8 Comebacks for Transphobic Relatives Over the Holidays (or really anytime of the year).

There is this nifty YouTube vlogger (is that the right term? I'm over 40, I 'm too old for this stuff) named Franchescha Ramsey. She makes lots of great videos (many for MTV Decoded). I especially like this one she made just in time for the holidays (or really any day) called: "8 Comebacks for Transphobic Relatives Over the Holidays":

It's useful for just about everyone - but especially CIS gendered folks. 

I bring this up because I notice that advocacy and "comebacks" may not be naturally born talents - but something we can all learn! And, as a CIS gendered white woman - it's up to me to use that privilege ensure equality (see this if you don't understand what I'm talking about): 

Two recent cases come to mind.

Last Monday I'm on a flight home from the west coast. The San Francisco based crew on my plane landing in Minneapolis includes an attendant named Marie. Marie is lovely, has a bit of a fake French accent, but is nothing but kind, welcoming and pleasant. She's doing her job as a flight attendant and she's doing it well.

I am sitting in a different section (ok, so, I was upgraded to business class where I got dinner - haters go ahead and hate) than the section Marie worked, but I still heard her announcements and saw her walk through the cabin doing her safety checks.

After we landed and were taxi-ing to the gate at MSP she was making final announcements and wishing us all Happy Holidays. She had some confusion letting us know what time it is in Mpls. (Heck, happens to me all the time. I subtract or add the hours wrong - I know it's a 2 hour time difference, I just don't add or subtract it where I should.)

She laughed and made a joke about it... and just then the guy in the seat ahead of me says to his seatmate, and loud enough for all of us seated around him to hear: 

"Not only can't he count but he's cross dressing today."

I took a deep calming breath, leaned forward and said quietly: "Her name is Marie. SHE is not cross dressing."

He turns around in his seat and says louder yet: "Same difference" 

At this point my blood is boiling. I'm sure my face is red and flames are coming out of my ears and singeing my hair. 

I finally don't lean forward - I just use my regular volume (which isn't as quiet as I'd been using so far) and say: "Those of us with transgender children would beg to differ."

That shut him up. After a pause he said: "I'm sorry." I answered in what I hope was a non-angry voice: "You should be." The man next to me looked at me and smiled. The woman across the aisle caught my eyes and nodded at me smiling as we began to deplane. 

Case 2: Today our mail-service pharmacy company calls up (they have some talented and understanding employees, but today I was called by one that doesn't fall into that category) - and starts referring to my son (noted on their record with his correct name) by his incorrect, but legal still, name on the insurance. 

OK, no big deal. I'll just correct the confusion. I'll just explain again the reason his name says Erik on the record is because that's.his.name. And, please use his pronouns when talking with me: he, him and his. 

This guy was slow on the uptake. I think I had to re-iterate my son's name and pronouns three more times. Moreover, he works for a company where he talks about medications all day and he couldn't pronounce ANY of the medications he was calling about for our family..so I'm just going to write him off perhaps a new-hire or seasonal temp-worker and hope that the company recorded that call for quality assurance.

I take the approach of being kind. Firm, but kind. So far I've only run into uneducated people. No one has been hateful, deliberately rude or intentionally hurtful to me and for that I am grateful. I'm sure the day will come. Until then, in the words of my jam, Chuck D & Flavor Flav (Public Enemy), "I gotta do what I gotta do". 

It is What it Is

This particular post has been brewing in my head for a long time now.
I've not been sure how to title it, how to share it and whether it would be detrimental to my friends, family and even to my career to "put it out there".

Frankly though, the older I get the less I care what other people think of me.
I care more about my actions, how I show love to others and being the best possible me I can be. I have less patience for people who are close minded and critical and if they're going to be toxic, I'm just going to move along and "pay them no mind".

The older I grow the more I think in my head a wonderful phrase my cousin Eric uses: "No Fucks Were Given".  (Side note: Eric, if you ever see this, you should know you are my hero. Your candidness, intelligence, fabulous sense of humor and ability to call it as you see it are beautiful qualities I aspire to emulate.)

This post is about removing stigma. This post is about how I have overcome shame. This post is about the pain caused by those those who judge or unknowingly hurt me from a place of ignorance.

Here's the story for you:

In late 2013/early 2014 I began to feel very sick. I lost a lot of weight. It was clear to people around me something was really wrong. I was struggling to keep up in the face of a really busy time at work (and yet I still managed to close a HUGE deal at work). 
I eventually became so sick I had to go to the hospital by ambulance. I was hospitalized and diagnosed with cancer and placed on life saving medication. 

I was afraid to tell my company - specifically my boss and colleagues and friends. I made up a lie and told my boss I'd had a heart scare related to my blood pressure and it sounded plausible enough to explain my hospitalization.

Also, I was a bit in denial. I couldn't process the diagnosis and sometimes it felt..unreal. This couldn't be happening. I did tell a few very close friends (and I apologize in advance if you weren't one of them...it was distressing to share my news with even close family. Many of them still don't know.)

My job provides our medical insurance and time away from work would put us in (greater) financial distress. I didn't want to be assigned fewer accounts or provide my boss a reason to fire me. I didn't want anyone to see my weakness. I decided to just "gut it out".  
My family was shell-shocked and afraid for my survival and it damaged us all. It changed our entire family dynamic. 

Through it all, I hid the twice weekly in-clinic treatments with bogus appointments on my work calendar so my boss wouldn't know. It took more than a year for me to go in to a sort of remission and grow stronger. It took major health changes - diet changes, more self care like yoga and meditation, really dedicating myself to get enough rest. 
These changes also impacted my family. The more I took time to heal, the less was doing my share of "being with" my family and doing the normal things it takes to run a busy household with kids.

Also, I lost the ability to do things I'd always loved to do. For a very long time I was literally unable to read. (I had always been a voracious reader - a huge book lover.) I would stare at the walls in pain and couldn't even escape into NetFlix or a book.

Moreover, the (costly, but necessary) medications are not something I can live without for the foreseeable future if I want to hope to remain in this tenuous remission. 

I have come to accept that I may well have to be hospitalized for treatment again someday, and while I dread this, I am determined to fight like hell to avoid it. This hangs over my head and weighs on my family's mind and each sign of a symptom - any twinge or sign - is enough to worry my kids and husband and this makes me feel horrible guilt despite the fact it is beyond my control.

I hated 2014. Hardest damn year of my life. Painful for my family in many, many ways. In November of 2014 I had major surgery unrelated to the cancer. I was in the hospital for nearly a week - and this time it wasn't in the cancer ward. (And fortunately it was at HCMC, rather than Abbott, which held the bad memories of my prior hospital stay.)

My boss was definitely unhappy with my time away from work - and this just strengthened my resolve that she and my coworkers should not know about my health. It garnered some awkward and in many cases unwelcome comments from my coworkers and that once again validated my decision to hide the cancer treatments (which were ongoing at that point).

This led to tremendous shame and stress at work. Eventually I was put on a sort of probation at work (I still think this was not due to my professional performance, but who cares) - and this was enough to finally spur me to look for a new (and better) job. 

The fresh start has been wonderful in many, many ways. Sure, I miss friends and colleagues from my old job...but the new work environment I'm in is...freeing. I feel more able to speak my mind and be honest and up-front. I'm not fearing for my job and I feel that my performance and hard work are being valued and that any medical appointments I need won't cost me my job.

I tell you all of this not because I want your sympathy. I am confessing all of this because I want to reduce the stigma. The stigma of mental illness. 
Go ahead and re-read the story above and every time you see the word cancer replace it with Bipolar II or mental illness.

Yes. In my 40s, after career success, marrying a wonderful husband and building our lovely family with these amazing kids... I almost died.

I can't explain it adequately...but there are a few songs and lyrics that I think might help.

Try listening to Sara Groves song "From this One Place" 

The lyrics she wrote were about her late-in-life diagnosis of an Anxiety disorder:

[ I was about to give up and that's no lie...

...from this one place I can't see very far
in this one moment I'm square in the dark
these are the things I will trust in my heart
you can see something else
something else ]

And another song she wrote sums up how Jeff has provided support for me.
It's called "Twice As Good"

And..finally the song that I heard long after it was popular, but that really helped spur me to write this post is by Mary Lambert. You've probably heard "Secrets" before..but her FIRST line in this song were the confessional words I need everyone to hear. 

I can just slightly adjust the lyrics and it fits me perfectly when I sing the song (rocking out in the privacy of my car!):

[ I've got bi-polar disorder
My shit's not in order
I think I'm overweight
I'm always late
I've got too many things to say
I rock mom jeans, bee earrings
Extrapolate my feelings
My family is dysfunctional
But we have a good time teasing each other

[Pre-Chorus:]
They tell us from the time we're young
To hide the things that we don't like about ourselves
Inside ourselves
I know I'm not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else
Well I'm over it

[Chorus:]

I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are, secrets are ]

That one fits pretty damn well. 
And it's comforting to see her success. It's comforting each time I read my BP magazine (yes, there is a magazine that gets mailed to my home monthly - and they have a website) and read about other people just.like.me. 
People diagnosed late in life. Or not. People who nearly destroyed their lives. Or not. People who have been "successful" in spite of major mental illness. Or not.

I say "successful" because even if earning an income and not losing my family are considered "success" - that doesn't mean that other people with Bipolar are any less successful even if they're just putting one foot in front of the other and surviving. 

I told my story (above) the way I did not to minimize cancer, but to help point out the difference between how people treat those diagnosed with the two illnesses. 
I have two people near and dear to me fighting for their lives at the moment and going through chemo and soon radiation and it SUCKS. It is probably the worst season of their lives to-date. From all I can see from the outside it looks like hell on earth. 

However, when they were diagnosed they received sympathy. People send cards and flowers. People embrace them. People make meals for them and drive them to medical appointments. Sympathy, empathy, understanding...not stigma, avoidance and even doubt.

My careful balance to "get better" has involved DBT (google it), medication carefully tailored to my needs - and one of them at the maximum dosage because my particular form of bipolar is the most dangerous - because in the depths of a mixed state (google that, too) I am more likely than others to very skillfully commit suicide. 
My recovery has included exercise, a routine, getting adequate sleep and mediation/spiritual focus. My year of DBT is completed, and I use the skills constantly. I'm in a good place - good enough to not really need frequent therapy. I have to be mindful that this could all change at any moment. For now, my 5 pronged approach is keeping me in "remission". 
I can take care of others again. I can be a supportive friend. I can socialize and make friends. I can honestly present a happy face to others. I can be a loving mother and wife.

I am tentatively going back to reading and quilting again. At first I could only read books in paper (no Kindle)..but I'm experimenting with my first kindle book this month and I'm half-way through...so I have hope.
TV doesn't usually interest me anymore..but reading and writing have come back, and frankly those capabilities are far more important to me. 

I am sometimes a better wife and mother than I used to be. 
In general however, my changes - mainly for better, but perhaps some for worse, have taken some major "getting used to" for my kids and Jeff. 
Imagine knowing someone for nearly 2 decades, or in the case of my kids - their whole lives - and then their personality changes drastically. 
Like I said, on the whole, they are good changes. My kids appreciate that I am a more compassionate, mellow person, don't drive aggressively like I used to and I am slower to anger.

But they are disturbed when I am friendlier with strangers - chatting in the checkout line or any other "outgoing" behavior they don't remember from "before". 
They are wary for any act that might signal hypo-mania. They are suspicious anytime I spend money (a sign of possible mania can be impulsive purchases - although this is not one of my common signs of mania). When I rush around because we are late they worry that my moving "too fast" = mania. Basically, they worry. Which is horrible because they shouldn't have to worry. 

Running has been a major (and cathartic) component of my recovery. Vigorous exercise is actually recommended for those with bipolar. It's part of one of the many DBT coping skills. 
The time that running takes away from my family is also something that they (understandably) resent to a degree, too. 
It's a solitary activity for the most part - and not one of their interests..so it appears (and often to me, feels) "selfish". 

The main reason I am finally divulging this, however, is because of something that happened to me this past week.

Jeff was traveling so I had to get Michael to Catechism and pick him up.
I haven't been to church much since I "retired" from teaching Sunday school - mainly because it's been tough to go back. And, moreover, I've been getting my spiritual needs fulfilled elsewhere (a women's Bible study, yoga, meditation, prayer while I run)..and I sometimes I also falter in my faith. 
This is in large part to the sort of dogmatic "religious" (rather than Christian - notice I'm discerning between the two) reaction to mental health. 

I know a lot of people (and frankly, to a large degree I used to be one of them) that are skeptical of mental health diagnoses. 
Thoughts like:
Is it real? C'mon, isn't depression just an excuse for laziness? They don't look sick. Sure, he blows up sometimes - but he's got a good/stressful job and so what if he drinks too much. Or...some people are JUST EVIL. That's why they do/did that.

This week a man I know very well from my church saw me waiting for Michael to finish up in Catechism and approached me. He said: "Long time no see!" (Fair comment. I've been avoiding our church.) We chatted for a while on a variety of topics. 
Let me stress first that I really LIKE this person. He's an older man who helped me very much in the past with a mission project. He is generous and a humble servant of God. He is a faithful and longtime member of our church.

AND, early in our conversation, seemingly out of nowhere he shook his head and rolled his eyes and said: 

"I mean, c'mon, this Bipolar and Schizophrenia - that's just the devil. You know what we (this country) need? A REVIVAL. Bipolar and Schizophrenia - those are entirely of the devil."

I was stunned. So much so that I wonder if he noticed that I stopped responding in our conversation for a while. (He kept talking, and eventually we got to a topic I could respond to...but my brain was still reeling from the shock.)

I walked away and thought to myself: My very Christian and godly Psychiatrist with a Doctorate in Chemistry, Psychiatry and Pharmacology would beg to differ. My Christian DBT instructor and therapists would also disagree strongly.

If you look up the definition of Cancer it reads: Cancer is an abnormal growth of cells which tend to proliferate in an uncontrolled way and, in some cases, metastasize (spread).

If you look up the definition of Bipolar it reads: Bipolar is a treatable illness marked by extreme changes in mood, thought, energy and behavior. Bipolar disorder is also knows as manic depression because a person's mood can alternate between the "poles"--mania (highs) and depression (lows). The change in mood can last for hours, days, weeks or months. There is no single cause. Genetics, neuro/biochemical changes and stress can play all play a role.

In my case there was certainly a genetic and stress component. And, I can see, in hindsight that I had undiagnosed cyclothymia. (Apparently people with cyclothymia can easily be "tipped" into full-blown Bipolar by a stressful life event. This came as news to me - but is apparently very common according to the doctors I met in the hospital.)

I can also tell you that like many women I have "rapid cycling" Bipolar II and mixed states. This is challenging, and yet helpful in the sense that I can often employ DBT skills to "balance" things out before the pendulum swings too far to one extreme or another - IF I can observe (or in DBT speak: "be mindful") what I am experiencing and employ a counter strategy.

If it sounds like hard work - that's because it is. If it sounds like a rough thing for my family to experience - to live with someone with an entirely different personality and new behaviors - that's because it is.

If it sounds like I'm shamed by this...I can honestly say that is no longer the case. Like the song says: "Well, I'm over it. I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are, secrets are..."

This is an illness. Like cancer. Or diabetes. It is the hand I was dealt and I didn't ask for it - but it's up to me to live with it. Like it or not, it is what it is.

The Cool (Geeky) Kids

I tried to title this post: "These Are the People in My Neighborhood Cool Company"...
But apparently Blogger knew better than me that my Sesame Street reference would be lame - and didn't allow me to use "cross out" text in the title.

The point of this post is this:
I have the great fortune to work with a lot of smart people. The benefit of being a geek is that often you get to work with a lot of like-minded geeks, too! (Many, many of whom are waaaaay smarter and/or geekier than me.)

Maybe my family and some friends don't understand my enthusiasm for the upcoming NerdCon... but it's my people. (All my favorite authors, poets and storytellers.) Patrick Rothfuss, Dessa Darling, Hank Green and Rainbow Rowling will be in the SAME place. But my boss, when I asked for the time off on the Friday of the event totally understood and said: "That looks like fun!"

*Side story: When I read in Patrick Rothfuss' blog on March 27th that the event was scheduled and there were only 3000 tickets - I immediately purchased tickets. (And they aren't inexpensive.) I was REALLY afraid they'd sell out overnight so I purchased my and Lucy's tickets ON March 27th. 
So, I've had tickets for over 6 months... but, hey, I needed to be SURE we'd be there. 

If you think I'm a geek..please note that, ahem, I am not the person who has already created and documented her entire 2-day NerdCon schedule based on signing times and panels she plans to attend. (I just gave her some of my genetic material. Sorry 'bout that Lucy.) She's already informed me I'm not needed. She'll text me if she needs additional money or if she and her friends are ready for a ride home. Yeah, all good and well unless I'm next in line to have my book signed by Patrick Rothfuss.

I digress. The point of this blog is to mention - I work with some AWESOME geeks and today one of them posted some cool things they MADE for one of our offices. (This is a geek handy with wood, clearly.) 

How freaking cool is THAT?!?!

Even better: he shared the tips for how to make it here:

http://imgur.com/gallery/8Sl1i

Seasons

I hate Pumpkin Spice season. Every dang thing at every store is Pumpkin Spice flavored or scented from Coffee to Hand Sanitizer. 

My change of seasons probably looks different from everyone else...and not just because I live in the land where snow is possible October through May. 
Really, in all seriousness, while living in Minnesota these past 15+ years I have seen measurable snow fall 8 out of 12 months of the year. It doesn't every year - but I have witnessed snow in both October and May and every month in between. 

Also, most non-imported (real) Minnesotans believe there are only 2 seasons. Road Construction and Not Road Construction.

My (unique) change of seasons looks like this:

Though I've not illustrated it above, there are magical times of the year (like now) where there is a bit of seasonal overlap. 

As the price of strawberries neared $4.00 I knew..and happily exclaimed to my husband: Yay!! That means it must be Caramel Apple season!

This year, peach season extended a bit past it's usual August end-time and so I have the magical overlap of peaches and cream (the cream is my magical cream cheese fruit dip which is usually reserved for "fruit dip" season) AND caramel apple season. It's a very good year.

Soon it will be baking season. For those of you who are not within my baking circumference (I'd say a 100 mile range) you may not know that this begins around the start of November (just after the brief roasted pumpkin seed week and the end of caramel apple season). Baking season usually kicks off with Snickerdoodles then expands to a plethora of cookies on hand of every flavor, size and ingredient until it winds down with just the Karova (aka "Poop Roll Cookies") cookies which we all love and cannot part with even well into the New Year. Baking season is a season of excess. I will bake and give away cookies with wild abandon. My husband complains, we all gain weight..but as inevitable as the snow flakes..baking season comes and does not leave us until nearly what most of Minnesota considers to be High School Sports Playoff/Blizzard time (or the very edge of the beginning of Road Construction season).

There is a dark, dark period just before Easter (unless it's an early Easter). The snow is dirty, the entire State has developed SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) and there is nothing but Trader Joe treats like English Toffee to break me out of my stupor.

Then begins Strawberry Pretzel Salad season. This one is dangerous because I've been known to eat myself sick during this particular season. This "salad" is not a salad. It's a strawberry gelatin topped version of cheesecake on a butter and brown sugar pretzel crust. Sweet, salty, butter and sugar overload..it's my kryptonite. I literally eat it three meals a day. Large pieces. (Hence..to the point that my gut says: NO NO NO!! Stop the Madness!!)

Fortunately, I can usually ramp down my addiction by switching over to Culver's Peanut Butter shakes. Peanut Butter shakes tide me over to Mango Smoothie (aka Mango Shake) season..and soon after follows all things Mango infused, which is a sure sign of warmer weather to come. Then we can begin Taco Salad and Fruit Dip season again. 
Whew! Another year has passed. Let the magical summer fresh fruit and produce season begin! 

So, while everyone else enjoys (or loathes right along with me?) the advent of Pumpkin Spice season...I'll just say: Yay!! It's Caramel Apple Season!!

Another Post About Running

Yes, this will bore a lot of people. Unless you love running like I do.

Some thoughts on Running

1. If you're not smiling, you're not doing it right. Grimacing, silent, almost angry looking runners that are grunting..okay..fine if you're shooting for a Boston Qualifying time or are an Elite competing for prize money. Everyone else - smile and thank all those race volunteers, police officers keeping the race course clear of cars, water stop helpers and cheer on your fellow runners.

2. Thou shalt not ignore your body. If you feel (real) pain - stop before you injure yourself.

3. Hydrate, Hydrate, Hydrate. 

4. Apply Glide then some more..and then maybe a little more Glide. Three applications? That's probably good. This is the Gospel, Amen.

Inexpensive Running Things that You Actually Need 
aka: What's really working for me

1. Whole Foods insulated bag. 
This one I figured out on accident. It's the right size to toss in the back seat (just guessing, but it's about 23" long by 14" tall/deep.  Holds all my running stuff and more - so I can just grab it and go.
When it's empty you can smoosh it down nearly flat. 
If you throw a cold drink in there - it stays cold! (That insulated part..)
If it gets dirty you can pull the liner completely out and wipe it down OR throw it in the washer (though I think I've avoid doing that as much as possible to make it last longer). 

It has a nice wide carry strap and zip top, and a pocket on the side that is perfect for a protein bar or wallet. When it's in your car, people don't think: "Oooh, laptop bag" or "Gym bag..it might have something valuable!" ..it looks like you went to the grocery store (if they see the logo). 
AND, best of all..they're cheap. I think it was $14?

2. Foam roller. Yes, you need one. You can get one really inexpensively at Target. So worth it - and you don't have to spend a lot to get a lot of benefit.

3. This one is for the girls: Sweaty Bands. This is not a paid endorsement. This is LOVE. These are literally the only thing I've found that truly will not budge when you're running AND absorbs sweat and the velvet inner lining feels nice. These are durable after lots of (hand) washing and nothing else I've tried has measured up to the grip & comfort of these hair-holders. 
Bonus: This is a Woman owned (and founded) Cincinnati based company. Your purchase supports a Made in USA, hand-sewn Ohio based-business! 

Not so inexpensive stuff, but stuff that I LOVE:

1. I resisted replacing my FitBit One because although it was "old" it was trusty. I'd had a Flex that was a lemon...so I stuck with what worked. I even quilted myself a new sleep band to hold the One when the old one wasn't working. 
When I joined a running club I saw more people had a running watch. I wasn't really interested in a honking big Garmin and it sure didn't look like a watch I could wear all day everyday. The Apple Watch was never a consideration - not only because of price..but also because it's 1st Generation technology and seems to scream "I'm an arrogant techy person" to me somehow. 
So, I tried the FitBit Surge. Worth every penny. It does everything (and more) my One did - and hasn't been a let down. (Yet). 
It let's me control my music (skip songs) from my wrist on my iPhone, and let's me know my average pace, how long I've been running..and then syncs up to show me the course I ran (it's a true GPS watch). 
It ALSO is a "smart" watch. It can wake me with vibrations (silent wake up), can show me an incoming text (full length), vibrates when a call is coming in (and has caller ID).. so I don't miss calls even when my phone is buried in my purse or I've failed to take it off silent mode. During my 1/2 marathon Jeff was able to text me encouragements as I ran. SO AWESOME.
Plus, I was already familiar with FitBit and it works with MFP (My Fitness Pal, which I use religiously) so-it was nice to stay with familiar tools in that sense.

2. Bluetooth headphones. I got the Mpow Cheetah. I did this originally while I was treadmill running because I could never seem to not end up tangled up with the cords or getting the phone yanked off the treadmill or ripping the cord out of the phone mid-run. 
These have been great. Durable, don't get in the way of anything, intuitive volume control and mute..and they let me answer calls if someone calls me while running! (Apparently the sound quality for people who call me is good, too.) 


3. Spi-Belt. To hold your phone. My running club buddies told me a few horror stories that convinced me to (almost) never run without a phone. And.. the phone is what provides my running sound track. (Sometimes some inspiring tunes are needed.) Occasionally (when I'm on a short run with no dangers and lots of people around me - like my club's group runs) I'll skip the belt. Otherwise - it's invaluable. 

What Freedom Looks Like

I am a little past half way through what is the longest stretch of time off from work that I can remember which has not involved major surgery or child birth.

As a family, we don't take vacations. We generally take a day here or there for a long weekend. Or, a few more days around holidays to travel to see family. 

Family vacations never exceed 5 days - and are not what I'd consider restful or a true vacation. They usually include exhausting 8 hour drives per day and awkward accommodations for our family of 5.

However, my week of freedom this week and last have been bliss. So this is that vacation thing I've heard all about!

On my first day of "freedom" I celebrated by having a breakfast, BY MY SELF, at my favorite restaurant: Birchwood Cafe. 

Then later I read a book and went to yoga. 

OH, and for one of my favorite treats - I washed and hung the bedding out on the laundry line. I LOVE the smell of sheets dried in the sun. It's one of my favorite things.

Sure, there were other mom things in-between like cooking meals and doing laundry...but much of this time was MINE. 

Tuesday's dinner was a picnic at the park. 

Wednesday I read books and went to Yoga. Again.

Thursday I took Lucy and her best friend to "Night on the Towns" - a pre-showing event for the Paper Towns movie. (It was awesome - but like always, the book is better.) *I am old and therefore suck at selfies. This was my best attempt below. Oh well.

Friday we went to the wave pool - again with Lucy's best friend and met up with Michael's friend, too.

Oh, and then I went on an awesome bike ride, just for fun.

I've gone on runs in the middle of the day with zero guilt. 
I've gone to all my yoga classes. I've even caught up on a few Netflix shows. 

I could really get used to this kind of thing and I'm so grateful to the recruiter who had the foresight to suggest this time off..it's amazing.

That said, I can't get too used to "living the life of Riley".   
It all comes to an end next Monday. It's "Back to School" for me on August 3rd and I'm starting to feel that "Back to School" feeling of excited/nervous/eager to learn. 

But until then.. washing the sheets and drying them on the line, running, Netflix, finally seeing a movie I've been wanting to see and finishing a book are top on my to-do list. 

What I've Learned at 43

I recently celebrated my 43rd Birthday. 

This is an unremarkable birthday. It's not 30, 40 or 50 - it's one of those bland "early 40s" birthdays. However, for those who know me well, this birthday is very remarkable. I've survived a lot in the past year ..41 and 42 were honestly suck years.

43 finds me more resilient, understanding, self-confident, healthy and even more physically fit than I've been in perhaps my entire life.

I've become more empathetic, more comfortable in my own skin and most importantly I have begun to understand deeply that you can never be too kind because everyone you meet is struggling with something that you may know nothing about. (Or they bear the scars, shame or memories of that struggle.)

In celebration of of my struggles and in hopes of erasing the stigma that many others face when they struggle, I got a tattoo. (I know - shocking! I never expected to get one. EVER.) 

Here it is: 

And here is why: http://www.projectsemicolon.com/ 

Their vision statement says it all for me: 

PROJECT SEMICOLON IS A FAITH-BASED MOVEMENT DEDICATED TO PRESENTING HOPE AND LOVE FOR THOSE WHO ARE STRUGGLING WITH DEPRESSION, SUICIDE, ADDICTION AND SELF-INJURY. PROJECT SEMICOLON EXISTS TO ENCOURAGE, LOVE AND INSPIRE. 

STAY STRONG; LOVE ENDLESSLY; CHANGE LIVES

Oh, Peonies..how I love you, let me count the ways

Two poems to celebrate the spring peonies (yep, those are mine on my desktop) I love so much. 

"Had I but four square feet of ground at my disposal, I would plant a peony in the corner and proceed to worship."
–Alice Harding


後の世の
寝所にせん
ぼたん哉　
一茶

The Haiku above by Issa.
A note about Issa:
He was born in 1763 and most of his Haiku (then called haikai) in 1823 were about Peonies. (85+ of them!) 

During his lifetime he wandered the length and breadth of Japan, writing everywhere he went - and apparently in 1823 he shared my feelings about peonies. Though his real name was Kobayashi Yatarou, he chose Issa (one cup of tea) as his haiku name. 

My rough translation of his haiku from 1823: 
'After this world (of)
(a) thousand minced fish
peonies.'

...which is to say, that in the afterlife surely it will smell like Peonies in comparison to yucky minced fish.

I don't quite like the analogy - but I think I get what he means:
'Surely heaven must smell as lovely as a peony does at the end of a long winter and in the early days of a beautiful spring.'

I Can Do This Job in My Sleep

On a lighter note...a story about my long-suffering husband and what he has to put up with because he married me.

Jeff tells this story much better than I do; and when he told Lucy and me on Sunday morning we were both doubled over with laughter.

Last week was a hard week for me. Two cities, two sets of customer demos, a flight on Tuesday & Wednesday... 3 days total of demonstrations to customers. 
This meant a lot of early wake ups (5am) and late nights. 

Friday night into Saturday I slept about 12 hours. I say "about" because Jeff tells me I was definitely awake at 3am Saturday. He knows this because he woke me up.

Back story: as any of my former roommates can attest - I sometimes talk in my sleep. It's rare, usually unintelligible mumbles and probably makes no sense because dreams tend to not make much sense, either.

Saturday in the middle of the night while I was deep asleep I started to talk in my sleep. Jeff tells me the first bit seemed directed at him - that I was talking about Erik to him. It was mainly a mumble and so he decided he could tolerate that without smothering me with a pillow.
Then I started to talk about prep for my demos. Again, mumbling at a low tone. Jeff rolled over and thought...okay, I can sleep through this, too.
Then, at full volume - as if I was addressing a large room of attendees I began GIVING my presentation. 

Jeff couldn't take it. He grabbed my arm. He says my reaction was swift and immediate - like swatting a bug. I hit his hand, rolled over and went back to sleep. Silently and deeply until nearly noon on Saturday. 

The Tipping Point

This post will come as no surprise to most all of my friends and family...but for anyone else who reads my blog or for any of my "virtual" friends - I've been wanting to share my thoughts on what the world is calling the "Tipping Point" in GLBTQ equality and the newest frontier in civil rights: an understanding of Transgender folks. 

My (step)son, born as Emma Ruth, has his own blog - and this is truly his story and his path - but as his parent, I have my own story.

This so-called "Tipping Point" comes at both a very good time..but also there is a not-so-good aspect to it. 
When Erik finally explained to us, at age 16, he had determined his gender is male and his pronouns are he/him/his, I understood why I'd seen him anxious, unhappy, withdrawn and suicidal the previous years. 
I was THRILLED when he bravely sent the email that explained his truth. 
I was also heart-broken (and seriously, sobbed my pillow soaking) that he'd struggled to tell us and had been in pain, alone, and without our support until he was able to share his truth. 
I immediately sent him a letter (he was away at camp when he had the pre-written email sent to us - his parents) telling him both of these things. 

His biological parents however..didn't quite get on board at first. And this is where I say..there is a negative side to the "Tipping Point"...people are becoming aware of Transgender, but they think of it as a "trend" or being a new "trendy" way of expressing being gay. They said: "Oh, Emma is just butch. I can see that. But, we love her and we'll help her - it's no big thing that she's gay." 

This caused enormous friction in our household. I was the "bad guy" who kept saying: "Nope, not gay, not butch.. MALE gender. You aren't getting it." I could not seem to get across to them: "Gender does not equal sexuality!!" It took months, and literally a counselor seeing him 2 times, who sent out a brief email...for them to get with the program.

This went on for most of last summer, and into the fall...during the 2014 initial coining of the phrase of the "Tipping Point". 
I angered my husband, my in-laws probably didn't understand my vehement opinion..and most of all, I pissed off his biological mother who already had no fondness for me (massive understatement). 
Partially, this is her deal, not mine. She has occasionally been grateful because I've been a steady parent to him since he was 18 months old...I've provided him with steady health insurance, a home address that hasn't changed...and a (good) school district where he's had friends since Kindergarten that continue to be his friends today in his Senior year. I think she appreciates my financial resources, but I suspect she has mixed feelings about my "being there" when she's been...sometimes not so steady. Frankly, I'm fairly sure she resents that I even exist and would prefer not to have this triangular parenting dynamic.

This didn't come as a huge surprise to me..and honestly I've never talked about our triangular parenting relationship or disparaged her in any way on this blog over the years because when it comes down to it - she IS his mom. She loves him fiercely like any mother loves her child. She never wants to feel replaced (and she is not replaced - but still, I can see where the feeling or fear of this may still be present for her) ...and first and foremost she wants what is best for her child and in her eyes, and frankly in my own husband's eyes..I am "not the mom" and therefore don't get a "full vote" or true parenting "rights" to Erik. (Although, again, I have raised him since he was 18 months old.)

This has never held me back from loving Erik as my own child. They can have their own opinion, I can have my own truth - and Erik can form his own opinion and just see and feel that he is loved, fiercely and with the best of our abilities, by all three of us. 

So - back to the "Tipping Point". The positive side to the focus on understanding of transgender people (people who are not CIS - google it or click the link) is that Erik more-so than any generation before him will have a better chance at equality, understanding and inclusiveness.

When he transitions and is "just" Erik - the initial biological aspects of his body will cease to be an issue and he will the person he has always been. Staunch advocate of the underdog, empathetic, really 'effing smart and intuitive. He can be stubborn for good or for bad - and he can be his authentic self. 

In time - he (and we) do not want this to define him. Post-transition - he'll be our son and memories of the wonderful son we raised will be just that - our memories of this person - who fortunately was born to a family (imperfect as we are) who support and love him as he is..unconditionally. Erik will be Erik - and however he moves forward will be his "identity". 
Just like I'm a mom, geek, sister and wife...he'll be whatever his choices are.. perhaps Doctor, brother, son, husband. It's HIS life, his choice...and that's how it is for everyone. Just as my gender and body parts don't define ME, per se, it is and SHOULD be the same for every person on this planet. Period. Stop. 

Another family who made a wonderful video I'd love you to see explain it like this: we signed up to be parents without strings. 

I know for some of our religious family members understanding Erik's transition will be difficult. 

It wasn't for me...because I remember his aversion and shame. I remember him hating the dress we put him in at our reception. I remember his loathing for the Disney Princess dresses his mom purchased at Disney (he wore them for pictures on request--but then never wore them or played in them again). I remember his shame when his menstruation began. I remember the breast binding that began as soon as he hit puberty. 

It took him time to figure it all out - and I know it'll take others in our family a while to come to grips with his transition as well. 

I knew something was wrong..but didn't know what it was...couldn't put my finger on it..and worried it might affect his future. I think Erik knew something was wrong...but also didn't know what it was either. 

Shuttling between two very different households (I don't think we parented the same as his mother) probably didn't help. His mother not always being consistently "there" probably didn't help --though I feel sure he knew his mom always loved (and loves) him. 

So. Here we are in 2015. Bruce Jenner has come out as Transgender and Republican! (This ought to totally throw my Republican parents for a loop.) While I think Bruce is a flake and am not too crazy about her...I do think she's brave to finally become her authentic self..and to do so in the limelight and with the paparazzi scrutiny she's had to face. That bravery is laudable and should (hopefully) only do more to help bring acceptance and understanding to GLBTQ for the broader world.

My coworkers don't seem to understand why I'm referring to my oldest child with male pronouns and a new name. I told my boss..and frankly I don't know what she thinks or feels..but she's met him and is one of my Facebook friends so I explained it to her to prevent confusion.

As usual..I'm writing far too many words (I'm verbose, that's another thing I should claim: mother/daughter/sister/wife/geek/verbose)...but I wanted to get this "out there" so that our extended family, friends and my web friends can read my thoughts, feelings and opinion on my wonderful son. Please, please respect and continue to love him. Please use the proper pronouns. Please be patient with yourself as it can be difficult to process this life event AND to adjust to new pronouns for a child you've known for years.

Thank you,
C 

Brené Brown on Blame

Stars in My Yoga

I love yoga. More specifically "BodyFlow" which is a combination of Tai Chi, Pilates and Yoga. The vast majority of the class is yoga - and I take some regular yoga (yoga only) classes as well. (Hatha Yoga)

I started yoga to prevent running injuries but found that I loved it, maybe even a bit more than running, for the meditative portions that restore good mental health along with providing me greater core strength, flexibility and balance.

At the end of the class one of my favorite teachers (who is a psychologist in her daytime job) likes to remind us that our thoughts, which each of us has about 50,000 of each day, are merely neuro-biological events.
Unfortunately, the vast majority of our thoughts are negative.
Self-critical, judgmental or worries about things that may never happen.

She encourages us to imagine our thoughts flowing past us on a river and clinging to none of them.
Then, as an advanced technique to help us really clear our mind she asks us to envision a black rectangular piece of construction paper. This is meant to clear our minds of all distractions and relax and restore our minds...but...every time she does this, every time I visualize that black construction paper I start to see little white stars (in white chalk) and they are beautiful, childlike and happy.

I might be failing at the visualization - but my version leaves me with a smile and a lightness in my step as I leave the yoga studio.

A Thought for February

You Can Quote Me on This

When I lived in Japan (about two decades ago) there was a Japanese Exchange student (Yoshihiro Hattori) staying in Louisiana who was on his way to a Halloween party and went to the wrong house by accident.
The property owner, Rodney Peairs, shot and killed Hattori, thinking he was trespassing with criminal intent. The controversial homicide and Peairs's subsequent acquittal in the state court of Louisiana, received worldwide attention. (Story here)

The people I worked with and my English language students were appalled by this (it was big news in Japan) and I can't remember how many times I was asked: "Why do Americans all have guns?" or "Why do Americans love guns?"

My answer (which was true at the time) was that no one in my family owned a gun and I didn't know anyone with a gun. I also said I was deeply uncomfortable with guns and hoped some day legislation would change so that firearms would be available only for hunters and police. (Side note: Japanese police, by and in large, do not carry guns. Private citizens are forbidden, by law, to have a gun.) My entire time in Japan I never saw a gun. Not on a police officer, or even on military soldiers who had a training base nearby.

As I've traveled - I've been asked repeatedly (and with great criticism) why Americans are such bullies, love violence and guns and feel the need to invade and police other countries.

Some of this is perpetuated by the export of Western (Hollywood) entertainment - where the only glimpse of life in America some people have is one of violent movies of gangsters, etc.

However, some of this comes from legitimate news sources as repeatedly other countries hear about senseless gun tragedies over and over from America. Sandy Hook. The mass shooting in Aurora in a movie theater. Virginia Tech. I could list more - but Wikipedia does that for me.

This week alone in our area a 15 year old boy accidentally shot and killed his 13 year old brother and the New Hope City Council meeting was interrupted by a man who shot two policemen before being killed by another police officer. His family identified him and said he was disgruntled man whose anger was bound to boil over and that they knew he was volatile.

I'm not saying that Japan, or any other country is without crime, volatile or mentally unstable people who want to harm others or downright evil people who want to hurt, violate or otherwise commit crime against others.

I'm not saying that accidents don't happen between siblings in other countries where one sibling accidentally injures another.

But the one indisputable difference between our country and all others is this:
a firearm was available to these people who should NEVER have had access to a gun.

You can quote me on this:

The difference between our country (the U.S.) and all others is that lethal weapons - high power hand guns and rifles - are so commonplace and readily available that impulsive, criminal or mentally unstable people and even children who don't understand their actions can (and do) easily kill others.

Here is a very compelling and interesting number:

The Congressional Research Service in 2009 estimated there were 310 million firearms in the U.S., not including weapons owned by the military. 114 million of these were handguns, 110 million were rifles, and 86 million were shotguns. In that same year, the Census bureau stated the population of people in the U.S. at 306 million.

Per capita we have MORE GUNS than we have PEOPLE in the United States.

This is why other countries shake their heads at Americans and wonder why we, as a culture, cannot better regulate guns, gun sales and who can possess these lethal weapons so that these frequent (and often senseless) tragedies could be prevented or at least the number of gun fatalities might decrease.

This is one of those times when the "grass is greener" living elsewhere..when I miss living in Japan or wish I could move my family to New Zealand..where instead of guns, the sheep outnumber the people.

I'm a Runner

When I first started running and started to rave about how cathartic and how happy it made me - Jeff (hubby) was skeptical. He said: "Yeah, well let's see how long you stick with it. I wouldn't call you a runner."

I was a bit annoyed so I countered with:
"Okay, so when will I be a real runner?"
He said..."Well, you consider yourself a quilter right? But I haven't seen you do much lately.." (Which also kind of ticked me off--and I quickly finished two projects right after that comment.)

I insisted: "Okay, HOW LONG until I'm a real runner?"
He said: "Well..you know..like a couple of years.."

I'm coming up on nearly a year of walk/running. By spring it will be a year of running. I've run my first 5K (tough mudder) ...and I think it's fair to say I AM really a runner. In Letterman style, I provide to you my top ten signs that your wife IS a runner.

Top Ten Signs Your Wife is a Runner

10. Target purchases begin to include lycra C9 items.
9.  When she's headed out to walk the dog you notice her Sketchers walking shoes get replaced with old Nikes usually used to mow the lawn.
8.  "Walks" begin to be in excess of 60 minutes.
7. The dog starts limping.
6. Your wife mentions: "Hey, the Y has a promotion for a no-joiners fee and free month..is it OK to try it out?"
5. Your wife makes a trip to the running store and makes a few purchases on a credit card you don't see the balance on..but you do notice that she has some ugly new shoes.
4. Your wife is spending an inordinate amount of time researching special headphones for her iPhone to use while at the Y.
3. She wants to run a 5K "just for fun"...and her trips to the Y are exceeding an hour and result in lots of sweaty laundry.
2. Suddenly the clothing budget goes WAAAY up because none of her old clothes fit her. Crap!
1. She subscribes to Runners World Magazine and actually shrieks with joy each time an issue shows up in the mail box. Then she devours and re-reads the magazine with the enthusiasm you would only have for Road & Track or Car and Driver magazine.