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 😉

A New Years' Resolution

This year marks the first (or maybe second) year in my adult life that I will not be resolving to "loose weight". I will not be detoxing or cleansing or trying to loose 20 lbs in 10 days as part of my goals and plans for the new year.

I'm done with that.

So with weight-loss off the table, what will I resolve to do ?!

This year, I'm working on the inside. I've done quite a bit of work in this - but there is always more to be done.

Here's the thing- I have a tendency to be "judgey". Look around, notice what is different and place judgment on it. 

I know enough to know that is my way of validating my own worthiness. "Well, I'm more punctual than that person, so clearly I'm better". "My kid isn't acting like ass hole in public (except when they are) so clearly I'm a better mom."

However, now that I know I'm worthy (period) and good enough (period). As we all are (period).  This behavior is no longer necessary and instead of placing judgment, now I am freed to notice sameness in a those around me.

Enter my New Years' resolution. 

To see people. To make eye contact, smile and see them. To see that at our core, we are much more the same than we are different.

To know that if I find someone defensive or angry or anxious or self-righteous- that's probably because they are seeing the same in me. After all, "if you've spot it- you've got it." So instead of judging or condemning the behavior and the person for that matter- perhaps a little empathy would be better. Perhaps an "I've been there" or a "Can I help?".

 

I do feel some shame admitting my judgey-ness out loud. But frankly, we all do it, so pretending we don't is silly. 

It's part of my job, my training, to assess what is different and "fix" it. However recently I've realized how similar I am to my students. Sure, I talk and write and communicate well but my behavior also communicates for me, as does theirs. And my behavior provides coping for me, as does theirs. 

So maybe we aren't all that different- even the ones we're supposed to be "fixing".

There is a South African philosophy called Ubuntu. Ubuntu means "I am because of you", a one-ness of humanity, an invisible bond. My goal this year is to see that one-ness and recognize it.

We've all got our baggage, we all carry it with us. There is no sense pretending my shit stinks less than yours.

My plan is to notice (I'm a noticer- that I cannot help), hit the pause button on judgment and instead see the same-ness, the like-ness and perhaps even extend some kind-ness.

After all....

Happy New Years' Friends❤️

Legacy

I never wrote a eulogy  for my father's funeral. I've written speeches for weddings, for school committees for award ceremonies. I write and I speak, its what I do. And yet, I couldn't do it for my Dad. It was too much, it happened too fast, our relationship was too complicated and I just couldn't write. Honestly, this is probably the biggest regret that I have. Words left unsaid.

I imagine that's why this TedX talk spoke to me as it did. I watched in Saturday morning and just loved it.

What will your legacy be? A seed was planted. Click on the link to watch this fabulous Ted talk. 
   https://youtu.be/xYmUg3I8jdQ

Fast forward a few hours and I'm at a spin class. The song "Turn Down For What" by DJ Snake (who?? I totally had to google to find out that info!)came on and I was jammin. "Yeah" I thought to myself-" why should we turn down (our thoughts, beliefs, words, selves) we need to turn UP!" 

I thought of how this connected to my legacy. It struck me, there in the dark, on a spin bike, sweating like a pig-what I want my legacy to be- Living Out Loud.

Saying the things, doing the things, believing in the things and doing it all out loud.

There seems to be a tendency to edit ones' self depending on the audience and situation and while that can be wise, at times. It can also begin to feel inauthentic.

This group of people believes this- so I won't tell them I believe in the opposite.

That group of people behaves like that- so I need to behave like that when I'm with them. 

 
But if we're talking about legacy, if we're talking about how we want to live- to be remembered- to exists in this world- doesn't that matter MORE than what other people think?

I've always been an out loud kind of a person. But now, now with a little more wisdom and a little more time, I want to Live Out Loud with grace, with compassion, with love.

THAT is the legacy I want to leave. THAT is the path I want to walk and the example I want to set.
There is only one me and I've only got one life- so I might as well Live it Out Loud.

What kind of legacy would my father have wanted to leave? Because I didn't speak at his funeral, I was able to listen. I listened to countless stories about him from countless people. 

 I was not able to speak to his legacy that day, but I heard it anyway. 

In my corner of the world...

This world is rough, lately, it seems to be getting tougher.

Around every corner there are sad stories - abuse, abandonment, people struggling, terrorists, refugees, war, bombings - the list is endless.

And now all that bad news is delivered immediately and unceasingly to the device of your choosing. Social media, news outlet updates and even TV. 

It's very easy to get sucked in. 

Also, thanks to social media- every Tom, Dick and Harry has the platform to exercise their 1st amendment right at free speech and spew their opinions all over Facebook and the Internet.

There are memes and videos and statements and quotes. All espousing one "truth" or another. It's all propaganda and it's infuriating.

This is a huge energy suck for me. I get wrapped up and angry when I see things that are so against my own beliefs, when I follow these tragedies, when I'm hooked in. 

I feel hopeless and angry and sad. And I don't like to feel that way. So what's my solution? What am I doing to protect my energy and my corner of the world?

I've stopped. I've stopped watching the news and reading the updates. I refuse to participate in the fear campaigns or spew my own opinions. I've  unfollowed those who do.

Instead, I choose light. I choose love. I choose compassion. 

Instead, in my corner of the world, I am praying and setting a higher vibration of faith and hope and peace. 

And when I see others doing the same- my heart is lightened and full. 

Am I naive? Am I ignoring reality? Perhaps. 

 I was recently listening to a podcast from Shawn Achor who is a positive psychology researcher. He was describing some of his research that says we are bombarded with so much information and our brain can only process a certain amount of it. Therefore, we get to CHOOSE the information we take in. We get to process what we want to process and ignore the rest, essentially creating our own reality. And better yet- we can even "train our brain" to process, to see, to take in the postive. 

Maybe I'm naive or maybe I'm just training the brain for my own survival. 

If I die tomorrow, I don't want to leave a life that was scared, fearful, closed off. I want to open up, love, radiate light- despite the darkness. 

In my corner of the world, I am focusing on the good- on the peace and continuing to pray that the ripple effect takes hold and spreads that love. 

These problems won't be solved overnight but imagine if we keep that vibrational frequency high- imagine the differences we could make each and every day, in our corner of the world. 

Be the change you wish to see. BE the peace, BE the love. 

Personally that sounds much better to me than being fear and anger and hate.

Just sayin....

The holidays without him

Tis the season!

Walk into any store, peak into any catalog and it's clear... the holidays are upon us. 

It's the season of festive celebrations, family and traditions. It's a time of joy and love and peace. 

But for those grieving the loss of a loved one, this time of year can be especially hard. 

This year we celebrate the holidays for the second time without my Dad. Last year, just six months after he died, it was difficult. 

There was lots of trepidation going into the holidays. What would it BE like?  Who would eat the turkey skin and sit at the head of the table? Where would we get the pies without his connections to Lisi at Fall River Country Club?

There were heartfelt toasts and lots of flowing wine to ease the unease. There were tears, in private, because that's how we do.

This year, we've lived these holidays without him before so there is more of an opportunity to be reflective, to lean in. As the season approaches, I find myself thinking of him more often and with a heavier heart. I feel the weight of his loss all over again. 

So still the question lingers, how do we celebrate the holidays without him?

And the truth is- we don't.

He's there in the loquacious vocabulary (ahem- bullshit) used by my older brother during after dinner debates.

He's there in the quiet way my younger brother takes it all in before stating his position. 

He's there in the passionate (read: loud) way I communicate my opinions. Also in my bleeding-heart political leaning.

He's there in the quiet. The brief moments between a belly laugh and a child screaming that allow us all a chance to remember. 

He will silently slip into the last pew at midnight mass to hear me sing "O Holy Night" and in a whisper I'll hear "Beautiful job, Laurie Ann".

He will linger on the edge of the craziness as his grandkids tear open their presents.

He'll be standing next to my mother, shaking his head  and giving us his classic tongue click (ttttkkk- man I can still hear it) as he listens to untold stories of our younger and wilder days. 

In the need to soak up and soak in all that the holidays bring.  In the need to appreciate our crazy family that surrounds the table. In the need to embrace, to enjoy, to be together- he's there. Because now we know, tomorrow is promised to no one...

Last year, as we floated through the grief of the "firsts", these things were hard to see and even harder to appreciate. 

This year it seems clear, there are no holidays without him, for he is here. Always. In us and around us.

 Through us, he's here. ❤️

Annual Christmas family picture circa 1989 as evidenced by my big bangs