The Year in Review: Giving It All I've Got

The great thing about being a “wanna-be” writer and sporadic online blogging whiner is that you set your own rules. You set your own deadlines. You set your own hours. And you are obviously writing for yourself because who on earth wants to read this drivel anyway? (Hint: no one, not even you.)

An entire season, including two solstices for those who are counting, has passed since I’ve updated my blog. You probably thought it was safe to surf the internet again but I’m back! There is no good reason for my recent blog sabbatical other than the rather lame excuse that giving it all I had started to take up an awful lot of my waking time and energy, and the time I might have spent writing in my blog was earmarked for sleeping. But I’m awake now, and as we count down the final days of 2015, I find myself in an oddly contemplative mood and now seems as apt a time as any to reflect on how that whole, “give up, give in, or give it all I’ve got” thing went.

I tried. I really did. I tried awfully hard to stop should-ing all over myself. Some days were more successful than others and old habits die hard, and as it turns out, I am a compulsive list-maker. (Who knew?) If shoulding all over yourself was an Olympic sport, I would be an uncontested, repeat gold medalist – but even this old dog was able to learn a new trick or two in 2015.

The Year in Review

Give Up - Of my anthem’s three options, giving up is one of the wiliest. It teams up with “give in” and all of a sudden, you convince yourself that it’s okay to quit this thing that you’ve always wanted for yourself. That’s not quite the spirit that this anthem intended. Those days I canceled on Big Bad Trainer Aaron’s workouts because I was too tired/sore/busy and then put a gold star on the “give up” board? Wrong! I caught myself giving up on things I shouldn’t, like missing a workout or a date with an old friend because I was “busy” with something else. I’ve learned to be mindful of my moods and my innate desire to throw in the towel and curl up on my bed. When I want to give up, I pause. Do I really want to give up? Or do I just not want to do this thing right now? There’s a difference. And being aware of it has kept me in the game.

I have managed to give up a few things I’m proud of this year, though, including:

• Biting my fingernails! Sure, I might pick at a rough cuticle every now and again but my fingernails are no longer considered a low calorie snack food. I’ve discovered the joy of the shellac manicure. It dries in seconds and the polish doesn’t chip or crack so I can rock nails in a variety of bold and zesty colors.
• Cleaning my house! Okay, not really. But after my husband started bringing home a paycheck and we rebalanced the household budget, I discovered a little extra money that wasn’t there before. Sure, I could save it or use it on manicures (!) but instead, I’ve hired a cleaning service to come in once a month and deep clean the palace. Does it get furry between cleanings? Sometimes. But do I feel guilt and shame about the state of my house’s cleanliness anymore? No, no I do not. And that’s worth the $100 monthly investment in my book.
• Acting like a victim. Life isn’t something that is happening to me. It’s happening all around me – and I can choose to star in the story of my life or let someone else write the script. If I don’t like my hair, I can cut it. If I don’t like my weight, I can exercise and diet. If I don’t like my job or my boss, I can find something else to do. Guess what? I did all of the above this year.
• Whining about paying the bills. I put on my big girl panties, whip out my checkbook, and I pay the bills with only a minimal amount of cursing, mostly under my breath.
• Avoiding the dentist. I’m not sure I can fully count this as a win, since my now regular visits to the dentist have introduced a new specialist into my life, the periodontist. Both of them will be able to retire at a young age based on the amount of disposable income and insurance monies I have devoted to my teeth this year. Dad, take note. Your investment in my pricey orthodontia was not in vain.

Give In – Some might describe me as stubborn. Those who choose such adjectives to describe me may also discover my size 8.5 lodged in their backside, since that is a very unflattering way to describe your princess. I prefer the term tenacious to stubborn, FYI. As a very, very tenacious individual, giving up isn’t something I do well. When and if I do give up, the very act is usually accompanied by shouting and gesturing.

But even a princess knows that compromise is part of life, and when I got out of my own, possibly stubborn, way, I gave in when I needed to:

• Helped my husband write and edit his schoolwork without whining. Trust me – I was going to get roped into helping him one way or another, and it was easier to just do it and shut up about it. I have not, however, given up on my hope that he will learn to respect the house rule of “THERE IS TO BE NO TALKING DURING THE REAL HOUSEWIVES.”
• Acknowledged that I am a woman of a certain age. I shop at J. Jill. I color my hair because I have to, not because I want to. And I’m too old to apply for a job at the FBI or the CIA; I’m too old to donate my unused eggs as a surrogate; and I’m of an age where regular screenings for a variety of types of cancer is part of my yearly routine.
• Re-evaluated my goals in areas where I feel “stuck” to determine whether or not I even want these things anymore.
• Maintained my weight all year. I gained some, I lost some and I’m pretty much exactly where I was a year ago.
• And I surely gave up on some of the stuff I thought all grown-ups do but I didn’t feel like doing – like writing a will and hiring a financial planner. Maybe next year. Maybe never!

Give It All I’ve Got - I didn’t often feel like I was giving it all I’ve got in the moment, but with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that I managed to do some pretty noteworthy things in 2015, including and in no particular order:

• Celebrated two years of marriage to a pretty cool guy
• Set a goal to achieve my SHRM-SCP certification (it’s an HR thing and it’s as boring as it sounds) and achieved it. I passed the certification exam last week.
• Successfully delivered the change management for a project that touched over 150,000 employees at work – a project that had me shaking in my shoes – and did a pretty good job.
• Took a vacation and went to Italy with my better half
• Appointed as a member of the Golden Valley Human Services Fund Commission where I get to help raise money for charitable organizations that serve Golden Valley residents and their families.
• Helped my father-in-law and husband grow a big pumpkin. It wasn’t a giant this year. But it was fun.
• Religiously logged my food with MyFitnessPal.com. I think I missed logging maybe 10 days all year, and although my weight is the same, this has helped me learn to be a more mindful eater. Now I just need to do something about it!
• Reconnected with old friends, thanks to the miracles of social media. From my 9th grade pen pal from San Francisco (who married the very same boy she dated way back then!) to my high school classmate I hadn’t seen in 20 years to former colleagues . . . it’s great to see what these amazing people are up to.
• Started a book club! As I was packing for a business trip, I tossed a book into my bag and realized that it was one of about 30 books I not only wanted to read, but that I wanted to talk about with other people. So, I invited everyone I knew to join me for pizza and a discussion about Arianna Huffington’s book Thrive. I couldn’t believe that ten amazing women showed up to eat and chat. I asked if they’d come back again for another book and another discussion and they said yes! Thus, “Pizza and the Pursuit of Happiness” was born. It’s a guilt and shame-free book club that meets every other month (or so). We’re currently reading Shawn Achor’s Happiness Advantage for our January 7th book club meeting. (Hit me up if you’d like to learn more).
• Expressing gratitude regularly. I wish I was doing this daily but I’m not quite there yet. I’m using an app called Gratitude Journal and trying to remember to journal/log something every day. I’m a sporadic app user but getting better, and I’m committed to incorporating more gratitude into my daily life.
• Took a leap of faith in my career and am trying something new. I’m only four weeks in so check back later for more. This counts because I saw something and I went after it. I wasn’t the obvious choice, it wasn’t a slam-dunk, but I gave it my all and voila!

Here’s what I didn’t do in 2015:

• Set any resolutions
• Lose 10 pounds
• Run a 5k
• Learn to cook
• Save more money
• Beat myself up for not doing any of the above-mentioned items!

Giving up on resolutions – and a solid attempt at not shoulding all over myself – were among the better decisions I made in 2015. Resolutions are so 2014. In the meantime, if anyone is looking for me, I’ll be over here, giving it all I’ve got.

Happy New Year!

I'm Okay, You Need Therapy

It’s been almost 240 days since I embarked on this adventure to give up, give in, or give it all I’ve got. I like to think of myself as the Kenny Rogers "Gambler" of the 21^st century. I know when to hold ‘em and all that. By my calculations, 2015 is 60% complete (give or take a percentage point) and now seems like a perfectly good time to pause and consider what I’ve learned.

I think we reach a point in our lives when we stop learning a lot of new information and instead, we re-learn and reinforce something we’ve always known to be true but likely tried to outrun, outsmart, or ignore. Consider, for example, my deep thoughts for 2015:

1.    Life is short and time is fast. There is no pause, no replay, and no rewind button. I know that time doesn’t always feel fast – like when you’re having a root canal, waiting in line at the DMV, or sitting in traffic. And while there are moments when the time seems to go agonizingly slow, it really does move awfully quickly. How did I get to be 42 years old when just yesterday I was three years old and crying because Sesame Street was over? Has it really been 25 years since I graduated from high school?

I grew up watching cartoons like the Jetsons, set in the future that featured things like video-conferencing, watches that double as phones, and cleaning robots – in an age where we had rotary dial phones that were tethered with long cords and where there were only five channels on the television. I can hardly believe that I’ve lived long enough to see the Apple watch, FaceTime, Skype, Roomba, and for the love of god, DRONES.

I’ve lived long enough to have experienced loss. All my grandparents have passed away and I have nothing more than photographs and memories (and my Grandma Mary’s wedding ring). I’ve lost money; I’ve lost teeth and skin elasticity; I’ve lost my temper; and I’ve been unceremoniously dumped. I’ve lost track of people I once called my very best friends. And I’ve lost dear friends to tragedies that are unspeakable. For the record, flying cars and talking dogs are cool – loss sucks.

2.    There is no time like the present. (See also: life is short). If life is short and time is fast, there is no better time than right now to chase and catch your dreams. Buy the red leather purse. Say hi to Rob Lowe. Finance your car payment and use the extra cash to pay for a trip to Italy with your better half.

True confession: this is not my strength. I am a control-freak and an obsessive planner. We use the Google calendar for everything in my house. I use it to remind myself to pay bills; to schedule workouts; and to plan date-night. I am almost never in the present because I’m either beating myself up about what I should be doing or could be doing or did wrong. Rumor has it that meditation will help with this. See also, My Strength, Not.

I’m a work in progress. Spending a week in Italy with my beloved was both a testament to my extreme planning (I may have been counting down the days to this trip for the past 23 months!) and a true opportunity to just be. As our lives get busier and busier with various minutia disguised as importance, taking the time to be together and go on an adventure reminded me of the why. Why I go to work every day. Why I married this guy. Why I am so damn blessed.

3.    I’m okay. You, on the other hand, probably need help. Ha, ha! Joking! Please don’t hate on me on the internet. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s a big deal to me. I have spent most of my life feeling like I should apologize for my very existence. When I go to the movies, I make sure my big head isn’t in someone’s way. When I sit in meetings, I marvel at how much smarter and more articulate and better educated everyone else in the room is. I spend much of my time feeling like a fraud – a big, fat, lazy, stupid fraud. I’m not sure where I got the idea that everyone else in life had a secret decoder ring and a playbook. The logical part of brain understands that I’m not part of some conspiracy theory where everyone else is amazing and I suck. But tell that to the irrational part of my brain and the voices in my head!

When I travel for business, I read self-help books on the plane. If that plane goes down, damn it, I want to be the best version of me possible. (Again, I joke!). And although I am a work in progress and I stumble from time to time, I’m really trying to remember that I am okay. I am enough. And for the love of god, I wouldn’t talk to another human being on earth, not even my worst enemy, the way I talk to myself. I’m breaking the cycle of abuse. Or at the very least, trying to.

So, the progress report . . . .

Give Up: On the idea that I need to be perfect.

Give In: I’m flawed but so are you. And we’re both okay. Actually, I am pretty awesome.

Giving It All I’ve Got: 240 days and counting with MyFitnessPal. I sometimes forget to track, but I am more intentional than ever and I think I might be doing less mindless eating. I haven’t weighed myself in a month (I don’t want to hate myself based on the numbers that might show upon the scale) so I can’t tell you if this is helping or not.

On the physical fitness front, I try. I know that Yoda would not be impressed since he is all, “Do or do not, there is no try.” But he’s green and he talks like an asshole, so screw Yoda. I see Big Bad Trainer Aaron as much as I can afford to (time and money wise); I bought a Jawbone Up fitness tracker with a Groupon and am trying to move more and sleep better. I see incremental progress and I have to train myself to be okay with that. As long as I’m not getting worse, I’m getting better. And I’m okay.        

I recognize that I am starting to sound like a broken record – and I also am smart enough to know that my personal transformation is a marathon, not a sprint. This caterpillar needs time to become a butterfly.

Love Life (and Rob Lowe, because, HELLO!)

"Life is unpredictable and has very different plans for all of us. There will be heroism and tragedy; each new day has the promise of both. Learning to live in (and accept) that dichotomy provides the adrenaline to always move ahead and be grateful for what we have. It can power us all to great things if we recognize it. It can be the source of our greatest possibility, to know and to feel with every level of our consciousness that we are alive. That this, right here, right now, is our life . . . Our life is ours. It is the only one we will ever have. And we should love it." – Rob Lowe, Love Life.

I don't know about you, but I find it oddly comforting to discover that Rob Lowe is a human being. I mean, he's obviously a delightful specimen of what a human being can be and arguably more talented and determined (and hotter) than most of us – and yet, he is, at his core, wrestling with the very same challenges that I, a middle-aged, middle-class, middle-manager struggle with in my own journey. What is my purpose? Am I living up to my potential? And am I really doing what I should with my one and only wild life?

Admittedly, I'm stuck on the "all Rob Lowe, all the time" channel at present, since I was fortunate enough to hear him speak at a conference last week. Not only did I have the privilege of a front row seat, mere feet from the very same star whose Tiger Beat posters plastered my bedroom walls, I also got an autographed copy of his book and had the chance to have my picture taken with him. While hearing/seeing/meeting Rob Lowe was a bucket list moment for me, he was the icing on the cake. The conference I attended, the inaugural Work Human event, could have been designed with me in mind. Each speaker, each breakout session, each topic seemed plucked from my anthem and I had the honor of hearing some of the world's thought leaders give their perspective on why we all need to give up, give in, or give it all we've got. From Ariana Huffington to Adam Grant to Shawn Achor to Rob Lowe, the message was clear. The time has come to recognize and embrace our human fallibility. We're people, not robots, and the beauty of our existence lies in our humanity. We are all deeply flawed and we are all deeply capable of amazing things. We will screw up – sometimes in spectacular fashions – and it is in the moments where we marinate in our mistakes that our true greatness emerges. It's not falling down that makes us special, because we all fall down (thanks a lot, gravity!) but rather, it's our ability and willingness to pick ourselves back up. Some of us gracefully dust ourselves off; others of us take a moment to feel sorry for ourselves; and some of us check out our bruises before we get up and try again.

When I packed my suitcase for my trip to Orlando (and to Work Human), I wasn't expecting this conference to get under my skin and nourish my soul. Rather, I was looking forward to warm weather, sole control of the TV remote, and of course, Rob Lowe. I planned to catch a nap on the plane ride down so I didn't have my usual self-help books or slapstick Melissa McCarthy movies on my Kindle this time. Instead, I put in my ear buds and listened to Tony Burroughs audio book, Get What You Want: The Art of Making and Manifesting Your Intentions. I listened to the first couple of chapters and quickly realized that this isn't the kind of book you're meant to listen to. Rather, you're meant to spontaneously open the book to one of the 120 messages in the book and receive the wisdom that to help you in that moment. In spite of my failure to follow instructions, I listened and kept an open mind and I set a single intention on that Delta flight; to learn something new and to be inspired at the conference. Mission accomplished.

When I left Orlando 72 hours later, that whisper of discontent that follows me everywhere I go and makes me both question my sanity and wonder whether I'm fulfilling my destiny was still present – but it was definitely a whisper this time versus the shouting I've been enduring as of late. When I arrived in Orlando, I was in a state of chaos. When I left, I was in a state of gratitude. The only thing I changed was my lens. I wiped the dirty fingerprints and smudges off the lens I was using to view my life and suddenly, I was able to clearly see and count my abundance of blessings. And that, my friends, is the essence of giving it all I've got.

As a result, I'm actually wearing big girl pants a lot more frequently now. (Sorry, fuzzy Cookie Monster pants. I'll be back for you again soon, I'm sure!) Here's the latest progress report:

Give Up: I've given up the pity party I've been hosting and attending on my own behalf lo these last few weeks. Just because I'm wearing big girl pants doesn't mean that I'm also wearing rose-colored glasses, though. I still have sleepless nights; I still have long days; I still have gray hair and an extra ten pounds I can't shed. I still worry about paying the bills; losing all my teeth; and whether or not my boss likes me. I still second-guess myself; say mean things; act ungrateful; and leave toothpaste spit in the sink. And . . . I'm actively giving up the glass-half-empty view on life. I am one of the luckiest bitches I know. I own two houses; I have a sassy new car; I have a husband who is my rock and my cheerleader; I have a job that allows me to have all these things; and in a few weeks, I'm going to Rome with my husband because I can. I'm relatively healthy; I love my pets; and damn it, my teeth are just as white as Rob Lowe's!

Simply put, I'm giving up on a scarcity mentality. I have everything I could ever want and more and I will embrace a grateful mentality of abundance.

Give In: I'm almost 42 years old – although on the inside, I am the same insecure 14 year old I was just yesterday. I have to stop comparing everyone else's outsides to my insides. And I have to embrace the fact that at 42, I'm middle-aged. I buy clothes at Coldwater Creek and J. Jill, not Forever 21 or wherever the young people shop. I have gray hair and age spots and gravity is moving some of my parts to places I'd rather they not go. I can't stop the aging process but what I can do is be grateful that God has chosen to grant me 42 years (almost) on this planet and be thankful for each day.

Give it All I've Got:
172 days of food logging on MyFitnessPal and I've actually lost some weight! I'm about four pounds away from my goal weight – and I'm still working out with Big Bad Trainer Aaron so I'm building muscles while evicting fat. I hate to admit it, but I think food logging works. Perhaps I could have saved myself some trouble (and several pairs of fat pants) if I'd embraced this notion earlier.

I also recently bought a fitness tracker with a Groupon. It was a smoking deal for a Jawbone Up, and like MyFitnessPal, I have a love-hate relationship with this device. I love how it makes me more mindful of what I'm doing but I hate the daily shaming when I fail to reach my step goal. However, in the spirit of giving it my all, I simply take it all in stride and try to be a little better today than I was yesterday – and on those days when I'm not, I don't give up – I just try again.

I'm also giving all I've got to being the kind of person I can be proud of. I volunteered to teach a resume writing workshop for a college class the other day. I helped several broke students develop resumes that will hopefully help them get jobs and make their mark on this world. I say please and thank you. I tell people I appreciate them. And I generally try to not be an asshole, which can be harder than it sounds, but which is also generally good advice for all of us.

With gratitude,

Princess D . . . trying not to be an asshole but not giving up my tiara.

Ps. Don't we make a nice couple?

Blog Like No One is Watching (Reading, Whatever)

It’s been over 30 days since I last put fingers to the keyboard to tell my story. Since I write as a form of self-care / free therapy and not for an audience, there really shouldn’t be any sense of guilt or shame associated with my failure to maintain and update a blog that is likely read by no one (other than my husband and my mother, and I can’t even guarantee that they’re reading this.) And yet . . . one of my greatest strengths is my unique ability to should all over myself, even when there is absolutely no rational reason to do so – which is exactly what’s been going on lo these last four weeks.

I caught myself jotting down a “should do” list while sitting at the airport the other day. Not surprisingly, it contained the usual items like exercise, clean my closet, walk the dog, and go to the dentist. (Sidebar: I notice that I write about going to the dentist a lot. I want to go on record as explaining that I am not, in fact, a Snaggletooth but I am in need of a dental implant to correct an unfortunate and gory incident that occurred at the clumsy hands of my former dentist several years ago. This process is both time consuming and costly. I can have tooth implanted or I can purchase three used Korean cars. I hope I’m making the right choice.) I was shocked and horrified, though, to note that I listed “update blog” on my “to-do” list! How did my hobby, my writing project, and my tenuous grip on normalcy get all mixed up in this musterbation scheme? 

Have I truly fallen off the wagon? Am I giving in where I should be giving up? Giving up where I should be giving it all I’ve got? Am I secretly making and breaking resolutions? And does anyone other than me actually give a crap about my progress anyway?  Who am I kidding? Even I’m not that interested in my own story. 

Before I launch into my progress report, I need to ‘fess up. I’ve fallen off the wagon a bit. While I’m trying to give it all I’ve got, I’m definitely “shoulding” on myself these days. I’m living with a whisper of discontent (which occasionally escalates in volume to a full-on shrieking howl) and I can’t figure out how to silence it, which means that I spend a lot of time in my own head. When I’m not trying to figure out the meaning of life, I’m hosting a pity party for myself because here I am, middle-aged, and I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be doing with my one wild and precious life.  Instead of giving it all I’ve got, I’m obsessing, ingesting inordinate amounts of empty carbohydrates, and napping like it’s my paying job.  All this shallow introspection is exhausting, which makes me want to eat more salt, fat, and grease, which in turn makes me want to nap again. Lather, rinse, repeat and you get the idea.

What’s my problem, anyway? Whatever it is, you can bet it’s some kind of first world, white girl problem. Although who am I kidding? I crossed over into middle-aged white woman problems a long time ago, and I have the hot flashes to prove it. Is it just another bout of my friend, clinical depression, paying me an unwelcome extended visit? Is it a midlife crisis? Is it menopause? Is there some weird reason that as women we feel compelled to link every mood swing to our damn ovaries? Whatever the reason, I’ve got a case of the Weltschmerz. I somehow thought that by my 40’s, I’d have life figured out. I’ve kissed frogs, found a price, moved into a castle (if you define castle as, “split level with excessive wood paneling that looks like the set of Three’s Company and that is conveniently located right next door to my in-laws,” then yes – I do in fact dwell in a castle. Should you use some other definition, well, bite me.) and I have a FICO score I’m not ashamed of. With the exception of my chronic hypertension, depression, and my current dental woes, I’m healthy, building wealth in my 401(k), and if gray hair is any indication, also quite wise. 

But . . . I can’t sleep at night; I can’t stay awake during the day; and days when I actually wash my hair are so few and far between that they qualify as holidays in several developing nations. Every morning, when my feet hit the floor, I don’t think about how grateful I am to be alive – instead, I wonder, “Is this all there is?” and on work days, “Can I really do this for another 20+ years?” The voices in my head are a broken record – and frankly, they are singing a tune I don’t much care for. Yet I’ve been stuck.

Have I given up on giving it all I’ve got? Not exactly. But progress has been slow as I’ve fallen back into my old ways, old habits, and the valley of self-pity. Here’s the current scorecard, for anyone who is either reading or keeping score:

Give Up: Aside from giving up on basic hygiene and any socializing that requires me to bathe; put on big girl pants (I like to wear my furry Cookie Monster pants all the time, thank you); leave my bed; or interact with humans, I haven’t given up much by design. I realized belatedly that I may have given up on myself, which is not exactly the way this little experiment was supposed to pan out. I’m disappointed to find that I’ve abandoned my writing; ashamed at what I perceive to be my lack of determination or willpower or whatever it is that normal people have; and wondering when I decided to throw up my hands and act like a victim of my own life.  WTF, Princess?

Give In: I’m going through the motions. I get up, I go to work, and I show up and do what I’m supposed to do. I put one foot in front of the other. I’ve given in to the depression and I’m ready for it to move on. I feel so disconnected from everything – like I’m watching my life happen on the world’s least interesting reality program – and although I nod, smile, and respond when and where it’s expected, I’m not really present. If anyone has noticed, they haven’t commented on it, which leads me to believe that we’re all awfully busy being lost in our own heads and our own shit and most of us are preoccupied with the “all me, all the time” show anyway. I’m ready to change the channel, personally.

Giving It All I’ve Got: I’d love to tell you that I’m giving it my all, but let’s keep it real. I have to give it all I’ve got just to get out of bed and fake-function as an adult. I have good days, I have bad days, and I’m proud to say that I haven’t abandoned the goals I shared with you at the beginning of the year – but I’ve had to learn to be gentle with myself and to practice forgiveness when I don’t meet my own unreasonable expectations.

150 days of food logging on MyFitnessPal has helped me be a more mindful eater . . . most of the time. I have cheat days – some by design and some by accident – but instead of lying to an app that I’ve voluntarily installed to help me be healthier or giving up on food logging, I log my dates with Ben & Jerry and vow to try harder tomorrow.  Guess what? I’ve even managed to lose some weight – and more importantly, I now think before I eat . . . most of the time. 

I’ve missed a few workouts with Big Bad Trainer. But I’ve tried to compensate by getting some cardio in, and I even bought a “wearable fitness tracker” with a Groupon to help motivate me to be more active. It primarily serves as an additional source of guilt and shame, but I’ve been wearing it religiously and I do catch myself parking further away from the door or squeezing in a quick dog walk to increase my step count for the day. In other news, no woman ever achieved 10,000 steps a day while wearing heels and a suit. Unless she’s a mutant.

I’m still thriving – my eight week experience has extended beyond eight weeks, and it’s become part of my regular routine. Since I’ve managed to lose about five pounds – due to diet, exercise, or Thriving or some combination thereof – I’m going to keep doing what works.

Lastly, I’m giving all I’ve got to being a cheerleader for the people I love. I am so proud of my high schooler for completing a very challenging junior year with honors classes, AP tests, jobs, teenage hormones and anxiety, and two trips abroad. She makes me proud every day and I can’t wait to see what her senior year and beyond bring. 

And then there’s my prince. He started interning at a treatment center two weeks ago – and it is so inspiring to watch him spread his wings and fly.  I’m only marginally jealous of the fact that he’s figured out what he wants to be when he grows up while I continue        to struggle with that question in my own life. J

I haven’t given up yet – I’m still writing and still fighting – even if no one is reading or watching! 

Progress, Not Perfection

I think today is the 108^th day of 2015. (It might be the 107^th or the 109^th. I lack the requisite number of fingers and toes to do this kind of math without error.) Spring is finally here; the sunset is now in the 8 PM hour, giving us precious daylight that all but vampires have been craving since Thanksgiving; and New Year's resolutions are as far from most of our minds as friendship bracelets, jelly shoes, and Rubik's cubes. Simply put, those New Year's resolutions you made with all the best of intentions about 108 days ago are ancient history. The interwebs disagree about what percentage of us actually keep our resolutions – some believe the number to be as low as 8% - but everyone seems to agree that resolutions fail more often than not.

Whether or not resolutions are doomed to fail depends on your point of view, and I would argue that no attempts at self-improvement should be painted with such a negative brush. My personal track record reflects a reality many experience – we're great at making resolutions but we falter in the execution. Every January, I'd create a list that rivaled Martin Luther's 95 theses in aspiration and scope. (Note – I'm not intending to be sacrilegious so if this offends you, simply pray for my salvation. Don't email me threatening hell and Old Testament justice. Please and thanks.) Once I'd committed my list of resolutions to paper, I'd begin shoulding on myself – and every time I failed to achieve one of the unattainable goals I'd set for myself, the cycle of shame began. Perhaps you're familiar with this tune? It goes a little something like this:

Voice in my head: "You should go to the gym and exercise. You should. You should do it every single day." Of course, the voice in my head is a great talker but a shitty listener – and is so busy shoulding on me and shaming me that it doesn't recognize all the other competing voices, telling me I should go to work and not get fired; I should pay the bills; I should walk the dog; I should shovel the snow; etc. And, after I spend an entire day trying to stay one step ahead of all the shoulds, I run out of time or energy to go to the gym and exercise. Cue the second verse – a little bit louder and a whole lot worse than the first – when the voice in my head starts in with: "You SHOULD have gone to the gym. Why didn't you? You must the fattest, laziest, stupidest person on the planet. Could you be more selfish and disgusting? How hard is it to go exercise? Other people do it all the time. What is wrong with you? Epic fail. EPIC. FAIL."

By 2015, I was tired of hearing that same old tune, and I decided to change the channel. Instead of shoulding all over myself, I'd eschew resolutions and I'd try a new tactic. I adopted an anthem and started an experiment. What might happen if I decided to focus on creating my best life instead of spending my time trying to fix my "broken" parts? What if I stopped shoulding on myself and starting "coulding" instead? Would I sing a different tune or would I fall back in to the same pattern?

My anthem is pretty simple – but it's more than just a pretty slogan that someone crafty might embroider onto a pillow. It's a mental model and it's become the framework I use to make decisions in my own life. Do I have a perfect track record? Of course not. But what I've learned is that if you focus on progress instead of perfection, you'll exceed your own expectations.
Speaking of progress, here's the latest report from the field:

Give Up: After an estimated 108 days, I've given up on all the easy stuff and it's harder and harder to identify areas where "give up" is the right response for me. After I gave up on the idea that perfection was my goal and after I gave up shoulding all over myself, everything else pales in comparison. I still suffer from negative self-talk and I still should on myself more often than not – so the challenge is not to give up in more areas of my life but rather, to stay the course on the big things I decided to give up when I embraced this anthem.

Give In: I know a lot of people whose vision of the good life includes a big, beautiful home; the right luxury automobile; a closet full of designer clothes; and lots of blingy accessories made by Rolex and Tiffany and Cartier. As Sheryl Crow says, "If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad" so I don't judge. But I'm different. I don't want a big house that I can't live in. I like having dog and cat hair all over everything and I like that my house feels lived in. Yes, I do have a cat condo in my living room – and I'm not ashamed. (I don't love the floor to ceiling mirror situation that makes our living room look like a 1970's porn set, but it's not annoying enough to take action against.) I don't want a car so fancy I can't figure out how to drive it or that cost me so much money that I'm terrified of scratching it. I'm a terrible driver. I will smash it. I don't understand the point of jewelry – it gets in the way and it doesn't cover your kibbles and bits.

It's easy to look around at other people and think, "if they want this, shouldn't I?" Sometimes, when I visit my friends' or colleagues homes, I feel like an imposter and I wonder if I should get my ass to Ethan Allen immediately to remedy the situation. But I've given up on trying to keep up with the Kardashians, the Joneses, and anyone else. If a pile of dirty laundry threatening to escape the confines of the closet offends you, that's okay. You don't have to live like I do. I display Sesame Street figurines in my dining room. And if you think this is tacky, I don't give a flying fig newton.

Give It All I've Got: One of the things I'm embracing is trying new things – and when I do, I give it my all. I recently had the opportunity to try acupuncture for the first time. I've always been curious about Chinese medicine and when I discovered that a college friend runs an acupuncture clinic, I had to check it out. My college friend, Julie, has always inspired me. I had a" girl crush" on her from the first time I saw her on campus with her sassy blonde bob and her badass black leather jacket. She is effortlessly stylish and unapologetically her own person.

I saw her for the first time in maybe 20 years this week – and she is as sweet, tough, and cool as ever. After catching up on life and giving me a quick tutorial on Chinese medicine, she stabbed me with needles. It was a really powerful experience. After she carefully placed the needles (which did not hurt at all, FYI), she left me to relax for 20 minutes. I felt both relaxed and energized. My limbs tingled and when I left, I felt both euphoric and more calm and peaceful than I can remember. My specific "complaint" was excessive fatigue. One appointment didn't turn me into superwoman, but it I do feel different and I will be back. I'm supposed to be taking some Chinese herbs, too, and I promise that I will start, but they smell foul and I fear they will taste even worse. However, I can't really chalk this up as 'giving it my all' if I'm afraid of some tiny herbs . . . . I suggest you get yourself to Selby Acupuncture and experience this for yourself. I will start the herbs today, I promise.

I also decided to become more active in my community, and I was recently sworn in as a committee member on our local human services fund committee. This committee plans and holds fundraisers and events to raise money to meet human service needs in our community. Last weekend was "Run the Valley" which is one of our largest fundraising events and I was lucky enough to be able to volunteer here. You can see the highlights here, which include some unflattering shots of me in no makeup with a baseball cap on. Because that is how I roll in my community, people.

A few other notable news items include 109 days of successful food tracking on MyFitnessPal. I also log my exercise and my weight, and I have finally turned a corner. Since January, I've lost just about six pounds and I am just about six pounds away from my goal weight. With mindful eating, diligent tracking, and exercise, I am confident I can be my healthiest and best self. Although I have completed my Thrive Eight Week ExperienceI'm still "thriving" and I do find that these products are helping me in my quest to be active, energetic, and healthy. They aren't miracles the way some of the promoters want you to believe, but in my experience, they are a helpful part of my total regimen and I'll keep using them until I feel otherwise.

With each day that goes by, I remind myself of my anthem (it's posted in my cube at work) and I know that incremental progress is underway. Sometimes the pace of personal change feels glacial in the moment – but when I look back at where I was just 108 days ago, I can see how far I've come on my journey already. Pretty sure the best is yet to come!

© 2015 Princess D

 

The Beast on my Payroll

Although I like to think I'm all-around awesome at life, you only have to watch me attempt to perform simple tasks to realize that it's my genius and innovative outsourcing strategy that allows me to masquerade as a functional adult. For example, I'm a terrible and lazy cook. Left to my own devices, I'd subsist on the "all cereal and Lean Cuisine, all the time" diet. When my husband and I first started dating, he opened my refrigerator and was appalled to discover that it contained some aging condiments, a hunk of cheese, a takeout container, and bunch of beer. (Looking in the freezer didn't help the situation – there, he discovered my ice cube collection, some Klondike bars, and my Lean Cuisine stash.)  When we got married, I carefully negotiated the cooking situation and explained his options. He could take over the kitchen situation; we could eat out every day; or we could outsource meal preparation. That, my friends, is how Let's Dish became an integral part of how we eat in this house. We use the "dish and dash" option and have, in essence, outsourced our dinner preparation. While my hubby is actually pretty clever in the kitchen, even he appreciates the efficiency of this option. (If you're not a current Let's Dish customer, email me for a referral to save $ on your first visit!)

Other things I suck at include shopping and dressing myself. If it was up to me, we'd all look like those people of Walmart, wearing pajama pants and slippers all day long. True confession – even my pajamas don't match. I just grab things that look comfy and put them together. I have a closet full of clothes, yes, but without the help of pictures and a personal shopper, I'd be a full on fashion disaster. You can't blame my shopper for my current horrible outfits either – it's not her fault that my weight fluctuates or that my feet hurt or that I hate all my shoes or that I don't feel like shaving my legs.

Since I can't cook, eat, or dress myself without professional assistance, it's no surprise that I'm also a disaster from a physical fitness perspective. My grade school gym teacher was a short, rotund man who hardly role-modeled fitness for us. Instead, he represented the worst hour of every day for me. I actually would not enjoy having my peers pelt me with projectiles that I'm intended to dodge, thank you very much. I lack the coordination to jump rope or turn a cartwheel, and I'm too lazy to run unless being chased by wolves or serial killers. My remedial physical fitness competence is at odds with my desire to not be fat – a bigger risk now that I'm no longer existing on Lean Cuisines. When I decided to make health and fitness a priority, I knew I couldn't do it alone. Scratch that . . . I knew I wouldn't be able to do it alone. I embraced my outsourcing strategy and I hired a personal trainer. Technically, I hired several because they kept losing their minds and quitting on me – but that was more likely due to the cut-rate gym I joined.

After losing my 4^th personal trainer, a considerable amount of my disposable income, and any hope of getting my ass in shape, I stumbled upon Big Bad Trainer Aaron. I'd seen him around my bargain basement gym – he's hard to miss – but just the sight of him terrified me. He may be four inches shorter than I am, but he doesn't have an ounce of fat on his body and he is HUGE. Like, terrifyingly huge. I assumed he was a scary beast who looked down on the rest of us chubby peons and who probably never succumbed to the swan song of a doughnut. I was breaking in my 5^th personal trainer, who was shaming me for eating an apple fritter, when Trainer Aaron magically appeared and engaged me in a discussion about the merits of Target brand apple fritters. I fired trainer #5 and began working with Big Bad Trainer Aaron right away.

He's been my trainer for a little over a year now – and yes, I am in better shape than I imagined possible. But what's amazing about Aaron is not just his physique (which is pretty damn amazing) – it's his passion and his commitment. Coupled with his humility, his kindness, and his intellect – he's pretty inspiring. You might look at him and think he's just another meathead. And you would be so very wrong. I'd love to tell you his story, but his sister beat me to it – and she did a better job than I ever could. I encourage you to check it out, and side note: if you are looking for a great book to read, check out Rebecca Kanner's novel, Sinners and the Sea.


While I'm struggling to embrace and achieve my anthem – give up, give in, or give it all you've got – I am truly lucky to have Trainer Aaron as my role model. He lives his life by this creed – probably unintentionally – and his example motivates me on those days when I want to give it all up altogether. If a picture is worth a thousand words, this video is priceless.

While I haven't won any bodybuilding contests, I'm sticking to my guns and I'd like to think I'm doing a pretty good job of knowing when to give up, when to give in, and when to give it all I've got. Here's my progress report:

Give Up: I haven't given up much lately . . . which might be a good thing. With my handy outsourcing strategy, I gave up housecleaning and had a professional come in and polish the palace. It was worth every penny, and although it wouldn't kill me to run the Dyson over these hairy floors, the house is still fairly clean even two plus weeks after the cleaner left.

I've also been trying to give up my nighttime snacking habit. This has been only marginally successful because I love snacks. A lot. Rather than give up snacking entirely, I've been replacing my naughty snacks with more healthy options, like fresh fruit.

Give In: I finally made and kept a dentist appointment to get my teeth cleaned. Given the amount of anxiety this caused me, I had to take an entire afternoon off work, lest I go completely postal. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that although I might want to take up more regular flossing (I am a sporadic flosser. Sue me), my teeth had a clean bill of health. I would like to thank my Phillips Sonicare toothbrush for contributing to this successful visit. As some of you know, I am not a model dental patient and I frequently bite the hand that cleans my teeth. I'm not a fan of my current dentist, as she often drops dental instruments (which are sharp, pointy, and dangerous) on me while working on my teeth. She also is partially responsible for the emergency dental surgery that left a gaping hole in my face a couple of years ago, While cleaning my teeth, my very kind and gentle hygienist, who was filling in but who normally works with another dentist in the practice, suggested I switch dentists . . . so I did. Wait – does that count as giving up or giving in?

Giving It All I've Got: I'm sure there are more things I could list, but rather than a full essay, I'm going to give you the headlines and highlights. Here they are:

• 96 day streak on MyFitnessPal! Mindful eating more often than not . . . it's a good thing. Friend me (dlamere2) on MyFitnessPal and I promise, you'll feel better about yourself. I've been known to call wine and M&M's a meal.
• Stepped on the scale today and it's a pseudo-success story. I've lost over half a pound since my last weigh-in a couple of weeks ago (yay) but I'm still a couple of pounds heavier than I was six months ago, and more importantly, I'm about 10 (well, 9.4 if I use today's weigh in) pounds from my goal. This is progress, though, and progress is a darned good thing so I'm chalking this up as a win!
• Although my cuticles have looked better, hooray for me to conquer my nail-biting habit! It's been almost 100 days since I've chewed a fingernail.
• Worked out five of the last seven days and made sure I got my strength training and my cardio complete, so I'm not shoulding all over myself but instead, I'm getting it done.

Bottom line – life is good and I am so lucky to be surrounded by people who inspire me to be my best. That's the essence of giving it my all. Happy Easter!

© 2015 Princess D


 

 

You Have the Right to Remain Stupid

People are always telling me how smart I am, which demonstrates one thing quite clearly . . . people in general must be really stupid. I'm actually not particularly smart, motivated, or hard-working. I'm simply practical and I have more common sense than the average bear. A smart person wouldn't be perplexed childproof caps; sweaters without head holes (www.stitchfix.com – I'm still not over that incident); plungers; and lawn mowers, to name a few forms of personal kryptonite. For years, I believed that all cows slept standing up – until I moved to cow country and noticed many cows prefer to sleep in a seated position. Thus, I'm also still confused by cow tipping. These are not characteristics of the intellectual, folks.

What I do have in abundance is common sense, and I occasionally find myself indignant at the sheer lack of civilized manners that exist in our society. You need look no further than your local airport to witness this in action. In spite of the posters, television ads, and verbal warnings, there are always people dragging Big Gulps and giant cans of hairspray through security. These are the same people who "forget" to empty their pockets; leave their shoes and belts on; and generally need a minimum of three tries to get through airport security. Now, I'm confident these idiots are not terrorists or up to any nonsense, because a real criminal would be a lot sneakier. Of course, I accidentally tried to bring a corkscrew through airport security last year (I didn't realize it was in my bag) so I get it. Stuff happens.

In general, I try to summon up as much patience and graciousness for life's idiots as I can. It's unlikely, after all, that these people are waking up every morning with the sole objective of making me lose my shit. Thus, I typically take a deep breath, allow for a quick eye-roll, and deal with it. Most of the time, this tactic works. However, there are times, places, and behavior I find so egregious that I feel compelled to confront it. It's as if Boss Hogg descended from the heavens and deputized me in these moments, and I am obligated to do my civic duty. I have been known to pick up litter and chase after its bug to return it with the helpful phrase, "I think you dropped this." If my gym refuses to enforce their own rules of 20 minute limit on cardio machines while others are waiting, I shall police the elliptical machines on their behalf. I'm not going to wait while you clock an hour on that machine, Grandpa Tiny Running Shorts. Move along. My particular hot button, however, is uncivilized rudeness.

Newsflash: no one wants to wait in line. Lines suck. Waiting sucks. But if I have been waiting in line for 20 minutes and you suddenly show up in all your entitled glory and cut the line in front of me, don't think you're not going to hear about it. I observed a prospective line cutter at the airport the other day. When the thought bubble above her head started flashing in neon, I suggested that she rethink her plan. This suggestion was not well-received so I then encouraged her to obtain permission from each of the 50 people she was cutting off in line before making her choice. (Ps. The only way she was cutting in line on my watch is if she stepped behind me.) She did not care for my helpful suggestions but eventually went to the back of the line where she belonged. While waiting in line, she must have been stewing and coming up with some righteous comebacks, because about 10 minutes later, she and her horrific teenaged offspring returned like a recurring nightmare. Teen Spirit was quite disrespectful to her elder (me) but with such a lousy role model, I overlooked much of her sauciness. And honestly – if "bitch" is the best you can do, I'm hardly offended. I know I'm a bitch. I hear it all the time. Tell me something I don't know.

I wish this story had a better ending, but unfortunately, everyone else in line was a big pansy, and since I didn't think fisticuffs in the airport would get me to the front of the line any faster, I was left with nothing but my impotent rage when she returned and eventually cut in front of me in line. This would have been an excellent chance to embrace my anthem and give up or give in. I tried. I really did. But this asshole family was in my way everywhere at the airport. At one point, I wound up in front of them in yet another line, and neutered husband leaned in and said, "See? You beat us after all." Oh, sir. No. I want to beat you senseless with my shoe, but that will merely get me arrested and placed on a no-fly list. So, instead of giving him the beat down he deserved, I leaned in, patted his arm in a patronizing manner, and said in my most seething tone, "Oh, sir. You seem confused. We're not in a competition. It's not about who gets there first, it's about the rules of living in a civilized society and it's about having common decency and manners. It's a shame that you can't role model this for your children. They're going to grow up to be real assholes. Enjoy your flight."

That should have been the end of the story, but because I am karma's bitch, I ran into the Real Entitled Family of Philadelphia again at the gate, because of course we were on the same flight. At that point, neutered husband must have retrieved his testicles from his wife's purse, because the two of them sat near me, glared and me, and loudly talked about me in front of me. At this point, my rage had dissipated and I was more amused than anything else (although, given the chance, I would have gladly slapped the crap out of them) so I stared back with a smirk on my face and prayed to God that I wouldn't have to sit next to them on the flight. Spoiler alert: We were seated in opposite corners of the airplane and there were no further incidents.

So . . . anthem update.
Give Up: Yeah . . . I tried. But sometimes, giving up is harder than it looks. The only thing I gave up on recently was sleep. Between daylight savings time and a trip across time zones, hours were lost. I'm tired.

Wait, wait – no! I lied. I also am giving up on housecleaning. The palace needs a good deep cleaning. When the pets are constantly licking the floors, it's a sign that your filth has hit a new low. Rather than should all over myself and feel shame at my terrible domestic capabilities, I scheduled a housecleaning. Cleaner will be here on Monday and I assure you, it will be about the best $100 I'll spend this month.

Give In: I think the fact that I didn't leave the airport in handcuffs shows that I am capable of giving in when required. I also gave in and said goodbye to my favorite pair of Franco Sarto black ankle boots. These boots go with everything and were a fall and winter wardrobe staple for the past two years. Well-loved and oft worn, they've seen better days and are falling apart. We parted ways on Wednesday and now, I'm looking for a replacement. I also gave in and paid the IRS for my 2014 income taxes. This is only a partial victory as I owe the great state of MN significantly more money and I'm bitter about it, so I'm waiting until the last minute to pay them. Governor Dayton – I think I know where this budget surplus is coming from . . .

Giving It All I've Got: 81 day streak on MyFitnessPal. It's hard to log all your food when you're on the road, away from home, and eating in restaurants a lot. I did the best I could and clearly, overate this week. I'll be staying off the scale for now, thank you. I've also been reading Stop Eating Your Heart Out, which is an interesting look at binge-eating and emotional eating disorders, with an emphasis on developing skills to alleviate the shame, guilt, and fear associated with a dysfunctional relationship with food. Parts of this book resonate strongly and others, not so much. One thing the author recommends is (drumroll, please) keeping a food log/diary and she outlines the benefits of doing so. I guess MyFitnessPal and I are doing something right!

One of the excerpts that resonated most strongly with me is when the author addressed the concept of "shoulding" all over yourself. She recommends that we "change our shoulds to coulds." Instead of saying, "I should go to the gym" or "I have to eat more vegetables", she recommends that we reframe this by saying things like, "I choose to exercise" or "I choose to eat broccoli." She goes on to explain that "the word choose dissipates that poor-me voice and the feeling of being a victim and leads instead to feelings of self-empowerment." I'm still practicing this – unlearning a life of "shoulding" doesn't happen overnight. By the way, I could exercise more than I have been lately. Ahem.

I've gone 80 days without biting my fingernails and to celebrate, I had a manicure and went wild with dark red polish. I can't stop staring at my hands and I suspect that I am wildly gesturing while talking to others just so I can get a glimpse of my pretty digits. I'm hooked on nice nails!

Lastly, and while it may seem like the kind of thing Captain Obvious would share, I am giving all I've got to documenting my journey. Writing is cathartic and although I don't always have something interesting to say, the act of sitting down at my laptop and letting my words out helps create both a sense of peace and some joy in my life. And that is really what giving it all you've got is all about.

 
© 2015 Princess D