secret. I tried to engage in positive thinking. I decided that what I told myself about myself and what I was doing really mattered. So I started using mantras. Mantras, which I had previously thought of as silly things, became the very thing that kept me going.
As I walked I chanted "I am not going to die. I am not going to die. I am not going to die." Then I started jogging. Slowly. One minute at a time. Five minute walking breaks in between each one minute stretch. I decided I needed to shift my focus from death to life. So I started chanting "I am going to live. I am going to live. I am going to live." Then one day during a particularly difficult jog I had another realization. I puked my guts up in my neighbors yard and my lips and fingernails were blue. I was heaving for breath. I thought this is not living. I needed my body to be stronger. So the next day I started chanting "My body is strong. My body is strong. My body is strong."
Some days I tie on my running shoes and head out the door and my heartbeat won't regulate itself. It runs out of control, faster than it should, faster than my feet are carrying me. My chest is tight and it is hard to breathe. On these days I return to my earlier chant, "My body is strong. My body is strong. My body is strong." I might have to shorten my run on these days, but I always run. I always finish. My body is strong.
Other days my feet carry me faster than ever before and my heart beats at just the right pace and my lungs expand with air and I feel like I am flying. On these days I have a new mantra. I am living. I am living. I am living. I am living.
What you tell yourself matters.
Are you living?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Skin
When I was a child my grandmother used to tell me that beauty was only skin deep. She didn't want me to be conceited or superficial. She strove to teach me that a woman's worth lies in her intelligence and her compassion, not in boobs and a pretty face. In middle school when I had to start dressing out in gym class and I came home embarrassed because I didn't want the other girls to realize how painfully flat chested I was she said, "Those girls might make fun of you for not having boobs, but remember boobs will only get a woman so far in life. Intelligence will get you further than any set of big boobs ever will." I thought she was crazy. I didn't want to get far in life. I just wanted a nice set of hooters. Eventually, these lessons she tried so hard to teach me would stick though and I would know she was right.
My grandfather was equally influential. He wanted me to know that a good man would want me for my mind and he told me more than once that I didn't need a man to go far. He would say, "Pumpkin, you can do it all on your own. You're smart. Men are dumb." When my first high school boyfriend broke my heart by cheating on me it was my grandpa who told me to dry up those tears. He said, "Any boy dumb enough to let you go doesn't deserve you. You're too smart to sit here crying over a dumbass." He was right.
We all go through awkward phases, times when we're just not comfortable in our own skin. In middle school I had acne. Little red dots decorated my forehead. I was fully convinced I resembled a connect the dots sheet. It was awful. Most of the other girls in my class developed early and had giant knockers by the time we were 13. I was flat as a board and thin as a rail. I didn't weigh 90 pounds until high school.
The summer before heading to freshman year my acne cleared up and I began to discover I was pretty. Lots of people thought I was pretty. I was fairly self confident for a teenage girl. However, I remained self conscious about certain aspects of my appearance. I was still incredibly thin and mostly boobless. While other girls my age worried about being fat I tried to pack on the pounds, convinced if I could just gain a little weight I'd suddenly have Marilyn Monroe sized breasts. I never did gain weight (or get big ol' boobs). The day I graduated high school I weighed 98 pounds.
College brought new challenges. Other girls thought I should wear makeup--something I never did much of even in high school. Some girls thought I should wear lower cut shirts. Uh hello--I've got no "assets" to show off there. No low cut shirts for me! Some of my fellow classmates wanted me to pledge sororities with them. I refused. I told one girl I thought the sorority girls were "vapid." She then informed me that I "talked funny" and I was "too smart". I had a few other girls give me helpful advice---I should be dumber. Apparently boys didn't want smart girls.
Fortunately for me, I had 18 years of my grandparents' voices in my head telling me intelligence trumped beauty. I had also developed a self confidence associated with my intelligence instead of my looks by this point. I didn't take any of the above listed advice. I went to my 8 AM classes in my pajamas. I only wore makeup on stage in theatrical productions. I never pledged a sorority. Instead I earned my way into three honors societies, two of which claimed former presidents as members.
As an adult, I have seen some women skate by on their looks. These women get ahead in ways I consider unethical. It used to infuriate me. Then one day I realized something. These women will eventually lose their smooth skin and their giant breasts will one day sag. What will they do then? When outward beauty has deserted them and they are left not knowing how to survive simply on their own intelligence? Now I pity them.
I am 27 years old now. I have learned that true beauty is not skin deep. True beauty has nothing to do with what your skin looks like--it has to do with being comfortable in your own skin. True beauty shines forth from your soul. True beauty is evident in the selflessness of your actions, in your compassion for the other living things on this planet. True beauty is a good sense of humor, a crisp autumn day, and a good glass of wine shared with friends who make you smile. True beauty is love and sorrow and laughter and tears and death and life and everything in between.
My grandfather was equally influential. He wanted me to know that a good man would want me for my mind and he told me more than once that I didn't need a man to go far. He would say, "Pumpkin, you can do it all on your own. You're smart. Men are dumb." When my first high school boyfriend broke my heart by cheating on me it was my grandpa who told me to dry up those tears. He said, "Any boy dumb enough to let you go doesn't deserve you. You're too smart to sit here crying over a dumbass." He was right.
We all go through awkward phases, times when we're just not comfortable in our own skin. In middle school I had acne. Little red dots decorated my forehead. I was fully convinced I resembled a connect the dots sheet. It was awful. Most of the other girls in my class developed early and had giant knockers by the time we were 13. I was flat as a board and thin as a rail. I didn't weigh 90 pounds until high school.
The summer before heading to freshman year my acne cleared up and I began to discover I was pretty. Lots of people thought I was pretty. I was fairly self confident for a teenage girl. However, I remained self conscious about certain aspects of my appearance. I was still incredibly thin and mostly boobless. While other girls my age worried about being fat I tried to pack on the pounds, convinced if I could just gain a little weight I'd suddenly have Marilyn Monroe sized breasts. I never did gain weight (or get big ol' boobs). The day I graduated high school I weighed 98 pounds.
College brought new challenges. Other girls thought I should wear makeup--something I never did much of even in high school. Some girls thought I should wear lower cut shirts. Uh hello--I've got no "assets" to show off there. No low cut shirts for me! Some of my fellow classmates wanted me to pledge sororities with them. I refused. I told one girl I thought the sorority girls were "vapid." She then informed me that I "talked funny" and I was "too smart". I had a few other girls give me helpful advice---I should be dumber. Apparently boys didn't want smart girls.
Fortunately for me, I had 18 years of my grandparents' voices in my head telling me intelligence trumped beauty. I had also developed a self confidence associated with my intelligence instead of my looks by this point. I didn't take any of the above listed advice. I went to my 8 AM classes in my pajamas. I only wore makeup on stage in theatrical productions. I never pledged a sorority. Instead I earned my way into three honors societies, two of which claimed former presidents as members.
As an adult, I have seen some women skate by on their looks. These women get ahead in ways I consider unethical. It used to infuriate me. Then one day I realized something. These women will eventually lose their smooth skin and their giant breasts will one day sag. What will they do then? When outward beauty has deserted them and they are left not knowing how to survive simply on their own intelligence? Now I pity them.
I am 27 years old now. I have learned that true beauty is not skin deep. True beauty has nothing to do with what your skin looks like--it has to do with being comfortable in your own skin. True beauty shines forth from your soul. True beauty is evident in the selflessness of your actions, in your compassion for the other living things on this planet. True beauty is a good sense of humor, a crisp autumn day, and a good glass of wine shared with friends who make you smile. True beauty is love and sorrow and laughter and tears and death and life and everything in between.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Day 30: My Favorite Book of All Time
I am taking part in the 30 Day Book Challenge. Click the link to do it too (and add your blog to my meme)! *could someone please tell me why my draft page reads "30 Day Book Challenge" and my actual blog page reads "96 Day Book Challenge"? How do I fix this*
My favorite book of all time? Do you have any idea how many books I've read in my life? The answer to this question would depend on the day of the week you asked me. If you asked me again tomorrow, I'd probably have a different answer. If you'd asked me yesterday then I probably would have said something different than whatever I say today.
There are several obvious answers here. Harry Potter comes to mind. It's one of the only books (all 7 by the way) that I can reread and still enjoy the second and third and hundredth time around. The Witches of Eastwick also comes to mind. It's so beautifully written. I love it. It goes without saying that Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere is a masterpiece. I reread it too. It's amazing. I love it. Anyone who knows me well would expect one of those answers. Today, though, I think I'll go with something else.
Again, it's a series and not a single book. I had no idea I read so many series until I participated in this challenge! My favorite book(s) of all time (today, anyway) is Carolyn Keene's Nancy Drew series. Nancy Drew isn't my favorite book because it's timeless and a joy for little girls to read (though it is). Nancy Drew is my favorite book because my grandma on my dad's side read them while she was in the orphanage and she loved them so much that she gave me one of her priceless treasures (her own Nancy Drew from that orphange) to read for myself when I was a little girl. I read it and I loved it. Then we decided that we should both have the entire series, but we wanted the out of print yellow books from her childhood. So a mad treasure hunt was born. Every one in my family (on both sides) got in on it. My grandma and I, by the way, finally completed our collections about two years ago. I love these books.
My favorite book of all time? Do you have any idea how many books I've read in my life? The answer to this question would depend on the day of the week you asked me. If you asked me again tomorrow, I'd probably have a different answer. If you'd asked me yesterday then I probably would have said something different than whatever I say today.
There are several obvious answers here. Harry Potter comes to mind. It's one of the only books (all 7 by the way) that I can reread and still enjoy the second and third and hundredth time around. The Witches of Eastwick also comes to mind. It's so beautifully written. I love it. It goes without saying that Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere is a masterpiece. I reread it too. It's amazing. I love it. Anyone who knows me well would expect one of those answers. Today, though, I think I'll go with something else.
Again, it's a series and not a single book. I had no idea I read so many series until I participated in this challenge! My favorite book(s) of all time (today, anyway) is Carolyn Keene's Nancy Drew series. Nancy Drew isn't my favorite book because it's timeless and a joy for little girls to read (though it is). Nancy Drew is my favorite book because my grandma on my dad's side read them while she was in the orphanage and she loved them so much that she gave me one of her priceless treasures (her own Nancy Drew from that orphange) to read for myself when I was a little girl. I read it and I loved it. Then we decided that we should both have the entire series, but we wanted the out of print yellow books from her childhood. So a mad treasure hunt was born. Every one in my family (on both sides) got in on it. My grandma and I, by the way, finally completed our collections about two years ago. I love these books.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Run For Your Life (and Enjoy It)
I started running in March. I haven't been medically able to run for a long time. You can read about my progress here and here. When I first started "running" I was really "walking." Not jogging, not running, walking. And I dreaded it. Every morning I got up to "run" (walk) and I had to force myself to do it. It was not fun. It did not make me feel good. I usually barfed and almost always it seems I had an audience for my humiliation. It sucked. I hated it.
I've now been running almost 7 months, and I've recently started to really enjoy it. I even ran my first ever 5k a few weeks ago.
That's me before the race. I was excited, but also a little bit nervous. My only goals were to finish and not to come in dead last. I met both goals.
This is me finishing my first 5k:
It's not a pretty picture, but I'm proud of it. It was 52 degrees and RAINING the entire time. It was a cold rain, and an icy breeze blew the rain into my face (and onto my glasses) for the whole 47 minutes it took me to finish. I was not the fastest person there. I was slow. But I finished. And I did not come in dead last--11 people finished after me, 23 people did not finish in the allotted time and therefore were not counted, and 3 girls in my age division did not finish in time to be counted either. I was happy with that result. It was freezing. The weather was not great. I've never had so much fun in my life!
Since completing that 5k, I've really come into my own as a runner. I'm still not fast. I still have bad days. But instead of dreading every single step, I now look forward to each step. Each step is progress. I love my morning runs now. I love them so much that I want to share them with you.
Here are few pictures from today's run (from about 8:30 to 9:30 AM, approximately 4 miles):
I've now been running almost 7 months, and I've recently started to really enjoy it. I even ran my first ever 5k a few weeks ago.
That's me before the race. I was excited, but also a little bit nervous. My only goals were to finish and not to come in dead last. I met both goals.
This is me finishing my first 5k:
It's not a pretty picture, but I'm proud of it. It was 52 degrees and RAINING the entire time. It was a cold rain, and an icy breeze blew the rain into my face (and onto my glasses) for the whole 47 minutes it took me to finish. I was not the fastest person there. I was slow. But I finished. And I did not come in dead last--11 people finished after me, 23 people did not finish in the allotted time and therefore were not counted, and 3 girls in my age division did not finish in time to be counted either. I was happy with that result. It was freezing. The weather was not great. I've never had so much fun in my life!
Since completing that 5k, I've really come into my own as a runner. I'm still not fast. I still have bad days. But instead of dreading every single step, I now look forward to each step. Each step is progress. I love my morning runs now. I love them so much that I want to share them with you.
Here are few pictures from today's run (from about 8:30 to 9:30 AM, approximately 4 miles):
Before my run--I'm happy to be going.
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Downtown is painted pink! Business are going pink in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I love it!
I am fortunate to have beautiful, historic homes to look at on my morning runs. This one is one of my favorites. The architecture is so unique.
One of the many Victorians along our tree lined streets.
This is the historic court house.
I love my running route. I usually see and speak to several other runners. I always see a few dogs, and most of the time I take my dog with me. He's a great running partner. In the spring the entire city is alive with vegetation and sweet smelling flowers. I'm looking forward to watching the trees paint our streets in brilliant reds and golds this autumn. I'm lucky. This is a great place to run.
This is me at the end of my run. I'm sweaty and gross, but I'm happy. In your face congestive heart failure! I run for my life. You should run for your's too. Find a place that you enjoy going. I love looking at historic buildings. On the days that I struggle, knowing that a beautiful structure is right around the corner helps me stay motivated to finish. On days like today, when the weather is brisk and perfect for a run, when the sun is shining and the sidewalks are clear except for a few other early morning joggers, loving where I run makes a great day better. Happy running!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Eventful Week
I am so sorry I haven't posted much on the blog lately. The past few weeks have been hectic, and I haven't had much time to do anything not directly related to grad school or work. I've also had some family issues to contend with. This past weekend was pretty crazy. Here's a recap:
Friday: My aunt received upsetting news a few weeks ago. She had breast cancer six years ago, and nearly six years to the day of her first cancer-free check up she discovered the breast cancer had returned. She is very brave and we have all done our best to be there for her. Last Friday she had a mastectomy. She is recovering at home now, but she is in a lot of pain. The surgeon thinks he got all of the cancer and for that we are very grateful. Hopefully she will feel better soon.
Saturday: My husband and I left early Saturday morning to take a trip to the mountains to celebrate our 7 year wedding anniversary. It was a beautiful fall weekend with just the right amount of chill in the air. Kilwin's has the best hot chocolate in downtown Asheville, so if you're in the area be sure to drop by and get a cup! We enjoyed several leisurely strolls through Black Mountain too. It was a wonderful Saturday.
Sunday: October 2nd is our actual anniversary and we had a lot planned for the day. We woke up at 9:00 in the morning, fully expecting to shower and get dressed for a trip to the Swannanoa Valley Museum followed by a trip to the Biltmore. Fortunately we hadn't purchased tickets for either yet. Upon turning our cell phones on, we discovered that my sister-in-law had gone into labor late Saturday night. She was at the hospital back home about to welcome our nephew into the world! We hurriedly dressed and set out on a mission to find breakfast. Breakfast turned into an adventure when we couldn't find anywhere to eat in Black Mountain and had to backtrack back to Asheville! We ate at Carmel's in downtown Asheville. If you haven't had their chocolate peanut butter Belgian waffle then you're really missing out! We finally made our way home and arrived shortly after our new nephew, Sam, was born. He is beautiful and he is blessed with loving, wonderful parents. This is their first child and the first grandchild on either side so you can imagine the love emanating from that hospital room! It was a great anniversary gift, that's for sure!
Today: As you can see, I've had a really crazy weekend! I am at work (writing on my lunch break) now, and once I go home I have to find time to write a 7 page academic paper and go visit the baby!
I am very busy, but I am also very blessed. Thank you for reading.
Friday: My aunt received upsetting news a few weeks ago. She had breast cancer six years ago, and nearly six years to the day of her first cancer-free check up she discovered the breast cancer had returned. She is very brave and we have all done our best to be there for her. Last Friday she had a mastectomy. She is recovering at home now, but she is in a lot of pain. The surgeon thinks he got all of the cancer and for that we are very grateful. Hopefully she will feel better soon.
Saturday: My husband and I left early Saturday morning to take a trip to the mountains to celebrate our 7 year wedding anniversary. It was a beautiful fall weekend with just the right amount of chill in the air. Kilwin's has the best hot chocolate in downtown Asheville, so if you're in the area be sure to drop by and get a cup! We enjoyed several leisurely strolls through Black Mountain too. It was a wonderful Saturday.
Sunday: October 2nd is our actual anniversary and we had a lot planned for the day. We woke up at 9:00 in the morning, fully expecting to shower and get dressed for a trip to the Swannanoa Valley Museum followed by a trip to the Biltmore. Fortunately we hadn't purchased tickets for either yet. Upon turning our cell phones on, we discovered that my sister-in-law had gone into labor late Saturday night. She was at the hospital back home about to welcome our nephew into the world! We hurriedly dressed and set out on a mission to find breakfast. Breakfast turned into an adventure when we couldn't find anywhere to eat in Black Mountain and had to backtrack back to Asheville! We ate at Carmel's in downtown Asheville. If you haven't had their chocolate peanut butter Belgian waffle then you're really missing out! We finally made our way home and arrived shortly after our new nephew, Sam, was born. He is beautiful and he is blessed with loving, wonderful parents. This is their first child and the first grandchild on either side so you can imagine the love emanating from that hospital room! It was a great anniversary gift, that's for sure!
Today: As you can see, I've had a really crazy weekend! I am at work (writing on my lunch break) now, and once I go home I have to find time to write a 7 page academic paper and go visit the baby!
I am very busy, but I am also very blessed. Thank you for reading.
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