New Year's Resolutions

"The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written. We can help write that story by setting goals. Dig within, and discover what you would like to have happen in your life this year. This helps you do your part. It is an affirmation that you're interested in fully living life in the year to come.” ~Melody Beattie

So, I don’t usually make New Year’s Resolutions—or at least not since I was a kid—so this should be an interesting experiment. Because these thoughts will be written down and posted online, I will be able to revisit them throughout the year as needed. No excuses, right? OK, well here goes.

This year, I intend to take inspiration from others to improve my life, myself, and the way that I impact others.

“If you asked me for my New Year Resolution, it would be to find out who I am.” ~Cyril Cusack

I’d like to believe that I know who I am, and in many ways, I do. But, I learned last year that there are parts of myself that I have not always acknowledged and dealt with well. This year, I will be more open to examining these shadow aspects of myself. I will appreciate them for the gifts that they bring to me, and I will challenge them when they interfere with my progress.

“Take a leap of faith and begin this wondrous new year by believing. Believe in yourself. And believe that there is a loving Source - a Sower of Dreams - just waiting to be asked to help you make your dreams come true.” ~Sarah Ban Breathnach

Doubt has kept me from achieving my goals and dreams in the past. I didn’t stop dreaming, but for too long I could only wish for my dreams to come true. Now, I realize that dreams can be achieved if I work hard enough and believe in myself enough to make them happen. This year, I will believe in myself first. I will remember my dreams, and I will believe that I can realize my dreams.

“Ring out the false, ring in the true.” ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

My gift to myself for my 30^th birthday was my first planned tattoo. (The first was quite unplanned.) It was the year 2000 and Japanese kanji was still popular in tattoos—as were lower back tattoos, later to be known as “tramp stamps.” So, I designed a tattoo that would go on my lower back. It was a starburst design with a kanji in the center. I had designed it with the symbol for love in the center. I had just gone through a divorce, and I was more sure than ever that love existed, especially love for yourself. Fast forward to a tattoo studio in East Ridge, TN, where I am presenting a tattoo artist with my design and just before he creates the stencil, I decide to switch out the kanji symbol for love for the symbol for truth.

 

“Love will come and go, but truth is the one constant,” I said with the kind of arrogance that every 30-year old has. I was sure that I had all the answers, of course. Ha!

So, while my tattoo is no longer in fashion, its message still holds valuable meaning for me. Truth is important to me and always has been. It was truth that led me to leave my first marriage after only months. I could no longer be untrue to who I was, and I believed that love should always be based in truth. I knew then that I deserved to be loved by someone for who I really was rather than on some version of myself that someone else wanted me to be.

This year, I will continue to strive to be truthful always. I will look for the truth in all matters, and I will be true to myself above all else.

“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something.” ~Neil Gaiman

I have a strong tendency towards perfectionism and a huge fear of failure. I’m sure that both have kept me from trying a lot of things. They’ve also probably limited me from expressing my full potential for creativity and imagination. I know that it would be ridiculous for me to resolve to eliminate my perfectionistic thinking. It will always be a part of me, and I appreciate that it pushes me to do my best. What I will do instead is to strive to see my mistakes as opportunities. I will think less about the outcome or the evaluation, and I will focus more on the experience of learning, feeling, and enjoying the moments. I will open myself up to my own imagination and creativity without concern for the finished product.

“My New Year's resolution is to stick to a good workout plan that will keep me healthy and happy.” ~James Lafferty

I grew up as a skinny kid, but I’ve struggled with my weight for almost 15 years since it was discovered that I had a tiny tumor on my pituitary gland that really screws with my hormones. I’ve been up and down, but mostly up, and I’m currently heavier than I’ve ever been. I refuse to set a weight loss goal, because those don’t tend to work for me—or rather, I’m not good at those. Instead, I resolve to make regular exercise a part of my routine once again. I know that I feel better when I exercise and eat well. I want to be healthier. I want to be able to walk and climb and dance without losing my breath. I want to feel better inside my own skin.

“We humans have lost the wisdom of genuinely resting and relaxing. We worry too much. We don't allow our bodies to heal, and we don't allow our minds and hearts to heal.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

I used to struggle with falling asleep. I would lie in bed, my mind racing, worrying about what I needed to do the next day, obsessing over things I could not control, and stressing out over anything and everything. I was a textbook insomniac. I struggled with waking in the morning, and I would sometimes stay in bed for hours.

I don’t have these problems with sleeping on a regular basis anymore. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s necessity. In any case, I sleep ok, but I don’t experience true restful relaxation each night. I still worry too much. I still don’t always dream. I still don’t often reach that state of healing peace and tranquility. I still don’t wake refreshed each morning. This year, I’m going to work on this. What an amazing goal!

 

“Celebrate what you want to see more of.” ~Tom Peters

I should know well enough from training dogs that in order to eliminate the negative, you must accentuate the positive. I’ve got an advanced degree in complaining. This year, it’s time for me to work on improving my skills in the areas of complimenting, appreciating, praising, and celebrating.

“Look at situations from all angles, and you will become more open.” ~Dalai Lama

 

I often have a hard time connecting with others who seem so very different from me. I know that I could learn to appreciate them more if I could somehow understand their motives, what makes them tick, and what they care most about. I know this. But doing these this is hard—really hard sometimes. This year, I’m going to try harder to understand the perspectives of others. I’m going to try harder to open my eyes, my ears, and my heart.

“Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.” ~Wally Lamb

I say “no” a lot. I turn down invitations, gifts, gestures, and relationships. Maybe my life would be improved if I said “yes” more. Maybe it wouldn’t. This year, I hope to find out.

“Always do what you are afraid to do.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

My third skydive (2008) & the first one I truly enjoyed.

I’m afraid of heights. That’s why I jumped out of an airplane in 2005, and that’s why I’ve done it four more times since. I’m still scared of heights, but I can always say that I’ve faced my fears. Even if I couldn’t conquer my fears, I have faced them. How many people can say that?

The good news is that I have many, many more fears, so I have lots of opportunities in this new year to keep facing them. When given a choice, I will choose to take risks. I will do what I fear.

“Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.” ~Helen Keller

I’ve learned through my education and my practicum that one of the best ways to treat depression is to increase a person’s pleasant events. Don’t wait for your mood to change to take action; take action and your mood will change. This doesn’t mean that it’s easy to just “choose” to be happy, but it does mean that it’s often possible to choose a better mood. This year, I will choose happiness more often.

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

We often live our lives waiting for “someday.” Someday, I’ll be thinner. Someday, I’ll be older. Someday, I’ll be happy. Every single day can be someday—or at least a bit of it. This year, I’d like to be more present, more awareness, in every moment. I will make the most of each day, not in a stressed out, frenetic way, but with the appreciation that it will only come once and that once it passes, I will never again experience it.

“Calm mind brings inner strength and self-confidence, so that's very important for good health.” ~Dalai Lama

Meditation has brought me inner calm and sense of balance. It grounds me and empowers me. It allows me to simultaneously feel fully whole within myself and connected to all of the universe. This year, I resolve to meditate more often. I will do my best to create a daily practice by which I connect, center, and focus.

“Let our New Year's resolution be this: we will be there for one another as fellow members of humanity, in the finest sense of the word.” ~Goran Persson

In my fantasy world, I’d be the hermit—alone in my cave, high in the clouds, away from the troublesome world below. Alas, I live amongst the mortals, and thus, I must learn to deal with them. Actually, if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t do this alone. I depended so much on my fellow students and my professors during my practicum semester. I may have literally gone nuts without them. And, my happiest moments have come when I’m with those whom I consider family or friends. Whether I’d like to admit it or not, I need people, and I do my best to be a friend to those who need one. This year, I will spend more time with friends. I will call those who are far away. I will help more often. I will volunteer more. I will donate what I can.

“To have the kind of year you want to have, something has to happen that you can't explain why it happened. Something has to happen that you can't coach.” ~Bobby Bowden

And, in the end, no matter how much we plan, no matter how many goals we set, the magic of life is that we are never truly in control. This year, I will make more space for that magic by relinquishing more control. I will leave room for miracles. I will allow time for wonder. 

The sunrise outside my front door on the morning of January 1, 2015.

in search of identity

"A veterinarian."

I was that kid who knew exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up.  I can't remember ever wanting to be anything else.  I knew that I would go to an Ivy League school.  (I thought that it would be Harvard until I learned that they didn't have a vet school.)  I knew that I would not have children.  I didn't plan on marrying anyone, opting instead for a male neighbor who would cut my grass and let me borrow his big, woolen sweaters.  I wanted to have horses, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, goats, and a donkey.  I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get it all.

Until I failed.  In my defense, it wasn't through a lack of trying that I failed, but rather through a lack of focus created by trauma and its resulting mental health disturbances.  You see, I hadn't factored into my life equation things like rape, self-injury, dissociation, and clinical depression.  I didn't plan for my complete and utter unraveling, for the alienation of my friends, for the judgment of my family, for the feelings of despair and hopelessness that would rule my life for so long.  I hadn't prepared for the unhealthy relationships, the financial hardships, and the lack of direction or purpose.

I lost years to this detour, but unexpectedly found a new path when I became involved in helping others who had experienced sexual violence.  I was trained to answer the phone to speak with survivors and to provide emotional support and information about available services.  After some time as a volunteer, I was offered a full-time position with the agency.  I started doing public speaking and community outreach on sexual assault.  I suddenly felt a sense of excitement about my work, fulfilled by the promise of doing something that might prevent another person from experiencing what I had, and happy for the first time in over ten years.

That was almost 15 years ago, and now I am beginning to question whether I have followed this path as far as it can take me.  I am frustrated by so many aspects of the work that never seem to improve--the police response to reports of sexual assault, the low likelihood of arrest or prosecution of the perpetrators, the judgmental reaction of the general public, including the professionals tasked with providing care and services to victims, and the constant justification for the work that I do, from the begging for funding to the meticulous documentation of client demographics and services provided.  I feel powerless to truly help victims and particularly powerless to end the cycle of violence faced by women in our culture.  I dream of an end to the sadness, pain, and confusion that I feel vicariously through the people that I try to help.

I'm facing a crossroad...one direction leading me deeper into the work that I have been doing with more credentials and new skills and the other direction leading to a fresh start on a brand new path.  I don't know how to choose.  I don't know which option to follow.  I don't know whose advice to heed.  But, I feel a sense of obligation to that little girl, the one who knew so strongly and so deeply what she wanted to be when she grew up.  She didn't get to fulfill her dreams, and life led her into a new direction.  Now, I have the power to make a choice, to let that girl be who and what she wants to be, to take control of the next phase of my life.  I may not have become a veterinarian, but there's still time for me to dream and to make my dreams come true....once I decide.

cyberstalker or just the natural result of 10 days without television?

I cyberstalked you today.  OK, well, not you, but several other people.  People from my past to be more exact.

I don't know why I do it, but today definitely wasn't the first time and most decidedly will not be the last.  It almost always starts out the same way....looking for a former friend.  This friend, whom I will call Rachel, and I were very close once upon a time.  We even lived together for a short, ill-fated period, which makes her the only roommate that I ever had outside of school, live-in boyfriends, and my sister when we were kids.  Rachel and I had a very abrupt, very public, and very contentious break up.  I would have to say that it rivaled my divorce and may have, in fact, been worse.  We haven't spoken in over 10 years.  Yet, every so often, I try to find her on the Internet.

I'm not really sure what I want to know about her.  Where does she live?  Did she ever get married?  Have kids?  What is her career?  Maybe.  I think, though, what I really want to know is why.  Why?  And how?  And have you done it to others?  I want to see how someone can be so mean and evil, yet still carry on.  Actually, that's not really true, either.  I don't think she's evil.  I do think that she treated me meanly and acted cruelly towards me.  But, I don't think she's evil.  I've been advised that others do and that I should, but I don't.  After all, she was my best friend for many years.  If she were evil, what would that say about me?

So, I look for her.  And I've found hints of her around the Web.  Something on MyLife.  A maybe on Zabasearch.  I think I even found a Facebook page once, but it has since been blocked or deleted.  I would never contact her....but still I look.

Looking for Rachel often evolves into looking for other people.  Usually my ex-boyfriends are next on the list.  I find them on Facebook or in the Whitepages.  Facebook is best, because a lot of people don't lock down their sites like they should.  I look at their walls, see who they're friends with.  I look at their pictures, and I imagine the lives they've gone on to live since knowing me.  I gauge whether their wives are prettier than me and if their kids look more like him or like her.  The kids are the weirdest part, really.  First, as a childless person, I think it's odd that people with children post so many pictures of them.  The ratio of child to self represented in photograph form for these people is like 20:1.  I know I post a lot of pictures of my pets, for instance, but I still post pictures of myself.  My identity outside of my pets is still intact.  I wonder about these parents when it comes to that.  Plus, doesn't anyone think about their children's online safety???  OK, on a tangent.  What really is weird about the kids is this--if this guy and I hadn't broken up, if he hadn't then gone on to meet his wife, those kids wouldn't exist.  That is kind of creepy to think about.  Of course, you could say that looking up your ex-boyfriends on Facebook is creepy.  I know.  I know.

There's really no rhyme or reason to the people I look up.  Sometimes, someone just pops into my mind and I wonder what they're up to.  The main thread that they commonly hold is that they probably don't want to hear from me.  In a few cases that may not be accurate, but in those few, I have decided that it is in the best interest of all that they don't hear from me.  Maybe it is the fact the these people have scorned me, have left me behind and still somehow prospered that bothers me.  Maybe I do want to see them wallowing in regret and begging to have me back in their lives.  Maybe I just wonder what it is that these people saw that made them decide that I was bad news.  And, maybe I'm afraid that everyone else will eventually see the same thing.

There have been a few searches of people with whom my bridges had not yet been burned.  I have found some former friends and co-workers and reached out to them.  I am Facebook friends with my first serious boyfriend, as well as with one of my last.  I'm not all the bad to all that many people.  Some searches turn out good, some turn up nothing, and some do not have happy endings.

Once, I found an old jar of homemade, home canned spaghetti sauce that an ex of mine had made.  I actually thought, "I should find him and ask him how long this stuff is good for."  So, I started searching.  He was never one to be on Facebook or to use email, so I figured I would be lucky to find an old phone number for him.  I found him.  And pretty quickly.  Unfortunately, it was in the obituaries.  My old friend, it turned out, had been murdered a few years earlier.  Even though it had been many years since we spoke, I cried like a baby.  I was angry, and I felt cheated.  He was a good man, and he didn't deserve to die the way that he did.  He had been one of the few men in my life who didn't use me and who would have done anything to help me.  He was the last man I spent time with before moving away from Indiana, and he had encouraged me to spread my wings and to find myself, even though it meant him losing me.



Forget-me-not



I just took a break from writing this and searched for Rachel again.  (I am truly sick!  Send help!)  This time, I found her mother's obituary.  I had always contemplated contacting her mother, with whom I had a good relationship, to tell her my side of our break up.  I never did, and now it's too late.  Maybe, I was giving Rachel some leeway and not putting her mother in a spot where she didn't have to say anything bad about her.  Her mother had actually warned against us moving in together.  Rachel, she argued, doesn't get along with roommates, and if we wanted to remain friends, we should never live together.  How right she was!  I just always wondered what she would have said after the fact.  I didn't go there.  I decided that that was the better thing to do. 

But, now I'm sad that I never got a chance to tell her what I wish I had.  I would have said, "Thank you" for all the times she filled in as a mother to me, including me in family Christmases and Thanksgivings.  I would have told her that I was sorry if what had happened between me and Rachel hurt her in any way.  I would have said that she was right, that I should have heeded her advice, and that I did all that I could to keep our friendship in tact, but that I couldn't take the way that Rachel treated me towards the end.  I would tell her that I'm happy today.  That I married the man that Rachel got jealous over, said mean things about, and never liked, simply because he liked me.  That she was a good mom.  That she wasn't to blame for Rachel's behaviors as an adult.  That it had nothing to do with her divorce from Rachel's father, or the fact that Rachel was adopted.  These were all beliefs that I knew Rachel harbored and held over her mother's head.  Her mother had been a victim of Rachel's meanness before I had.  Maybe that was why she had warned me.

I guess I'm done cyberstalking today.  Finding an obituary usually does that to me.  It feels so final, at least as far as the searching goes.  It reminds me that if I ever do decide that I want to contact Rachel, my time to do so could always be cut short.  I still don't think that I'm ready to open that can of worms, but I will probably keep peeking around the corner at it.

So, there it is.  My deep, dark secret.  My big confession.  I'm a cyberstalker.  I know I'm not the only one who does it, though.  I may be the only one here admitting to it, but that's OK.  I'll wear the badge of shame for the rest of you.  I will come out of the shadowy corner of the Internet to say that I peep into the online windows of my former friends and lovers.  I do.  And, I would imagine that someone has done the same thing to me...maybe even one of my own subjects.  It's human nature to wonder.  It's only natural to want to repair broken connections, especially when they, at one time, were the most important ones in your life.  There are far worse things I could do and far worse attributes I could have.  My motivation, at its core, is really just a desire to be liked, to be accepted, and to be a part of someone else's life.  What doesn't feel normal is the sting of rejection, the pain of reproof, and the loneliness of isolation.  That's what's weird, not me.

all things wise and wonderful

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster

This morning, on my way to my personal growth group, I found myself driving behind a large animal veterinarian. It felt like an out-of-body experience of sorts where the present me was peeking in on the once-possible me. I imagined where the vet was heading and what kind of patient he was going to see. Was it a routine visit or an emergency call? Since I was driving through the horse country of Granby, CT, I eventually settled on the idea that the vet was going to check in on a foal who was born in the last few weeks. An inexplicable twinge of jealously came over me as I imagined the foal kicking up her heels and playing chase with another late Spring foal.

I can't remember ever wanting to be anything other than a veterinarian when I was a kid. I read every James Herriot book I could get my hands on and watched the BBC's "All Creatures Great and Small" whenever I could find it on PBS. I started researching vet schools and planned out my undergraduate studies before I even started high school. Every class I took from 8th grade on was a purposeful part of a bigger picture. I started working with the horses and ponies at the zoo every summer at the age of 12. I shadowed a vet on weekends during my senior year. I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get it.

I won't get into how, when or why my plan eroded (at least not now), but I can say with certainty that I not only accept the course that my life followed, but that I am grateful for its twists and turns. I am so passionate about the work that I do with and for victims that I couldn't imagine doing anything else. The friends that I've made through my own healing process and my work as a survivor are some of the dearest people in my life. They've impacted me in ways they will probably never know, and I feel a comfort and an intimacy with them that's organic. I am more confident in my abilities and my talents than I have ever been, and I look forward to the challenges of proving them to new people in yet another state.

I was almost at the Massachusetts state line when I saw the flashing yellow lights of the intersection where I would turn off. I slowed, a little sad that the truck in front of me was continuing on straight ahead and that I would never know where the vet was going or who he was going to see. But, as quickly as the sadness had come, it left and was replaced with a deep contentment. I knew that I was where I belonged, doing what I was meant to do. I knew that I was following the right path. I knew that it didn't matter where the vet was going without me. I had adventures and challenges of my own to meet. I took a right turn and went forward in my day. My life was waiting for me.

getting outside myself

A good friend gave me some great advice yesterday. Knowing that I was trying to come up with the answers to some difficult questions, she told me to take the afternoon off and just go be with nature. Though I couldn't take the time yesterday, I did get outside a bit today. First, I took three of the dogs to the dog park. I don't usually take Bennie since she's older and doesn't really like playing rough like they do there, but she wanted to go for a ride, so I figured the ride would compensate for the destination. Anyway, the dog park was the perfect destination for me. It's a great park, the best one I've ever been to, with lots of big shade trees, park benches, and picnic tables. It backs up to a brook with a small, dammed off section which creates a pool perfect for dogs to swim in. Since none of mine are swimmers, though Labrador blood runs through half of them, we didn't visit the water today, but some of the other dogs there did and they happily shared the water left on their coats and feet with the rest of us.

The dog park is a great place to just get dirty and have fun. I mean, the dogs have no pretenses about their objectives, so why not drop your defenses and do the same? I, for one, can think of nothing better than being kissed by a 100-pound pit bull who climbs up onto your lap or having a shy Rhodesian nudge your hand for a clandestine stroke while the rest of the canine crowd is engaged in something akin to a rugby scrum in the far corner of the park. The dog park puts all humans on an even playing field. There are no occupations or titles there. You're Gator's mom or Happy's dad. (Yes, there was a dog named Happy there today!) No one asks you about your political views or where your kids go to school. They talk about how old their dog is and how they came to have a dog. They talk about surgeries for knee injuries, baby teeth, the dog at home who doesn't like the park, and the funny things their dogs do. They smile, they laugh, they live in the moment...just like their dogs. The dog park is kind of like a playground for grown-ups.

So, since it's in the 90's right now, we didn't stay at the park for too long, but after everyone had their nap in the A/C, I felt the need to go back outside again. I haven't felt like doing much in the gardens around the house all year. Truth be told, I haven't felt much passion for gardening since we moved here. Maybe it's because the other houses are so close, and I prefer a more secluded outdoor space. Maybe it's just my lack of joy over living in Connecticut in the first place. But, hostas still need to be trimmed back after their blooms are gone, and I still hadn't done this, so outside I went. Armed with a new pair of shears that I found tucked away in my old, rusty gardening cabinet, I started cutting, and cutting, and cutting.

I soon remembered what I loved about being in the garden, about doing a mundane task like weeding or pruning. It's the quiet that I find inside my head. Gone are the voices of worry and doubt. There is no such thing as gossip or judgment. No deadlines, no bills, no boss, no nothing and nobody. Watched over by my dogs, who somehow protect me from the outside world, I am able to just dig into the task at hand. Today, I reacquainted myself with the daddy longlegs spider and thanked him for the great job he does in my garden. I walked barefoot through the fallen leaves of last autumn that line the beds of the side yard, where our characteristically au naturel approach to gardening is more "naturel" than the front, and I could feel the warmth of decay through my soles. I had dirt under my nails and sweat on my brow, and I felt truly accomplished and peaceful, all at once.

I had cut and cut away at the things that were no longer needed and had thrown them in a heap onto the compost pile. Like pushing aside the nonsense that clutters my mind from time to time, I cleared space for new growth as well as tidying up what's left behind when an something dies. There's still work to do, as I never made it to the hosta bed outside the kitchen window, but I guess I know where my next opportunity lies.