Wisdom and Confusion

The title of my blog really sums up how I felt about Finding Om last night. Week seven (yesterday) was supposed to be the crescendo. Everything built up to the meditations presented. I went for it, really tackling issues of binge eating and the shame that results from increased mindfulness, hence increased awareness of how you have been abusing your body, using it as a way to make public your self-hatred. With increased mindfulness, that abuse becomes more apparent, resulting in feelings of shame.

Yoga is a wonderful psychotherapy tool, especially for people with eating disorders-- or, for that matter, any other disorder that results in your living entirely in your head with little regard for your physical being. Yoga forces you to pay attention to your body, to get out of your head. And for people who have not paid attention to their bodies for a long time, who have been using their bodies to express their self-hatred, this is invaluable. 

I was really excited for session 7. I've been thinking about it since session one. Since before that. I was really excited to see how people reacted. And, for the most part, they reacted well. That is, all 6 people who showed up. 

That's right. My original n (sample size) of 13 has dwindled to 10. Of those 10, only 6 showed. I was really sad and disappointed-- kind of like when the fireworks on 4th of July are duds. 

That's not entirely fair. The people who attended responded really positively. I evoked tears, which is what I was going for (masochistic as that sounds). I think I need to figure out a way to weave yesterday's topic back in next week, both as a revisit for those who were there and to make sure that message is given to the ones who weren't. 

Yet another yogic lesson: don't plan too hard. Just try and see what comes. Or something like that. 

Mindfulness

Still struggling with giving myself a break, even though I have woken up every day since Saturday feeling awful. Today I did an hour of yoga, then did a few hours of yard work later in the day. Making nice progress on that front, although I still have a lot to go.

Can't decide what I want to do tomorrow. I usually do a hill workout on Wednesdays. Do I give myself a break, since I am not being lazy but simply don't feel well? Like, maybe take a hike instead of going for a run and allow my body time to recover? Do I push myself to do my usual workout and grant myself some forgiveness if it's harder than usual? Do I wait and see what the morning brings?

Only tomorrow will tell. 

Paying for it

I ran 14 miserable miles this morning. I could make a million excuses as to why this run was so difficult. I really think it's because I have been pushing myself so hard, somehow equating stillness with weakness. Stupid, I know, and I would tell a friend to stop being so hard on herself, give herself a break, and that taking a break when you are feeling whipped is the best thing because we all know muscles need rest time to recover bla bla bla. So why is it so hard to internalize this advice myself?

Relentless Motion

It wasn't until a moment of stillness during this morning's Kundalini class that I realized I have spent the last few days indulging the unconscious desire to keep moving. I have done this by running, by assistant-coaching my kids' Landsharks track team, by weight lifting, by doing yoga, by hiking the Manitou incline. I have done this by going to the supermarket, by cooking, by going to Target and Home Depot. I have kept moving by trimming trees in my yard, by thinning out badly overgrown  scrub oaks, by bagging about 25 30-gallon bags of leaves. 

Lucky for my need to move, I have a 14 mile run on the schedule tomorrow and lots and lots more yard work to go. Just bought 25 more of those big bags. But why the need? I think it has a lot to do with the anxiety of giving Genogirl her shots. This kind of hit me over the head when, after lots of frog poses and knee bends and breath of fire, the enforced stillness was accompanied by a torrent of tears. 

Ah, yoga. Keeps me honest, anyway. 

A drinking game for you from me

Many years ago I went with my best friend to Cambridge MA to visit her brother, a student at Harvard Law school. This is what I learned there. 

Instructions: Recite without errors. When you make an error you drink and start over from the beginning. Somehow you go around in a circle but I forget that part, so make it up for yourself. 

One red hen.

A couple duck.

Three brown bear.

Four running hare. 

Five fat females sitting sipping scotch and smoking cigarettes.

Six slimy Sicilian sailors solemnly sailing the seven seas in a sloop.

Seven: I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, upon a slitted sheet I sit. 

Eight: (I forget eight. Make up your own).

Nine nymphlike nudes nimbly nibbling on nicotine and pigs knuckles.

Ten: I'm no fig pucker. I'm no fig pucker's son. But I'll puck figs until the fig pucker's son comes. 

It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I still remember this, but I think it lodged in the part of my brain that also stores the chorus of every song that was in the top 40 when I was in 7th grade, as well as all the words to Barry Manilow's Mandy. I think it was also my first exposure to drinking games in action, and so made a greater imprint on my young, impressionable brain.

My cousin, who is 6 years younger than me, also went to HLS. I wonder if this was still being played. If not, a pity for the future of the profession.

New blog in town

Natasha just started her own blog. Check it out: Genogirl Grows On. Her first post is ready to read.

I had a little Seder

Every year since I moved to Colorado in 1997 I have traveled back to NJ to join my parents and extended family for the traditional and much-anticipated family Passover Seder. Lots of family, lots of food, as much fun as a four hour meal/service can be. This has been part of my children's lives since they were born, and is always looked forward to. 

Nonetheless, we didn't go this year. Between my dad's birthday last month and being in NJ earlier this year and our upcoming trip to Alaska in June for another family event, it's enough with the travel. So we had a seder here. It was fun! Lots of people, including my Cousin Ezra and his beautiful and adorable little girl who flew in from LA. 

Alas, one of my friends broke a wine glass and slashed her hand and had to go get 4 stitches. But then again, bloodshed is a part of the Passover story, so I guess it goes along with the whole theme.

Not sure what we'll do next year. Ezra thinks I should offer to host the whole family out here. I actually don't mind that idea. My mom, matriarch and holder of the trademark on all things Passover (at least in our family) might have an issue with it. But we'll see. 

Happy in Hanumanasana

For the past month or so I've been taking yoga classes on Thursday evenings with Mike, a student of Dharma Mittra. The flow is very different from the vinyasa style I'm used to, but I love it. I feel that I am making more progress in certain poses than I have before, which definitely gives credence to the old "practice and all is coming" adage.

And like certain ashtangis I know, I am becoming obsessed with poses. Two in particular: handstand and hanumanasana.

I very much want to rise up into handstand in the middle of the room and stay up. No flailing. No falling over backwards onto my head and breaking yet another one of those plastic claw hair clip thingies. I have broken it down for myself into a few components. I need to strengthen my abs to better be able to engage uddiyana bandha and lift my legs more gracefully. I need to do a better job of getting my hips over my shoulders. Once up, I need to find that center of gravity. As r&d for this, I have been practicing pushing up from tripod headstand into handstand, but although I could stay in tripod all day I lose my balance once I'm up on my hands.

I'm not bad at kicking up against the wall, slowly removing one leg, then the other, and balancing for a while. Like, 10 seconds. Another fun version of this is to use the head as a tripod, as I was instructed to do by an Iyengar teacher whose class I took while visiting my sister in NJ. That is, kick up (or ideally rise up) into handstand against the wall, rest the top of your head gently on the wall and remove your feet. As he said, then all that stands between you and an unsupported handstand is a few inches, and it's all in your head. I can do that and stay up for a while too. But I want to be able to do this in the middle of the room, for all to gaze upon and admire. Oops. Scratch that last part.


Then there's Hanumanasana. I am not from the Gumby tribe. I have never, not even as a kid, been able to do front splits. All flexibility is hard-earned. But Mike does hanumanasana in every class, instructing us to place a block under our front hamstring as support. Lo and behold, I am getting better at this. I have gone from barely touching the block, kind of leaning over sideways and trying hard not to grimace to my current incarnation, in which I can rest upright on the block, legs extended out straight front and back. Last night I felt so happy doing this. Ah, the small things.

Oddly, I feel no need for extracurricular development in this pose. Just getting as far as I have is a bonus. Probably because it's flexibility-based, not strength based. But whatever. One to work on, one to allow.

5 down 5 to go

Last night was the 5th Finding Om class, making this this official midpoint of the program. Two dropouts so far, bringing my n (sample size) down to 11. Not very powerful but still in the range of other pilot studies.

The post-asana discussion group was rocking. I was thrilled to hear participants actually talking about becoming more mindful of their lives, their eating, and their habits in general. It was incredible to hear some of the concepts I have introduced through meditations and discussion topics being restated in people's own words. This is so gratifying-- it is working! It is sinking in! It is making a difference for people! People are incorporating changes they have learned from yoga, choosing to honor their bodies, not just abuse them to prove their unworthiness to the world.

Judaism teaches that if you save one life it is as if you have saved the whole world. This is a really important lesson for me to remember as a psychotherapist, since the results are so nebulous. As I have stated before, even if my results are not statitstically significant-- and I hope they are-- I can feel good about having made a difference for at least one person.

Too bad that person still doesn't seem to be me. I woke up today feeling bloated and fat and of course began judging myself as a terrible unworthy person because of it. If only my participants knew how much I mean it when I tell them I empathize with how hard the journey is. I struggle every day to honor myself rather than prove my unworthiness.

Best long run this season

I ran 13 miles this morning and, at long last, felt pretty good throughout. I think I needed to burn off some of this Genotropin agita but still... it feels nice to remember that I love long runs. Also gives me somewhat more confidence about the Mt Evans Ascent-- even though today's run was 1.5 miles shorter, primarily flat and was at 6,500 feet for its entirety, not 10,00+. But whatver makes ya feel good.

Genotropin arrived today

Does anyone have experience with this they are willing to share? Do any of you readers know anyone who has had to inject this into their child? Personal stories welcome and encouraged.

I am the kind of mom who shuns over-the-counter meds, who asks the pediatrician if it's really necessary to give my kids prescription medicines even when they are visible sick and miserable. Yet here I am committing to this.

I keep reminding myself that this whole thing got started because I followed my gut sense that my daughter was way too small, even given that I am very short, and that something needed to be done soon before she goes into puberty and it's too late. I followed a hunch which proved to be correct-- although it's definitely one of those times when being right carries no vindication whatsoever.

I'm eager for anecdotal information. I've already talked to doctor friends, done web searches and will continue to do both, but I am craving some personal experiences from real people.

Indeed, because I was unable to find anything aside from research, sales or the pharmaceutical site itself, I have decided to start a blog on this topic. It is called My Child on Genotropin and is hosted on my FindingOm.net website. I want to keep it focused on the growth hormone experience and so am keeping it separate from this site. I have also put a mirror on blogspot with the same title.
Please send anyone who might be interested over to this site to read, post, or simply follow the journey of my child and my family as we introduce this synthetic product into our lives.

Channeling Junie B. Jones

Since the garbage people still hadn't come after I finished this morning's 5 mile hill run, I decided to continue with my leaf and clipping bagging project.

I have these 30 gallon paper bags I bought at Home Depot. They're like giant supermarket bags with a waxy lining, and are kind of hard to open up at first. I was struggling with one and decided to slip my arms up into it and try to manually open the bag with my hands (as opposed to putting in a rakeful of leaves and shaking it around trying to get it open that way).

So there I was with my arms raised and this giant paper bag covering just about down to my waist and suddenly it was warm and dark and peaceful. Like being in a cocoon. I rested there a few moments and thought about when Junie B. Jones, heroine of Barbara Park's eponymous children's series, is waiting to speak to the prinicpal re: her latest misstep, and takes solace by making herself invisible inside a giant paper bag. I'm not so sure how well the invisible thing worked out for her, but as far as self-soothing goes, hanging out with a paper bag over your head is really nice.

I made myself invisible over and over and over this morning. It's only fun for a while, because then it starts to feel a bit suffocating. But until then, I highly recommend it. I think I'm going to do it some more right now. Off to the yard...

Soul angst

Our request for insurance coverage for my daughter's growth hormone shots was approved today. I found this out from Pam, the very pleasant and chipper Pfizer Bridge representative who was assigned our case. In great detail, she explained that Medco will be sending the meds to our house directly, that she will send me a starter kit with the injection device called a pen-something-or-other, which is designed to look like a pen not a needle, and that once I get that I should call her and arrange for the insurance company's nurse to pay us a home visit and teach us how to inject our daughter with synthetic hormones on a daily basis.

While talking to Pam I burned the sleeve of my (cashmere!) sweater on the stove burner.

After hanging up I abandoned what would have been a great lunch made of last night's leftover halibut mixed with asparagus and fresh basil and, instead of preparing for tonight's Finding Om class, went outside and bagged seven 30-gallon bags of detrius from my lawn.

Yes, we requested coverage.
Yes, I think giving her shots for the remainder of her growing years is ultimately the best course of action.
Yes, I feel kind of sick to my stomach right now.
I feel so sorry for her, and don't look forward to this obstacle.

I think we'll have to discuss this with her someplace where both ice cream and adult beverages are served.

The gift of Presence...

...is so elusive when my children are screaming at each other and the TV is blaring and the cat just broke a planter so there are ceramic shards and wet dirt all over my kitchen floor and there are 4 loads of laundry to fold and I think I drank too much coffee and I feel really fat and I'm trying to rush everyone out the door so I can be at the Y in time for... Yoga.

Guilty Pleasures

*Movie star magazines.
*Home made cookie dough—almost any kind.
*Vodka martinis with olives in them.
*White wine with ice in it. (This one makes my parents wonder where they erred in my upbringing)
*Collecting different words for "cheers:" skol, a votre sante, salut, kampai, l'chayyim, nastrovya, chin chin, y svetaka-- please contribute!
*Impressing people with how much weight I can lift relative to my height and weight.
*Shoveling snow.
*Abraham-Hicks.
*Eating ice cream with peanut butter and wheat germ. Try it and become a believer!
*Wearing the same clothes day after day.
*The glorious sun shining on my face
*Nag champa incense
*www.gofugyourself.com
*Krishna Das
*kirtan
Well, that's a few anyway.