What is a "comfort zone" anyway?!

This quote is one I've read often. 

To be honest, I never got it. I never quite understood the "comfort zone" thing. What the hell is a comfort zone and how do I get out of it?!

Recently, life has schooled me on just that. 

First, I joined a local Crossfit gym. In reality, my husband forced me into a local Crossfit gym. He did so in my best interest. It was more like a permission slip to do something for myself. 

The past few weeks of intro classes and my first WOD's have outlined my comfort zone fairly well.

My comfort zone is waking up and exercising alone in my basement at 5AM. My comfort zone is doing my thang without disrupting the flow of family time. My comfort zone included me, my DVD player and some weights.

Outside my comfort zone turned out to be everything that Crossfit is. Other people,  after school- when I was already tired from my day, coaches critiquing and workouts that left me feeling less than "fit". 

Every step into that Crossfit box was a war with my inner critic ("the voice" I call her) telling me I don't belong there, I'm too fat, I'm a mom and just need to go home to my kids who need me- who do I think I am, anyway?!) 

Luckily, I know her voice well enough by now to know that I could tell her to go f-off. 

Luckily, I've done enough work to know that walking through the anxiety and discomfort will be worth it and the feelings will pass. 

And this is how I realized just where my comfort zone was. And this is how I realized that stepping outside of it can leave me feeling like a bad ass. 

My comfort zone is my routine. My comfort zone are the things I do daily and weekly- part of my schedule- that keep the boat anchored safetly in the harbour. My comfort zone means not making too many waves and keeping all the balls up in the air.

And as much as I love my routine and sameness. This foray into the "outside" has left me with a more clear understanding of why reaching beyond that comfort zone can be so beneficial to personal growth and development. Why it adds more "life" to the one you've been living.

I sing at church and have done so for the past, oh probably, 20 years. It's what remains of the "music" in my life and helps that musical side of me breathe.

About a year ago I heard an amazing version of " Hallelujah" from Kelly Mooney. I sent it over to my pastor who immediately said "Let's do it!". Fast forward to this week, being an Easter song we decided that Easter mass would be the time to make it happen. I rehearsed and prepared. But even as I did so, I doubted.

This song was such a departure from the traditional hymns done at mass- what would people think?! Is it too much?! The voice in my head told me, in fact, it was and maybe I should just stick to the traditional Easter hymn I always sang. But I proceeded. 

I sang, right outside of my comfort zone and it was so warmly received by the same people I was sure I'd offend that it took my breath away. 

It was magic and a little bit of an Easter miracle. 

 Magic happens when you stretch yourself and reach outside of the routine to do something more or different than you normally do. Magic happens when you trust in yourself enough and stop listening to "the voice".

Pure magic. 

Is magic happening at Crossfit? 

Well, I'm learning to support and encourage others and to let them see me sweat (literally and figuratively)- dropping that expectation and pretense of perfectionism. 

I'm learning to listen to coaches and not take their support as an assault on my "not good-enough-ness".

 And most importantly, I'm learning to see my own strength. 

So yeah, a little bit of magic. A little bit of everything I've been "saying" for the past year, thinking and writing about, has now turned to "doing" to "action". A little more living.  

Eleanor Roosevelt it famous for saying "Do something everyday that scares you". Maybe that something is walking into a new gym and letting your husband plan dinner. Maybe it's giving up control or letting your opinion be known. 

That scary thing, whatever it may be to you, is outside of your comfort zone.

Reach for it, I promise, it will be worth it!

When the bottom falls out

If there's one thing certain about life, it's the uncertainty. One day, you'll be floating  through life with seeming ease and the next thing you know, the bottom falls out from under you.

Maybe you loose your job, or get sick, or discover some awful reality, maybe someone in your life whose been hanging on by a thread decides it's too much. Maybe a file cabinet in the middle of the highway kills a family member (that's a real story from last week).

No matter what it is, when these things happen in our world, it feels like the bottom falls out. The solid ground you were standing on just a minute ago has suddenly disappeared. 

You find yourself unsure, scared, angry, incredulous. 

Just a minute ago everything was fine. How could this happen?! What did I do to deserve this?

It's like a punch in the gut, the wind is knocked out of you and without solid ground beneath your feet- you fall. 

The scary thing about all this uncertainty is not knowing when that other shoe is going to drop. Not knowing when the tests will show a malignancy or when the phone call will come. 

Not knowing is the hard part.

Here's one thing we do know- the other shoe will always drop. One day, whether tomorrow or 10 years from now, you'll get that phone call or those test results or see a file cabinet in the middle of the highway.

 Bad things happen- they just do.

So the way I see it is we either wait in fearful anticipation of our bad news or know that whatever happens, we will survive. 

Even the worst of the worst. Even the death of a parent or child. Even watching someone you love suffer or continue to cause themselves pain. Even the thing you are most scared of- you will survive.

I'm not saying it won't be awful, I'm not promising that your heart won't be broken and ripped out. There will be disappointment and pain. But you will survive.

People have survived war and the holocaust. They survived the suffering and loss of parents and children. They have survived unimaginable personal tragedy.

You survive. You change. You see the world differently. But your survive. 

When you're bottom falls out, people show up. Gifts, and lessons and miracles show up. Safety nets to break your fall. They show up. You don't fall alone. 

This week my bottom fell out. My immediate reaction was anger- "How dare this fucks up my zen?!?" "I was doing so well, now what?!?". Then I remembered, life isn't promised to be sunshine and rainbows. No one ever said that.

So I cried and yelled, I screamed and sobbed in the Market Basket parking lot. I prayed out loud to my angels, begging really, for help for guidance for peace.

And then I did something new- I reached out, I opened up.

I sent some texts and made some phone calls. I talked and I listened. I felt the emotions- all of them. I opened up and my safety nets appeared- and for that I allowed myself to feel gratitude.

Then I wrote down the problem on a piece of paper, put it in my "God box" and let it go. 

I don't know how this story will end. I'm not even convinced it will have an ending. The shoes may just keep falling.

But here's what I know- my safety nets are there. My faith in God's grace and compassion help me believe that there will always be something to soften the fall.

This beautiful window (courtesy of Almost Fancy Designs- find her on Facebook!) has been hanging in my house for about a month now. This week I've been reading it a lot...

Here's hoping we all find our strength, our comfort and our light. 

The funny thing about nostalgia

Nostalgia is defined as a sentimental longing or wistful feeling for the past.

And it's a funny thing that nostalgia.

Recently I took a drive by our "old" house. The first house hubby and I purchased together, where we brought home our babies. 

The house I hated and couldn't wait to sell. 

But as I drove by (in a slow, creepy-like manner) I felt a distinct tug on my heart. A nostalgia for this house we used to call home. 

I didn't remember the tiny living room, or the holes in the backyard. I didn't remember the noise from the highway and constant sirens. I just remembered the "homey-ness" of that house. 

 

You're memories of childhood don't include when your brother smacked you with a hockey stick but endless summer days spent in the pool.

Memories of high school are full of laughter and friends and performances, not hormones and angst and always feeling out of place.

It's almost as if nostalgia takes your memories and paints over them with watercolor. So the edges are less defined but the beauty remains. It all looks a little softer when taking the long view.
 

Those not so sunny memories are still there, of course, but when nostalgia hits, they take a back seat to the good stuff. 

In my circle, there is understandably lots of nostalgia around our "pre-children days". When sleep was a familiar concept and we were free as the wind!  When a solo trip to Target feels wasn't the only vacation we enjoyed.

And yet, when you talk to mothers of grown children they say that THIS, NOW- with messy houses and messy diapers- this what they are nostalgic about!

Even now, we stare at the "time hop" photos on Facebook.  Our hearts melt over baby pictures and we wax poetic about our growing-too-quickly children- nostalgia.

In a few short years, we have forgotten the sleepless nights, raging post-partum hormones and bleeding nipples. Nostalgia.

But in the next breath, complain about the mess of toys or the fact that our daughter will be 4 and is still shitting in a pull-up.

Nostalgia tells me we'll laugh at that in no time and probably tell the stories about her potty training tragedies at her high school graduation party.

I have a friend who frequently uses the hashtag "these are the good old days"  to tag pictures and I find it so fitting and so true. 

These are the good old days. At least they will be once that nostalgia hits!
 

So what if, today, we took a look around and soak it in a bit. Let the beauty of today, now- marinate in our hearts. 

The funny thing about nostalgia is you mostly just remember the good stuff, anyway. So why don't we look for all that good stuff today. Before its just a wistful feeling for days gone by.

 

 

The Things I Have Now

Twice this school year I've been 100% ready for a career change- for at least a few hours. I've even gone so far as to vet this idea to friends and family and check out my licensure prospects on the DESE website. 

Upon mentioning this to a collegue- who happens to be 10 years my junior- amidst a conversation about career paths and prospects her reply to me was this "Laurie, everything you have is everything I want". 

That statement gave me pause. Pause enough to remember and realize that I, too, once wished and worked and prayed for all that I have now.

I spent countless years and hours and tens of thousands of dollars to become what I am.

And on top of that, I've worked and learned for the past 12 years to hone my craft and continue to learn every single  day. 

So why now, why this year am I so eager to move on? So restless? 

Perhaps it's too much personal development. Too many books and podcasts about designing your future.

Maybe I truly have "Life ADD" as my husband told me so many years ago. 

Possible that I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up.

Maybe it's feeling overwhelmed so often by paperwork and to do's, by meetings and needs despite my passion for my work.

Or the cold and dark of winter and the lack of vitamin D is bringing me down. 

I don't know where my unrest is coming from but this is what I learned today.

This is the life I prayed for. This is the life I worked for. This is the career I encourage others to persue for the many rewards and benefits that come along with it (Summer's off and early retirement, anyone?!). These are the letters I sign with pride after my name. 

And if a career change is in my future, then it will come; just like this one did. And I will trust my path without worry, or fear knowing prayers are answered and life will guide me where I need to be. 

And so it is....

Filling the hole

Most recently, I've begun to realize that ideas and pearls of wisdom seem to present themselves in themes.

And if I'm being honest- most often, these "themes" are exactly the things I need to be hearing and working on.

These themes come from podcasts I listen to, or books I'm reading or even an article on Facebook. But the connections are undeniable.

Enter- the hole.

As I started to examine and try to understand my tendency to binge eat, I first described it as "trying to fill the hole". I wasn't sure what the hole was, at first, but that's what it felt like. Digging and digging- except that it didn't really work. That hole was never full no matter how many cookies I ate.

Then, last week I re-read an article about addiction from Huffington Post last year. I loved this article and shared it with many people who were affected by addiction.

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/the-real-cause-of-addicti_b_6506936.html

This article proposes that it's connection (or lack their of) that reinforces drug addiction. Humans have an innate need to feel connected and in the absence of a human connection will find anything to connect to- even if it's a needle. 

They are filling their "hole" with drugs. And anyone can open a newspaper and read of the devastating consequences of this desire to fill. 

Today I listened to a podcast from Ruth Soukup of Living Well, Spending Less and I heard the same message but this time- with shopping . We shop, for ourselves and our children, not because we need things but because we're trying to fill that hole. 

This struck a chord with me because not 24 hours ago I had a "Target binge". Ya know, when you go to Target for one thing and come out $150 dollars later. There are countless memes about this floating around the Internet, so I know I'm in good company!

I was filling the "hole" with stuff. Stuff that made me so happy while carrying it in my little red basket, but not so happy when I saw the damage! 

At this point in our lives, it's not about being able to "afford" a $150 Target binge, it's about the stark realization that it didn't fill the hole. 

Just like the cookies.

And the booze.

And the heroin.

And the mind-numbing social media browsing.

In fact, I would argue that nothing fills that hole.

Nothing fills that hole because there is no hole. 

When I first started recognizing and working to remediate my binge eating- I would use the mantra "this isn't going to fill the hole, Laurie" and that helped me. It allowed me to pause and examine what what really going on.

Recently, after much work, my mantra has changed to "There is no hole to fill, Laurie, you are already whole."

This mindset shift has been almost a relief. A relief in knowing that I am whole and enough. It has been a gift.

But clearly not magic as evidenced by my Target binge!

However, as soon as I heard that podcast this morning- I made the connection in the disconnection. 

I recognized my spending behavior as "hole filling". But I know from experience, there are no amount of Target trips that will fill that hole.

I need to pause and examine the "why" of my spending.

I need to do the things that make me feel whole. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not endorsing life as an eclesiastic monk. But for me, knowing I'm whole is much more fulfilling than trying to fill that hole. 

I can still shop and eat cookies and drink-  but do so mindfully. Do so because it enhances my life rather than just in an attempt at filling it.

 Do so because it brings me joy. 

My "aha" moment this morning pointed out that though I've done some work, more is left to be done. There is still a disconnection in my life because I'm still perceiving the "hole" and not the whole. 

The only remedy for this is connection. To  family, to friends, to humanity, to God. The only remedy is to reach out and look up. To make an effort to connect and to see the connections that are all around me.

So the universe has handed me my next to-do list, better get to work!

A tribute to Neely

This past week, we said goodbye to our 7 year old boxer, Neely. This is for my boy...

Growing up, we had pets. We had cats and a few hamsters (none of whom I liked very much) but that was the extent of it. I was not raised as a "dog person". To me, dogs were dirty, a little smelly and left their fur everywhere. I didn't get it.

Fast forward to 2008. Hubby, who was my fiancé at the time, introduced me to Boxer puppies. We started looking at pictures and websites and breeders and I fell in love. Those faces and wiggly bums- the cuteness was enough to melt my cold, non-dog lover heart.

So in May of 2008, we got ourselves a boxer pup. We drove to Maine and brought Neely home. Hubby didn't grow up with dogs, either, so neither of us had any idea what we were doing.

Neely, although cute- so adorably cute, wasn't easy to train (read: he was naughty). There were "walks" around the park when he refused to walk. There were eaten pillows and even eaten couches. There was doggy day care and puppy Kindergarten. There were holes dug to no where, ruining any chance of nice grass.  At some point, we stopped trying to have a well-behaved dog and just loved the one we had.

Our Neely.

Eventually, walks around the park got easier (as long as no other dog was walking by) and the accidents in the house were no longer . We stopped putting pillows on the couch and just covered up the holes in the grass.

The biggest change in Neely's life came when he became a big brother. When our 6 year old was born, we didn't know what to expect. How would Neely react? He was the center of our universe and soon to be displaced by a baby. We brought home the baby blankets so he could get used to D's smell and let him explore the nursery.

What we didn't know was that Neely would love that little baby boy. Neely would be gentle (mostly) and inquisitive. He'd alert us if D were crying and lay near his crib. He was the best big brother, our Neely. Even when the most attention I could muster was just to let him outside in the morning. Even when I resented his presence and needs due to postpartum hormones and the overwhelming stress of being a new mom. Neely was there, understanding and kind. Patient. He waited out my anxiety, knowing I'd be able to love both my babies again.

Then came our girl. Things were different between Neely and his sister even from day one. There was a special bond there. Maybe it was because Neely was older and more mellow, who knows. He became her playmate, her guardian, her dog. 

Both our children counted "puppa" among their first words. Eventually having to learn his actual name was Neely.

Our house was full, our cup runneth over, our family complete. Two kids and a dog.

We found out Neely was sick this past summer. Lymphoma. That news was difficult to digest given his young age and the fact that we just bought a new house with a beautiful backyard and a fence- just for him.

Every prognosis gave him 4-6 weeks. But not for our boy. Our boy wanted to explore his new home. Our boy wanted to leave his mark on our new backyard. Our boy still needed to run.

For many months, there weren't many symptoms. He was his usual energetic, Boxer wiggly self. I wondered if they'd misdiagnosed him. Then he started to decline. My boy, he wasn't himself.

No longer did he rush to greet us as we walked in the door. No longer did he run and play in his big backyard.

Our boy was hurting.

Loosing our first fur baby has been truly heart-breaking. I still pause at the bottom of the stairs in the morning to hear him breathing, I still look to see if his water bowl is full. I still expect him to go running to the door when someone comes in. 

The kids struggle to understand and I struggle to explain. "This is the second person whose died in our family" remarked my six year old- too young to understand so well what loss is. 

"This is why I can't have a dog" many people have said. I get that, I understand that mindset.  But, when I look at all he gave us in his short life- all the love, the laughter and the joy- I can't help but think he deserves these tears.

 This struggle is worth the reward of his life. Of his presence in our lives. The loss we feel today is equivalent to the love we had for him.

There is a void, an emptiness in our home and in our hearts.

There will be other dogs for the Dionisios,  of that I am sure. There will even be other Boxers. But there will never be another Neely.

Rest easy, my pup, you were the first dog I ever loved and your Boxer paws left a mark on my heart. 🐾❤️

New Year, New You? No need...

New year, new you. How many times have you read or heard those words over the past few weeks?

I'm calling bullshit and re-framing this concept: New Year, More You!

The thing is- whether you're into the spiritual shit or not. Your mere existence in this world is a miracle. You were created in perfect imperfection to be, just as you are, either by a divine force or scientific egg-sperm cell multiplying thing (choose your own story).

 So the world doesn't need a different you, it needs the you that you were meant to be. The you-est you you've got, the authentic you.

Who is the real you? What does that mean?

 

I don't know. That's your job to figure out. 

But here is what I've learned about me- I am most authenticly me when I am living in line with my intentions. When I am treating my body and my mind and my spirit with the respect and love it deserves. When I am nourishing my whole self. When I am taking time out to do the things that make my heart sing. When I'm trusting rather than worrying, when I choose gratitude over disappointment and silencing that negative voice in my head. When I forgive myself and others. When I let people be who they will be instead of being angry about who they are not. When the cracks in those walls I've built around my heart widen so that light shines through. When I am acknowledging and reflecting the light that shines from others. 

You may think a "new you" sounds better. Maybe a "new you" can be more positive or thinner or more organized or less anxious.

But how many of us are actually succeed in this "new you" endevour? 

Most of us get so overwhelmed with the concept, we give up after a few weeks. 

Why?

 Because a "new you" isn't the way. 

Instead, dust off the old you, let that light shine through and be MORE of the you that you are here to be. 

Because the real you, the light in you, is NOT negative, would NOT treat your body or mind or spirit poorly would NOT be anxious or judgmental or angry. 

The light in you would not say "build a wall and keep THEM out" because there is no them, there is only us.

Some of us have strayed so far from that light. Sometimes we build a wall inside ourselves to keep that light out. It's a coping strategy, it's fear. It's fear that keeps us binging on cookies, and blaming others. It's fear that keeps us addicted to drugs or shopping. It's fear that keeps us looking for the "new you". 

But it's love and light that will heal that fear. Yours. 

Just as the sun in always shining above the darkest skies, so is our light always shining behind the thickest walls.

Crack open that shit and let your light shine. 

Let your light shine- be more you- and see the light in others. It may be dim, it may be hiding behind some thick-ass clouds, but it's there. 

Be MORE you! Do not look outward for the answers. For the change. Look inward, because it's all there. The answers, the peace, the light and the love.

Be still and know. You are so good that the world doesn't need a "new you" it just needs MORE of your good stuff ❤️

Leaving you with a few of my favorite quotes courtesy of Pinterest and Instagram to help prove my point 😉