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.