Lighthouse Keeper

From the time I was a fetus, until I was about 8 years old, I went to midcoast Maine every summer. Each year, I would go out on the row boat with my dad, watch the mysterious phosphorescent glow in the dark ocean waters, and scramble around the rocks at Pemaquid Point Lighthouse. And sometimes I would just sit, and listen to the waves crash violently against the rocks. I remember walking through the lighthouse museum in awe. The big, funny shaped pieces of glass, the winding spiral staircase, and the stories of just what that modest tower on the rocks had done. One little light could save so many...

When I was about 7, I wrote a story about what it would be like to be a lighthouse keeper. For a time in my youth, I thought being a lighthouse keeper was the best job in the world and I wanted to be the best lighthouse keeper ever!

I spent hours pondering what my life would be life, isolated on a rocky coastline. My entire existence was to ensure that my lighthouse functioned properly all of the time. Many ships depended on me to guide them to safety! My light would shine throughstorms, fog, and the darkest nights to warn sailors of the dangers. I would be the unsung hero, saving millions from a watery grave! I wouldn't be lonely however, because in addition to the comfort of my higher calling, I would have a loyal dog as a companion. Of course! What a flawless, delightful fantasy in which to lose myself as I lay awake contemplating my greater purpose at 7 years old.

I think I was mostly attracted to the idea that I could help people without actually being with them. To clarify, I was a disembodied guide. I could keep people at a safe distance, but still help them. I tend to do this in my life. I'm a big shiny light that if you were a bug, it'd attract you like a heroin addict. But, in those case, it was far away, impersonal, but caring and protective. In the metaphor of my life, I'm the one who built the dangerous rocky coast line around to protect myself. But that doesn't mean I don't want to help people!

As I grew older, I realized how much I relied on people. They gave me a sense of communion and belonging, but also a measuring stick. If I could be like "blank", I would be the best student/daughter/employee/girlfriend EVER! So I would try to emulate that person. Sounds harmless right? Well, it's mostly harmless. In my experience, I've learned that if you spend a lot of time comparing yourself to the best of others, you miss out on the best of yourself. You degrade yourself if you are not like them.

So, I worked on that. I worked on not worrying about being like them, and just being my best self. (and being the best friend I could possibly be!)  But lately I've noticed that I don't want to be like them, but I want them to like me. I NEED them to like me. I seem to aim low and expect that everyone on the entire planet that I come in contact with must like me for me to have any self value. Awesome.

I think Bill Cosby said it best when he said "I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody." I try to please everyone. I bend over backwards and go so far out of my way to make everyone happy. And I've been doing it for so long. One day, I woke up and realized how exhausted and unhappy I was. It's different than constantly comparing and berating yourself, but trust me, it's not any better in the long run. So, I'm working on letting go.

My other problem with running away and being a lighthouse keeper is that I am a social being. I love meeting new people, hearing their stories, and sharing my own with them. If I was isolated to a giant glowing rock of solitude, I know I would get horribly lonely. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not THAT entertaining. (Without an audience, that is.)

I want my friends around to tell jokes with and have fun. But I'm constantly exhausted by trying so hard to get everyone in the world to like and accept me. So what do I do? How do I find the balance between loneliness and gratifying solitude? One way I've found solitude is by running. It's my own way to separate myself from others and have some serious "me" time. I run for HOURS. And most of the hours I spend thinking about how I can become a better person, or what I want to eat when I get back, or what I would say to Damon Salvatore if I ever met him in person. And some of those hours are spent zoning out and listening to catchy pop music. But my hours of solitude help me define the line. Running can make me feel lonely sometimes, but then I notice how far I've come, or how beautiful the scenery is, and I remember how blessed I am.

Have I clearly defined the line between needing people or just wanting them? No, but it's a journey. As I've learned countless times, recognition is the first step. Baby steps. Hopefully, one day I won't be held to the whims of others, and be true enough in myself to enjoy my solitude without running 10 miles. But, I'll stick with the running for now.

Alcohol

In one of my favorite episodes of How I Met Your Mother, the gang discusses the steps it takes to become a New Yorker:  1) See Woody Allen, 2) Steal a cab from someone who needs it more than you, 3) Cry on the Subway and not given a damn what anyone thinks, 4)Kill a cockroach with your bare hand

Except for the cockroach (I used a shoe...) and Woody Allen (does Kate Winslet count?), I'd consider myself a half New Yorker, after 5 serious years here. The revelation hit me around 2:30am on a late night local A train. As I sat in the flickering darkness, I let the tears stream down my face without a single care what anybody on the train thought of me. I was sad and I didn't care how crazy/depressed/suicidal I looked to my other straphangers. It was 2 in the morning! Leave me alone! And so, I stewed in my melancholy for 16 agonizing local stops. As soon as I crested the stairs into the cool night air, I quickly opened YouTube. I needed to hear "I'm Not That Girl" from Wicked (Granted, I never saw the show, but I know that song...). It would justify my tears. 

After two more replays, a thought penetrated the boozy thickness of my mind: Cruella has a megaphone. And it's alcohol. 

Long gone are the joyous days when I could drink gallons of rum and coke and end up dancing the night away or laughing my head off. Now, alcohol makes all of the nastiest Cruella thoughts echo inside the deepest recesses of my mind. These thoughts increase and magnify into deafening, spiteful comments that torpedo through the boozey haze and straight into my heart. And I become sad.

I don't want to blame alcohol. I'm sure that's not its fault and if it knew what it was doing to me, it'd be truly sorry. Doesn't change how alcohol affects me now. It doesn't matter the occasion I may be celebrating or trying to forget, drinking makes me sad. I may appear happy and seem to be enjoying myself, but as soon as the bar lights dim, I am sad. The darkness after the party is when Cruella is the loudest. She screams all my insecurities and imperfections so loudly I can't help but focus on them. My boozy brain can't seem to focus on the light, fun spirit in which the alcohol was imbibed. My brain becomes a hazy, spiraling pile of self-hatred. And I fester. And festering leads to continued sadness.

I don't want to be sad. I've spent a lot of time these past few months being extremely sad, and that is not some place in which I want to continue existing. I've tried distractions: helping others, aerial yoga, dramatic life changes, Teen Wolf, but nothing seems to work. Nothing except cupcakes.... And the rational side of my brain knows that is wrong. Those cupcakes aren't really soothing anything or making anything in my life better. But they quiet Cruella. And right now, I'll take the quiet over the roar of melancholy.

So, I'm breaking up with alcohol. I don't need it. What I need to do is work past the sadness and find the light again.

Finding Balance

I wrote the majority of this blog post back at the end of March. I was still coming down off my crazy half marathon experience. It was such an incredible accomplishment for me. I had done something I never thought I could do. 

The reason this blog never got up was because shortly after the editing phase, I lost my grandmother. There was no way I was going to find balance for a long time. 

So, here is what I wrote in March 2013. 

My life tends to resemble a pendulum swinging. I have polar opposite experiences, and very little time in the middle. I need balance. And I'm not just talking about nailing a half moon yoga pose (although, that would be nice too...) I'm talking about how, in my life, I tend to swing from a state of overactivity to a completely useless lump of inactivity. For example: I completed a half marathon... A MONTH AGO. What have I accomplished since then? Hmmm... A relatively easy work load, a lot of sleeping/laying in bed, and almost the complete first season of Pretty Little Liars. (As of now, I am completely caught up on Pretty Little Liars, Nashville, and now I'm burning my way through Teen Wolf.) Such wonderful achievements! I hope they hand out medals for hours logged on Netflix, because I sure would be in the running!

Running... Hmm. What a novel idea. Nope, I'd rather lay in bed! (The month of March =) After weeks of spending most of my free time either in bed or a bar, I'm trying to snap out of it. I understand needing periods of rest. I get it. And I can be bad at it. But a whole month of inactivity? A whole month of the complete opposite of a runner's high? That's too much. And unnecessary.

So, that brings me to the point of this post. Balance, I need to find the middle ground. I tend to be an intense, passionate, and driven person. Half of the time. The other half, I'm lazy, melancholy and jealous of what everyone else has. Now, I'm sure I'm not that far off from normal, but I don't want to always live in the extremes. And since I started this journey, I've begun some serious introspection. The first step is identifying the problem, right? So, where do I go from here?

Here's an idea, Ms. All-Or-Nothing: Baby steps. Baby steps are boring, you say? Well, try challenging yourself to maintain them. Make them a status quo. Now there's a challenge! Consistency and balance need to become part of my everyday life. I'm still working on the "how," but I definitely challenge myself to throw all my energy at finding a way to maintain a middle ground. Sounds counterintuitive, right? Maybe. But for someone who views things in a black and white, feast or famine, it's a challenge. And nothing gets me going like a challenge. To find a way to exist. A way to live differently.  Challenge accepted!

...... So.... To recap. I'm still looking for balance. Haha. I haven't been very good about focusing on this challenge, but instead as a way of dealing with the loss of my Grammy, I threw myself head first into a crazy, passionate, stressful consuming project: Raising $5,300 for a charity and running a second half marathon. 

The only difference between the Jes in March and the Jes over the past 4 months is that she's doing both: working stupid hard to accomplish her project, training for a half marathon AND spending ever spare moment moping in bed watching trashy tv. No wonder I feel tired all the time! For the past 4 months, I've actively been avoiding a place of stillness (without escaping. Because I don't know about you, but I watch tv pretty still, bit the zany story lines help me shut off my wandering brain). So, I've caught up on Pretty Little Liars, Grey's Anatomy, Nashville, AND (almost) Teen Wolf. Not to mention trips to visit family and friends, working mostly full time, moving out of my apartment, fundraising for a charity, attending fundraising events AND training for a half marathon. Can I go back to bed please? 

Is my idea of balance existing in both of those states (stressed out overactivity to a completely useless lump of inactivity)? Let me tell you that it is not the kind of balance I was expecting! For all the yoga I do, I imagine balance to be a serene stillness where everything and nothing exists at the same time. Time is infinite and there is minimal stress. HA! 

I need THAT kind of balance. Serenity. Stillness. Low stress?! I've lost some hope that I'll actually achieve a state of balance since it seems to go against every fiber of my being. Maybe my balance is continuing to hold on to the pendulum. The balance exists in not falling off and not losing sight of who I am. My mind replies that maybe balance isn't all it's cracked up to be? Pendulums are never boring! 

Or maybe finding the balance is part of letting go of the parts of my self that no longer serve me. Maybe my balance is really learning when to hold on, and when to let go. What's your balance? 

What If?

What if? Such a little phrase. Such life changing possibility. 

In the past, "What If's" have been associated with wishes or regrets. I've come to believe that neither do anybody any good. I've learned to turn wishes into goals, and regrets into experiences for growth. Can I honestly tell you I've been able to do that 100% of the time? No. Of course not. I am human. And a very flawed one at that. 

I've spent a lot of time thinking lately. Lucky for me, I can think and run at the same time. ;) A lot of my thoughts recently have been "What If". All this speculation has led me to self-reflection. Am I completely satisfied? What's my next step? What lies do I continue to tell myself? What do I need to do to continue to grow as a person? How do I become better? How do I keep putting one foot in front of the other and avoid tripping? These are just a few things that have been lapping around my exhausted mind over and over the past few weeks. 

Change. It's really fucking scary. But you come to points in your life when you realize you need it. You need it desperately, or those ignored "what if's" become regrets. Missed opportunities. You know you need something, but the fear paralyzes you. And then a whole new version of "what ifs" pop up. The negative kind that scare you into complacency. As much as I try to embrace failure, it still frightens me. Higher stakes means greater failures, but also much greater rewards. 

Where is the line between satisfaction and complacency? At what point does satisfaction become stagnation? An excuse that allows you to continue just existing at the minimum level. I don't want to be someone who looks at their life and waxes melancholy about missed opportunities. Opportunities I was too afraid to pursue. 

There's also the other belief that you create your own possibilities. A lot of famous/successful/rich/insert adjective here have maintained that their fame/success/wealth/insert noun here  has been 50% luck and 50% talent. Well, if you want to take a risk, how do you know luck is on your side? Do you have the right talent to pull over such great risks? And what happens if it isn't? 

See what I did there? "What if". You can spend your life wondering, or you can go after what you want. Accept the failures as avenues that didn't work. If the grass on the other side isn't as green as you had originally thought, water it. It's your grass now, and you can either work to make it the grass you want, or continue to stare wistfully at someone else's grass. 

Baggage

ESTRAGON:
(forcibly). Bags. (He points at Lucky.) Why? Always hold. (He sags, panting.) Never put down. (He opens his hands, straightens up with relief.) Why?

I've often thought about that phrase. My college produced an incredible production of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot and I was fortunate enough to be the lighting designer. Even though I watched the play over and over, a lot of Beckett's brilliance was lost on 20-year-old me.

In college, I was only vaguely aware of my inner demons and how heavy they were nestled inside my emotional baggage. Yet I was still more self aware than I had been in high school. In high school, I was angry all of the time. I was angry so much that I didn't remember not being angry, nor where it came from or when it started. College was different. It was my oasis. Not only did I have a chance to start over in a new city with a new group of people, but I also had the beginnings of a wonderful support system. So why did I drag my baggage to this new place? I carried all of my grief, anger, and resentment for myself up the three flights of stairs to my freshman dorm room and shoved my over-large bag into my too tiny closet. Over the next 4 years (8 move in/outs and a lot of stairs later), I realized I still carried my heavy emotional bags. Wayne, my stunt double dad and incredibly supportive college advisor let me flop on his couch daily and complain about this or that, until one day, he quoted that passage from Godot. Why was I carrying my bags around? Clearly my arms were getting tired.

My senior year of college, during mental health week, I decided to take the plunge and see the school therapist. I figured I should talk to a professional someone about all the crazy ideas bouncing around in my head. Sounds like a great plan right? Except I had developed an inherent distrust of therapists and psychologist. I had previously had a bad example that led me to believe they were all a bunch of hacks and hypocrites. I also came from a long line of salt-of-the-earth types who work their problems out themselves and don't open up to a stranger about their secrets and personal problems. So, I squandered those last few precious weeks of health insurance coverage on very trivial boy troubles. Oh the lonely woes of a 22 year old girl.

It's gets better! I didn't check my bags at graduation. I was able to take a few things out and leave them in easily accessible storage locker in Pennsylvania, but I realize that I still schlepp a carry-on size bag of emotion turmoil pretty much daily in my adult life. The baggage is all in my mind, so sadly I don't get the toning effects of a regular carry-on. Luckily, I'm more self-aware now than I've ever been in my whole life. So why do I still carry the bags? Comfort. The answer came to me almost immediately. They're heavy and basically useless. But carrying them around is comforting. I own this bag, and I know what's in it and where it came from. It's mine. I earned it by living through it. I'm actually more afraid of what happens when I let it go. What will I do when I truly let go and can't use my baggage as a crutch? Or as an excuse for failure? That is terrifying. I'll have to really own up to my actions and realize I do indeed fail.

But all the best people do. I've learned that over the past year. Failing is part of the learning process. And I do absolutely want to grow and become better. I can't when my mental hands are full of excuses, resentments, and baggage.

So how? How do I put my bags down? Over the past year, I've been taking small pieces out of my luggage and evaluating them. Most I've been discarding small things here and there, lightening the load. There is one major issue that I just need to deal with. The most rational way to deal, in my open is to be completely honest and communicate all the thoughts, feelings, and angst left on the subject.

I'm not looking for solutions or fixes to the past problems. I'm looking to let go. Move on. Keep going. It's much easier to run when you're not dragging a lifetime of baggage

Mission to be happy

As many of you have heard, I've decided to run a half marathon for charity. Funny enough, after that last one, I wasn't sure I was going to physically be able to run another one in my life. Nothing like a good personal challenge, eh? Add a dash of self-less charity, and you've for a greater sense of purpose in life.

I've spent a good chunk of my life complaining about, blaming, and hating this or that. I've been pretty fortunate human being. I have had my share of hardships, but overall, I've had a generally good life.

Lately, however, that hasn't been enough. After the loss of my grandmother, I haven't been able to find my groove again. I'm still doing the job I love, with my awesome friends, in a great city. So why has my happiness level decreased so drastically? More importantly, how do I get it back? So, I began searching for some information, some meaning.

I'm reading a book called the Undefeated Mind by Alex Lickerman MD . It's based on Nichiren Buddhism. While I'm only a third of the way through it, there is something about the message that is ringing deep in my soul. The chapter I'm reading right now is about defining a personal mission. Lickerman says that a mission is a "goal that defines the reason it exists." It being whatever: a military operation, a company, or a person.

Lickerman shares my same view: a person's mission (function, raison d'être) is simple: TO BE HAPPY. And yes, it sounds a little selfish. But from what I've found in my personal experience, it's not. I'll explain.

What I've discovered in the first few chapters of this book is that we all have a set level of overall contentment with which we begin our lives. The book has this to say about it: " 'The set-point theory of happiness suggests that our level of subjective well-being is determined primarily by heredity and personality traits ingrained in us early in life and as a result remains relatively constant throughout our lives.' "
Basically, the author is trying to say that we have a bank account of happiness with a set total limit. So, you can add and subtract happiness to the bank with work, personal relationships, exercise, etcetera.

But how do you increase your overall limit? That's where the branch of Buddhism comes in. In addition to some sociology research, it's been determined that the most effective way to raise your lifelong happiness level is to help others.

The book goes on to say: "Only in taking care of ourselves first do we then become capable of taking care of others." Why else would the flight attendants instruct you to first secure your own oxygen mask before helping the person next to you? When you have met all of your own needs, you are in a better place to serve the needs of others.

I spent the majority of the past year making sure my oxygen mask was on correctly. The next step was trusting that oxygen was flowing even though the bag didn't inflate. My next step is to help the person next to me. I received the flier for Team SeriousFun less than a week after running my princess half marathon. At that point, I wasn't entirely sure I'd be able to run anymore. And out of nowhere, the universe presents me with an opportunity. A network of professionals who run and raise money for children. These children are very sick, and this network of people helps remind them what it's like to be kids. Imagine a childhood where you can't play with your friends outside, or make silly arts and crafts out of noodles. Imagine if your concept of fun was deciding what juice to take with your antibiotics.

I know I tend to take a lot of aspects of my life for granted. Things seem pretty cushy when you're relatively healthy and able to work a job you love. I get caught up in petty problems. This cause is waking me up. I can deal with the loss and hardships of life because they are nothing compared to what these kids are going through. My childhood wasn't perfect, but it was relatively normal and I turned out just fine. SeriousFun kids don't have those kinds of odds. They count each day as a victory. Playing games and having fun? Not a chance. Everyone of them deserves a chance to kick back and raise a little hell. The SeriousFun camps give the kids the support they need for their medical issues while allowing them to have fun and just be kids. There are 30 camps worldwide dedicated to helping enrich the lives of children. The camps also provide a support system for the parents and families, to help remind them that the struggle isn't theirs alone. They have the support and their kids have the fun.

My running the first half marathon was me taking care of myself. Now I need to help take care of others. I've found my purpose.

Please check out my page! Any donation helps send a child to camp/me to my next half marathon!
http://www.teamseriousfun.org/dublin13/halm

And also, check out this video from Team SeriousFun!
http://www.seriousfunnetwork.org/seriousfun-website/get-involved/a-message-from-clea-newman-daughter-of-paul-newman

I feel very passionate about this charity and I'm proud to be a part of something bigger than myself.

Keep Going

I tend to be a media over-sharer. I'm not going to lie, but it (Facebook, Twitter, etc) really helps me stay connected and feel involved. My love affair with social media has been a way to distribute information. All information. So, if we're friends, followers or LinkedIn, you may have heard that I recently lost my grandmother. She meant the world to me. We traveled, laughed, flirted, and embraced life together. We were kindred spirits, shared the same zest for life and interest in story-telling. Whether it was shaking it to a reggae band, or flirting with the TSA agent, country music star, or truck stop cowboy, she lived life with total abandon and without regret.

 

Last Monday, she lost her 3 year battle with cancer. As someone bluntly put it: we got 2.5 years longer than anyone expected. And boy was it a full 2.5 years. She was quite the fighter. Grammy was determined to continue living even though the doctor gave her a Stage 4 death sentence. She went on to flirt her way around Branson Missouri, dance her way into hearts of Jamaican hotel employees, celebrate her great grandkids' milestones, and inspire many people, myself included. The diagnosis was bleak in January of 2010. But Grammy decided she wanted to keep going. She wasn't done here. How simple. And effective.

A lot of people think there's a secret formula for success. Or that some people can succeed and others can't. I'll tell you the secret: Keep Going. It sounds so simple and yet it's one of the hardest things to do at times.

One application was during my half marathon. My friend Ariel had mentioned a mental strategy to keep pushing forward: Dedicate a mile to someone. That way, it increases your desire to complete it. That mile (or miles in my case) become more important because they aren't just for you anymore. So, I dedicated a good portion of my 13.1 miles to Grammy. And I kept going.

So now, after losing someone so important, I have to keep going. There isn't any other option. I mean, I COULD curl up in bed with a jar of Nutella and season 3 of Pretty Little Liars, but that would defeat all of the progress I've made in changing my lifestyle and creating a path to health and fitness. How do you deal with such incredible loss if escape and depression are options that are taken off the table? You keep going. Keep lacing up your shoes and hitting the pavement. Keep practicing your wobbly Half Moon pose. Keep eating clean and avoiding processed foods. What would Grammy want me to do? No question needed. Keep going, of course.

The key to success is persistence. Slowly, but surely. How many fables, proverbs, and inspirational quotes have you heard regarding water or turtles or persistence? A ton, I bet. “In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins; not through strength, but through perseverance.” The time is going to pass anyway, so why not keep going? Keep working towards your goal. It's a lot harder than it sounds. The easy way out is to give up. But giving up means failure, and for me, failure is not an option. This is my life were talking about, right? So I have to keep going. That's what Grammy would do.

So.. My wallet was stolen

Sometimes, life smacks you in the face. Really hard. Takes your wallet and makes you reevaluate how safe you feel. And how unobservant you can be. Funny how having my wallet stolen has awoken me. I passed through all the stages of emotion. Disbelief, anger, grief, action, grief again, alcohol, anger again (with a side of violence, I regret) and giddiness. True story. Lucky for me, I have a fantastic support system. A wonderful woman who gave me a metro card to use. A caring man who gave me $20. A fabulous bartender who knew what I needed (and pushed glasses of water my direction). And the countless hugs, threats against the offenders, and the jokes to make me laugh.

There's a violation of privacy that happens when something so personal is stolen. The perpetrator literal took my identity and went on a spending spree at McDonald's.. What makes a person think they have a right to take something away from someone else? I would never ever EVER think to disrespect someone like that. Someone enjoying a fabulous dinner with a friend they hadn't seen in awhile. The fact that it was stolen right under my nose makes you hyper aware of your environment. I immediately start to suspect everyone. And wonder if that guy that looked at me on the train was trying to match me to my driver's license photo. Everyone is the culprit.

Immediately I suspect everyone on this train that has a McDonald's cup. But I can't let myself turn to bitterness. Is it that hard to believe in the goodness of people, even after someone violated your personal space? I'd like to think I'm evolved enough to let the bitterness, anger, and judgement go.

Fortunately I was able to cancel my credit card and bank card before something catastrophic happened. I can only imagine what the perp bought for $26 at McDonald's. I'm almost ashamed to admit that the he/she/it better be thankful I didn't know how close they were when I was passing through my anger phase. What can I say, I'm feisty.

So, as I sit, wallet-less and concerned about the future of my PA driver's liscense, social security card, and Victoria's Secret preference card, I can't help but be humbled by the people who jumped to help me. It doesn't matter what I lost. I found what was really important. Credit cards can be cancelled. And there can only be one Jes Halm. Go ahead and try and feel these shoes! But that one Jes Halm wouldn't be anything without the incredible people in her life. Everything else is replaceable. Friendships and incredible, supportive people, are not.

So, instead of anger, bitterness, and ill will, I'll focus on compassion and gratitude for the wonderful people I am fortunate enough to share this planet with.

Thank you.

Don't wait, CREATE!

A week ago, I completed my first half marathon.                   

 I was shocked. Until the moment I saw the finish line, I never actually believed I would cross it. There I was, huffing and puffing next to a Mad Hatter who had lost his Alice, a little mermaid that might've been a man, and a clansman straight out of Brave. I had just been passed by 3 different Leias. I didn't know how much longer until my legs buckled and gave out on me. And there it was. Gleaming and beautiful. Written in that classic Disney font: Finish. It made me cry. The fact that I had made it. That I wasn't picked up by the paddy wagon and delivered to it. The fact that I wasn't last!!! I had run up and down the highway, under Cinderella's castle, through Tomorrowland and past Spaceship Earth. 13.1 miles, 3 hours, 14 minutes, and 31 seconds. And then some. I amazed myself. I cried when they handed me my finishers medal, a beautiful and heavy sign of accomplishment. I was exhilarated. I had actually done it! I set out to run a half marathon last fall, and here I was, holding a beautiful princess medal. Take that Cruella!!!

Four days later, I'm sitting in a hospital for 6 hours while my beloved grandmother gets a blood transfusion. She sleeps, peaceful looking, while the life force in a bag dangles from an ever beeping machine. The machine beeps join the soothing hums of TVs scattered about the room and the sound of determined nurses' steps as they travel from one patient to the next. I sit for nearly the entire time, while my grandmother is pumped full of two bags of A positive, with the hope that the blood will return some of her lost vitality.

Life is a fickle thing, isn't it? A crazy roller coaster. A fragile, unexpected, wild ride.

Finishing my first half-marathon and watching Grams get pumped full of blood are on opposite ends of the spectrum of the life scale. But during both, I had a lot of time to think. So, I've decided it's time I unveil my plan. One of the primary reasons I started blogging was to raise money for a charity while running an international race. Two of my favorite things: running and helping people.

During these hours of nothing but thinking, I've come to realize that as much as I complain about it, my life isn't so bad. I am blessed with a wonderful family, fantastic friends, an exciting career, health, goals, and dreams. When you're living with them, your problems seem like the worst. Insurmountable obstacles between you and your happiness. But in actuality, I have it relatively easy. Overcoming my personal challenges and completing the Princess Half has sparked a fire in me. I need to give back. I need to do more than write a blog saying "It gets better. You can do this." That's where the charity run comes in. The Princess race was for me, but now I need a race for others who need the finish line as much as I did.

My goal is to use this race to raise $1,000 for the charity of my choice. 10 miles times $100. Each of those dollars is equivalent to me giving my all, my 100% each and every mile. I plan on giving to either a charity that focuses on cancer research, or cancer patient support, or some sort of women empowerment. These issues are very close to my heart and I want to research which charity has values that mirror my own. Does anyone have any suggestions about potential charities? Which ones have you heard about or one that means something to you? I will definitely keep you posted on my charity research, but if anyone has advice, I'd love to hear it! 

The race:
I was researching races for a friend a few weeks ago when I found a 16k/10 mile race that starts at the base of the Eiffel Tower and finishes at the palace of Versailles. Some of the best half marathons for beginners are in Europe and the Paris-Versailles 16k is one of the oldest. Two and a half years ago, I strolled through Paris during my quarter life crisis trip, just taking in the beautiful city. I walked along the Seine, saw the Louvre, and ended my jaunt at the Eiffel Tower. And it took my breath away. One of the most famous manmade wonders of the world. Wow. And then, the next day, on a whim, I took the RER train out to the palace of Versailles. It was absolutely stunning. I still revere the palace as one of the most beautiful places I've ever had the privilege to visit. When I saw that there was a race connecting these two memories, I knew I had to. I HAD to!

I've found a greater purpose, something that will enrich my life and the lives of others. I will continue to challenge myself and train hard. I'm adding hills into my training as well as trying to speed up my pace. I want to continue pushing myself and getting healthier. And the icing on the cake? I will be able to give something back to the world while doing something I love.

Scared

I am scared. It's a few days before one of the biggest physical challenges of my life: My half marathon. And lucky for me, I've got my own little demented cheerleader! Yay! Cruella is out in full force to throw me off my game, knock me down, fill me with heavy, defeating doubts. She's got me terrified.

I've heard "use fear as fuel for your journey". Well, unfortunately for me, my fear transforms into a megaphone for Cruella. She knows exactly what to say to make my fear seem insurmountable. Some of the inner dialogue happening right now revolving around my half marathon goes a little something like this: "What if you don't finish? Won't you be really ashamed of yourself then! Talked a big game and couldn't deliver. How are you going to tell everybody out there that you tried and FAILED?! How inspiring is that? Maybe the biggest goal you've set for yourself in a very long time, and there's a very good chance you could crash and burn."

That stream of evil consciousness is echoing vehemently from the darkest depths. So, it got me thinking. Why is Cruella yelling so loudly about this? Why would my failure this time be more important than any other day? Well, I'll tell you what: This race means a lot to me. I've spent a lot of my life attaching my self worth to things/events/my weight/people. And this half marathon is one of those. Luckily, this attachment is much healthier for me than ones I've had in the past. The reason I've done this for so long is because of my lack of self-worth. If I could just get the good grades, or that popular boy, or win that award, maybe then I would believe I was worth something. Clearly someone who achieves something like that is worthy. So, I've lived my life in a yo-yo. Achieving for the wrong reasons. I never actually believed I would reach any of my goals, and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I do. After accumulating such a list is achievements, you would think I'd start to see my self-worth through my various accomplishments. Sounds about right. Except I have Cruella, who is loud enough to drown out the success. Her tunnel vision on my failures becomes my tunnel vision. I can't accept the things I HAVE done because of the laundry list of things I HAVEN'T done.

I've begun the battle to silence Cruella, but it's going to take awhile. So, in the meantime, I'm teaching myself to fail. Not all the time, mind you. But sometimes you have to fail so you learn a better way to succeed. Also, as most people know, the struggle is what really brings value to the success. And what's more of a struggle than overcoming failure? A resonating quote for me is "Failure isn't the end, quitting is."

Thankfully, I have people who believe in me regardless of how many times I fall down. And instead of running away scared, I'm going to give it my all. And if that leads to a failure, if I don't finish the half marathon, it won't take away all the good things I have done in training. It won't take away the love of the people who believe in me, the things I've already proven to myself, or the lessons learned on this journey. Nor will it be the end. I may fail, but I will never quit. I have big plans for the futures and I can continue to improve.

And regardless of how well I do or do not do, I'm going to be proud of myself, proud of what I accomplished, and proud that I challenged myself and pushed myself to be better.

Support system

Alright. Get out your tissues. I'm about to get real sappy up in here!

We've already established how I don't always believe in myself (worth, love, abilities, etc). Same story different day. But what's different in this story is that a bunch of you crazies out there believe in me so much that it's actually helping me change my personal opinions about myself. When I'm in the deep darkness of my destructive mind, my network of family, friends, and acquaintances have a way of lifting me up

Thank you. I don't think I say it enough. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your faith in my abilities--whether it be to put on pants in the morning or run 10 miles--really blows me away. It makes all the miserable fade away and silences those nasty inner critics.

I know I would not be where I am today without the love and support of all the wonderful people in my life. Everyone deserves that! The world is a very lonely place at times, and you need to be able to reach out and know someone cares about you and is cheering you on. I am truly blessed in that area. I must be doing something right!

I have some many great friends that will listen to me babble on about the same boring topics. I have some fabulous friends working to keep me on track with my nutritional and fitness goals. I have some crazy friends that help me blow off steam. I have the supportive friends who are there to pick me up when I fall. And I have at least of thousand acquaintances on Facebook that encourage me to go on with every like or comment. Everyone of you the reads this blog validates my need to share my story. My amazing instructors at New York Sports Club that cheer me on, notice my growth, but don't let me get away with less than 100%.

My advice to anyone trying to do a big life change is to find a support group. An online meeting of like minds. A circle of friends with similar goals. A MeetUp group. Anything. Just put yourself out there and meet new people. My life would be so stagnant if I didn't meet new people and hear their stories. There is no reason to take this journey alone. I know in my life, it takes a village. I wouldn't have it any other way.

If you are looking or are in need of someone to be there for you, let me know. Everyone deserves someone to believe in them or help them get back on track. If you need that, just let me know. I tend to be a busy person, but I make time for people who need me.

I am humbled. Thank you. I honestly don't know what I would do without each and everyone one of you. I am definitely a blessed and lucky individual. I hope I can continue to be a great friend, a positive influence, or a crazy motivator to anyone who needs me.

Life is hard. Why not have some incredible people to help share the load?

Present Battles

I've talked about my past and hinted at my future, but today I'm going to talk about the present. Right now in this present moment, I feel mentally awful. Defeated, depressed, and deprecating. Awesome.

Normally to combat days like this, I lay in bed and watch trashy tv shows and just try to escape from the nasty thoughts. I shovel cupcakes and cheese doodles mindlessly into my mouth. Or worse, don't eat all day, until I finally crawl out of my lethargy to find chocolate chip cookies left by my caring roommates.

Don't get me wrong, sometimes you need those days of rest and prime time soap operas. I get it. I don't however need the empty calories that trigger nasty thoughts and the nasty thoughts that push me to the calories. My never ending vicious cycle.

I'm learning the difference between rest and avoidance. There are the days, like Sunday, when my body performed terribly in yoga. I took that as a sign I needed to rest my body. After a two hour nap, I crushed an 8 mile run, shattered my precious record of 7 miles.

However, days like today aren't restful. They are tricks played by Cruella to knock me off course. To push me back down and keep me in check. She doesn't like losing control over me. She doesn't like seeing me win or having me feel proud of myself. So she knows when I get knocked off course, I begin to think I can't do it. I lose faith in myself. I can't win, but she does.

Luckily enough, I'm self-aware enough to recognize Cruella's sneaky plans. Today is the fight to not succumb to the temptations that throw me off. Not allow the empty calories or negative thoughts to pollute my system into a backslide.

These temptations are in full force today. The butterscotch krimpets at the deli where I pick up my lunch. The celebratory donuts in the green room. The fresh baked cookies from an actors wife... These delicious, sweet and salty chocolate chip cookies his 9-month pregnant wife slaved over, to share with the company. I'll take my cookie with a glass of guilt and reluctance please! And it's not even 2pm yet! Today is sure to be a test of my will.

I'd love to know why some days I just wake up feeling miserable. I know the reason stems from Cruella, but why does she choose some days to hit harder than others? Does it have something to do with my level of resistance? Hormones? Lack of attention? A bout of February loneliness? It's probably a combination of all these things.

I could almost tell today was gonna be a rough day. As I was falling asleep last night, my mind on the edge of slumber, cruel and hurtful thoughts flooded my empty brain. Thoughts that may or may not be true. But in the resonating darkness of my sleepy mind, they feel like undeniable truths. Because, I'm exhausted and don't have the energy to fight, the thoughts take seed. And then they marinate for the next 6-8 hours. Not too surprisingly, I wake up feeling miserable because I clearly spent those unconscious hours hating myself.

So today, I'm fighting temptation, one sweet treat at a time. I'm going to drink a glass of water every time I want to eat something sweet. One drink of water at the time. I'll reward myself with a 4 mile run, and some broccoli. Because those are the healthy things I deserve.

P.S.- I've attached some motivational quotes that I like and I picture of the donut plate as a deterrent. :)

Get Lost!

As a general rule, people avoid getting lost. It's a waste of time, or energy or resources. You have a plan, and you know how to get there. Contrary to this belief, I've found that feeling lost has lead to finding the truth about myself. Truths I wouldn't have found without the chaos and disconnectedness that comes with being lost.

The whole getting lost bit is a reoccurring theme in my life. As I mentioned before, I'm actually quite terrified of change and the unknown. Right before a big breakthrough, I usually descend into a period of chaos. I feel lost, disjointed, and useless. And after a period of chaos, I find the strength and determination to take action. Generally speaking, the action produces amazing results.

When I was 16 years old, my dog, died unexpectedly. Buffy was my best friend in the whole entire world! My everything. I lived out in the middle of nowhere and she was a constant companion. She'd let me cry into her furry shoulder, protect me from the harsh world, and best yet, not judge me for eating my feelings. A lot of the details are blurry with pain, but I remember on my brother's birthday, I came home to hear the surreal words: "Buffy is dead." Wait. She's gone?! My beloved dog had licked my face that very morning before school and now she was gone?? I couldn't comprehend it. I was lost. Emotionless and yet raw. I ran outside, sank into the dewy grass, and screamed at the sky. "WHY?! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!? I NEED HER!!!" And then I collapsed into a pile of tears and misery.

This ordeal sent me spiraling into an existential crisis. It was a pretty epic experience for me. I threw myself into religious studies. I had to figure out why a deity who was supposed to care about its creations would allow such a traumatic thing to happen to me, a decently devoted follower. (Disclaimer: I understand that on the scale of horrible, traumatic things, this barely registers, but to 16-year-old me, it was a 7.2 magnitude earthquake).

I had lost faith. I couldn't find an acceptable answer in the scriptures, so I did what felt natural to me: I took to the woods. I sat on a log by a deserted campfire, crying up at the stars, asking "why?" And then I got very bold. I said to whatever was listening: "if you truly exist, send me a sign." Lo and behold, a doe walked silently out of the woods. I swear she made eye contact with me for a few heart-stopping minutes before turning calmly and quietly to disappear back into the woods.

I know most of you are thinking "What kind of sign is that? You grew up in rural Pennsylvania. There are thousands of deer in the woods!"
Well, you logical folks may be correct. But to my lost, wounded 16-yr-old mind, it was a sign. A sign that led me to research other religions. This was before the magic of the Internet, so I spent hours pouring of books in the library. I started on the Greek pantheon and worked my way to modern earth based spirituality.
Now don't worry. I'm not going to give you a dissertation about my religious beliefs. My point is that the turmoil I felt spurred me into action. And through that action, my eyes were opened to many different beliefs, faiths and paths in life. The doe in the woods knocked the blinders away. She allowed me to start seeing the world as a huge place full of many different people experiencing life in many different ways. My desire to find out why my beloved dog was taken away from me had opened my eyes. At a time I thought I was lost and I had no idea how I was going to go on, I unlocked a part of my greater journey.

Two years ago, I descended into another period of chaos. I was about to turn 25!! I don't know about you, but I had always believed that I would have my life together by the time I turned a quarter century! Sure, I lived in a fantastic city, doing work I loved, surrounded by awesome people. But for some reason, I was missing something. Did I need a career change? More stability? An adult relationship? I started searching for the missing part of the puzzle. I had recently acquired my passport and I got to thinking: "Why not try to figure out things on a quarter-century celebration trip around Europe?" Whoa. That was a terrifying thought at first. Solo? Europe? How the heck was I supposed to do that?

So I took action. I began researching and planning it out: London to visit a great college friend; Cannes to visit an ex of mine; Paris because it was on my bucket list; and Barcelona because I heard it was cool. I threw myself into booking hostels, planning connecting flights, and absorbing all the travel tips I could get my hands on. Two months of preparations and I still didn't feel like I was ready.

When I couldn't plan anymore, I took action. Gingerly stick my toes in the water before holding my nose and jumping. I got on the plane and had the time of my life. 2 weeks, 3 countries, some new friends, and countless memories and stories. I not only survived in these foreign countries, I thrived! I learned to trust myself. I learned to wander and take it all in. I learned to enjoy the simple moments. I learned how easy it was for me to start conversations with strangers that later became friends. The places I saw, the people I met, and the experiences I had awoke something in me. I needed to meet new people, see the world, and make memories that add to my story.

My broken state last year, that I previously mentioned was another period of disorder and confusion. I look back with awe at all the amazing things that came out of that time: Running! Yoga! Weight loss! Self-esteem!

All of these experiences, these periods of feeling lost, helped me uncover so many aspects of my true self. These undiscovered aspects were hidden deep inside waiting to be freed.

So I've learned that getting lost is an essential part of my journey. The chaos spurs dedication and focus which then leads to actions that change my life.

Trust me, I know that feeling lost and being in periods of unknown, endless chaos is absolutely terrifying. I'm telling you however that if you embrace the fear and use it as fuel, life changing experiences will happen.

Beating Yourself Up from the Inside Out - Cruella-Style

As many of you may know, depression hurts as badly, if not worse, than external injuries. Depression leaves you feeling sore, and achey. Not to mention lethargic and defeated!  These internal wounds can't be healed with Neosporin and bandages. And worse yet, you might not even know what causes them. Not knowing where the attacks are coming from is terrifying. How can you prevent further injury to yourself if you don't know who the attacker is?!

So, I've begun to identity my attacker: Cruella De Vil, the fabulously dressed, husky-voiced, puppy-stealing adversary feared by many an animal-loving Disney child. Yes. Cruella is what I call my inner demon voice. The one that berates me, makes me feel like I'm unworthy, and pushes me towards consoling cupcakes. She knows exactly what to say to break me down. To take away my successes and have me shoveling my face with "comfort food." And then, when I give into her (ie eat something unhealthy for me, or feel unsuccessful) she says, "See, I told you so. You're not worth it. I don't know why you try so hard. You'll never succeed. Sit down, watch this tv show. Here I got you Doritos."

Turns out eating my feelings doesn't make me feel any better. A consoling cupcake or bag of Doritos makes you feel better for about a minute. It pats you on the head, and tells you everything is going to be ok. But it's not ok! That pat on the head cost you a 2.5 mile run-worth of calories!  Even worse, I didn't really want the Doritos. So, she wins. She makes me feel defeated. All the runs and workouts are negated because I stuff my face to silence an inner voice. And yet, I prove the voice right by failing myself and my workout regimen.

So what do you do? Once I've identified my attacker/inner demon, I should try to get rid of them, right? Stop the hurt. End the cycle. Sounds easy, right? Well, another terrifying thing for me, is change. I've been existing at a status quo, but at least I am existing. It's not my best self, or necessarily a truly happy self, but I am able to maintain some semblance of a functional life.  The unknown is often times scarier than the demons we face. What happens if I exorcise those demons and bigger, scarier demons take their place?! I don't know about you, but that terrifies me. Since I lived so long with these smaller, less threatening demons, they feel like a part of me. A mean, hurtful part of me that's hellbent on holding me back from my true potential.  I didn't like having them around, but it was comfortable. I knew what their weapons were and how they intended to use them. Over the past year, I've been able to notice Cruella's voice and separate it from my true inner voice. Do I recognize her every time? No. That witch is sneaky! Of course there are some days I slip and enjoy the comfort of knowing she's there. Enjoy the minute of feeling good and the comforting pat on the head. I'm only human and I'm learning to accept my mistakes. I cannot, however, continue to accept these mistakes. I'm separating the voices, and brushing hers off as false prophecy. I'm learning that I will succeed and the confidence I feel when I push through a big run lasts much longer than a cupcake.

One step at a time. The first big step I've accomplished is separating the voices. And will there be some scary, horrible demon hiding behind it's minion? Maybe. But I've reached the breaking point. The line I'm ready to cross to change.

So here goes.