on the rocks: 2021. day 2

on empty: 2021. day 1

What’s in a name…or what’s your name?

I’ve always had a horrible memory. Names in particular have been a considerable challenge. Memory issues come as a side effect of anxiety. When your body is so busy flooding the brain with neurotransmitters, information storage and retrieval kind of gets swamped. The chemistry behind brain processing is fascinating and illuminating especially for someone whose life story is tied up in nervous system responses.

Over the years, I’ve tried to strengthen my memory and utilize different tricks. Some have worked…others not so much.

Way back in college, I was given a tip: “If you forget someone’s name, see if you can create a scenario where you need to write their name down and ask how they spell it.” It seemed brilliant and I had just the opportunity to practice it…ironically, in my chemistry class. Chemistry (and anything math or science) was(and is) not my strong suit...so...I was a hot mess of neurotransmition and consequently never got my lab partners’ names (despite the fact that I had a huge crush on one of them)…and if they’d mentioned their names (which I am SURE they did), my brain had NO recollection.

So, armed with a new tool, I took it upon myself to be the scribe in lab one morning. Beaming, and poised to carefully attend to their names, I asked, “How do you spell your names?” The first guy spelled out his name which seemed of Indian descent and I felt relieved and justified in asking how to spell it. Inspired and empowered after finishing his name, I turned to guy number two (crush guy). He stood there with a sheepish grin and waited. I smiled back and waited and waited and waited. Finally giving in to the awkwardly growing silence I said, “and you?” He smirked and said, “b...(long pause)…....o....(long pause)…” I closed my eyes and felt my heart sink into my stomach and waited for the final letter...cringing...knowing what was next… “b”…the last letter came. Bob. I felt sick. I glanced up to find him laughing hysterically. Me, I was mortified. Needless to say, I will never forget his name. I will also never remember anything from chemistry class due to my utter humiliation. He was a gem about it but I felt so ridiculous and the panic attacks flared at the thought of class.

We live and we learn…and learn…and learn…and learn…here's to learning in the new year!

Road Signs...Lessons from On High...

Life shifts and things change and normally I plan things out and measure them thoroughly and do the VERY MOST responsible thing but in the summer of 2007, in the midst of my life doing roller coaster dips, dives and loops, divine intervention struck multiple times. Suddenly I found myself 30,000+ feet in the air heading west without giving it much thought. First, a visit with family and then an escape to Idaho.


I was running from a painful year, choosing to leave work before the school year officially ended (GASP!) to join a group of people I hardly knew as they competed in one of the most challenging endurance sports, Ironman Couer d'Alene. Going there was ironic: the event mirroring back what I internally felt...it's an endurance sport, you know. It was divinity at it's most amused and greatest embrace as I cheered or rather poured my heart out on the course. I watched in amazement as my teammates pushed themselves through the long day. I stood breathless as wounded military athletes zipped by, some with prosthetic limbs. Endurance...at it's most soul-moving.

THEN, as if to show I'd completely lost my mind, I drove back across the country in a moving van! Seriously, I must have snapped! In summary, I loved it! I loved the freedom and the free-flowing-ness of each moment. I loved seeing people from different states (whoa, those guys in Montana are tall!). I loved soaking in the beauty of the country (a beauty of many shapes and colors)and wanted desperately to slow it down, to take more time. I also had a moment when I thought, "Oh dear, God, keep me from completely coming unhinged!" I had this wild vision of me becoming one of those people who lives "off the map" which caused equal parts joy and panic. Fortunately for my panic attack, a phone call from the east coast cut the trip short as the van was needed sooner than planned. We drove for hours each day and talked and talked and talked. We just were. What simple joys!

BUT going back to 30,000+ feet in the air, at the beginning of this journey, that is where I was handed a message, a mantra, another life lesson (sheesh how many of these do I need???)

Positioned in the window seat in a row of three, I sat quietly sobbing. I tried to bury and disguise my emotions in Mitch Albom's The 5 People You Meet in Heaven, after all it is a tear-jerker and I thought it was a good "cover." My immediate neighbor was eager to chat though and pulled me out of the book and myself within minutes of getting herself situated. Of course, when someone starts a conversation with "have you ever seen a real brain and brain stem?" it does kind of make you stop in your tracks, proverbial or otherwise. When that statement was followed by, "I travel with one!" a stream of questions and thoughts flooded my own brain, including, "whoa, where the hell is this going?" and "Please, tell me she's not about to ask for mine!"

As it turns out, my neighbor's story was quite riveting. In the very shortened version: she's a neuro-scientist by the name of Jill Bolte Taylor, who had had a stroke in 1996 which completely wiped out her ability to walk, talk, read, write or even remember her life before the stroke. AND, AND, she had made a remarkable recovery; it didn't happen overnight or on her own or by itself; it was hard work AND she was sitting there that day sharing it all with me in person. I sat speechless. I sat moved beyond myself and my fears and my pain. We chatted the entire time and just as the plane was about to land, she left me with a golden nugget: she said with gentleness, "You know, in life, you just never know. You never know what others are really thinking or doing or believing. You never know how things are going to turn out. You never know." AND then she smiled. Message delivered, she packed up and hustled off the plane to her connecting flight.

I felt like she saw right through me, seeing how broken and out of control I felt. Whether she did or not, to this day, I try to use that voice to remind myself how little I do know, quieting my anxieties and my fears (and my anger when driving in the Washington, DC area) when they come a-calling. I don't know...but I can be...I can beautifully soak it all in...I can learn...I can keep moving forward...I can let go. What simple joys!


As a side note, I started this post on August 21,2009...it's August 19,2011...time to post! sigh!

Happy New Year

On December 31, 2009, I woke up to feel as if moving were impossible and breathing was agony. As December 31, 2010 approaches, I take some time to reflect. It was a year of slowing down for a bit, sometimes even stopping. If there is a lesson for me, as there often is, it would be this: gratitude. Remembering how hard it was to move, I am delighted with each movement I make. Remembering clearly, how each movement made—from a twitch in my pinky or a turn of the foot-- caused such pain, I am in awe of the body and what it does and can do. We are miracles. I tried to pay attention more this year, to be grateful and be present. I know that I have a lot of practicing still to do. I know I am at the beginning of this learning.

Here’s to 2011, may it be filled with great movement, great joy, great being, gratefulness!

Warmth...or relatively speaking

When the winds finally blew out of town, the 30-degree temps remaining felt down right warm. After days of biting winds that cut clear through to the bone, the sunny 30s seemed like an early spring.

Funny, how it’s all a matter of perspective.

I remember when I returned from Belize after living there for two years: it was summer in the DC area, and I felt that our typical hazy, hot and humid weather here was actually quite comfortable.

Comparably, it is. Belize, a small country in Central America bordering Mexico and Guatemala and backing up to the Caribbean Sea, is flipping hot pretty much all the time. On average, it is 90 degrees with 75% humidity, except the rainy season (October-December), during which it is 100% humidity and 75 degrees.

During my first rainy season—only a few months into my time there--I remember feeling amused when I saw some of the Belizeans and long time residents wearing winter coats, gloves and hats. Of course, it wasn’t long before I was shivering jealously and found myself wearing almost all of my clothes just to stay warm.

Returning to DC, the air conditioning, and it’s seemingly moderate temps, I spent many a night layering on the blankets and wearing thermal gear. Family and friends were a bit concerned. Of course, this too passed; eventually, I adjusted to the praises of A/C and joined the ranks of the complainers over “how hot it is here!”

Funny, how it’s all relative. I try to hold this in memory. Especially since it’s certainly NOT been hot here this winter with those blessed winds! BUT since they’ve at least taken a temporary break, I really appreciate how warm it feels now!

Go. Stop. Somewhere in between.

My life has been go. I am constantly in motion and often in a hurry. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Movement can be a good thing…to a certain extent. I am active, alive, growing, learning AND exhausted. This winter, I have found myself wanting to hibernate. From the personal (injuries) to the environmental (snowmegedon), this year has been a year of shall we say smaller steps, even no steps at points. My mind is usually racing even if my body isn’t, which it usually is as well: I’m off or planning to be off to somewhere or some other task, even in the midst of this one:

White Rabbit syndrome: LATE, LATE, LATE. For what?

Now, I’m just tired. Don’t get me wrong, I like doing still. I like learning and participating and what have you. AND, I don’t want to be somewhere else when I’m here...if that makes any sense! I am trying to be in the now, savor each moment, not gobble and go. I just hope it’s not too late.