Journey to Mee-dom

Every year around this time, my anxiety builds and bursts and it's not the kind of climax anybody is hoping for. I always tell myself that I am not going to allow it to happen. Well this year after a lengthy chat with my exceptional friend and coach - I gave in and allowed away . What you find when you allow is completely unexpected. I assumed that when I let anxiety, anger and disappointment (insert any negative emotion) dance around in my head like sugar plums that I was welcoming it and fostering it. I have come to realize that this is a myth and holds no value whatsoever. I recognized that my anxiety about Christmas has a lot to do with me holding on. Holding on to ideals and to the past/childhood with a white knuckle grip. I don't know how to let go, and move on. I am not 5 anymore and shits happens. People grow up and apart, parents split up, Santa turns to dust and at this time of year no matter how much you saved - money is fleeting. There is this constant naggi

I've been on a mission, working my way through all the parts of my body that I don't like trying to love them. Big leap. Whatever reason I don't like them, I don't care anymore. When you make a wrong turn when you are driving it's just a waste of time to go back and find out where you went wrong. Just start going right. I just wanna connect with myself. I want to love it all. Sigh...why is so damn hard? So after I stopped wearing makeup I started saying nice things to myself in the mirror. Then I had to stare my belly down in the mirror and I try to put my hand on it (in a non-creepy way) and say nice things to it too. Usually I can't get much further or specific than "thank you" or "I love you" but it's enough. In an effort to reconnect, or connect for the first time I should say, I stopped wearing my "gear" (the uncomfortable belly bands that tuck me in and flattened me out). Tonight I was practicing headstand in my underw

vul·ner·a·ble   :  To be exposed  to the possibility of being harmed or hurt physically or emotionally. What does it mean to you? To me it seemed it was a decision . When and if I would decide to show someone my heart - tell them my hurts, show my tears, my fears and my true self. Even writing the word gives me weird little butterflies in my stomach. Vulnerability seems like a hot topic these days. We are trying to figure it out, what it means and how to do it more often. It use to be such a scary thing - even when we weren't aware we were doing it, trying to hide our weaknesses so that others couldn't hurt us. As if hiding out ever really protected our hearts (long drawn out eye roll). Avoiding experience causes hurt too, the what if's and the not knowing. Either way it's scary. I found out that being vulnerable, really and truly vulnerable, is a spontaneous thing that can't be planned or prepared for. Vulnerable via virus. You can't hide out from the

It's 2:12 am and I am hoping that my stomach is just mad from all the gluten free organic crackers, raw cheese and red pepper jelly I stuffed into my gullet at 10:30pm... Why? Why did I do that? What the hell was I thinking? Who eats red pepper jelly at 10:30 at night? I'm extremely worried right now because come hell or high water, I have to leave for Vancouver in the morning for work (not easily rescheduled) and this better not be the friggen flu. As if my empty threats even matter. The flu doesn't care if I have to work. While I was lying in bed groaning like a dragon in heat, Lilly appeared very distraught - expressing her extreme concern about the army of spiders encompassing her room. Ok, she didn't put it like that but that is what I interpreted from how worked up she was, in my half-sleep-half-puke state. Yep, spiders. Everywhere. There were no spiders, but when you are half asleep, or in Danny's case full asleep you jolt up out of bed ready to suit u

We always know what it is we want but we don't always know the way to it.  We don't know how the solution will come to us and so we get stuck. Most of the time I find that it comes to me in a way I never could have predicted or expect. It's found in the least unsuspecting places, and sometimes it is not found at all but rather slaps you in the face - hard. Sometimes I straight up miss it - and it floats right by while I'm looking in the other direction. I went to *yin for the first time today. I had no idea what it was or what I was signed up for. We spent the first few minutes stretching our necks, I mean really stretching them. I found myself wanting to hurry through the stretches to get to the "good stuff". Who cares about neck right, I mean they only attach our heads to our bodies eh?  Little did I know what was next... Laying. Stretching. More laying and stretching followed by sinking and melting and releasing - all that I didn't know I was

What a roller coaster the last 6 years have been for Danny and I. I was madly in love with him from the moment I told him my favourite song was "I will Follow you into the dark" by Death Cab for Cutie, and he replied with "That's is my ringtone." I knew right away. He would later describe me as a "freight train", in reference to how overbearingly strong I came on. I wouldn't take no for an answer. We totally got off on the wrong foot and he avoided me at first. Even though my friends said "he's just not that into you" I pressed on, determined to reel him in. I bought a car in 15 minutes one sunny Sunday afternoon so that I could pick him up for a date the next evening. That way he couldn't say no, I would just show up. I then proceeded to go and buy $200 worth of CD's of bands that I barely knew or liked because he had told me he was "into music". I remembered some musician specific shirts he had and bought so

Here's a little tale about laundry. Well really it's not about laundry at all. It's about things becoming overwhelming. I fucking hate laundry. Yeah I swore, I hate it that much. I leave it and leave it and leave it...until I can't find matching socks. I hate it when socks don't match. Go figure...I would rather wear dirty underwear than go out with a mismatched pair of socks. The things I reveal on this blog, I know! So here's the thing. I let the laundry get so big that the table is completely boiling over with the splayed out arms and legs of clean wrinkly shirts and pants - basically the victims of a desperate state of helplessness wanting so badly to be folded and put away. So today I decided to try something a little different. Come along... I decided to clear off my bed and then just transfer a wee bit at a time - all I could comfortably carry without trying to carry so much that things dropped to the floor as I walked. This reminded me of tryin

I'm a huge crier. This is no secret. I think I cry, or get the good ol' watery eyes once a day? Even now the more I connect with myself, the more I seem to cry. I cry more but not necessarily more "freely". I still feel/believe like it's very unacceptable to do in most situations. I catch myself in the car tearing up over a song and I'm like "whoa whoa whoa, boys don't cry!" And then I'm like, but I'm not a boy? We say and think to ourselves that it's totally ok for men to cry right? But is that the reality? Further more, we have this old (if not ancient) social limitation that men don't really cry but what about women? Why do I feel totally weird when I start crying in front of someone? Why are emotions scary? Wow that's a lot of question marks? I know that I have always thought of myself as a safe person for people to show their emotions around. (Emotions...say that word a few times and see what comes up? It's a l